Pearl (24 page)
Her thoughts roved through the people she had either come to know or at least to know of. Look at what had happened right here at the hotel.
What about your heart?
The thought stopped her happy dreaming.
Who all do you have to forgive?
Ruby leaped from the bed and gasped for breath. Why did it have to keep coming back to that? She tried to be kind to everyone.
I do, Lord. I do try
.
She washed her face in the water from the pitcher, now cold from the night air. As she donned her clothes, she forced herself to think only on the food preparations ahead.
I’ll think on the other later,
she halfway promised. Whether to herself or her Lord, she didn’t take time to ponder the difference.
After all, the people must be fed.
Chicago
‘‘How do I take everything I need with me?’’ Pearl studied her list, titled What I Will Need in the West. According to one of the articles she’d read in the newspaper, both a rifle and a pistol were highly recommended. Surely the superintendent of education did not expect her to hunt and kill her own food. Warm clothes for winter, cool clothes for summer, which is what she would experience first. While the acceptance letter said she must be in residence by August 10, she hoped there would be a place she could stay until then. After all, if she waited until August, she would be well married and unable to go. Mr. Long-street might appear to be magnanimous in allowing his wife some freedom—after all, he’d agreed she could continue to teach if she felt that absolutely important—but she doubted he’d agree to her teaching in Dakotah Territory.
She caught herself in a snicker. She could just see bringing the subject up for discussion. That might indeed get a rise out of him.
For her badgering certainly hadn’t.
Pearl Elaine Hossfuss, you
should be ashamed of yourself
. She was, if she stopped to think about it for any length of time. Two days ago she’d dragged her betrothed to a soiree where the young singer was a hopeless tenor. His overbite made her think of a parrot, which was not exactly a Christian attitude. She had not known the soiree would be such a debacle, or she would not have forced either of them to attend. Her father had fallen asleep, her mother had about worn her fan out to keep from laughing. All in all a most unpleasant evening.
And Mr. Longstreet had sat through it stoically, not even recognizing the humor in it.
She sighed. That was the sad part. Had they been able to laugh together in the carriage on the way home, she might have considered changing her mind—about accepting the Dakotah position, that is.
After pacing the floor, all the while tapping the edge of her folded list on the index finger of her left hand, she stopped and glared at the figure in the mirror.
‘‘Why can’t you just be an obedient daughter and do what your father requires of you?’’ She spoke to herself in the mirror and leaned forward, studying the dark half moons under her eyes. Lack of sleep caused by worrying did that to one.
‘‘God, your Word says to honor my mother and my father, but I’m afraid that in this case, my days upon this earth would not be long, and each one that I do have might seem an eternity.’’
Her conscience appeared to be mercifully silent.
She adjusted the ruching that was supposed to be hiding her neck. Instead, the dark upper line of the scar showed through. The neckline of the cotton dimity day dress she wore had not been starched sufficiently.
Who will starch your collars and launder your underpinnings out on
the frontier?
Surely one could find someone to do it.
And who’s going to pay for that service? The teacher’s pay is abysmal.
How am I going to pay for my room and board out of that, let alone
laundry? After I use up the money I’ve saved, what will I do?
Wrapping her hands around her shoulders, she rocked from side to side on the padded bench in front of her dressing table. If only she could go with her father’s blessing and not have to sneak off like a thief in the night.
Or at least go with her mother’s.
Could she possibly talk this over with Amalia?
She fell asleep that night with prayers for God’s guidance in her heart and on her lips.
‘‘I thought we’d go shopping today for your trousseau,’’ Amalia said at the breakfast table the next morning as she spread jam on a muffin.
Pearl nearly choked on the bite she’d just taken. She covered her mouth with her napkin and tried to cough discreetly.
‘‘Are you all right, dear?’’
Pearl shook her head. She was strangling. Was there no mercy? She coughed again.
‘‘Erin, get Miss Pearl a cup of water.’’
The maid hurried back. ‘‘Here, drink this.’’
Pearl did so and felt she could breathe again. ‘‘Thank you.’’ Of course, the wedding plans. How could she possibly go through the motions with Amalia when she was in such a quandary? Preparing for a wedding should be a time of great delight.
The sparkle in Amalia’s eyes should be in her own. And she knew that was not so. She looked lackluster, tired, and out of sorts. The mirror had said so.
If she asked her mother the real questions raging through her mind, would it be fair? Could they discuss her feelings without Amalia talking things over with her husband?
‘‘Pearl, are you all right?’’
She shook her head, slowly, as if any more effort might cause pain. Which is exactly what was happening. ‘‘No, not really. My head aches, and I think I might be better off with a lie-down.’’
‘‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. And here I go on like . . . well, never mind. You go lie down, and I’ll send Marlene up with a cup of tea.’’
‘‘Perhaps later.’’ Pearl wiped her mouth with her napkin and slipped it back in the silver napkin ring. She started to rise but stopped when Amalia asked another question.
‘‘Have you not been sleeping well?’’
‘‘Not really.’’ Pearl studied her hands resting on the damask tablecloth.
‘‘Is there anything I can do?’’
The words offered in a gentle tone, liberally laced with love, brought a burning to the backs of Pearl’s eyes.
How I wish you
could. How I wish that a kiss would make this all better like when I was
little. But now, if I tell you what is wrong . . .
‘‘I’m sure I’ll feel better after a while. Perhaps we can go tomorrow.’’
But in the morning, Pearl heard the most glorious news. Her father would be gone for three days. Pearl kept herself from twirling around the dining room by only the strictest internal admonitions. If anyone saw her twirling, they would want to know why she was so happy, and the only someone in the family she could trust with her secret was Jorge Jr.
If only I could talk
this over with Amalia
. The thought kept nagging at her, but she refused to listen. Although right now Amalia could not go to Mr. Hossfuss, she would feel duty bound to keep Pearl from carrying through her plan for leaving.
Nothing like an idea being forced to escalate to action. Less than two weeks now before the wedding.
Pearl went in search of her younger brother.
‘‘I think he’s out in the garden,’’ Arnet said, looking up from the puzzle he was working on.
‘‘Thank you.’’
‘‘You want me to find him for you?’’
‘‘No. That is nice of you, but I’ll go find him.’’ Arnet was so thoughtful, she knew she’d miss him.
I’m going to miss all of you
dreadfully
. The thought almost sent her scurrying back to her room—almost, but not quite.
She went down the back stairs and out to the garden. ‘‘Jorge?’’ she called.
‘‘Over here, in the kitchen garden,’’ he answered.
She followed his voice to find him kneeling in the nasturtiums. ‘‘What are you doing?’’
‘‘Planting some giant beanstalk seeds.’’
‘‘Oh. Like Jack and the Beanstalk?’’
‘‘Would be exciting, would it not?’’
‘‘True. But could you leave off the fairy tale and come help me for a bit?’’
He rocked back on his heels, dusting his hands off on his pants. ‘‘What do you need?’’
Pearl glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot. ‘‘I need my trunk hauled down to the carriage house.’’
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘Because I have to leave. I cannot marry Mr. Longstreet, and I have a new teaching position in Dakotah Territory.’’ Her words nearly tripped over each other in her haste to procure his assistance. ‘‘And no one can know?’’ he asked. Jorge did love secrets.
‘‘No one. I will send a letter back from the train station.’’
‘‘Father will be furious.’’
‘‘I know. But, Jorge, I have no choice.’’
‘‘Mr. Longstreet is not a bad man.’’
‘‘No, but if I marry, I want a man who will talk with me, not just marry me so I can care for his children.’’
‘‘They are nice children.’’
‘‘Jorge, please, will you help me or not?’’ She felt like stamping her feet, definitely not a ladylike action.
‘‘Of course, but you are taking a terrible chance. What if Father says no one may ever speak to you again?’’
‘‘Do you think he will do that?’’ Pearl closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. ‘‘I pray he doesn’t. I just can’t marry Mr. Longstreet, and I can’t live here for the rest of my life.’’
Jorge stood and stuck his trowel in his back pocket. ‘‘Where is your trunk?’’
‘‘Up in the attic. It has my initials engraved on the top. You want me to help you?’’
‘‘Is it huge?’’
‘‘No. I won’t take the big one. Life is more simple on the frontier.’’ The two walked side by side toward the house.
‘‘How do you know that?’’
‘‘I have a list of things the school board said I would need.
They included that with the letter accepting me.’’ He held the door open for her. ‘‘I’m hoping Father and Amalia will send me books and school supplies. I have a feeling there will not be much there.’’
She walked with him as he carried the trunk to the carriage house, where she hoped no one would notice it, then using the back stairs, she packed her things in the trunk a bit at a time. By the next afternoon, her trunk was locked.
‘‘I’m going shopping,’’ she told her stepmother after dinner.
‘‘I will go with you.’’
‘‘No, I know you were planning to call on Mrs. Carlson today, and I want to spend time just browsing in the bookstore.’’ Amalia was not one to enjoy browsing in a bookstore.
‘‘Tomorrow we have to finish picking out fabrics for your trousseau. Matilda is not going to have time to finish much as it is.’’
‘‘I know. But I really don’t need much, what with the three new gowns of late.’’ Three gowns she would not be taking with her, as they took up far too much room. One trunk didn’t leave her a lot of room. Perhaps her mother would send those things on later. And then again, perhaps her father would not allow it.
Please, Lord, I don’t want to be disowned
.
She went up to the nursery and kissed Anna and Arnet goodbye, then made her way out to the street as if to walk to the cable car. The man she’d hired to pick up her trunk met her at the end of the block and delivered her and her trunk to the train station.
