Pocketful of Pearls (12 page)

“Rather,” she agreed, mimicking his accent.

After that he ate his chops in silence, and went away to his own apartment soon afterward. For which she was glad.

Dinah walked through the quiet house, removing the last traces of its guests. She emptied the wastebaskets in the bedrooms.
Picked up a tissue from the guest room floor. Took the vacuum cleaner up to Phinehas’s room and vacuumed the carpet viciously.
Then she stripped the bed, holding the sheets in front of her averted face and dropping them in the washer as though they
held the plague instead of merely the scent of the soap he used.

She hated that smell. Thank goodness he didn’t use something common, like Ivory, that she’d have to smell all the time. His
soap was some special men’s blend from Crabtree & Evelyn that cost a fortune, and people were delighted to keep him supplied
with it.

When she finally fell into bed, exhausted, the house was spotless and the past week might never have been. Only the results
of it were still here.

She was still here because Matthew had thwarted her and yanked her out of the river.

He was here because she’d had a little rebellion and risked the wrath of God to house him.

And the house was here, still gloomy, still smelling of old wood because her dad had never let anyone open the windows. First
thing tomorrow, if the sun was out, she would open them all and let a cleansing breeze blow through.

SHE’D FALLEN ASLEEP
thinking of wind and freedom, and when she woke in the morning, she realized why. The south wind had come up in the night
and blown the cumulus clouds off the side of the mountain. By the time she went out to give the chickens their breakfast treats,
the sun had even dried the ground into lumpy ruts where the cars had made tracks in the mud over the last few days.

Maybe winter would loosen its grip on them and they’d get some warm days. With a pang, she realized that the sweetest part
of a warm day would never happen now. She used to bring the plastic chair out into the yard and Sheba would jump in her lap,
and for as much as half an hour at a time, the two of them would sun themselves together. Sheba would lean against her and
spread out one wing to the warmth. Dinah always imagined the cherubim spreading their wings over the Ark of the Covenant the
same way whenever Melchizedek preached about it.

But Sheba was gone, and what little warmth and sweetness there was in life had gone with her.

Matthew emerged from the barn. “Good morning.”

She let the rest of the treats fall to the ground and palmed the moisture from under her eye with her free hand. “We’ll take
the Jeep up to the high pasture today,” she said, ignoring his greeting. “I’ll show you how far the land goes, and where the
animals are grazing. You need to learn everyone’s brands, too.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. If you want breakfast, I’m making omelets. If you’re watching your cholesterol, you’re out of luck around here.”

“I’d be delighted to share some cholesterol with you,” was all he said.

But it was kind of him to be concerned.

That was the most annoying thing about him, she thought as she mixed the omelet and poured it into the pan. Matthew Nicholas
was consistently kind. There must be some sort of hitch somewhere—some point at which the outer skin of his composure peeled
back and the anger under it roared into life. She wasn’t sure how long it would take him to get to that point, but she was
certain it would.

Men—and the God in whose image they were made—were consistent that way.

She was just dishing out the eggs when she heard the familiar sound of a car engine whining up the highway, and then the crunch
of gravel as it turned into the drive.

Not Phinehas. Not so soon. Surely she’d be given more than a day before he came back?

She dried her hands on the nearest towel. Matthew came to the door behind her. “Who could that be?” he asked.

She’d never seen the car before, but she had no doubt about who was getting out of it. With a scream of pure joy, she leaped
down the front steps two at a time and ran.

“Dinah!”

Tamara ran to meet her, and their bodies collided in a hug so fierce that Dinah was sure Tammy’s small bones would crack.
She started to cry, unable to get even a few words to string together enough to make sense.

“How—they said you couldn’t—oh, Tammy, I’m so glad to see you—but how—?”

“They might have said you couldn’t see me, but nobody said I couldn’t come to see you.” Tamara pulled away long enough to
look her in the eyes. Dinah could hardly see through tears that blurred the face she loved.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so happy. Everyone’s gone. No one needs to know.”

“I knew
you
would talk to me, at least,” Tamara said. “They called Auntie Ev and told her about Mom. She told me, so here we are.”

Dinah forgot what she was going to say and gripped Tamara’s arms, looking down at her stomach.

Her flat stomach. Covered with a bright-red knitted sweater. The jeans she wore fit like a glove.

Cold horror splashed over her. “Tammy? Did you—where’s the—you didn’t—?”

“Right here.” Tamara pulled open the back door of the four-door compact and with experienced fingers unbuckled the straps
of the car seat. She hefted the baby up and held it out, feet dangling, to Dinah.

“Here you go, Di,” she said. “Meet your niece, Tamsen Dinah Traynell.”

R
ELIEF WASHED OVER
Dinah in a flood. Tamara hadn’t given her baby—Dinah’s niece—away. She’d been told to, but she hadn’t done it.

She took the baby, who was wearing a pink terrycloth sleeper under a pink quilted jacket, and laid her on her shoulder. She
hadn’t had much experience with kids other than Tamara, but she hadn’t forgotten how neatly their little bodies fit on her
arm, how they smelled, the way they snuggled.

She hugged the infant tightly and tried not to cry.

When she finally looked up, Tamara was leaning on the hood of the car, an odd, watchful expression in her eyes. It cleared
immediately, and she smiled. Dinah smiled back. Tamara probably thought she was going to either suffocate or drop the baby.
She stopped murmuring nonsense words and addressed a proper sentence to her sister. “How old is she?”

“Four months.”

“Oh, my. Isn’t she just beautiful?” She dropped kisses all over the baby’s cheek, and the little face screwed up in distress.
Her perfect little lips parted in an ear-splitting scream.

“Here. She’s probably hungry,” Tamara said. “We’d better go inside so I can feed her.”

While Dinah brought her diaper bag in, Tamara dropped into the armchair. Dishes clinked in the kitchen and someone put the
kettle on the stove. In the act of pulling up her sweater to give the baby access to her breast, Tamara lifted her head like
an animal scenting danger. “I thought nobody was here.”

Dinah waved a hand. “That’s Matthew. Sounds like he’s making tea. He’s English,” she added by way of explanation.

“Matthew?” Tamara made the baby comfortable and stared at her. “Who’s Matthew?”

In answer, he came through the door and crossed the room with one hand held out. Tamara grabbed a thin blanket out of her
bag and tossed it over the baby, then reached up to shake his hand from her seat in the deep, comfy armchair.

“Matthew Nicholas. Dinah hired me recently to help out with the animals and whatnot. I’m so pleased to meet you. She didn’t
mention she had a sister.”

Tamara slanted her a glance. “I bet she didn’t. You’re not Elect, are you?”

“No. I was homeless, but Dinah has rectified that.”

“Homeless?”

“Yes. I came to the door asking for food, and she gave me a job instead. Much more effective.”

“Did she?” Tamara sat back. The baby sucked noisily.

Dinah lifted her chin. “Somebody has to do the work around here.”

“You don’t have to explain to me. I’m happy you’ve got help. Anything that pokes the Elect in the eye, I’m totally in favor
of.”

“I’m not poking them in the eye. There’s nothing wrong with us having a hired man. People do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but most people don’t have a whole town talking about every little thing they do, either.”

“You sound just like Phinehas.”

“I do not.” After burping the baby, Tamara switched her to the other breast and adjusted the blanket. Matthew looked away,
and a flush crept into his face.

Dinah smothered a smile.

“Want some matrimonial cake? Alma Woods brought it to the funeral supper and nobody had any.”

“Sure. I’m starving. You look like you could use some, too, Di.”

“I will, don’t worry.” She ignored the underlying concern about her thinness. “Except I hate how it crumbles all over everything.”

“How did it go? The funeral, I mean.”

Dinah went into the kitchen and pulled out the pan. She sliced generous helpings because there was no one to tell her not
to. “It was all right. Uncle John and Aunt Margaret handled most of the arrangements, and Phinehas was here.”

“I bet he was.”

The bitterness in Tamara’s tone might have been a bond between them, but Dinah’s secret was locked behind her lips, even from
the one she loved best. Particularly from the one she loved best. Even though Melchizedek, Julia’s father Mark McNeill, and
their own father had been the ones to sentence Tamara to seven years of Silence, it had been Phinehas who had advised them
to do it, by long-distance phone call from Spokane.

Despite what he had done, Dinah couldn’t give Tamara anything more to hate him for. It was already standing between her and
God, and she feared for her sister’s salvation. From the look of her clothes, it was in serious jeopardy.

Matthew poured the tea into mugs and brought them into the living room. Tamara finished feeding the baby and handed her to
Dinah.

“She can spit up on your shoulder and initiate you into aunthood.”

“Oh, thanks.” Dinah armed herself with the blanket and patted the baby on the back in a relaxing rhythm.

“Er . . . would you rather I stayed, or not?” Matthew asked in a low voice.

“Stay.” Tamara’s voice was firm. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Still, Matthew looked to Dinah for confirmation. She nodded. “If Tamsen throws up all over me, you can have her.”

He perched on the edge of the sofa and watched the baby as if she were a bomb and he was deciding whether or not to run.

“So, are you okay?” Tamara asked.

Dinah shrugged. “The same.”

“Do you think Mom would talk to me if I went and visited her?”

Dinah couldn’t stop her face creasing with distress, and Tamara saw it. “I don’t know, honey. You know how she is about the
rules. If Melchizedek says you’re Silenced, then she’s not going to speak.”

“You did.”

So she had. Without a second’s thought. “I love you.” Too late, she realized how that sounded.

“And Mom doesn’t?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it is. You should come to Auntie Evelyn’s. She’s great. She hugs everybody. She was a little weird with me at first,
but then she had a meltdown about all my black clothes and we went shopping. She was fine after that.”

Aunt Evelyn, whom the family treated like the whore of Babylon because she’d never come into the fold, because she’d escaped
as soon as she was old enough and had never come back. The only time his sister’s name had ever crossed her father’s lips
had been when he’d called her to ask if Tamara could come and board there.

Aunt Evelyn was the second person she’d met or heard about within a week who treated people with more kindness and compassion
than the Elect. Something was seriously out of balance here.

It was dangerous to think that way, she reminded herself. The Elect were God’s chosen people. They might not be perfect, but
they were chosen. Her job was to fit in, to bend and blend, not to criticize.

Wasn’t it?

“Tammy, are you sure you want to wear color?”

Was that amusement or derision in the brown eyes she loved? “Come on, Dinah. Say what you mean.”

“Okay. Have you gone Out?”

Tamsen burped and spit up, and Dinah wiped her face and handed her back to Tamara, who settled her in the portable car seat
on the floor.

“Tammy?”

“Yeah, I heard you. What do you think? I get pregnant, I get Silenced, I get tossed out of the house. Gee, I’m going to stay
Silent for seven years and then come crawling back, grateful that people are going to talk to me now?”

Something inside Dinah quivered and threatened to collapse. “Don’t, honey,” she whispered. “You sound so bitter.”

“I’m not. Not a bit. What I am is free, Di. You should try it. It feels great.”

Dinah shuddered and looked at the carpet. She might not have much, but at least she had the safety and fellowship of the Elect.
Out there in the world was nothing but howling loneliness and chaos and spiritual death. It nearly made her ill to see Tamara
embracing that so wholeheartedly.

The way you embraced the river?
whispered a tiny voice in the back of her mind.
What’s the difference?

“What do you think about all this, Matthew?” Tamara demanded in a tone that just missed being insolent.

Matthew hesitated, looking from one sister to the other. “I don’t know enough about the situation to give an opinion.”

“But you know about the world, probably,” Tamara said. “Tell Dinah it’s not such a bad place.”

“It isn’t. Not in general. But my experience seems to have been the opposite of yours,” he said. “I came here and found a
welcome. More than I’d learned to expect in the other places I’ve been.”

“Yes, but you probably didn’t have my father and Melchizedek to deal with,” Tamara pointed out.

“No, I didn’t. Phinehas was here, however.”

“I bet he wasn’t too keen on you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Matthew said steadily. “He seemed very civil.”

Dinah glanced up to find him looking at her.
Don’t you say a word,
she thought.