His query was so sudden and unexpected that it caught me off guard. That made me more annoyed than ever.
"You're supposed to have learned that from Mommy in school," I said curtly.
Another long pause. "She says the fairies touch the trees and flowers with their magic wands. She says that's what makes them grow."
"That's right."
"I don't believe in fairies," he said, matter-of-factly.
I scowled fiercely at him. "Oh, you don't, eh? First it's Santa Claus, now the fairies. The next thing we know you'll stop believing in Mommies and Daddies!"
He looked up into the tree-tops again. "I think the sun has something to do with it," he went on, as though I hadn't said a word. "They seem to be sort of reaching for the sun, as if the sun gave them life...."
His eyes met mine—cold and intensely blue and very frank. "Why don't you tell me the truth?"
I stood up, fighting to control my rising anger. "Are you calling your Daddy a liar?" I shouted.
"I only asked a simple question."