Pearl of Great Price

by Myra Johnson

  “Steady there.” Arthur wrapped his arms around my waist—a bit too tightly, as far as I was concerned. A sunbeam reflecting off his bald spot nearly blinded me.

  I disentangled myself from his chivalrous grip. “Thanks, I’m fine—really.” With a jerk, I freed my heel from the jaws of the shoe-eating pavers, but by the time I recovered enough composure to remember where I’d been headed in the first place, Micah was nowhere to be seen.

  Instead, another man stood near the French doors, and he looked even less thrilled about being here than Micah.

  “Well, well,” Arthur murmured, “looks like Larry’s back in town.”

  “Larry?” My gaze followed the broad-chested man with the shock of silver hair as he strode toward the guests clustering around Renata under the party tent. “Larry, as in Lawrence Channing?”

  Mrs. Orbach lifted the brim of her straw hat and gaped at me. “You haven’t met Renata’s husband?”

  “Never had the pleasure.” I sank into my chair and tried to figure out what my next move should be.

  “It’s rare of him to attend one of Renata’s functions,” Caroline said. “Running GigantaMart keeps him so busy.”

  “Heard he just opened a new store in Tupelo.” Arthur picked up his and Caroline’s drink glasses. “Refill, darling? Gin and tonic, wasn’t it?”

  Caroline’s response was drowned out when the string ensemble performing under the tent interrupted their music-to-munch-and-mingle-by with a resounding fanfare.

  “My dear guests,” came Renata’s amplified voice. I glimpsed her through the crowd as she stepped to the front of the small stage and shook back her glorious mane. “Thank you all so much for coming to my little get-together. It’s a delight to see so many dear, dear friends again.”

  She rambled for several minutes thanking the musicians, caterers, and household staff for their contributions to the affair, then began introductions of honored guests. I promptly tuned her out, resuming my visual scan of the area in hopes of finding Micah. How could he simply disappear?

  “And now I’d like to officially introduce someone who is very, very important to me,” Renata said into the microphone. “Many of you have met her already, but—” Her voice broke. “Julie, where are you, dear?”

  “Oh, that’s you.” Mrs. Orbach patted my arm with one hand and waved frantically with the other. “Here she is, Renata!”

  My head jerked around. I gulped.

  Renata spotted me. She beamed a smile in my direction and motioned me over, silencing the last remnants of conversation. I rose slowly, the rasp of my chair across the terrace resounding like an explosion in the silence. As I made my way along the pool deck toward the party tent, I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Was this the moment for the big announcement?

  Curious murmurs now rose among the guests. Brushing past them, shutting my mind against their nosy stares, I somehow managed to stay on my toes as I crossed the grass. Renata took my hand and helped me onto the stage. Her eyes shone with moisture. Her lips trembled.

  “Everyone, please welcome Jennifer Susan Pearl, my sister.”

  I felt my face freeze into something between a grimace and a nervous grin. Anyone within two feet of me had to hear my heart thundering like a stampede of startled billy goats.

  “I know this is a surprise,” Renata said as the crowd grew quiet once more. “It certainly was to me. It’s a long and complicated story, and unimportant, really, in the grand scheme of things.” She lifted my hand in a manner reminiscent of Arkansas’ own Bill-and-Hillary victory salutes. “The only thing that matters is that my sister is alive and well and back with me where she belongs.”

  A smattering of applause broke out and swelled to a thunderous ovation. Renata signaled the musicians to resume playing and tugged me off the stage into the mass of congratulatory (if confused) party guests. I followed numbly as half-whispered comments rose around me.

  “But didn’t she say her name was Joanie?”

  “No, I’m sure it was Sally.”

  “Well, what do we call her then?”

  “Do you see any resemblance? I’d never have guessed . . .”

  “Julie.”

  My heart stopped dead still, and so did my feet. I looked to my left and there he was.

  Micah!

  I reached out to him, touched the solid rock of his muscled forearm. His gray eyes, deepened with raw pain, searched mine.

  A split second later, a cascading curtain of mahogany hair filled my vision. Flung aside by Renata’s sudden motion, I staggered backwards and watched helplessly as she threw her arms around Micah’s neck. “Oh, darling, you did come!”

  Micah clasped her shoulders and eased her off him. “Rennie, stop—”

  I’d barely regained my footing when a massive body and a flash of silver hair blocked my view. Larry Channing gripped Renata’s arm and spun her around. “What kind of crazy stunt is this, Renata? Are you off your meds again?”

  “How dare you!” Renata’s shocked whisper hissed between clenched teeth.

  “As for you, Hobart, all I can say is you’ve got some nerve showing up here.” Though Larry faced away from me, the quiet force behind his words made my stomach clench.

  “I’m surprised you showed up at all,” Micah shot back.

  All around me I sensed Renata’s guests edging away, making room, just in case this turned ugly.

  Like it hadn’t already.

  Before my spiked heels sank any deeper into the spongy lawn, I took two giant steps over to the pool deck. “Micah, maybe you should—”

  “Stay out of this, young lady”—Larry cut his eyes at me—“whoever you are. Trust me, I’ll deal with you later.”

  Fire blazed in Micah’s eyes. “Don’t threaten her. None of this is her fault.”

  “Larry, please!” Renata clutched at Larry’s shirtsleeve, a sick, desperate smile contorting her mouth. “Why don’t we go inside, darling. This isn’t a discussion we should be having in front of our guests.”

  “It isn’t a discussion we should be having under any circumstances.” Chest heaving, Larry gave Renata his full attention. “But seeing as how you’ve been engaged in all kinds of questionable behavior behind my back—” He jerked his head toward Micah.

  Giving an annoyed huff, Micah shook his head. “Get a grip, man. How many times do I have to tell you—”

  “Don’t try to deny it. You’ve been lusting after my wife since you were a hot-blooded pubescent twerp.” Larry thrust his face into Micah’s, jabbing a stubby finger at his chest. “Now get off my property before I have you thrown out.”

  “You conceited creep.” Straightening his shirt collar, Micah sidestepped the bully. “If you’d ever stopped chasing skirts long enough to give your wife the attention she craves—”

  “Don’t you dare presume to tell me how to handle my wife!”

  “Larry, darling, it’s all right.” Renata’s feeble pleas weren’t convincing anybody, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She hooked her arm through Larry’s and nudged him a few steps away.

  While she worked on placating her jealous husband, I shot Micah a desperate plea of my own. “You should go, before things get any worse.”

  He gripped my hands, and I saw all kinds of turmoil smoldering behind his eyes. “Let’s both go, Julie. You don’t belong here any more than I do.”

  I was millimeters away from admitting how right he was. But I had to see this through. I had no choice. My gaze dropped to my French-manicured toenails, and I guess my silence was all the answer Micah needed. I felt his lips brush my forehead before he strode past me toward the house.

  In the wake of his leaving I felt the stares of a hundred pairs of eyes. Slowly I lifted my head, catching glimpses of a few of the guests slinking away. A scarce few were brave enough to approach Renata for the requisite “Thank you, good-bye” to the hostess. Not with her and Larry still sniping at each other.

  Then with a shudder, Larry narrowed his gaze at me. Jaw clenc
hed, he headed my way.

  Yep, if I’d had any sense at all I’d have left with Micah.

  “So Renata thinks you’re her long-lost sister, does she?” Larry loomed over me. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

  I took a shaky step backward. “I—I had a DNA test. Ask Renata if you want proof.” I wished I sounded more confident, but confidence didn’t come easy with two hundred fifty pounds of testosterone glaring at me like he wanted to chew me up and spit me out. I backed up another step.

  And felt nothing but air beneath my heel. Gasping in panic, I tipped backward into the pool. My head grazed something solid, and I barely heard the splash over the sound of my pulse thundering in my ears. The last thing I remember before the silky coolness enveloped me was seeing Felicia Beaufort standing primly on the far side of the deck, her eyes narrowed in a self-satisfied sneer.

  CHAPTER 27

  One summer—it was just before I turned eight, and Grandpa had enrolled me for another round of swimming lessons with Madame Thunder Thighs—my short life passed before me in quick review beneath the aquamarine waters of the Caddo Pines RV & Mobile Home Park pool.

  That was the day Thunder Thighs (her real name has deserted me) decided to hold a penny-diving contest, and whoever surfaced with the most pennies in one breath would get to sit on the lifeguard stand for the remainder of the hour and bark out drills to the rest of the class.

  Naturally I was torn. I could cling to the wall and refuse to participate, thus incurring even more ridicule from my peers. Or I could choke down my fears, pour all my nerve into winning the contest, and enjoy a few glorious minutes of high-and-dry freedom. As the teacher held a plastic cup full of pennies aloft and cocked her arm to fling them into the pool, I gazed up at that lifeguard stand, its green plastic seat shimmering in the morning sun, and my decision was made.

  “On your mark, get set, go!”

  A hundred pennies flew over our heads, and eleven splashing bodies leapt off the shallow-end step in quick pursuit. I filled my lungs and battled downward, grabbing pennies right and left while dodging feet, knees, elbows, and heads. Clutching two bulging handfuls of pennies, my lungs burning, I reached for one more as the writhing waters lifted it off the bottom and propelled it closer to the deep end.

  Then someone’s heel caught me square in the breadbasket, and all my remaining air rushed out of me. Unwilling to let go of my cache, I clawed my way toward the surface with clenched fists. I could see the sun up there somewhere, a yellow ripple in a watery mass of blue, but I just couldn’t get there. I swam through an ever narrowing black tunnel. I didn’t think I’d ever reach the surface, never take another clean, full breath of air. I’d never get my chance to look down from that lifeguard stand in victory.

  My short life would come to an end right there in the pool, with nothing more to show for my efforts than a fistful of tarnished pennies.

  Which was exactly what I had when I woke up several minutes later, spitting and coughing and wondering why Thunder Thighs had been “kissing” me. My stomach and chest felt bruised, my throat ached, my eyes burned. I made out Sandy’s high-pitched wailing, and Clifton’s worried query, “Is she dead?”

  “For goodness’ sake, no, Clifton, she is not dead. Children, please, calm down!” Thunder Thighs sat me up and patted my back. “Julie Pearl, are you okay, honey-child? Can you breathe?”

  I slowly opened my hands, letting the pennies clatter to the concrete deck. A few of them stuck to my wet palms, and I shook them off. “How many?” I rasped. “How many did I get?”

  The big, burly woman hugged me to her pillowy chest and laughed. “Oh, honey, you got plenty. Plenty, plenty, plenty!”

  And when I stopped coughing and found my land legs again, she personally helped me climb up the chrome ladder to the lifeguard seat, where I presided over the rest of the class in all my glory.

  ~~~

  Coughing and sputtering, I struggled to open my eyes against the glare of bright sun. “Did I win?”

  A deep laugh, an unfamiliar voice. “Win? I don’t know about that, ma’am. And I’m guessin’ you won’t be qualifying for the Summer Olympics anytime soon.”

  “Is she going to be all right?” A familiar woman’s voice.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Channing. Reflexes are good, she’s breathing normally. They’ll check her more thoroughly at the hospital, but she should be fine.”

  I forced my eyes to focus on the face hovering above me. Light brown hair closely cropped, concerned smile. The plastic nametag clipped to the pocket of his pale blue shirt read J. CANBY, EMT.

  “Let’s see what you’re holding onto so tightly.” He gently pried open my clenched fist, his latex gloves squeaking against my wet skin. “Nothin’ here. Whatever you were diving for must still be on the bottom of the pool.”

  “But my pennies . . .” Then I remembered that was twenty-some-odd years ago. I tried to sit up, only to find myself strapped to a body board, my head immobilized between foam blocks. Another coughing spasm shook me, and I strained against the straps..

  “Take it easy, ma’am.” J. Canby, EMT, patted my shoulder. “You may have a concussion. We’ll be transporting you to the hospital in a few minutes, but I think the police want to talk to you first.”

  “Police?” My head throbbed. I winced against the bright sun overhead.

  “Yeah, apparently someone called nine-one-one to report you’d been accosted by a large, angry man.”

  Unable to move anything but my eyes, I tried to look around, but a wave of nausea made me gag. If I threw up lying flat on my back, it would not be pretty, so I took a deep breath and swallowed. With a cautious sideways glance, I spotted Larry between two cops in uniform. He gestured wildly and kept pointing at me.

  And I noticed he was dripping wet.

  “He didn’t . . . accost me,” I muttered through tight lips. Something rancid burned my throat. Had Larry been the one to pull me out of the pool? “Tell them it was an accident.”

  Another face filled my vision, this one wearing a black cap with gold trim. “That true, miss?” He nodded toward Larry. “The man over there didn’t push you into the pool?”

  “No.” Not on purpose anyway. “I stepped off the edge and fell.”

  “We need to transport her now, officer.” J. Canby and another EMT lifted me onto a gurney and tucked warm blankets around me. I gave in to the compelling urge to sleep and didn’t remember another thing until I awoke later in a hospital bed.

  The room lay in twilight, a shaft of moonlight silhouetting the head and shoulders of someone dozing in a chair by the window. The soft, snuffling snores seemed out of place yet strangely soothing.

  Then on the opposite side of the bed, I felt a hand on my arm. “Finally waking up, sleepyhead?”

  I swiveled toward the voice and tried to make out the face in the dim light. “Sandy?”

  She chuckled. “I’d have thought you learned your lesson back when we were kids. Missy Franklin you are not.”

  The snores coming from the figure by the window turned into snorts. The chair creaked, and then I heard the voice I’d been starving for. “Julie Pearl, oh, my Julie-girl. How are you, darlin’?”

  My arms were around Grandpa’s neck before he could shuffle across the space between us. I buried my face in the softness of his cotton shirt and inhaled the spicy-musky scent of his aftershave. “Grandpa, Grandpa, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Not half as much as I’ve missed you.” He eased me into bed and sat on the edge beside me. With his warm, work-roughed hands, he brushed away my happy tears.

  “But how’d you know? Who told you I was here?”

  “Got a call from the hospital.” A proud and grateful look warmed Grandpa’s eyes. “Seems you gave ’em my name when they asked you for next of kin.”

  “I did?” Truth be told, I couldn’t even remember being asked.

  Sandy squeezed in on my other side. “Smart girl. Even half-drowned.”

  I stared at her, ev
en more confused. “Then how did you find out?”

  “Your grandpa called me, of course.” She gave me a sad smile. “You think wild horses could keep me away when my best friend’s in trouble?”

  I mentally ran through everything I could remember, which was very little from the moment I toppled into the pool. “Am I okay? How long have I been sleeping?”

  Sandy patted my hand. “You’re going to be fine. They think you must have grazed your head on the side of the pool when you fell. That’s why they wanted to keep you overnight.” She glanced at her watch, turning her wrist to catch the pink glow of the nightlight over my bed. “And it hasn’t been that long. It’s just now a little after ten.”

  “Still Saturday?”

  She nodded. “The doctor said you can go home in the morning if everything checks out.”

  I didn’t allow myself to think about where “home” was at this point. A beige telephone sat on the bedside table, just out of reach. “I need to talk to Micah. Sandy, would you—”

  “Best you forget about Micah Hobart, young lady.” Jaw firm, Grandpa rose and paced to the window. “Bad enough he nearly drowned you as a baby. His meddlin’ about got you killed again.”

  “It wasn’t his fault, Grandpa. Not then, not now.” At his indifferent shrug, I turned to Sandy. “Just get him on the phone for me, okay?”

  With a sidelong glance at Grandpa, she lowered her voice. “Maybe you should give Micah some space. He was pretty shaken up after Renata’s party.”

  “You know about his confrontation with Larry?”

  Sandy gnawed her lower lip as she plucked at a thread on the blanket. “I was there.”

  “Then you saw what happened.”

  “Afraid not. I needed to use the powder room, and there were several ladies in front of me. By the time I started out to the terrace, Micah met me at the door and said we were leaving. It was obvious he was upset, but I had to drag an explanation out of him.” She peered at me from beneath lowered lids. “After your grandpa called to tell me what happened to you, I wished we’d stayed.”

  In slow motion I relived my fall into the pool—the sudden awareness of stepping off into thin air, the clutch of panic in my belly, a sweep of blue sky reeling across my vision just before a dull thud and then the splash.