"Bring it here," she ordered and seized the cup out of my hand when I approached. I went around and handed Morton his cup.
"Thank you," Morton said.
"This isn't strong enough," Fern instantly complained. She spit the coffee back into the cup. "It's more like mud water. Maybe it is," she added, eyes wide. "Did Charlotte make it?"
"Yes, Aunt Fern."
"Don't drink it, Morton. Charlotte's just crazy enough to really have mixed dirt and water." She took the cup out of his hand and thrust both of them back at me so hard, some of the coffee spilled over, spattering my hands and wrists. It burned, but she didn't care. "You make another pot yourself. You know how to make coffee, don't you, princess? Or can't you do anything? She was always waited on hand and foot," she told Morton.
"That's not true, Aunt Fern. I often helped Mrs. Boston in the kitchen," I said.
"She often helped Mrs. Boston," she mimicked in a sing-song voice. "Yeah, I'm sure you did a lot. Well, get us some decent coffee and hurry up about it. I want to take my bath soon and get up to eat a good breakfast. That creature gone?" she asked.
"You frightened him more than he frightened you, Aunt Fern. He doesn't want to be around you, don't worry," I said.
"Good."
"What creature?" Morton asked.
"You'd sleep through an earthquake," Aunt Fern told him. "After you've drunk old whiskey all night, that is," she added and they both laughed and started tickling each other, behaving like two children again. Then Aunt Fern realized I was staring at them. "Why are you still hanging around?" she cried at me. "Get me the coffee," she ordered hotly.
I hurried out and downstairs again. I made her fresh coffee, but I made it so strong that Gavin said it could melt iron. Now that he was fully awake, Jefferson insisted on coming along with me, but when I returned to the master suite, I found the doors closed and thought I had better knock.
"Just a minute," I heard Aunt Fern say in a breathless voice. Then I heard some moans, followed by short cries of pleasure.
"The coffee's getting cold, Aunt Fern," I shouted through the door. I knew what they were doing and was embarrassed for both myself and Jefferson. "Should 1 come back in a little while?"
Instead of an answer, I heard her cries come faster and louder, followed by one long moan.
"What's happening to Aunt Fern?" Jefferson asked.
"She doesn't feel too well, Jefferson. Why don't you go back downstairs and finish your breakfast and then come up to say hello, okay."
He shrugged and went off. A moment later, Aunt Fern cried, "Enter."
I opened the doors. She had the blanket up to her chin. Her face was flushed, her hair wild. Morton was lying there with his eyes closed, a smirk of satisfaction on his face.
"Here's your fresh coffee," I said. Aunt Fern smiled at me and sat up.
"Good." She took hers and handed Morton his. Then she turned back to me. "Get a little bit of an education out there?" she asked. Had she no dignity? No self-respect? "I bet you had your little ear plastered against the door, didn't you? Or were you watching through the crack in the door?"
"Hardly, Aunt Fern," I said. "I was very uncomfortable."
"Oh come on. You've obviously lost your precious virginity here," she said. I shifted my gaze to Morton who was hovering over his coffee, his eyes on me with interest.
"Aunt Fern!"
She threw her head back and laughed.
"Stop being the little pure princess," she said. "You're no better than I am."
"I never said I was, Aunt Fern, but . . ." "Actually, I'm glad you're grown up. If I feel like it and I'm in the mood . . . and if you're real nice to me," she added, "maybe I'll give you some hints about men and sex," she said.
Morton laughed. "I want to be around to hear that," he said.
"Like hell you will. This is female talk. You can't let them have their way with you," she told me.
"Aunt Fern, I'd rather not . . ."