When she was finished Peter’s face was a mask of astonishment. “So she knows we’ve been…” Jane nodded. “…And she’s not mad or anything?”
“Nope.”
Jane thought about how to express what she thought her mother had been feeling. “She was upset at first—you know, because she thinks I’m too young. But I told her that you’re always really careful…” she looked shyly over at him before finishing, “and I told her that you really…love me.”
It felt strange to be saying it that way, even though she knew it was true, and she suddenly felt a little afraid of how he would react. Usually Peter turned back when they reached the end of the driveway, but today he came along to the house. As they climbed the porch steps Jane said, “Peter, you can come in if you want, but we can’t… I’m getting my…you know, my…” She blushed and looked down. “Of course you’re not,” he reassured her. He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve been thinking about this morning too. And now that you’ve told me how it happened I think I understand it better. “Okay, then. Everybody’s different from everybody else somehow, so what’s the big deal?”
“Yes, but…”
“But me no buts! Peter laughed with her and then he said, “Oh by the way, I never thanked you for
