Pearl (3 page)

Pearl held her breath, counting the beats of her heart.
 

“Smells good in here,” Roy said. Pearl had been too focused on the overall look of the house to notice the overwhelming scent of stewing beef. She inhaled, realizing there was now a welcoming attribute to the farm.
 

Vernie laughed. “Good to have you home, Roy.”

Roy stretched out on the short peach couch while Pearl stood in the doorway of the living room, not sure what her next move should be.
 

“What’s got you, Pearl?” Vernie nudged her. “Never been on a farm before?”

“No, I…” Pearl took a shaking breath. “I’ve just never had anywhere else to call home before.”

She never knew her grandparents, all of whom had passed before she was born. She craved a grandmother, almost as much as she craved her mother. She always imagined a woman of beauty, aged only in her wisdom, teasing her grandchildren with candy and baked treats. She had enough energy to play all day and tell stories all night. She would wear scarves the children would wrap themselves up in, just to be close to her. She would rock them in a chair when they scraped their knees. She would be everything a mother tried to be, but just never succeeded. Yet, looking at Granny now as she entered from the kitchen, Pearl’s hope plunged. The woman across from her was nothing like she had imagined. She stood fragile and weak, looking more like an old ragged doll than a playmate. Her crystal-water eyes were nothing like Roy’s as she stared off through her thick glasses. Her body was clothed in a robe that had probably been worn since the day it was bought. Hot pink socks stood out over nylons under camel-colored slippers. Her hay-like hair was wrapped loosely in a tortoiseshell pin on the top of her head. And she was thin, thin enough to see the warm blue blood flowing though her old body.
 

Vernie looked like Mrs. Oregon standing next to this pathetic woman.
 

Pearl smiled politely, trying not to let her disappointment show. “What a wonderful home you have.”
 

The woman’s eyes gleamed through her glasses. “My husband built this home when we were first married, with his own two hands, and no help.”

“That’s impressive,” Pearl said.

“It’s impossible,” Vernie corrected. “Mama has a poor memory.”

The old woman glared at her daughter.
 

 
Pearl watched the woman’s face soften as her gaze fell on her grandson. Roy was quick to her side. Pearl stepped back, feeling out of place in the family dynamic. Her foot had barely touched the floor behind her when she was knocked to the ground by a force she didn’t see coming. Two young children ran wild around the house, ignoring the authority of their parents, a pair of redneck farm folk introduced as Darren and Cindy. Pearl was awestruck by Cindy’s long mane of auburn hair. If it was on a horse, it would be beautiful. Her eyes were shaped into two perfect almonds above a slightly slanted nose. And although Pearl could find no imperfections, the overall look of Cindy was somehow off.
 

The man standing awkwardly beside her in muddy jeans and a white T-shirt looked more like his grandmother. He gave Pearl a hand up off the ground, smiling sheepishly and apologizing while his wife yelled every curse word under the sun at the children. Darren’s blond hair covered his large ears, and his light eyes drew attention to his crooked nose. It was obvious the children got any beauty they had from their mother.
 

Pearl regained her bearings, pulling her sundress back down over her thighs as the conversation quickly changed to Roy and his travel. As they talked around her, Pearl did her best not to notice as they each looked her over so tartly, like sour candy you couldn’t seem to lick off your fingers. Vernie was the only one who showed her any warmth. The rest of them didn’t seem to know what to do with her.
 

As the family migrated to the kitchen, Pearl hung back with a shy smile as she watched Roy soak in long-overdue attention from his grandmother. Unlike Pearl, Roy basked in the limelight. And often, without realizing it, he had a way of commanding all eyes and interest on himself. Pearl admired his confidence. It made him look powerful and tall. He towered over Granny and even Darren, who was lean and fairly built but looked miniature in comparison to Roy.

Pearl circled the living room, allowing her gaze to rest on the photos on the wall. Roy dominated the photo gallery: twelve years of school photos, along with several football pictures. Roy with his dog, Roy holding up a freshly hunted kill, Roy hugging his granny while wearing a graduation cap. Roy, Roy, Roy. There were a few photos of the hellion kids and one of Darren and Cindy on their wedding day, where, from the looks on their faces, you’d think they really hated each other, or maybe got a bad case of food poisoning.
 

Chatter continued in the kitchen, mainly of the drive. Pearl’s ears perked up when the conversation changed.

“And her father just let her leave?” Granny asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

Pearl looked over her shoulder to see Roy give a slight shrug as he grabbed a handful of peanuts from a jar. “She’s eighteen. She didn’t have to ask.”

That response didn’t satisfy Granny. “What respectful young lady doesn’t ask?” she huffed.
 

“Oh, mama, give a little slack, will ya?” Vernie spoke up, patting her mother lightly on the shoulder. “She’s no child.”

“Eighteen is barely past childhood,” Cindy said shrewdly.

“Coming from the woman who was making babies at seventeen,” Vernie retorted with a sly smile.

“Oh, stick a pipe in it, Vernie,” Cindy snarled.
 

“Cindy…” Darren started before Granny cut in.
 

“Where’s her mother?”
 

Pearl stood back, astonished. It was like she wasn’t even here. The thought made her want to shrivel up and hide. Crawl into the walls and disappear. She turned her back to the kitchen and stared again at the photos. She tried not to listen to the conversation, but it was impossible, being only a wall away.

“Her mother’s long gone.”

Pearl cringed at Roy’s aloofness. Sure, her mother being a singer was not a subject she spoke of frequently, and yet she was positive Roy knew how much the topic stung.
 

“Hmm,” Granny said. “Well, I suppose that figures.” She sighed. “I’ve got beef stew heating on the stove, though I can make my Roy something else. What would you like for supper?”

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!” the young boy screamed.
 

“Hot dog, hot dog, hot dog!” the girl chimed in.

“Outside now!” Cindy cried, just as loud as the children.

The slamming of the back door made Pearl jump. She hadn’t even been there an hour, and already she had a headache.
 

Vernie came up from behind and grabbed Pearl’s hands. “Come, let’s go see your room. I did it up myself!”

Vernie opened the door to the staircase, smiling ever so sweetly as she said, “And I’ll show you where I stash my liquor. You’re gonna need it around here.”

Up the hard wooden stairs was a small solitary door, like something right out of
Alice in Wonderland
.
 

“Used to be the attic, but no worries—I cleaned it up real good, smashed up all those nasty bugs.”

Pearl felt a shiver go down her spine. Attics and dark spaces were not something she had intended to deal with. Fortunately, she wouldn’t be alone.
 

As Vernie opened the door, Pearl let out a small gasp.
 

“Well?” Vernie asked expectantly. “I know, I know, it’s probably a little dated for you, but I used what I could to make it homey.”

Pearl stepped though the door, a smile slowly creeping across her face. The dark dampness of the attic had been replaced with a fresh coat of light pink paint that matched the rose and lilac quilt that lay on the small brass bed. It was charming and, unlike the rest of the house, had warmth. It wasn’t perfect, far from it. But she could see the time and effort Vernie had put into the space. Even the muggy stench was covered by fresh lilies on the nightstand.
 

“It’s wonderful,” Pearl murmured. She touched the soft fabric of the quilt. The bed was a little short and much too small for her and Roy, but they would make do. She felt warm tears sting her eyes. She quickly brushed them away, embarrassed for Vernie to see.
 

“Oh, dear, what is it? Really, you can bring in anything you like to make it feel more like home.”

Pearl shook her head. “No, that’s just it.” She smiled through her fallen tears. “I was afraid I had made the wrong decision coming here. And I really miss home, but you…”

Vernie beamed with a large smile. “Oh, now really, that just makes my floppy cheeks blush. It’s really the least I could do with my time. The old chicken coop, now that was too much for these old bones, had to leave most of that for Darren.”

Pearl stroked the tender lace pillow shams with her fingers, craving to crawl beneath the sheets. She wondered what Roy would think of their room, if it was a little too girly for him here. She felt her cheeks redden at the idea of Roy and her having the whole upstairs alone.
 

“Why did you need to clean out the chicken coop?” Pearl asked, clearing her mind of inappropriate images.
 

“That’s where Roy will be staying,” Vernie answered as she propped open the attic window and lit a cigarette. “Don’t let Granny catch you smoking up here. She hates cigarettes, calls them the devil’s breath.” Vernie lifted her pack. “Want one?”

Pearl stood there, dumbfounded. “You mean I... That Roy…”

Vernie let out a hoarse laugh. “You mean that you have to stay here by yourself? Yes. Not ’til you have a pretty little ring on your finger will she let Roy near the staircase.” Vernie took a drag and blew her smoke through the crack in the window. “She’s old-fashioned that way, used to chase boys out with a stick when I snuck them in.”

Pearl felt her eyes swell again. Fear, loneliness, and dread filled her heart. She dropped to sit on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t speak. She could only stare at the haze of smoke from Vernie’s cigarette as it flew out the window.

Vernie gave her shoulders a tight squeeze. “Don’t you worry, precious Pearl,” she said with a chuckle. “There ain’t no way you can go wrong with a bunch of old crazies.” She lifted the glass, which Pearl declined.

Vernie winked as she threw back her shot. “But you better take to drinkin’.”

CHAPTER 3

Pearl awoke to a tender beam of light shining down on her silky skin. She rubbed her eyes, slowly drawing in the focus of her new room.
What a horrible night’s sleep
, she thought. She peeled the strands of hair from her face where they had landed in clumps of goo on her forehead. Her back felt dull from pain caused by the lumps of the old and unfamiliar mattress. The quilt, once pulled neatly over her head, now lay in a heap on the floor.
 

Her mind was taking it all in as she slowly sat up. No, she was no longer in Arizona. The stench of the moldy attic told her that. A cow mooed loudly through her cracked attic window. She remembered it all clearly now: She was on a farm in Oregon with a chicken coop lover and his crazy family.
 

It had been three days since she left Arizona. Three days since her eighteenth birthday, and three days since the beginning of her new life. She rose out of bed to find herself staring straight back at her own reflection from the mirror dangling above the dresser. She peered at herself and wondered just who it was standing there half naked, looking back. She recognized her pale skin, and fine white hair that hung straight past her shoulders.
 
Her high cheekbones and the scar on her chin from when she had fallen off her swing set as a child. And then there were those godforsaken lips. Like her father would tell her, she could suck up all the air in the room. She looked to the haze that covered her gray eyes, which must have formed when she wasn’t looking. She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the snarls that had formed from her rough night of sleeping. She peeled herself out of the sweatshirt she had forgotten to remove and found her way back under the sheets.
 

She thought of home, of Billy and her father. Her mind slipped, as it often did, to her mother, who was somewhere, anywhere, around the world. She thought of Roy, who felt so far, even though he was so near. She slipped her headphones on, needing to drown out her thoughts to her mother’s sweet songs. She wanted to feel connected, to be at peace, and comforted by her mother’s voice. Instead, she felt isolated and abandoned. She pulled the quilt back up over her head and cried until her stomach blistered and her eyes grew weary. She cried until she could no longer find tears, until it seemed hopeless to even cry, leaving her with no other choice but to sleep.

When she woke again, the fog of the morning had vanished to beaming sunlight bouncing on her small round window. She slipped on a robe, covering the nakedness of her body, and crept down the stairs. She really wanted to find Roy, and smoke a cigarette. It was a tie as to which one she craved more.

Pearl found Granny in the kitchen sitting in her rocking chair in the same robe and socks she wore yesterday. Her hair was set in the same bun, as though she never slept on it. In her hand was a ball of yarn, unwound.

“Good morning, Pearl,” she said without looking up from the yarn. “It’s so wonderful to see you this glorious afternoon.”

Pearl looked up at the clock above Granny’s head just as it rang eleven.

Granny met Pearl’s eyes. “Just so we are clear, here at the farm we like to start at dawn. Soon the men will be in for dinner, and we need to be ready.”

Pearl nodded, a lump in her throat from her morning cry. “Yes, ma’am.”

Granny strained her head forward, her eyes squinting like crushed peanuts. “What did you say?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Pearl nearly shouted in the empty house.