Wishing Pearl

by Nicole O'Dell

  There it stood. Just beyond the clearing towered the amazing stone structure pictured on the cover of the brochure Jodie and Officer Stapleton had given her. “What is that building?” Its character was undeniable.

  “It’s an old monastery—you know, where monks lived in seclusion and served God by letting go of all worldly goods.”

  Sounds like fun. “It’s really old.”

  “It was built in the 1800s, and Mom and Dad converted it for use as the main quarters of Diamond Estates.” Justin stepped closer and gazed lovingly at its stone arches. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Olivia wasn’t sure beautiful described it best. “It’s pretty amazing, that’s for sure. Those stained-glass windows are incredible. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  Mom stepped closer. “That one depicts the Garden of Eden, and that one over there with the rainbow, that’s Noah and the Ark.”

  “My favorite is the nativity window, but you have to go around back to see it from the outside.” Justin grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He gestured toward the long porch that led to the front doors. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Does it even have heat?” Olivia stepped onto the porch and shivered at the thought of the cold, damp building.

  Justin’s laugh echoed through the mountains. “Yeah. You’re going to be surprised when you get inside. Everyone always is.” He gestured to the ornate entrance with its carved wooden doors that arched at the top. “After you.” He pulled open a front door even taller and more massive than Chuck’s.

  They stepped into a foyer that dwarfed the one at home. Olivia hadn’t thought that possible anywhere. She gazed up at the high ceilings and intricate carvings. Large lighting fixtures hung low enough to cast eerie shadows to the ceiling, and actual candles flickered in wall sconces. If they were trying to creep her out, they were doing a great job of it.

  “Are there candles burning every day?” That seemed like a lot of work, not to mention a fire hazard. Probably expensive, too.

  “Oh no. My dad likes to do it for effect when someone’s coming for a tour.” Justin smiled and shook his head. “Kinda silly, I think. But whatever. Just do as I’m told.” He opened another big wooden door with the same rounded top as the front doors and stood back to let them pass. “This is the library.”

  They stepped over the threshold into a different world. Windows lined the far wall, floor to very high ceiling. They overlooked beautiful craggy mountain terrain. Along the other three walls were books. Many thousands of volumes. Each of the walls of shelves had a tall, narrow ladder that slid on rails so a reader could access anything, no matter how high. In the center of the room were two rows of three long wooden tables with six chairs each.

  Olivia walked to the far wall and ran her hand along the book spines.

  “That’s where the schooling takes place.” Justin pointed at the tables. “Five days a week, five hours of instruction with an hour for lunch in the middle.”

  “Do you come here for school, too? I’m just curious—not trying to be nosy.” Mom took a step toward him.

  Nosy? You, Mom? Never.

  “No. I go to an outside school. A school for the performing arts—actually, we passed it on the way from the airport. Mom and Dad think it’s best that I not be the only guy in a room full of teenage girls all day long.” Justin chuckled. “They’re probably right.”

  Mom nodded. “I bet you’d be the subject of all kinds of catfights if you were around here every day.”

  Olivia didn’t even flinch as she continued to feign disinterest, pretending to read book titles.

  “It’s hard because, for the girls, this is their life for a year or more—it’s huge for them. They’re alone and scared—all looking for something to cling to.” Justin shrugged. “For me, it’s just more of the same. Girls come and go, and no matter how close I might become with someone, when they leave, they really leave. I almost never hear back from any of them. Plus I’ve learned that, for them, being interested in a boy can only get in the way of what they’re here to do.”

  “You’re a very wise young man, Justin. I did wonder if the girls are allowed to date while they’re here.”

  Olivia stopped on A Tale of Two Cities and listened, but didn’t turn around.

  “No. There’s no actual dating of any kind. In fact, no male/female alone time at all. Every once in a while someone will kind of match up with a boy at church or something. Those sorts of crushes or mini relationships aren’t really encouraged, but they’re part of life, I guess—it happens. Personally, I don’t see the point. Every girl here knows it’s only temporary. Dating like that makes no sense to me.”

  “Well. Maybe you can talk some of that sense into my Olivia.”

  “What?” Olivia shouted and whirled around from the book wall. What was Mom talking about? Olivia had never had a boyfriend. Never even been on a date.

  “Oh, I’m only kidding around. Relax.”

  Great. Now Justin would have the wrong idea about her. But why did Olivia even care?

  Mom walked to the window and looked out over the slope to a valley. “Wow, Liv. You can see the tops of trees down below. Truly spectacular.”

  Olivia made no move to look outside. “Mm-hmm. Spectacular.” She refused to get sucked into the scenery. If she showed any interest, Mom would start unpacking her bags.

  “Speaking of the girls, how many live here at one time?” Mom tilted her head toward the tables.

  “Anywhere from twenty to thirty. If I’m not mistaken, there are twenty-three here right now.” Justin pointed to an office. “There are also three live-in staff counselors—Donna, Patty, and Tammy. You might have a chance to meet them later. Just so you know, Tammy’s deaf. But she can read lips so well you’d almost never know.”

  “I know sign language,” Olivia mumbled. “My brother’s deaf.”

  “Really? That’s cool. I’ve always wanted to learn how to do it.” Justin strode to the door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the dining area and kitchen.”

  Cool? Well, at least Justin passed the deaf test. She’d expected him to offer condolences for Jake’s condition like most people did when they first learned of it. Nice surprise.

  “I’m just wondering, Justin, are three staff counselors enough to handle thirty girls?”

  Right, Mom. Like you really care. As long as you don’t have to handle them it doesn’t matter. And don’t you mean thirty troubled girls?

  “It seems to work, Mrs. Whitford. Things are pretty structured around here. Dad, with Mom’s help as much as possible, has things running like clockwork.”

  They walked down a long hallway lined with windows and turned a corner at two metal swinging doors with portholes—the kind of doors Olivia would expect to see at a restaurant. Justin pushed on one of the doors and held it open.

  It felt like stepping through a time capsule and jumping far into the future. No hints of an old monastery remained in the industrial kitchen. Aluminum, chrome, and steel covered everything from top to bottom, and two double ovens spanned the far wall. Rows of metal workstations gleamed down the center of the long room. Four deep sinks, two enormous dishwashers, a stove with eight burners, and a real restaurantstyle griddle formed the back wall.

  Olivia whistled. “Boy, they mean business in here, don’t they?”

  “Who does the cooking?” Mom peeked around a corner.

  “There’s a full-time cook on staff. Marilyn oversees the meal planning and prep, and she orders the food every other day to assure the produce is fresh and the refrigerator is stocked.” Justin walked across the room toward two gleaming steel doors and pulled down the handle to open the massive one on the left. “This side is the freezer, and next to it is the fridge. When I was little, the girls used to trick me to go in there and then they’d hold the door closed so I couldn’t get out.” He shivered. “I’m still terrified.”

  Mom laughed and stepped inside.

  Olivia followed but tried not to l
ook impressed at the shelves of fresh produce and frozen meats. “What if a girl doesn’t like whatever’s on the menu for a particular meal?”

  “That happens. We ask the girls to try everything, but there’s always a little table with stuff to make a sandwich of some kind. That’s the only option other than the prepared meal.” Justin beckoned them to follow. “This way, ladies.”

  Olivia walked behind Mom around the corner and found a row of six microwaves and dozens of cabinets with locks on them. “Why are these locked?”

  “The residents are allowed to buy their own snacks or special items like soda. Each girl has a cupboard with a lock where she can keep her own things.”

  “Is there a lot of theft going on that makes it necessary to lock things up?” Mom’s eyebrows knitted together.

  Justin chuckled. “Oh no. Much less than at your high school, I’d assume.” He nodded at Olivia. “But anything we can do to prevent temptation, accusations, or confusion is good.”

  Mom held up a finger. “Now, you mentioned that the chef oversees the meal planning and preparation. That must mean she has help with the cooking. Who does that?”

  “Everyone does.” Justin seemed to be selecting his words carefully. “My parents believe in raising up self-sufficient people. Anything the girls can help with, they do. Cooking. Grounds keeping. Shopping. Laundry. Cleaning. The jobs rotate every week.”

  “That sounds fair.” Mom nodded.

  Easy for her to say. The term slave labor comes to mind.

  “One other question. You keep saying ‘we.’ What exactly is your role here?”

  Good question. Olivia’s ears perked up.

  “I’m basically the groundskeeper. I organize the outdoor chores and some mountain activities. I make sure that anything that needs to be taken care of outside gets handled.”

  Olivia walked to another set of swinging doors and peered into the dining room. At least ten round tables sat around a humongous stone fireplace with glass on all sides. It reminded her of something right out of a ski lodge. One gigantic picture window stood in place of a wall along the back of the dining room. Its view took in the same mountainous valley as the windows in the library did. Even Olivia had to admit it was truly spectacular. Not that she had any intention of letting them know she thought that. She spun her back toward the window. “What kind of fun happens around here?”

  Justin chuckled. “I’ll leave some of that to my dad to describe for you. Just understand that the primary goal here is to do hard work.”

  Olivia lifted her eyebrows and snapped her gum toward her mom. See. They turn bad girls into slaves here.

  “Oh, I don’t mean work like chores. Of course, there is some of that.” Justin leaned back on the counter. “But I’m talking about the work that needs to be done on the inside. That’s often much, much harder.”

  That was difficult to believe. Visions of scrubbing floors on her hands and knees, washing towels on a washboard, and being up to her elbows cleaning toilets assaulted her mind. Nothing could be worse than that.

  “Oh look.” Justin nodded toward the door. “Here comes my dad.”

  Olivia turned in the direction Justin indicated, and her jaw dropped.

  Chapter 10

  A man looking like he’d jumped right off the set of a wilderness movie burst into the room in designer jeans and Western boots. His emerald-green flannel shirt showed off his rugged mountain tan and gleaming white teeth.

  Olivia gasped as he rushed toward them with his arm outstretched.

  “I’m Ben Bradley. It’s so good to meet you.” He pumped Olivia’s hand then turned to Mom. “Mrs. Whitford, a pleasure.” He shook Mom’s hand. “I trust you’ve been given the grand tour of our humble estate?” He gave a movie-star grin and smoothed his salt-and-pepper waves.

  What was the deal with this guy? Olivia had expected a stodgy old man who shuffled up and down the hallways in bedroom slippers carrying a big ring of keys, not a book-cover-worthy lumberjack.

  “We haven’t gone upstairs yet, but they’ve pretty much seen everything down here, Dad.” Justin smiled and backed away with a tiny bow. “Ladies, I haven’t been home since early this morning, and I have chores and homework to finish. You’re in good hands now. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Dinner? Oh great. It would be hours before they’d get away from here. Maybe that was when Mom planned to sneak away and leave her behind. She’d promised she wouldn’t, but Olivia refused to let her guard down. Did Justin know something she didn’t? Olivia had tried to read his eyes, but, except for the twinkle, they were blank.

  She’d kill for a cigarette. “Um, Mr. Bradley?”

  He shook his head. “No, no. Please call me Ben.”

  “Okay. Ben? Is there a place I can go have a smoke?”

  Mom gasped. “Olivia!” Her cheeks reddened, and she turned to Ben. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  Book-cover Ben smiled. “Sorry. No smoking on the grounds.” He glanced at his watch. “Okay, it’s four fifteen. We’ll finish up the tour and then have dinner when the girls get back.”

  “Where are they now?” Off to work the mines for the day? Olivia pictured the seven dwarfs coming home with pickaxes over their shoulders. Heigh-ho, heigh-ho! It’s home from work I go.

  “They’re horseback riding. They enjoy long rides on the mountain several times a week. There are stables and ten horses on the grounds—twelve if you count the two new foals born this past spring.” Ben steered her into the dining room. “Here. I’ll show you. Look right over there, through those trees. See that clearing? That building houses the stables, and just beyond that is a pasture.”

  Olivia gazed out on yet another picturesque scene. Several inches of powder blanketed the ground, and bales of hay had already been put out for when the horses returned hungry from their ride.

  Mom squealed. “You love horses, Olivia!”

  “Um, thanks for the reminder.” Olivia turned away from the window—they might mistake her attention for interest. Which it most certainly was not.

  “What’s that building beyond the horse pasture?” Mom reached an arm past Olivia’s face to point to a smaller stone structure of similar architecture as the main house. Almost like those replica playhouses that sat in people’s backyards.

  “That was an infirmary—a mini hospital actually. We aren’t using it for anything right now, but we have lots of potential ministry ideas for the future—all in God’s timing though.”

  “You could use it as the dungeon.” Oops. Probably shouldn’t have said that.

  Ben turned away, ignoring Olivia’s comment.

  Mom glared at Olivia as soon as his back was turned. “What are some of your ideas?” She spoke in a sickeningly sweet voice.

  Ben gazed out the window. “I’d love to see it as a place for girls to start out their time with us. A place for deeper treatment—more individualized—until they’re ready for the less intense environment here at the main house. It would be better equipped to deal with depression, suicidal tendencies, things like that. Or, alternatively, it could become a home for unwed teen mothers. It’s up to God though.”

  “You have wonderful ideas, Ben.” Mom turned away from the window. “Not to change the subject, but I was wondering: how do mealtimes actually work?”

  “Take dinner, for example. The girls are required to be here at five thirty sharp to eat. If they’re on kitchen duty, it’s four thirty. We pray over our food, and then they go through the line.” He gestured at a cafeteria setup. “The meal is healthy and well balanced, including a dessert.”

  Oh boy. That sounded simply delightful. Gag. Olivia rolled her eyes.

  “What if the girls get hungry before bed? Speaking of bed, what time is lights-out?” Mom stepped in front of Olivia and shot her another dirty look.

  Ben gestured for them to follow him back into the hallway as he spoke. “There’s a snack time every night at seven thirty. The girls can choose to have
whatever we provide that day, like popcorn, ice cream, or cookies and milk. Or they can have something out of their own cabinet.” Ben laughed. “We have one Ding Dong addict right now—she can’t go to sleep without one.” He winked. “During the week, lights-out is at nine o’clock. Weekends at ten thirty.”

  “Seriously?” Olivia hadn’t gone to bed at nine o’clock since fourth grade. And did he say cookies and milk? He had to be joking.

  “Have you seen the game room?” Ben gestured for them to follow. His long strides were difficult to match, but they scurried along after him, two to every one of his.

  At the end of the long hallway stood a plain, narrow door. Ben inserted a key and pushed it open and then stood aside to let them enter first.

  Olivia walked into yet another world—this one a teenager’s heaven. The room, complete with skylights and bright fluorescent lighting, held more than a dozen beanbag chairs, some stereo equipment, two exercise bikes, three treadmills, a video game system, and a Ping-Pong table. In one corner she noticed a bookcase full of board games next to a card table. The best part lined the opposite end of the room. A screen hung on one wall with theater seating in front of it, and a projector was positioned directly overhead. Nearby stood an old-fashioned popcorn maker. Okay, so more went on than just work here. But still.

  Ben followed her gaze. “It’s pretty neat, huh?”

  “To say the least.” Olivia nodded. “Although my private bedroom has most of this stuff.”

  Mom ground her heel into the top of Olivia’s foot and glared at her while stepping closer to Ben.

  “Ow, Mom.” Olivia shook her foot. “That hurt.”

  “A donation from one church funded this whole room. They saw a need and met it—in a big way.” He ran his hands along the back of one of the leather chairs. “In fact, several members came out here to do all the work. True servants, let me tell you.”

  “I believe I may have met one of those folks.” Mom brightened. “Mark Stapleton, an old friend of mine, told me about this place and that he’d done work here. Do you know him?”