I looked down at my lap, hating to see the misery in her eyes. “I overhead Perry and his mother talking in the Company store. Robbie was trying to help Perry get your job. They wanted to get rid of Guyla Belle too.”
She turned and looked out the windows. “If I don’t go, he’ll keep coming for my job. I’m guessing he’s that kind.”
“He’s been threatening me over visiting her, and I fear he and Robbie might want to drive you away too.” He was the type, and if it meant cozying up with her to get the lookout job, Gillis would. Worse, if he couldn’t win Pearl over, no telling what harm he might do to her.
“Honey, he invited me up to his mother’s place for dinner with his sister, Ida, and his son.”
“I’ve been stopping by, hoping to see Guyla Belle. But Junia makes an awful fuss, acts skittish. Guyla Belle was supposed to leave a milk bottle on the well along with her loans, to let me know it was safe to visit and that Perry was working. But I found the book I’d loaned her out in the yard, torn. That was definitely Perry’s doing. She loved the books and wouldn’t have done that,” I went on.
“You don’t think—” She stopped pacing in front of the windows. “This sounds pretty bad.”
“I’m not sure what to think anymore. But I’m worried about her. Maybe they’ve locked her inside the cabin and she’s suffering. He could’ve hurt her really bad this time. Guyla Belle told me and Amara she’d never leave him. She’s from North Carolina, has no family, no money, and nowhere else to go. And the more I think about it, I just know something’s bad about it all.”
Pearl sat back down, absently playing with her charm bracelet. “My granny always said cowardly men who beat up on females seek out the ones who are all alone. Gives them a bigger power than what they’re already born with. I’ve heard some wife-beaters will take a bride, only to try and move her away so they can break them off from their families—hide their telling misdeeds from the knowing eyes of the female’s kin.” Pearl took a long drink of her tea, then slammed down the glass. “Dammit.” She walked over to her chifforobe and grabbed the pot of flowers, then opened the door to the catwalk and pitched them over the metal rail.
A chill scuttled up, tightening flesh, and I worried about what might be coming at Pearl, and maybe me.
Thirty-One
The morning air was drenched, sweetened with balsam and pine as I lingered on the porch listening to the soft rain hitting the roof. It didn’t dampen my spirits, though, because today was April 11, and Pearl had decided to have the pajama party.
Rummaging through a trunk a bit later, I found an old flannel gown and tossed the drab piece aside into the pile of other ugly gowns. Some I’d outgrown, while others were too tattered. What do I wear to such a party?
Thumbing through a magazine, I inspected the women’s stylish clothing, then set it aside frustrated. In the end I picked the flannel gown, worrying. I’ve never attended a party of any kind. Do I wear this to the party, or put it on when I get there, or…？ Oh, I couldn’t ride over the hills wearing only this. What to do? “If only Mama was here,” I moaned.
I took off my clothes and slipped on the flannel, then put my riding pants and shirt over those, struggling to smooth down the gown. Bulky, but it had to do.
***
Pearl didn’t answer my knock when I arrived earlier than what she’d said, and I huffed at being so impatient to get there, worried where she could be. Again, I rapped on the trapdoor, before climbing back down the stairs.
I sat under the lean-to in the sometimes drizzling rain, then a harder slanting rain, waiting, checking my timepiece. Where was she? Junia stiffened her ears and drew her attention to the woods, and I thought I’d caught something red flitter beyond the leaves, certain my eyes were playing tricks.
Tapping a boot on the ground, I ran my palm over my damp hair, aggravated to be stuck out in the cold, my breath billowing into the unshakable drizzle. After an hour, Junia looked toward the path and brayed several warnings.