Midnight Pearls (3 page)

She sighed, frustrated, knowing that that wasn’t true. She knew that if she put her toe in the water, it wouldn’t stop there: Next she would place her whole foot, soon to be followed by the rest of her, and then—then she’d be lost. Forever.

She opened her eyes and looked up at James. He had an expectant look on his face. She shook her head. “I can’t go in the water.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,” she stammered.

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because if I go in the ocean, I’ll die.”

He stared at her. “What makes you think that?”

She shook her head, helpless to answer him.

“Did your parents tell you that?”

She shook her head again.

“Do you think that because of what happened when you were little?”

Again, she shook her head. She had no idea where the knowledge had come from, but she was as certain of it as she was her name.

“Tell me again,” he whispered, so faint that she could barely hear him.

“What?”

“You know.”

Pearl leaned back on the sand. “I’ve already told you the story, several times.”

“Yes, but I enjoy hearing it.”

She sighed exaggeratedly. “Okay, but this is the last time.” Self-consciously she closed her hand around the black pearl she wore. “Thirteen years ago a fisherman found me in the ocean during a storm. He pulled me into his boat and took me home. He and Mary have raised me ever since.”

“And all you had with you was that pearl?”

She stroked the dark, shiny orb and nodded.

“And you still have no memory of your life before that?”

“None.”

“It is a great mystery.”

She grimaced. “I think the only mystery here is why you are so fascinated by the story.”

James peered into her eyes. “Look, Pearl. You might not want to know where you come from, but I do.” He leaped back to his feet. “For all we know, you’re descended from Fairy folk.”

She laughed out loud. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, it would explain your hair.”

She felt as though she had frozen inside. He must have seen the look on her face, because he told her, “I know you wish your hair was a different color, brown or red maybe, but I think it’s wonderful. Any other color just wouldn’t suit you.”

He sighed and gazed at the setting sun. A shadow crossed his face, and he looked suddenly older. When he spoke, even the resonance of his voice had deepened slightly. “I should go if I’m to be properly dressed for dinner.”

“Who’s going to be there tonight?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know—a duke, I think.”

She grinned. “You don’t fool me. Not a person comes or goes at the castle that you don’t know who they are and what business they have.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s true. I just don’t like to think about it when I’m with you.” He waved his hand to encompass the ocean, the beach, and her. “Here, I don’t have to worry about all of that.”

She scrambled to her feet and hastened to shake the sand from her skirt. “That’s why we do this. So we both can be ourselves. I should go too. I’ll see you next week.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if you’re in the village.”

She smiled. “Yes, but then I’ll have to call you ‘Your Highness. ’” She began to walk up the beach away from him.

“You wouldn’t have to, you know”

“We both know that’s not true,” she called back over her shoulder. “You are the prince of Aster, and I am just a fisherman’s daughter.”

“You don’t know that for sure. You might be a princess, for all we know,” he shouted.

She waved at him and continued on. “In my dreams. Only in my dreams,” she whispered to herself. She heard her father playing the flute, its faint sound tinkling on the wind, and realized that it was later than she had thought. She picked up her skirt and began to run.

Finneas sat outside the cottage. She slowed to a walk as she approached him.

“You’re late,” Finneas remarked, putting away his flute.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question her.

Pearl slipped past him through the open door into the cottage. For as long as she had lived there, she had only seen the cottage door closed twice during the daytime. Both times it had been shut up against storms. The rest of the time it was open, letting the sea air flood in. For Finneas, the sea provided more than just his livelihood; it was a part of who he was. Mary would sometimes tease that salt water ran through his veins instead of blood.

Inside, Mary glanced at her while stirring the dinner that was boiling in a pot over the fire. “You’ve been to the beach again.”

“How did you know?”

“You’ve got sand in your hair. What is it you do there, anyway?”

Pearl blushed. “I sit by the water and think.”

Looking satisfied, Mary turned back to the table.

Pearl stared at her back for a moment, longing to tell her of the prince and the time they spent together. She opened her mouth to speak, but Finneas came in.

“Everybody wash up,” Mary instructed. “I won’t have dirty hands at my table.”

“Already done,” Finneas declared, planting a kiss on his wife’s rosy cheek.

Pearl ducked outside and went to the water basin, where she washed her hands and face. It hurt to keep her friendship with James a secret from her parents. Still, she wasn’t sure what they would say if they knew. Commoners and royalty didn’t speak with one another, everyone knew that. Yet once a week it happened, right on the beach just steps away from her home.

Every week since she was seven, she had met with James. The first time they had met at the oceanside, James had sworn her to secrecy. She had not known who he was, only that he had escaped from some people he called his “keepers.” Months later, when she found out he was a prince, she was frightened, for royalty was not supposed to mix with peasants. Still, she had gone to meet him, for he was the only one she could call a friend. Each week he had had to devise more elaborate plans to escape from the castle and his tutors, and she had always laughed until her sides hurt when hearing about his escapades.

The years had passed, though, and eventually there was no longer a need for the secrecy. He was grown up and allowed the freedom to come and go from the castle pretty much as he chose. His father had tried in vain to send personal guards with him, but James always managed to lose them and so his father had at last given up sending them. Still, the meetings had remained their secret.
Of all the secrets in my life, it’s the nicest
, she thought.

She went back inside to take her place at the table. Before she reached her chair, though, she caught her foot on the leg of the table and ended up sprawled on the floor. Embarrassed, she scrambled back to her feet. Finneas and Mary were already seated, and she thought she saw Mary suppress a grin.

“Did you trip over your feet again?” Finneas asked dryly.

“No, not mine, this time. It was the table’s.”

Once she took her seat, they bowed their heads and Finneas began to pray. “Father God, keep us this day. We thank ye for your bounty and pray your forgiveness on us. Bless us and keep us, O Lord. Amen.”

They ate in silence. Mary glanced from time to time at Finneas, who stared resolutely at his food. Lost in her own thoughts, it took Pearl several minutes to notice the uncharacteristic silence. She glanced warily toward Mary. The older woman held her gaze for only a moment before averting her eyes. With a mounting sense of unease, Pearl turned to Finneas.

Without looking up from his food, he cleared his throat. “Well, you might as well know. Thomas has been asking about you.”

“The blacksmith?”

Finneas nodded affirmatively.

Her stomach began to twist in knots. Something wasn’t right. He had been staring at her so strangely in the market. “What does he want?”

Mary began to stand up, but Finneas put a hand on her arm. She locked eyes with her husband, then sank slowly back to her seat.

The silence stretched on for several moments before Mary finally broke it. “He wants to marry you.”

“What!”

“He wants to marry you,” Finneas affirmed. “He asked me for your hand in marriage this morning.”

“What, what did you say?”

Again, a glance between Finneas and Mary. “I told him I would have to think about it.”

“Tell him no!”

Finneas sighed heavily and put down his fork. “It would be a good match for you. He’s a kind man, and you’d always have a roof over your head and food in your belly.”

“He’s twice my age.”

Finneas muttered something under his breath. “I know that, but it’s a good offer and—”

“And what?”

“It’s the only one you’ve had.”

Pearl dropped her eyes to her plate as she felt her pale cheeks begin to burn crimson. She should have known this was coming. All of the other girls her age in the village were married. Still, she couldn’t stop the feelings of anger and fear that mixed with her shame. “Am I supposed to be grateful, then, that someone would want me? Let me guess: He decided he wanted a wife and he asked after me because I’m the only unmarried woman in the entire village. So, someone had to be desperate to want to marry me?”

Mary quickly put her hand on Pearl’s arm. “You know we’re not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“It’s just that we’re not getting any younger, and we won’t always be here for you.”

“So, I should jump into the arms of the first man to glance my way?”

Finneas shoved back his chair and slammed his fist down onto the table. “By heavens, don’t be so stubborn. If a kind man wants you, that should be enough. I didn’t see Peter’s girl Lizzy complaining when she married the farmer and he was more than twice her age.” He turned and strode toward the door. He paused in the threshold long enough to address Mary. “See if you can talk some sense into her.” Then he stormed out into the night.

Pearl sat very still, afraid to look at her mother. She had only seen Finneas angry twice before, but never at her. Guilt washed over her. He had been a father to her, raised her as his own. Why couldn’t she be a more obedient daughter?

“Well, are you just going to sit there or are you going to say what’s on your mind?” Mary asked after a minute.

Tears began streaming down Pearl’s face as she looked up. “I don’t love him.”

“You can learn to love him,” Mary said gently. She searched Pearl’s face for a minute. “Is there another reason you have? Is there someone you are in love with?”

Pearl’s thoughts turned to James. He was her friend and confidant. He was also royalty, though, and beyond her grasp.
Do I love him?
She didn’t know, but she thought she might. All she knew of love was what Finneas and Mary showered upon her. But so far as the love between a man and a woman, she knew nothing of it.
Maybe I do love James. Things have been different between us of late. Could that be why I feel strange when I’m around him?
Still, such feelings, if they even existed, would do her no good. “No, Mama, there’s no one.”

Mary nodded as though it was the answer she was expecting. “Then, daughter, would you at least think about it?”

“It would be good for you and Papa if I said yes, wouldn’t it?”

Mary gave a nod so slight that Pearl wasn’t even sure she had seen it. “It would be good for you, too. He is a kind man, and you would never want.”

“And who else would want someone like me?”

“Any man would be fortunate to have you for a wife.”

“Then how come Thomas is the only one asking?” Pearl cried.

Tears shimmered in Mary’s eyes as she came around the table and clasped Pearl in her arms.

That night Pearl lay awake, listening to the sounds of the night and wondering what she should do. She resented the choice that had been thrust upon her, though she knew she should be grateful to be given one. Most fathers would never have dreamed of consulting their daughters about a marriage proposal.

I wonder what my real father would have done
, she thought, and instantly felt guilty for it. Finneas had been the only father she had known, and she could never have asked for a kinder, more loving father.
Still, there are times when I can’t help but wonder what my real parents were like, and what happened to them. I guess I’ll never know.

Her thoughts drifted to James. All his talk about magic and her unknown heritage always pleased her a little. His talk frightened her, though, as well. She wasn’t sure she did believe in magic, but she knew that he did, and the thought that it could exist made her nervous. He believed so strongly, though, it was hard not to get swept up by his passion. She thought of the look he got in his eyes when he talked about the things that were near to his heart.

Alone in the dark she could admit that she wished James had been the one who had asked for her hand. She was sure her thoughts must be a sin on her part—pride, presumption, or something. She couldn’t quite believe it, though.