Pearl of Great Price

by Myra Johnson

  I could see now that the caftan was old and faded. “It’s . . . very pretty.”

  Renata’s lips quivered. “She died right downstairs, you know. Took a whole bunch of pills and just drifted off to sleep.” Tears coursed down her blotchy, mascara-streaked face. “They’re all gone now. Mama, Daddy . . . Oh, Jenny, I can’t go on like this!”

  “You can, Renata. You have to.” I crept closer, talking softly, coaxing gently, just like I’d done last summer the day I’d rescued Brynna. Renata’s eyes held that same wild, worried look, and I had the sick sense it would take a lot more than sweet words and patience to talk her down off this suicidal cliff.

  She swallowed another pill, a pink one this time.

  I was close enough now to reach one of the prescription bottles. “How about we gather up those little pills and put them away? You don’t need them all, do you?”

  “I do. The doctor told me I do.” Three more found their way into her mouth before I could stop her. “Because I’m just like Mama, you know. I’m sick, and so very tired—”

  Headlights swept the front of the house. Car doors slammed, then the front door creaked open. Shooting me a look of panic, Renata scrambled onto her knees and began scraping pills into her hand. But they got tangled in the tufts of clipped hair, and she let out a frustrated moan.

  “Julie, where are you?” Micah’s voice.

  Renata’s head jerked up, and for a moment she looked fourteen years old again, a teenager with a massive crush. Then, as she clambered to her feet, her face crumpled into a mask of grief. “What have we done, Micah? What have we done? Oh, Jenny, my Jenny!”

  More voices below, someone ordering Micah to stay downstairs. Red and blue strobes carved across the front windows. Then someone quietly called to me from the hallway. “Miss, are you all right?”

  “I’m okay.” I stood slowly, hearing the shakiness in my own voice. “But she’s taken a lot of pills. I don’t know what kind.”

  “You won’t stop me!” With a feral-sounding cry, Renata spun away from me. Arms waving, caftan sleeves billowing, she plunged toward the window, and I knew if I didn’t stop her, she’d smash through the glass.

  “No!” I screamed, scrambling after her. I caught her around the waist and held on tight. “Please, Renata, let me help you. Don’t do this!”

  She struggled against me, her mournful wail a terrifying sound. “Let me go, Jenny. Just let me go.”

  “I can’t, Renata. I won’t!”

  In her struggle to break free, her elbow rammed into the window, shattering the glass. Hitting the window screen, the shards bounced off and littered the floor all around us. I yelped when a piece of glass sliced through my bare foot. Renata slipped from my grasp, and I stumbled backward.

  Strong arms caught me and eased me to the floor. I looked up to see a uniformed man and woman restraining Renata, then two EMTs entered with a gurney. Her sobs faltered as they strapped her onto the gurney, as if the fight had gone out of her.

  A third EMT knelt beside me. “Let me take a look at your foot, ma’am. You’re bleeding pretty badly.”

  I sucked air through my teeth, trying to ignore the pooling blood—and my heaving stomach. “It’s not that bad. Just go take care of—”

  “Julie. Shut up and let the guy see your foot.”

  Only at the sound of Micah’s stern voice did I realize who’d broken my fall. Acutely aware of his warm chest bracing my back, I sat straighter and scooted around until I could face him. Searching his troubled expression, I was barely aware of the EMT mopping blood off my foot. “Micah, what are you doing here? How did you know?”

  “Your grandfather called me. He was worried.” His Adam’s apple shifted as his gaze slid briefly to my foot. “As well he should. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “That was you? I was kinda busy at the time.”

  He fisted his hand and muttered a curse. “What were you thinking, Julie? Renata’s insane. She’s a danger to everyone around her.”

  “I was thinking about keeping Renata from killing herself. What did you think I was thinking—ow!” My whole body jerked when the EMT hit a nerve.

  “Sorry. This cut’s deep.”

  Micah stood, then addressed the EMT as if I weren’t even there. “Are you taking her to the hospital?”

  “Yes, sir, soon as they bring up another gurney.”

  “I can walk, for crying out loud.” I flinched again. “And I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

  “You do, ma’am. You need stitches. And you sure don’t want this getting infected.”

  The female officer who’d helped subdue Renata returned. Tugging a note pad from her pocket, she looked from me to Micah. “I need to ask some questions about what happened here. Are either of you related to the woman?”

  Finally I could reply with absolute conviction. “No. No relation at all.”

  Then, stupidly, I glanced up at Micah, and the utter devastation in his eyes sent my heart plummeting through the floor. Shoulders stiff, he drew a hand across his mouth and turned away. Before I could explain, much less temper the blow, he bolted for the door.

  CHAPTER 39

  The cold, lavender fingers of dawn crept silently across Lake Hamilton. I shivered and snuggled deeper into the scratchy, doggy-smelling army blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Leaning against the fender of the VW, I peered through gray tendrils of mist enshrouding the big house.

  The house that for a time I’d believed was my first home.

  I felt a comforting arm slip around me.

  “You okay, darlin’?”

  “Sure, Grandpa. Amazing what a couple doses of prescription pain reliever can do.” I pushed a tangled knot of hair off my face.

  “Shoulda taken you straight home from the ER, young lady. No sense you comin’ here again after all you been through.”

  It felt like a nightmare. Just hours ago, I’d been in the room upstairs trying to talk Renata out of ending her life. Watching her swallow pills. Struggling with her at the window.

  Informing the police officer—and Micah—that I had no familial connection whatsoever with Renata Pearl Channing.

  Which meant Jenny was really dead. I couldn’t even imagine how Micah must be torturing himself right now.

  “Ain’t you seen enough, Julie Pearl?” Grandpa’s tone, gently chiding, returned me to the present. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”

  With cautious slowness, I allowed Grandpa to lead me to the old white van, parked behind my green bug. The rough gravel along the roadside bit through the bandage and hospital-issue tube sock swathing my injured foot. I settled into the passenger seat as Grandpa shuffled around to the driver’s side and started up the rumbling engine.

  “We’ll get Sandy and Clifton to come get your car later,” Grandpa said, making an awkward U-turn. “I made sure it was locked.”

  “Thanks.”

  By the time we got to the highway, I’d drifted into a restless sleep, my exhausted brain skittering through confused images of motorboats, campfires, swimming pools, and a big, wet, yellow dog.

  Later, Grandpa tucked me into bed, sitting beside me and soothing my cheek with his warm, soap-scented palm. “Leastways one good thing has come out of this,” he murmured.

  “Mmmm, what’s that?” I asked without opening my eyes.

  “Least I know once and for all that you’re mine. You ain’t no kin to that crazy woman and her family. You’re my own Julie Pearl, my sweetest, dearest treasure.”

  I smiled, but as I drifted off to sleep, Grandpa’s words danced in my brain: “You ain’t no kin to that crazy woman.” How long before the old, agonizing question about who my real father could be started nibbling at my soul all over again?

  ~~~

  More exhausted than I realized, I slept most of the day. Good thing it was Thursday and there wouldn’t be much happening downstairs at the Swap & Shop. One less thing to feel guilty about, curled up here in bed and leaving all the work to Grandpa an
d Clifton.

  But plenty to feel guilty about when the hammers, saws, and drills started up. How could we let the Swap & Shop renovations continue when Micah and I weren’t together anymore? I was surprised Grandpa hadn’t run the workmen off already, stubborn and prideful as he could be. Except I had a feeling Micah’s own stubborn pride, combined with an even heavier helping of guilt, would drive him to finish this job no matter what.

  Along about suppertime, Grandpa tapped on the bedroom door and peeked inside. “You waking up yet, sweetheart? I got some of Katy’s homemade chicken noodle soup on the stove.”

  I rolled on my side and wiggled my fingers in a weak wave. The aroma of chicken and vegetables simmering in a savory broth wafted into the room. “Hi, Grandpa. Smells wonderful.”

  We’d just sat down at the table when I glimpsed a shadow outside on the landing. I tucked my robe around my waist. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  He opened the door to Geneva Nelson. Her cap of brownish-gold curls shimmered under the porch light. “I probably should have phoned, but I had to see for myself that Julie’s all right.”

  “Come right in, Miz Nelson.” Grandpa stepped aside and held the door. “We’re just having some soup—homemade chicken noodle. Can I offer you some?”

  I stirred oyster crackers into my bowl. “It’s really good. Please join us.” I was glad she’d come. Perhaps she could offer more glimpses into the mind of the woman who’d let me believe a lie, who’d nearly killed herself and all but destroyed the man I loved.

  “I must say, a bowl of homemade soup would surely hit the spot. I spent most of the day at the hospital, and eating was the furthest thing from my mind.” Smiling her thanks, Geneva took the chair Grandpa indicated while he ladled another bowlful.

  I dipped my soup spoon and blew across the steaming broth before taking a bite. Keeping my eyes lowered, I asked, “How’s Renata?”

  “Physically she’ll be fine. But—” Geneva reached across the table and tenderly touched my hand. Moisture pooled in the crinkles beneath her eyes. “I am so sorry for how she’s hurt you, Julie. What she’s done to Micah. If I’d only stepped in when she was a young girl, somehow made her get the right kind of help before—”

  I laid my spoon aside. “Please don’t blame yourself, Aunt Geneva. Aren’t you the one who told me we can’t fix other people’s problems?”

  “Oh, Julie.” Her voice cracked. “That you’d still call me your aunt after all this, it touches me in ways I can’t even put into words.”

  “I’ll always think of you that way.” I rose and went to her side, pressing my cheek against her springy mass of curls. “You—you and my grandpa—have been my islands of sanity.”

  Grandpa gave a loud a-hem as he took his seat. “Best eat up now. Nothin’ worse than cold soup.”

  We finished the meal in relaxed silence, and afterward Grandpa poured decaf for himself and Geneva.

  She stirred a dollop of cream into her cup and cast me a sad smile. “Seems strange to think back to when I saw you for the first time behind the Swap & Shop counter. Who’d have thought we’d all end up like this today?”

  Grandpa took a noisy slurp of coffee, then sat back in his chair. “Has to be a reason for it. God don’t make mistakes.”

  “Of course.” Geneva gazed into her coffee. “But sometimes, like now, it’s awfully hard to make sense of it all.”

  Shifting sideways, I rested one arm on the edge of the table. “Tell me more about Renata’s family. Maybe it would help me understand.”

  “I’ve told you some about her father—my brother, Everett. He was a decent, hardworking man, but unfortunately in even deeper denial about Lucille’s mental problems than the rest of us. Appearances were everything to her, everything. Poor Renata, try as she might, never could please that woman. If I’d known then what I do now, how sick my sister-in-law was—” Her mouth twisted into an angry frown, and she hammered a fist against the tabletop. “I wish—oh, how I wish I’d done something sooner. Maybe all this tragedy could have been prevented.”

  Grandpa covered her knotted fist with his callused, age-spotted hand. “Now, now, Miz Nelson, no use dwelling on might-have-beens. I sure learned that the hard way.” His throat worked, and he slanted me a crooked smile. “All those years I had my doubts and suspicions about where Julie Pearl came from. If I’d looked into it back then, or somehow got my poor, sweet Angie to tell me more before she died, there’d been no reason for Julie Pearl to mess with Renata Channing in the first place.”

  He rose and shuffled to the window, staring into the darkness beyond. “Leastways now we know the truth. And the Good Book says the truth will set you free.”

  Geneva sniffed and brushed wetness from her cheeks. “I know you’re right, Mr. Stiles. The hard part now is finding a way to live with it.”

  ~~~

  When the Swap & Shop opened Friday morning, I went downstairs intending to work, but with my brain still muddled by extra-strength painkillers, it was clear I wouldn’t be much use at the cash register. Grandpa decided we should let Clifton take over our new-and-improved front counter, with me coaching from my barstool. Good old Clifton was turning into a jack-of-all-trades. I kept a watchful eye on him as he made the consignment ledger entries, but before long he seemed to get the hang of it—as long as he had a calculator close by.

  I shook my head as he rang up a sale. “And you were so lousy at high school math.”

  “Hey now, Julie Pearl, not in front of the customers.” He winked at the rosy-cheeked, touristy-looking lady across the counter and handed her a plastic bag containing her purchases. “She’s teasing, ma’am. I was a star student, I assure you. Check your receipt if you have any doubts.”

  “I trust you completely, young man.” The woman laughed and waggled a finger at me. “You’d better hang onto this one, honey. He’s a keeper.”

  I could only roll my eyes and grin. “Oh, he is at that.”

  The woman left with a jaunty spring in her step. I elbowed Clifton in the ribs. “Charmed another one, I see.”

  “You go telling Sandy how I’m flirting with the customers and I’ll see to it she asks someone else to be her maid of honor.”

  I scooted farther onto the rattan barstool seat. “Any closer to setting a wedding date?”

  A crimson flush crept up Clifton’s neck. “Hoo-eee, this whole idea makes me nervous as a cricket at a toad convention. But Sandy has her heart set on a Christmas wedding, so I s’pose I’ll have to get used to the idea.”

  “Christmas! That’s just a few weeks away.” I glanced at the fraying gauze covering my foot. “At least I should be all healed up by then so I can fit into my dancing shoes.”

  Clifton fixed me with an accusing stare. “Man, Julie Pearl, how could you be such an idiot, risking your life to save the likes of Renata Channing.”

  “Why, Clifton, I didn’t know you cared.” My mocking tone was a poor attempt to squelch a sudden return of the horror of that night.

  “Julie Pearl, you’re my best friend in the whole wide world. I love you like a sister.” Sniffing loudly, Clifton swiveled sideways. “I wish you was my sister. I’d have never let you run off to Little Rock to live with that she-devil. I’d have sat you down and talked some sense into you. I’d have—”

  “Stop, Clifton.” I stretched one arm around him and laid my head on his shoulder. “I could beat you up in junior high, and I could do it again now if I had a mind to.”

  “Yeah, well . . . not till your foot heals anyways.” He brushed the underside of his nose with the back of his hand. “So what are you hanging out here for? I got this cash register business down cold. Get out of here. Go see that Micah guy. Don’t you have stuff to settle with him?”

  Clifton’s words nailed me. The flea market remodeling issues aside, Micah deserved to know how I’d determined I couldn’t possibly be Jenny Pearl.

  I kissed Clifton on the cheek. “I should go see Micah. You’re right—much as it pains me to admit i
t.”

  “’Course I’m right. But, uh . . .” With one raised brow, Clifton eyed me up and down. “Number one, you might have some trouble operating a clutch just yet. And number two, I ain’t no fashion expert, but I’m pretty sure the style police will write you up a ticket if you appear in public wearing that get-up.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” This was my favorite granny dress, a ’70s classic with billowing sleeves and maxi skirt.

  Then I glanced down and realized what Clifton referred to. I pinched the sides of my skirt and did a klutzy little one-footed dance. “So you don’t think the pink fuzzy bunny-rabbit slippers quite go with the red calico print?”

  He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Your call, Jules, but if you ask me—”

  The brass bells announced the arrival of another customer. Clifton directed the stocky gent to Herman Trapp’s used paperbacks booth and then hooked his arm in mine and propelled me toward our brand new elevator. “Go. Change your outfit and put on some decent shoes—if you can find any that’ll fit. I’ll get Katy to cover the register while I drive you over to Micah’s office.”

  Which now took up two rooms behind the check-in counter at the resort. Did I really want to return there so soon? On the other hand, what choice did I have?

  I went up to the apartment to change, but doubted I looked much better in a baggy fisherman’s sweater, brown bell-bottom cords, and Grandpa’s scuffed moccasins over thick socks. Then, as I wove my hair into a messy braid, all I could think about was Renata chopping off those beautiful dark waves I’d envied for so long.

  Clifton drove me toward Hot Springs, but before we turned onto the road to the resort, I stopped him. “Take me on into town. I want to go to St. Joseph’s.”

  “What’s wrong, Julie Pearl? Your foot feelin’ worse?”

  “No, it’s fine.” I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. “I need to check on Renata.”

  Clifton snorted. “Now, why on earth would you want to do that?”