Pearl of Great Price

by Myra Johnson

  That had been one of Mama’s good days—too few and far between.

  Now, Mama said she couldn’t bear to see those things from Jenny’s room again. Aunt Geneva had already packed up all Jenny’s clothes and toys and donated them to the Salvation Army. With nothing left of her little sister but a few sticks of furniture and the starched yellow Priscillas adorning the windows, Rennie could almost imagine tears to match her own in the wide, staring eyes of the ducks and rabbits staring down from the walls.

  Her father’s footsteps echoed behind her. He rested his large, warm hand on the crown of her head. With his callused thumb he smoothed back her sweaty fringe of bangs. “Time to go, Rennie.”

  Without looking up, she answered, “I don’t want to.”

  Daddy lowered himself to the step next to her. “I know, my girl, I know. But you’ve seen how hard”—he cleared his throat and blinked several times—“how hard what happened this summer has been on your mother. We need to leave here, for her sake.” He sniffed. “For all our sakes.”

  She’d heard the speech a million times—from Aunt Geneva, Daddy, even their pastor. They’d each explained in patient detail how none of them could be expected to heal from the tragedy if they stayed on where the memories were so vivid.

  Rennie swung around to face her father, octopus tentacles constricting her throat. “Please, Daddy, please don’t make me come with you and Mama. Let me stay here and live with Aunt Geneva. Send me away to boarding school—anything!”

  “Rennie Pearl, you gotta stop such talk. Of course you’re coming with us.” Daddy drew her close against his chest, and she could hear his thumping heart. His moist, sighing breath whispered across her cheek. “It’ll be all right, honey-girl. You’ll start at your new high school next week, make new friends. We’ll all begin a new life. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

  “But she hates me, you know she does.”

  She waited for him to deny it, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, after all. Mama had spoken it outright the day of the memorial service, said it plainly for all the world to hear:

  “I left you in charge, Renata Louise Pearl. And you killed your baby sister. I will never, ever forgive you, not even if I live to be a hundred. I will hate and despise you until the day I die!”

  CHAPTER 7

  Present Day

  From behind me came the sounds of Mama Dog’s soft whimpers as her puppies rustled around in the box. I edged out of the van and closed the door before the lady got close enough to see inside.

  “You—you’re the girl from the flea market.” Ms. Moneybags cocked her head and slammed the door of her Mercedes. She took mincing steps toward me. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

  “Howdy-do, ma’am.” Grandpa joined me at the rear of the van and extended a gentlemanly hand, but his voice was tight. “Otto Stiles.”

  She took Grandpa’s hand with limp fingers. “Renata Channing. I was in your shop yesterday.”

  “Picked out one of Hazel’s lace tablecloths.” He nodded. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Hope it suits you.”

  “Yes, it’s lovely.” She glanced toward the house, and I thought I detected a shiver. “Really, why are you here? This encounter seems . . . entirely too coincidental.”

  Indeed it did, and I was beginning to wonder what fate had in mind, placing this snooty rich lady in my path two days in a row. Not to mention I had a few questions of my own—like was she connected with the Pearl family who used to own this resort, and why had she left the Swap & Shop yesterday in such an all-fired hurry?

  I rubbed my arms, feeling as if I’d caught a chill. She glared at me like she was waiting for an answer, so I thought I’d best give her one. “My best friend just got hired by the new owner. We thought we’d see if there was anything worth salvaging before they start demolition.”

  The lady bristled. “Ah, yes, the new owner. Micah Hobart.”

  “So you know him?”

  “I’m the one who sold him this worthless pile of trash. We signed the papers yesterday.”

  “Then you are one of the Pearls.” She must be one of the children in the snapshot that was now burning a hole in my back pocket. I ached to ask her about the child who’d drowned, why her family abandoned the place, why she’d held onto the old resort for so long while letting things fall into such disrepair.

  “It was a long time ago.” The woman’s eyes took on a distant look. “A very, very long time ago.”

  “Then why . . . ?” I lifted one hand in a vague motion toward the house.

  “I felt the need to see the place one more time before—” She blinked several times and crossed her arms. “Honestly, why is this any of your business?”

  “Sorry, it’s just—”

  Grandpa cut me off, his grip biting into my wrist like an ice-cold vise grip. “We best be on our way, Julie.”

  I couldn’t leave, not yet. Not when the woman who might hold the answers I needed stood right in front of me. But I didn’t get the chance to say so, because Mama Dog chose that moment to let loose a pitiful whine.

  “Is that a child in there—and in this heat?” Mrs. Channing barged past me, her face a mask of righteous anger. She peered through the cloudy rear window, then instantly shrank back. “Oh—a dog! It can’t get out, can it?”

  I rolled my eyes. I could never understand some people’s irrational fear of animals. If a dog is vicious or dangerous, there’s usually a logical reason. Like abuse. Starvation. Illness. Abandonment. Conditions likely traceable to a cruel or irresponsible human being. “No, she can’t get out,” I snapped. “I agree, though—she’s probably getting overheated by now. You’re right, Grandpa. Let’s go.”

  I could probe Grandpa with questions after we got Mama Dog and her pups safely settled in. All of a sudden I just wanted to get out of there, away from this woman who made me feel as jumpy inside as a frog in a hot frying pan.

  ~~~

  Back at the Swap & Shop, I didn’t have time to think much more about the resort or the crazy lady who used to live there or the grumpy old guy she’d sold it to. All my attention went to getting Mama Dog and those pups settled in, and I was amazed at how quickly she made herself at home. It convinced me she must have once lived with decent folks, just got lost somewhere along the way and was forced to fend for herself. She seemed plenty happy to hop in the big galvanized washtub out back, letting me lather her up and pick those nasty ticks off with a pair of old tweezers. When I finally rinsed her off, she hopped out of the tub and yipped with pure glee. After a good shaking, she had me almost as wet as herself.

  And by then it had gotten so late that I’d never get myself cleaned up, fix Grandpa some supper, and still make it to Bible study on time. I gave Sandy a quick ring and told her to make an excuse for me. “We found another stray,” I told her, not saying where. “I just got through de-ticking her, and I’m a mess.”

  “Then for heaven’s sake, please stay home,” Sandy said with a gasp. “I’ll catch you up on everything tomorrow.”

  Mama Dog and the pups spent the night on a fresh, clean blanket in a box at the foot of my bed, and the next morning we headed to the vet for a checkup and shots. I cradled one of the tiny black pups in my two hands and lifted it to eye level. “What breed do you think they are?”

  Doc Wagner chewed her lip. “The mother could be part shepherd, maybe border collie. Hard to say yet what the pups will look like. Want me to put an ad on the bulletin board? This sweet girl will be easy to find a home for, and the pups, too, when they’re old enough.”

  “Let me think on it,” I said slowly. Mama Dog had already wormed her way deep into my heart, and I had a feeling I’d be keeping her around.

  On the way home I tried out some names for the old girl. “Stormy? Smoky? Blackie?” I flicked a glance toward the rear of the van. “Nope, too ordinary. How about Sylvia? Gretchen. Ashley. Brynna—”

  She yipped. Whether I’d accidentally landed upon her original name or maybe one
that sounded similar, it was settled. Mama Dog was officially renamed Brynna.

  That afternoon, Grandpa and I brought Brynna and the pups downstairs with us while we swept and dusted and generally got organized to reopen for business on Thursday. Brynna seemed a bit uneasy at first with Sneezy sniffing around the puppies, but they soon forged a cautious friendship.

  Grandpa and I had some of our best conversations doing busy work around the shop, so with everything weighing on my mind lately, I decided to take advantage of today’s opportunity. I maneuvered my broom and dustpan over to where Grandpa was polishing the glass fronts of LeRoy Tuttle’s china display cabinets. Most of our vendors did a pretty good job keeping their own booths clean and orderly, but for a few we had to put forth a little extra effort. A tenant’s streaked display case or dusty merchandise didn’t speak well for the Swap & Shop.

  “How’s it going, Grandpa?” I reached the broom under Maddie Barton’s front table and swept out a gum wrapper and a few dust bunnies.

  He made a clucking noise with his tongue. “If old LeRoy doesn’t get his trifocals adjusted soon, I may have to up our commission on his sales. I swear, the man is as blind as a cave-dwelling salamander.”

  “Now, Grandpa, why are you picking on LeRoy? That’s not like you at all.” More proof he was bothered about something he didn’t want to talk about.

  He finished his attack on a smudge and stood erect with a groan. “Just getting old, I suppose. Old and crotchety.” He rubbed his back and stretched.

  He wasn’t fooling me for an instant with his “old and crotchety” excuse. I made a few more strokes with the broom and pushed a pile of litter into the dustpan. Maybe a slightly more direct approach would get him talking. “That Renata Pearl Channing—she sure is a puzzle.”

  He moved to the next cabinet and spritzed it with Windex. “You sure we have enough dog food for the week? Might want to run over to Friendly’s later.”

  “We’re good for another day or two.” If Grandpa thought changing the subject would get me off his case, he had another think coming. “Sure would like to know her story.”

  “Brynna’s? Guess we’ll never know.” Grandpa tore off a fresh paper towel.

  He knew perfectly well I didn’t mean Brynna, and his avoidance tactics were starting to rile me. “I’m talking about Mrs. Channing. Do you know what happened at the resort all those years ago? Is that where the little girl dr—”

  “Julie Pearl.” Grandpa stopped his work and fixed me with a desperate glare. “It’s not our business, all right? Leave it be.”

  Obviously, my tightlipped grandpa had no intention of telling me a thing. But the harder he worked to avoid my questions, the more certain I became that he was hiding something important, something that mattered to him a lot.

  And if it mattered so much to Grandpa, it mattered even more to me.

  ~~~

  Later that evening, as I dried the last supper dish and set it in the cupboard, the phone rang. Grandpa answered it. “How ya doin’, Sandy? Yep, she’s right here.”

  I draped the dishtowel over the oven door handle and reached for the receiver. “What’s up, girlfriend?”

  “How’s your new dog? Get rid of all those revolting ticks?”

  Brynna came over and nuzzled my hand as I sat down at the kitchen table. “She’s great. Sweetest dog I ever met. A real keeper.”

  “You missed a great discussion last night. I took lots of notes. Can I bring ’em by?”

  “I thought you had to work at the DQ on Wednesday nights.”

  Sandy let out a jubilant laugh. “Not anymore! There was a message from Mr. Hobart when I got home last night. He decided he needed me to start right away. Today was my first day!”

  “Wow, Sandy, that’s super.” I only wished I sounded happier for her, but her news reminded me of the old resort and all my questions about Renata Pearl Channing. The mounting frustration slammed me in the chest like a bucket of Tom’s rusty old tools.

  “Jules? Something’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice.”

  I chewed on a hangnail. Maybe by now Sandy would know more about the history of the Pearls’ place. “You want to meet me at the DQ for sundaes? My treat.”

  “Great! I’m ready to celebrate!”

  Twenty minutes later, Sandy and I picked up our deluxe brownie-and-hot-fudge sundaes at the DQ counter and settled across from each other in the front corner booth. I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for red-faced George Bradley, scurrying behind the counter trying to cover the management duties Sandy had handled so capably.

  I licked a swirl of caramel and hot fudge off my plastic spoon. “Well? Tell me all about it. How was your first day on the new job?”

  “Terrific. There’s so much to learn, but I can already tell Micah Hobart is going to be a dream to work for.”

  My hand paused halfway between the bowl and my mouth. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, but Clifton and I met your boss yesterday.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Where?”

  “At the resort. Clifton wanted to go look around.”

  Sandy groaned and lowered her head to the table. “And after I outright told him not to go snooping.”

  “Don’t be too mad at him. I was curious about the place, too. Besides, Clifton was hoping Mr. Hobart might have some other jobs available.”

  “So did you talk to him?”

  “Mr. Hobart? Yeah, we had a conversation of sorts.” I stirred my melting ice cream and tried to think of something nice I could say about Sandy’s new boss before grilling her with questions. “He seems to like animals.”

  Sandy wrinkled her nose. “That’s a non sequitur if I ever heard one.”

  I bit my lip. “The resort is where I found Brynna.”

  “Brynna?”

  “The mama dog.” I told her how Clifton and I found the dog and puppies in one of the cabins.

  “That explains it,” Sandy said with a nod. “I overheard Mr. Hobart on the phone this morning with the humane society. Sounded like they’d gone out to the place to look for some animal but it was already gone. I thought it was a raccoon or a rabid possum or something.” She licked her spoon. “He’ll be so happy tomorrow when I tell him you rescued the dogs.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” I leaned back and crossed my arms.

  Sandy narrowed her gaze. “Julie Pearl Stiles, you better not be keeping anything from me. Especially something that could jeopardize my new job.”

  Her mouth twisted as I described how Hobart practically threw us off the property. I left out the part about catching a glimmer of remorse in his eyes . . . or was it something else? Easier to keep my own emotions in check if I focused on his rudeness.

  She shook her head. “That’s just not the man I know.”

  “Well, you weren’t there.” I finished the last spoonful of my sundae and pushed the bowl aside.

  Frowning, Sandy pulled a paper napkin from the dispenser and reached over to blot a dribble of chocolate syrup I’d accidentally dripped onto the table. “I gather things didn’t go real smoothly Monday afternoon when he closed the deal on the property. Maybe he was still upset when he ran into you and Clifton.”

  My skin prickled—exactly the lead-in I’d been waiting for. “You mean his meeting with Renata Pearl Channing?”

  Sandy’s eyebrows creased. “How do you know her name?”

  “She was in the flea market on Monday. And then she drove up at the resort yesterday right after Grandpa and I got the dogs into the van.” I shuddered. “I don’t like her, Sandy. Something about her gives me the scroochies.”

  “No kidding. I hear she’s been nothing but trouble for Mr. Hobart. Fussing over every little detail of the sale, demanding things be handled a certain way. Before she’d sign the papers, he practically had to get on his knees and swear to her he wouldn’t leave any of the original structures. She doesn’t want a trace of the old resort left behind.”

  An image of the child’s roo
m with the cheery ducks and rabbits filled my mind, along with the growing conviction that something horrible happened there. Some connection to the child’s drowning twenty-five years ago that Grandpa didn’t want to talk about. What possible reason could he have for keeping it bottled up inside when it clearly ate at him like acid on metal?

  Unless . . . could it have anything to do with my own past? Maybe even my father and why he disappeared from our lives and never returned?

  An image of a tall, green-eyed man wasting away in a prison cell filled my brain. What if my very own father had something to do with the drowning and that was why no one ever spoke of him around me?

  “Julie?” Sandy tapped my hand. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

  Giving myself a mental shake, I stuffed the chocolate-smeared napkin into my empty bowl and scooted out of the booth. “I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  Without looking back, I shoved the trash into the nearest receptacle and charged out into the muggy June evening. A death squad of vicious, half-starved mosquitoes caught up with me before I reached my Beetle. One or two managed to follow me inside, and I smacked them with unnecessary force before starting the engine and peeling out of the parking lot.

  Maybe it was crazy to feel so obsessed with an abandoned lake resort, as if Renata Pearl Channing and her mysterious past should mean anything to me at all. But it did. And somehow it all seemed bound up together—my father, the Pearl family, Micah Hobart, even my sweet dog Brynna.

  Yes indeed, Grandpa owed me some answers, and I intended to press even harder until I got them.

  CHAPTER 8

  The flea market opened at nine the next morning, so my questions for Grandpa would have to wait. At least I had plenty to distract me through another busy weekend, because with all the craziness in my life lately, my brain was on the verge of spinning itself into a black hole of confusion.