25. The Talk

Rosalie lifted her arm to wipe away a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, then returned her full weight to the rolling pin. Today's batch of pastry just wasn't behaving properly, and she blamed the insufferable heat. One day, some brilliant mind would invent a way to quickly and efficiently make pies—and she couldn't wait for that day to arrive.

Just as she was finally taming the pastry into submission, Janet began to cry from her crib in the corner of the kitchen. A scream of frustration worked its way up from Rose's lungs, but she pushed it back down. Dusting off her hands on her apron, she abandoned the pastry and made her way to the crib of the hungry eighteen-month old.

Once Janet was fed and settled again, Rose dumped the failed pastry and started afresh. This time, it went better, and before long an apple pie was baking slowly in the oven. At that moment, she heard the front door bang closed, and the skitter of canine nails on hardwood that always denoted Bingo rushing to greet Bucky after he got home from school.

"Who's a good boy?!" Bucky asked the dog. Then, he called, "Hi Mom!"

"My son greets the dog before he greets his own mother," she called back in a teasing tone.

"Hi Mrs. Barnes," a quieter voice called. Steve's head appeared around the doorframe, his eyes scanning the kitchen worktops. "You're making apple pie?"

Steve might've been a little underweight for his age, but he did love his pie. Rose favoured him with a smile.

"That's right. I'll give you boys a shout when it's done."

Bucky's face appeared beside Steve's, a grin sliding across it. "Great, thanks Mom!"

As the boys disappeared towards the stairs, Rose turned her attention to the mound of dirty dishes her cooking had created. Suppressing a sigh, she hitched up the sleeves of her blouse and turned on the sink's hot water.

"...asked if we wanted to hang out with them after school tomorrow," Rose heard Bucky say, as he and Steve trekked up the stairs.

"But they're boring!" Steve replied.

"I think we just need to give 'em a chance. Besides, I think Lucy likes you."

"She does not! I saw her staring at you during dodgeball. That's how she got hit on the head…"

At the sink, Rose froze. It had finally happened. Her little boy was growing up and starting to notice girls. Thoughts that had once been consumed by baseball and boxing and playing make-believe with his friends, would now be filled by perfume and sweet smiles of the fairer gender.

She mulled over the best course of action to take as she washed the dishes, and finally decided this needed a man's touch. When she'd been around Bucky's age, her own Mama had taken her aside and given her The Talk that all girls got from their mothers. One day, one day all too soon, she would have to give The Talk to Mary-Ann, but it wasn't right that a boy hear certain things from his mom. And Steve didn't have a father-figure to take his cues from, so perhaps Cal could kill two birds with one stone.

At that moment, her husband sauntered in, a newspaper tucked under his arm. Typical! Like most men, he had a habit of appearing once all the work was already done. Though, she had to admit, he did his fair share around the house, and spent as much time with the girls as the boys. Some of her friends' husbands seemed to think being a dad only applied to sons. Overall, Rose considered herself pretty lucky.

Cal took a seat at the table, glanced at the sleeping baby, then opened his newspaper to the crossword section. A pen materialised from somewhere, and he began his daily ritual of trying to complete the puzzle in under five minutes.

Eight minutes later, he asked, "What's a seven-letter word that means 'foot-pedal used to operate a spinning wheel'?"

"Treadle," said Rose, and Cal dutifully wrote it in. Rose suspected a woman wrote the crosswords. Every day, there was something in them that only a woman would know. It had stopped Cal from ever completing it in under five minutes.

"I think you should talk to the boys," she added.

Cal's gaze danced over the crossword puzzle, and the next clue in the list. "Hmm? Boys? Yes, I'll talk to them."

Rose clucked her tongue. "You don't even know what I want you to talk to them about!"

"Let me guess; Charlie lost Bucky's favourite baseball again?"

"I'm not talking about Charlie. I mean Bucky and Steve."

"Oh." Cal looked up, a frown creeping across his face. "They haven't been climbing Mrs. Lambert's apple tree again, have they?"

"No." Rose took the seat opposite her husband and leant forward, lowering her voice. "When they came in from school, I heard them talking about… girls."

Cal laughed—until Rose glared at him, and he promptly stopped. "It's natural for boys of their age to start noticing girls—and vice versa!"

"I know, but they're growing up so fast! Before we know it, they'll be courting, and getting married, and having children—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Rosie." Cal held out his hands as if expecting to physically stop her from running into him. "I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself. You'll have your son for a few years yet, so don't go planning his wedding for him."

"I just want to be sure the boys know how to treat a girl right. Remember how Tommy O'Toole used to tease me on a daily basis? I don't want our boy to be the next Tommy."

Cal nodded. "Don't worry, we've raised him better than that. And yes, I'll talk to them both. Maybe Bucky won't feel singled out, if Steve's there."

"Thank you." Rose smiled. "The boys are upstairs."

"I'll handle it now, then we can all enjoy some of that delicious apple pie you've cooked."

He stooped to kiss her cheek on the way past, and Rose felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her children were growing up fast, but she would do everything within her power as a wife and mother to instill kindness and decency into them.

Author's note: Tune in next chapter for that awkward conversation.