by Neal, Toby
“Somewhere private where we can talk.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Well, I’ve got plenty to say to you.” I scan her with a contemptuous glance that takes in her bed head, braless chest, and hickey-covered neck.
Pearl and I have always been close. Well, as close as you can be with a four-year age gap. She really hated it when I left for college five years ago and she had to become the oldest Michaels girl. She narrows bloodshot blue eyes at me.
“Easy for you to get all high-and-mighty, Miss Perfect,” she says. “You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with here, since well before Dad died. Did you know they’d been on the verge of divorcing? Fighting all the time because Dad was getting so religious. He wouldn’t let me do anything, not even go to a friend’s house! I’m glad he’s gone.”
“You bitch!” I slam on the brakes. Pearl, who hadn’t put on her seat belt, whacks her head on the dashboard. She reels back and goes for me.
“You’re the bitch!” she yells at me, and there we are, stopped in the middle of the road, slapping each other and pulling hair like we used to when we were kids.
Suddenly someone’s honking behind us, and I put the car in gear and we drive on. I’m taking us to the old lighthouse, a place we liked to picnic with the family when we were growing up.
We drive along, and Pearl’s rubbing her forehead and has finally put her belt on.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“Except where you pulled my hair out,” Pearl says, holding up a handful of drifting white-blond strands.
“Well, you got me good.” I show her the puffy spot on my cheekbone where she connected. “This has been a great welcome home.”
“I’m sorry, Ruby,” Pearl says, and suddenly her plump lower lip is quivering and tears pop out of her eyes and roll down her cheeks. I know how that feels, because I’m crying, too, now.
I turn into the deserted, sandy parking lot of the lighthouse. “Let’s take a walk.”
Pearl puts on her discarded sweatshirt and I find Rafe’s Windbreaker in the backseat. We walk into a fresh wind off the late-afternoon ocean, which tumbles our hair. It’s a beautiful color out on the sea, but having been on the ocean for close to two weeks, I enjoy seeing it from a distance.
Pearl’s sniffing and wiping her tears on the backs of her hands as she walks. “I don’t want to go to that armpit town, Eureka,” she says. “I would sooner die.”
I know Eureka, a small logging town in the ass end of California, is hardly sophisticated. I had to visit Grammy and Grandpa there with the family once a year before I went to college and married Rafe.
“Have you told Mom you feel that way?”
“Of course. She says it’s my fault we’re going.” Pearl sobs now, putting her hands over her face.
I loop an arm around her. “Well, she called us about you. She’s obviously not doing too well after Dad, and she thinks you’re acting out because you’re grieving. She thinks she needs to get you away from ‘bad influences.’” I make air quotes. “What’s really going on with you, Pearl?”
Pearl looks up. She’s the only one of us who got Dad’s blue eyes, and seeing them now, so much like his when he was upset, gives me a stab of fresh grief. Crying makes those light blue eyes, fringed in dark spiky lashes, even brighter. Unlike Rafe’s dark nautical blue, hers are a light crystalline turquoise, shot with white like chips of ice, and there’s an indigo circle around the iris. Pearl is seriously beautiful and has always been a magnet for trouble. I fear the darkness I see in those light-struck eyes.
“It’s always been too late for me,” she says. “I just wanted to feel better.” She holds out her arms, and I see the thin raised lines of scars from cutting herself interspersed with needle tracks.
“Oh God, Pearl.” I pull her into my arms. “It’s never too late. But I don’t think you should go with Mom to Eureka. I think you should come home to Boston with us.”
Chapter 27
Rafe
It’s been a rough ten days getting the house closed up and Ruby’s mom and sisters packed, but finally it’s all dealt with. Turns out they never owned the house. Kate has a little money from the sale of their possessions and Peter’s life insurance policy, enough to have a cushion when she arrives in Eureka, but no security blanket. She takes Jade, who is frighteningly self-contained—and we take Pearl.
I’m braced for a rough voyage back to Boston in more ways than one as I guide the Maid out of the Charlotte Amalie harbor. For now Pearl and Ruby are in the bow, sitting in deck chairs, and it’s all good because our favorite school of spinner dolphins have come to see us off and the girls are watching in delight, exclaiming and pointing.
They really are cute together, though I’m worried about Pearl. Ruby told me about her drugs and promiscuity, and we have a rehab place set up for when we get back to Boston—but in the meantime she’s bound to have some withdrawal symptoms on the trip, and I’ve already seen the way she’s looking at the guys.
And they’re looking back at her. It would be hard not to. Pearl’s one of those girls you can’t ignore. Tall and bold, with a mouth on her that promises all kinds of sin and a body that won’t quit. I already had to issue a “hands off, she’s a minor” dictum, which was fine, as most of the crew is older and married, but there’s still Pepe from Brazil, who’s only twenty-two and can’t take his eyes off her, and Jesse, who’s twenty-five and should know better but clearly doesn’t.
Only hours later, Pearl’s below decks puking, and the ship’s barely got any big motion. This does not bode well. Ruby’s taking care of her, but when I have Sven take the helm and go down to check on them, Ruby’s looking bad, too. I find her seasick bands and an extra pair for Pearl and put them on her.
Ruby’s skin is bleached-looking and her hair is stuck to her forehead with sweat. “I was trying to help Pearl.” We can hear Pearl heaving in the tiny head attached to her stateroom. “And it seems to have made me sick, too.”
“Go topside and get some fresh air. I’ll look out for you and have Freddie look after Pearl.”
Ruby is green around the lips, but she manages to smile. “I think Pearl would rather Jesse looked in on her, though I’m sure she doesn’t want him to see her looking like she does right now.”
I hook an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with her. And Jesse, too, if that’s who she’s got her eye on.”
I give her a little squeeze and push her gently toward the ladder.
In the galley I find Freddie. “Pearl’s seasick. And I think maybe a little something more. She was doing drugs in Saint Thomas, so she might be having some withdrawals.”
“We need to keep her hydrated,” Freddie says, immediately opening his cupboards and looking for supplies. He rode with a motorcycle gang in his younger years, and he’s seen his share of people dealing with addiction. He also completed a two-year nursing degree so he’d be able to be our shipboard medic.
I leave Pearl in Freddie’s capable hands and head topside.
Ruby’s sitting in the bow again, wearing one of my billed hats, and she already looks better. “The smell of puke has a way of spreading,” I tell her, sitting down beside her for a moment.
“Ew. Don’t remind me.” She wrinkles her nose.
“You know, we didn’t have much time to talk about Pearl and what we’re doing with her. Technically, we have no authority over her.”
“I think she’s going to be fine. She wanted to get off Saint Thomas as much as I did at that age. I don’t think she’s been doing drugs long enough to be really hooked, but those Carver boys are bad news. She hasn’t told me anything really about what she was getting up to with them, but getting her away was essential.” Ruby looks at me, her green eyes luminous. “I love you for taking her on, no questions asked. I won’t forget it.”
I lean over to kiss Ruby. “She’s family.”
* * *
In the c
oming days, Pearl finds ways to test that resolve from both of us. She’s seasick and miserable for days at first, complaining and driving Freddie nuts. Then she finally begins to feel better and spends most of her daytime hours in a white bikini on the deck, trying to get the guys to talk to her and causing Pepe to almost fall off the rigging. The old married guys like Sven try to avoid the whole section of deck she occupies like the queen of Sheba, untying her top and lying there like a centerfold.
I’m sure this is only the beginning of what she’s going to put us through, and it doesn’t help that Ruby seems to have succumbed to seasickness. Even the bands aren’t helping as she lies around, limp as a dishrag between puking bouts.
It takes me longer than it should to realize there might be some other reason she’s so sick, and the night it finally dawns on me, I pull her into my arms in our bed. I’ve told the guys I want this voyage to be as short as possible, which they’re all in agreement with, so even at night when the wind is light, we’ve got a lot of sail out and are moving at speed. The moon tracks along the water beside us, silvery and bright, and its reflected light gleams on Ruby’s pale skin.
“Do you think you might be pregnant?” I whisper to her, holding her close but platonic, as we’ve been since Saint Thomas. “Could that be why you’re so sick? I mean, you made it through the hurricane without puking.”
“Oh God,” she moans, as if this is the worst news ever. “I kind of forgot about it with all the drama with Pearl. I didn’t think of buying a pregnancy test in Saint Thomas. We’ll just have to hope for the best.”
“What is hoping for the best?” I’m not liking this new attitude. I thought we’d decided to let nature take its course and that this was as good a time as any to start a family. “I thought you were okay with this.”
“That was before we got Pearl, and now I have to help her get adjusted here, set up in school, all that.”
“I don’t see how that has anything do to with being pregnant and, nine months from now, having our baby,” I argue, feeling something incredibly hopeful and excited as I say the words. I pull her head against my chest and stroke her hair. “Pearl’s a big girl, as she is fond of reminding you and everyone else. It might even be a fun thing for you two to share.”
“I hope so,” Ruby says listlessly. “Maybe I’ll be ready when the time comes. We’ll know soon enough.” Gradually, her breathing changes and she falls asleep. I feel alone with her in my arms for the first time.
And I don’t like it.
Ruby
I haven’t been able to show Pearl our house in Boston because Dad would never let us pay for the family to come visit and they never had the money to, so it’s a treat for me to lead my little sister, gleaming golden with shipboard tan, to the door of our lovely old brownstone in the Back Bay area.
Two sandstone lions perch on the broad rail areas leading to the front door. I insert the brass key into the lock as Pearl looks around at the quiet, leafy street and exclaims in excitement. “How close is this to the high school?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I never had reason to wonder about that before,” I say, getting the door open at last. I hear the sound of a vacuum, and we step inside to the familiar smell of lemon polish. “Seems like Mrs. Knightly is here cleaning.”
Pearl grins. “Wow. I know you told us Rafe had money and all that, but we only ever saw you on Saint Thomas, slumming on your yacht. This is sweet. How’d my nerdy sister nab a hottie who’s rich, too?”
“Shut up,” I say, smiling. “I didn’t know he was rich. And honest to God, by the time we got together, it didn’t matter to me. I was fully prepared to live in a boardinghouse and see him a few months of the year.”
I lead her into the house and startle Mrs. Knightly, who clutches her chest in fright. “Oh, Mrs. McCallum! You’re back!”
“We are. Rafe’s still down at the docks, but this is my sister Pearl. She’s going to be living with us for a while. I was thinking the pink bedroom for her?” We both turn to look at Pearl, who’s turning in a circle under the gigantic crystal chandelier in the foyer. She looks like an angel with her creamy blond hair hanging to her waist and her glowing tan, even in cutoff shorts and a ruffled gingham top tied beneath her breasts.
“Wow, Ruby,” Pearl says. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
Chapter 28
Ruby
I leave Pearl getting settled in with Mrs. Knightly’s excited help and tell them I have to go pick up some food at the grocery store. Really, I need to buy that pregnancy test.
My stomach does a flip at the mere thought, and I need to stop on the sidewalk and lean against a building to breathe, gulping down the little bit of granola I ate this morning that’s trying to come back up on a wave of nausea.
Finally, I can go on and walk to the corner market. I do pick up some fruit, vegetables, and food for dinner, but also the pregnancy test. I feel as self-conscious paying as I did the first time I bought tampons as a teenager. I hurry home and meet Rafe pulling up to park on the street in his disreputable old truck. He gets out and slams the door.
“Went to the store already?”
“Had to get some food. And another thing,” I say. I see his eyes widen in comprehension, and I need him suddenly. I put down the bag of groceries and hug him, putting my face into his shirt. “I’m scared,” I mutter into his collarbone.
His arms are around me and he rocks me close. I hear cars honking in the background and people talking and walking by, but we just stand together beside the bag of groceries at the foot of the stone steps.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says into my hair, brushing a kiss on the top of my head. “I know you’re not sure how to feel about it, so I’ll be happy for both of us.”
“Okay.” I smile at him, and he brushes a kiss on my lips, a kiss that turns into a conversation, a long exploration that gets us a wolf whistle from a passing car, and I break away and pick up the bag.
“I put Pearl in the pink room. She and Mrs. Knightly seem to be hitting it off.”
“Good. I hope she doesn’t get too comfortable before she has to go to the rehab place.”
“It’s an outpatient treatment program. She’s going to be here in the evenings.”
Rafe looks down at me ruefully. “I’m missing our privacy already.”
“She’s going to be gone a lot. Can you take this stuff into the kitchen? I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Want me to come?”
I smile. I still like privacy in the bathroom, but Rafe’s never had any such hang-ups. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom and we can look together.”
“Sounds good. Any chance we can get rid of Pearl for a while?” Rafe waggles his brows as he takes the bag after I’ve removed the pregnancy test from it.
“I heard that,” Pearl says from the top of the steps. “No problem. I want to explore this town. Give me a map and I’m out the door.”
It’s a mark of how desperate we are to be alone that we give her the map and dismiss Mrs. Knightly for the day. Rafe finally takes the groceries to the kitchen and I go to the bathroom for my appointment with the little white stick that turns blue if you’re pregnant.
I’m sitting on the bed in our big, sunlit bedroom, holding the little stick, afraid to open it, when he comes in from his bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. Even in my state of nervous anticipation, I appreciate the sight of his bronzed chest, muscular arms, and the sculptured abs disappearing into the towel wrapped around his hips. He’s all power and utility of form, but when I meet his eyes, the only thing I see in them is tenderness.
He sits beside me and takes hold of one side of the little plastic holder.
“Ready? Let’s pull it open on three.”
“One, two, three,” I say. We each tug on our ends, and the middle section opens to show the chemical strip.
It’s blue.
I feel like I can’t breathe, but at the same time my heart gives a giant squeeze, and I feel my eyes fil
l with tears. “I wish my dad were going to be here for this,” I say.
“I wish my parents were here, too. But it is what it is, and they will live on in our child,” Rafe says. I shut my eyes, and the tears roll down my cheeks.
He kneels in front of me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses the tears off my cheeks. “I’m so very happy about this,” he says. “I’m happy enough for both of us.”
“I’m happy, too,” I say, and realize it’s the truth as the words leave my mouth. “I’m really happy, too. I’m scared, but happy. I can’t wait to see our baby.”
“God,” he breathes into my mouth. “I sometimes think I can’t contain how you make me feel.”
“Likewise,” I say, and then he drops the towel and sits beside me on the bed. I turn and perch astride one of his thighs as I kiss him. Those long arms stroke up and down my body, squeezing hard. He takes hold of my ass, his hands rough on me through my pants as I rub up and down, up and down, moaning with the furnace heat of want he’s ignited in me with just a look and a kiss.
He pushes me off and back onto the bed, kneading and biting my breasts through my shirt, nuzzling between them, an expression of ecstasy on his face as he touches them, and I moan with the pleasure of it as he pulls my shirt and bra off and does to my round, full, achingly tender breasts what I see others wishing they could do to them: rolling his face between them, massaging and toying and mouthing. Because they are luscious, these breasts of mine, with their pointy blush-pink nipples that will someday nurture our child.
Then he takes my nipple deep into his mouth and sucks hard, and I throw my head back and cry out at the sweetness of his mouth on me, feeling the heavy sucking all the way to my spine, opening everything and making it ready for him.
He pays homage to the other breast, as I’m still rubbing against his heavy, muscled thigh as he leans over me, and by then I’m almost ready to come and my clothes aren’t even all the way off. He keeps sucking my breasts and slides his hands down to my waistband and unzips and tugs my pants and panties off, his busy, hungry mouth never leaving me.