Pocketful of Pearls (6 page)

There were two Gatherings in Hamilton Falls each Sunday, in the homes of the favored families. Owen Blanchard led the other
one. Poor man. His wife, Madeleine, was still in the hospital—or wherever she was after the doctors had finally diagnosed
what was wrong with their little boy, Ryan. Owen faithfully got both his kids ready for Gathering by himself, now that his
sister-in-law Julia had gone off with her biker and was no longer around to help. The kids seemed to have adjusted fairly
well without their mother, but a number of the women were pitching in. The Bible said you were supposed to help a brother
in need; as an Elder, Owen was certainly that.

Thinking of this, Dinah made a mental note to take a couple of dozen eggs by their house and offer her help. It wouldn’t do
for the Traynells to be seen as doing less for the Blanchards than anyone else.

Phinehas announced the closing hymn, and she realized with a start she had daydreamed the entire service away. Well, at least
she had looked involved and interested, and that was what counted.

When everyone milled around the living room greeting each other after the hymn, people offered her their sympathies. She responded
as best she could. She had learned to ignore the sidelong glances of the teenaged girls, especially the two oldest Bell girls,
who thought they were little somebodies now that they had turned thirteen and fourteen. Dinah concerned herself with giving
the other women as little to talk about as possible. Her hems were the longest, her heels the lowest, her conduct irreproachable.
She no longer bothered to make herself attractive to the opposite sex by wearing blouses with ruffles and lace collars. And
she would never dream of buying something fashionable in store-bought colors and then dyeing it black at home, the way Linda
Bell allowed her daughters to do. That, in her opinion, was deceitful.

At the door, Phinehas greeted people as they filed outside, shaking hands and exchanging words with a smile. Dinah touched
Phinehas’s hand and let her own drop casually. To an observer, it would look like modest respect. No one could know her very
skin was creeping off her bones and only pride kept her from taking off for the barn at a run.

Her body shook as she waited quietly by the kitchen door for everyone to leave, and she concentrated hard on controlling it.
Which was why she jumped when a voice spoke next to her.

“How are you, Dinah?”

Derrick Wilkinson, whom rumor reported was getting over the abrupt departure of Julia McNeill and starting to circulate, offered
his hand. For a wild moment she considered running into the bathroom and locking the door, but that would make him question
what was wrong with her, and that would never do.

If he was circulating in her direction, she would put a stop to it right now.

“Fine, thanks.” She touched his fingers briefly so he wouldn’t feel the tremors in hers.

“It’s wonderful for you that Phinehas came to help you through these first few days.”

Yes. Wonderful.
She nodded, and added a smile as an afterthought.

“Your mom must really appreciate it.”

“She does. We all do.”

“Listen, Dinah. I know this is probably terrible timing, but I wondered . . . if you wanted to . . . for a change of scenery,
maybe you’d like to go for a drive and have lunch with me?”

Her stomach turned over. The rumors were true. Thank goodness she’d purged herself of her second breakfast or she’d have disgraced
the family right here in the dining room.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she managed past the tightness in her throat.

He looked a little embarrassed. “I know. It is terrible timing. I’m sorry.”

“No, not because of that,” she assured him, casting about wildly for a reason not to go. “It’s just that I promised Rebecca
Quinn I’d go over and visit her this afternoon.”

Now she’d have to do that, on top of everything else. Why did she have no imagination when it came to inventing excuses?
Because you’ve had so little practice,
a voice in the back of her head answered.
You’re not exactly prime date material, are you?

Dear God, she hoped not.

“You could still have lunch beforehand,” Derrick said, hope plain in his eyes.

Was the man so obtuse he wouldn’t take no for an answer? It was obviously her lot in life to be surrounded by men who were
simply not interested in her plans or wishes.

She made a deprecating movement with the hand that wasn’t holding her Bible and hymnbook. “I need to help Mom with lunch.
We have Phinehas and my aunt and uncle staying, and big meals are a bit beyond her right now.”

They were a bit beyond her at the best of times, but Dinah would never say that aloud.

“Oh. Okay.” This time he seemed to get it. “Maybe another time, when you don’t have so many obligations. I know how it is.”

You have no idea.
Any charitable thoughts she might have had toward Derrick Wilkinson were incinerated in a sudden burst of anger. How dare
he presume to know what her life was like? A man could never know. Never. He fatuously thought he was making her drab little
Sunday better for the space of a lunch, did he? He’d give her one brief hour of happiness in his wonderful company, right?

Yes, and then think what Phinehas would do if he found out she’d been with another man. She’d pay for that hour. Oh, how she
would pay.

Her alternatives had never looked so bleak. Run—or accept. Die to herself.

But maybe there was another alternative.

She’d often toyed with the thought of the river, in the way a child toys with a weapon in daddy’s closet without really understanding
what it means. The Hamilton River was high with runoff now. High and violent and fast.

Dinah watched Derrick shake Phinehas’s hand and walk outside with eyes that saw neither of them.

Maybe the river was the best alternative of all.

P
HINEHAS TOOK HIS
Sunday duties seriously. Between that and serving everybody lunch, Dinah managed to not be alone with him or anyone else
until he had gone upstairs to spend several hours preparing for the evening Mission service in town at the hall. As she cleaned
up after lunch, she took inventory. She knew every ounce of food in the fridge—how much each shelf held, how many oranges
there were in the bowl, how many slices of lunch meat remained in the meat keeper.

She hoped Mr. Nicholas would take her suggestion and come in to do his laundry and have the sense to help himself to the food.
Poor man. She was glad her aunt and uncle were leaving tomorrow after going to the lawyer’s office. Then she wouldn’t be so
likely to forget she
had
a hired man. If only Phinehas would leave as well. Then she’d be free.

Well, at least for this afternoon, she was relatively free.

Oh, wait.

She’d said she was going over to Rebecca Quinn’s, so she’d better do it. With her luck, Derrick would mention her proposed
visit next time he was in Rebecca’s bookshop, and when he found out she hadn’t gone, that it was just an excuse not to go
to lunch with him, his feelings would be hurt.

A daughter of the favored family did not go about lying and gratuitously hurting people’s feelings.

No, she had to go, when all she wanted to do was hide in the barn with Sheba and have a nice, long cuddle.

Her mother beamed when Dinah told her she needed to take the car into town to see Rebecca. “You do that, dear. Visiting the
elderly builds up treasure in heaven.”

By that reckoning, Dinah’s heavenly account was in great shape. She had to smile at Elsie’s description of Rebecca as “elderly.”
They were only half a dozen years apart, and in Dinah’s opinion her mother was a lot closer to “elderly” than Rebecca Quinn,
who ran her own business with calm competence and lived in a beautiful house. The thought of the sunny, spacious apartment
on the top floor recently vacated by Julia McNeill was enough to set Dinah’s teeth on edge with envy. What she wouldn’t give
to be able to live independently. If she lived in Rebecca’s apartment and got a job again in town, Phinehas wouldn’t be able
to come and visit. He wouldn’t be able to stay with a single woman on her own the way he stayed at her parents’ house, and
if she were working, the most he’d get out of her would be lunch at a local café.

She would never have to be alone with him again. Ever.

Dreams.

She sighed. She’d given up on dreams. They were as insubstantial as worldly people’s cigarette smoke and just as harmful.

REBECCA WAS A
little surprised to see Dinah on her doorstep, but she hid it well. Evidently she’d had a lot of practice at being the recipient
of Sunday afternoon visits.

“How lovely to see you, Dinah.” She shook hands cordially. “Are you here to ask about the apartment? Because if you are, of
course, I can’t transact business on the Lord’s day.”

Dinah stared at her. Was she so transparent? If she showed her feelings about something as simple as an apartment, what might
she show about things that were terrible in their importance?

“N-no,” she stammered. She sat down a little heavily on Rebecca’s English chintz couch. If she ever were to have an apartment,
she’d have furniture just like this. Comfortable, with beautiful roses printed on it. And lots of yellow. She would love to
be able to live with yellow, even if wearing it wasn’t permitted. “I just came by to—to bring you some eggs and see how you
were.”

Eggs. I need to take some to the Blanchards, too. Mustn’t forget.

“How kind of you.” Rebecca took the eggs and stowed them carefully in the refrigerator. “But really, I should be visiting
you. How is your mother?” She sat in the easy chair opposite Dinah.

“She’s holding up as well as can be expected. Aunt Margaret and Uncle John are a great comfort to her. And so is Phinehas,
of course.”

She felt like a parrot, mouthing the same lines to everyone she met.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. How are you doing? I imagine the burden of making everyone comfortable is falling on you.”

Dinah wondered if such graceful honesty was the product of age or experience. She wished she could say what she thought, just
once. What a relief it must be to take control of your own words and scatter them where you wanted to, without fear of the
consequences.

“I’m all right,” she said at last.

“It’s a pity you’re not interested in the apartment,” Rebecca mused, her alert blue gaze never leaving Dinah’s face, her spine
straight, her hair a perfect cloud of silver around her head. “I need a tenant and most of the girls in town are too young.”

Temptation opened its sharp jaws and bit Dinah hard. “I have no way to pay the rent, Rebecca,” she choked out. “I had to leave
my job at the bank when Dad got so bad.”

“I’m in need of an assistant at the bookshop. Julia gave me lots of notice, and I’ve had a number of applicants since she
went to Seattle, but I’ve been waiting for just the right person. Not everyone can put up with me, you see.”

She smiled, and Dinah’s throat closed with sorrow and gratitude and frustration at the unfairness of life. Rebecca was offering
her everything she wanted as casually as some people said “Pass the butter.” And she had no choice but to refuse.

But not just yet. In a moment. She wanted to savor the sweetness of the offer and its possibilities, just for a moment.

“Do you hear from Julia?” she whispered.

“Yes, regularly. I do speak to people who are Out, you know, dear. They were married in January, she and Ross. Did you know?”

Dinah shook her head.

“And little Kailey, his daughter, was flower girl. It was very small and private, with just me and his family there, but they’re
so happy it filled the whole room. I took lots of pictures, if you’d like to see them.”

Dinah stood abruptly. “Thanks very much, but I need to get back home. And thank you for the job offer, but I have so much
to do with running the ranch and looking after Mom that I just wouldn’t be able to handle working in town as well. I do appreciate
your thinking of me.”

Barricading herself behind the formal phrases, she got herself out the door and away from Rebecca’s concerned, confused gaze.
Halfway home she pulled over to the side of the highway next to the lake, in a graveled space where fishermen parked their
vehicles. Gripping the steering wheel like a drowning person, she wept all her grief and frustration and envy out into the
cooling silence of the car.

It was a well-insulated car. None of the fishermen even looked up.

It took about twenty minutes before she got herself under control, and then a glance into the rearview mirror told her she’d
better give it five more. It would be just her luck if some of the Elect passed her on the highway, and what would they think
of her red-rimmed eyes, wet face, and trembling mouth?

Maybe they’d think she was grieving her father. But maybe not. She couldn’t risk any gossip.

When she finally got home, she found that—a miracle—Elsie had taken it upon herself to start dinner. Wrung out from the emotional
storm, Dinah set the table on automatic and only came to life when the roasted chicken, green beans, cauliflower with cheese
sauce, and mashed potatoes were dished up and set in front of her. Then she discovered she was ravenous.

After supper, she glanced into the laundry room and remembered she needed to take Matthew Nicholas a plate instead of dividing
the leftovers between herself and Sheba. She filled one, covered it with a sheet of plastic, and smuggled it outside under
the jacket laid over her arm.

The chickens came running at the happy prospect of a sunset snack, but Sheba was not among them. Dinah convinced them that
the plate was not meant for them and tossed them a handful of scratch. Even when she called, “Sheba! Treats!” the black-and-white
hen did not appear to take first dibs—the right of the alpha hen—on the snack she loved.

Dinah searched the barn, calling, but her darling was nowhere to be found. Finally, she knocked on the apartment door, and
when Matthew Nicholas answered it, handed him the plate absently and said, “Have you seen Sheba? I can’t find her anywhere.”