"That's what deputies and under-sheriffs are for," he answered with a grimace and then pictured sending snippy Miss Larkin burrowing underground like a weasel and rolling a stone against the entrance.
Cynthia sighed. "Poor Martha. After all she went through, her principal worry was that you were going to beat her with your hairbrush."
"But she told us anyway. That takes guts," Dean said, then added with a smile, "So goodie little Cynthia used to get her bum-bum paddled, huh?"
"Only once. And there was nothing funny about it."
"You must have been a really naughty little girl."
Cynthia turned and propped herself up on an elbow. "Didn't you ever get it?"
"Naw. I was a good little soldier, just like now. What did you do to get wailed?"
She plopped back down and shaded her eyes against the light. "I went skinny dipping in the quarry where I'd been told not to go. Then I looked my father straight in the eye and lied."
"Wow! No wonder you got a paddling. He must have been mad as hell."
"Both of my parents were really upset." She was silent for a few moments and he thought the conversation was over. Her strong reaction to the childhood incident surprised him. Finally she said, "My father was the one who did it, but it was a joint decision. They talked about how to punish me and then sat me down and told me their decision. They made me wait an hour or so knowing what was coming. I was so scared I nearly peed my pants. He didn't show any anger at all, just disappointment-not so much at my going to the quarry as lying to him. He was so calm and methodical during the whole business it made it that much worse. My mother stood next to him. They were two strangers. He never let up in spite of how I hollered and carried on. And believe me, I carried on! I squirmed and screamed and begged and wailed my head off and told them I hated them but nothing helped. When he finished, my mother took my hand and led me to my room. It was hours before I calmed down."
"How long did you hate them?" Dean asked.
Cynthia smiled. "About five minutes. Until the stinging stopped. Maybe before."
"Some kids would hold a grudge a lot longer than that."
She thought a moment. "I guess deep down I trusted them. I had complete faith that what my parents did was right, whatever it was. God, I hated it and I was mad as hell. It hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before and I was humiliated beyond belief. But deep down, I knew I deserved it. Then my mother said something I'll never forget. I told her I could never be that mean-I'd never, ever hit one of my children. She just looked at me and asked, 'You won't love them enough to spank them if they truly deserve it?'"