“Oh, come on, they gotta have something there that you can eat.” He gave her a pout. “I’d wait ’til lunch, but my belly won’t stop aching.”
She urged a smile. “Food sounds good.”
At the first Denny’s they could find, Pearl watched as Roy moaned over a large stack of hot cakes. She fumbled a fork through a small portion of eggs and dry toast. Roy didn’t even notice her lack of appetite, and she was fine with that. The last thing she needed was questions. All she wanted was to reach her destination and to stop counting the miles between herself and Arizona. She focused her mind on the journey ahead so as not to dwell on what she had left behind. Even if she asked to turn the car around, she doubted Roy would. She only wished that her stomach would agree this was where she was supposed to be.
“Roy, tell me again about the farm,” she asked, hoping it would boost her strength for the rest of the trip.
Roy took a big gulp of orange juice, pounding the empty glass on the table.
“It’s my granny’s farm. We call it Jumping Creek ’cause when my granddaddy was young, he and his brothers used to go down to this creek where there were heaps of dirt made into small hills and jump into the water.”
He took another bite, syrup dripping out of this mouth, moaning again with the taste. “These are so great, baby. You gotta try a bite!”
She turned from him, hiding her disgust, resting her head on the back of the cracked leather cushion, watching the cars peacefully drive by. “So your grandmother and cousins live there?”
“And my Aunt Vernie. Lotta land. Been in the Blackwood family for over seventy years. Everyone’s got their own house. My cousin Darren and his family, Aunt Vernie, and Granny. If you ain’t gonna eat those eggs, pass ’em over, will ya?”
She pushed the plate his way without taking her eyes off the window. She watched strangers greet each other on these inadequate streets, paying no mind, as though it was any repetitive day. She had nothing to compare this town to besides her own. She had never traveled outside Arizona, had only felt desert air and gazed at high canyons. To be in this unfamiliar territory didn’t feel welcoming—it felt suffocating.
She took a deep breath. “So where are we going to live?”
He piled the eggs onto his syrup-soaked plate. “Oh, I assume in one of Granny’s spare bedrooms. She has plenty to go around. I told her you like cooking, so I figured you could help her out.”
Pearl grimaced. Of course she wasn’t expecting free room and board. She just hoped her idea of helping out and Roy’s were the same.
“Darren runs the farm, and I’ll be working for him. His father, my Uncle John, used to run it until my grandpa kicked him off, back when we were kids.” Roy licked the syrup off his lips. “You know, you can make good money farming. Before you know it, we can afford a place of our own.”
She returned his exhilarated smile. “And what’s Oregon like?”
He shrugged. “Green, wet. Nothing like Arizona. Jumping Creek is in the middle of nowhere. Closest town is Mullington, which is several miles away. Otherwise, you gotta drive south on the freeway a good half hour to get to anything decent.”
Her full lips fell into a frown. “You don’t sound like you like it much.”
He wiped the bacon grease off his cheek. “I like it all right. It’s home.” He cracked a smile. “Gotta go where the work is, baby.”
Waiting patiently for Roy to finish his breakfast, she wondered if her belly would ache before they stopped for lunch. She regretted giving Roy all her eggs. Roy paid the check. She lit them up a smoke, and they set back on the road, heading for their new home.
That night she lay awake, listening to Roy’s thunderous snores as he lay next to her on the dirty sheets on a bed in a rundown motel room off the freeway. It was all so overwhelming, this new privilege of freedom. She had never slept in a bed that was not her own. She had never slept beside a man before. She wanted these experiences to be thrilling, but instead she silently wept. The distance from home was excruciating as she thought of her father and Billy, and the pain she’d caused them that day—a day that she had hoped to celebrate with more than the candle Roy had her blow out on a maple bar donut. She felt alone, lying next to this man she loved. She had walked away from the only home she’d ever known and a way of life that she’d grown to resent, to follow him into a world of unknown. She needed comfort, and assurance. She reached for Roy in the dark, resting her damp cheek against his strong arm and wanting so badly for him to wrap himself around her and tell her she was making the right choice.
CHAPTER 2
Roy pulled into Jumping Creek just as the sun was settling above the striking green trees. Pearl looked at the road behind her and realized it wasn’t just miles she had traveled. Her father once told her that the more miles you cross, the more baggage you seem to carry. She looked at her solitary suitcase and wondered if that was all she had to offer. It took about ten minutes to drive up the long driveway of Jumping Creek. Pearl held her breath, counting the seconds between each tree they passed along the way.
Roy nudged her in the belly, making her lose track of how many seconds it had been.
“Baby, you gotta quit doin’ that. What if you stop breathin’ on me?”
She took in the scene before her. Oregon was not what she was expecting; it was more beautiful and enchanting than she could have imagined. She had only known dry earth, red-rock canyons, and muted green cactus, but here the thriving palette seemed to come alive. The multi tones of lustrous green against rich brown stood out next to the aged and faded red barn and silver-gray gravel. The road was lined with stout oak trees and opened up to a beautiful orchard filled with ripe red and yellow apples and blossoming cherry trees. Dew-covered hay fields, wet from recent rain, stretched in fields before them. Spotted brown cows frolicked and lazed on the grass in the fenced-in fields.
They turned a slight bend, and a large white house came into view. It was slim but tall, with large gray shuttered windows. The roof vaulted toward a sharp peak at the top, with a small round window overlooking the landscape. Muted red brick lined the bottom half of the home, with a deep-set porch around the entrance. The surrounding lawn was sparse: no flowers or welcoming colors to set off the coldness portrayed by the house.
A woman sat on the steps of the porch, smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding a glass of clear liquid, too thick to be water, in the other. She stubbed out the cigarette and stood when they parked, her heavy-set body jiggling with each step down the short staircase. Her short, black bobbed hair shimmered with specks of blue and uncovered gray, making it look like a bad do-it-yourself dye job. Still, it seemed to flatter her dark eyes and creamy olive skin. Roy ran to her open arms, looking like a lost child who had found his mother.
Roy lost his parents when he was young. It was a subject he never spoke about, so Pearl never pushed it. She understood the emptiness he felt by not having his parents around. It was one of the things that drew her to him.
Roy held tight to the woman until she teasingly pushed him away, saying he was going to make her spill her drink.
She introduced herself as Vernie.
“And you must be Pearl,” she said. “My, look at those glorious pink lips! Why, I bet you have women going crazy with envy over that pout of yours.”
Pearl cringed.
Vernie stood before her, wrapping a jiggling Jell-o arm around her shoulder. “Ah, don’t be shy around here. We don’t bite.” She smiled broadly. “Welcome to Jumping Creek, our own little heaven on earth.”
Pearl hoped it was true.
They stepped into an open foyer leading to a barren living room with only a few options for seating. Even the hardwood floor cast a cold chill. “Cozy” was not a word to describe the farmhouse. It exuded a bleak ambience in a way that felt unloved and unappreciated. She had a hard time imagining family gatherings by the vacant fireplace on cold winter nights, huddled together with blankets and telling stories on a comfy couch. The only sig
n of life in the home was the framed photographs that hung on the wall and decorated the mantel. There were so many old framed photos cluttering the room Pearl’s eye could not even register a single shot. She found it creepy having so many eyes stare at her from the wall. She turned away, looking to Roy, who stood proudly with a smile of complete contentment.
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 Page 2
