The Existence of Bea Pearl, page 10
He continues, “I think something was going on where I pulled up with Jim the day it flooded. It was very well kept with trees cleared. It’s the only way I got the boat on land when the water level was so high. And I could swear there were boxes when I left that weren’t there when I got back.”
Oh my gosh. I scratch my face as it abruptly cools off. Our conversation isn’t going the way I thought—an accidental shoulder bump and I go heart-eyes. I give my head a little shake. Stop being weird, Bea Pearl.
“Most of the land around the river is farmland, so it’s probably already cleared for fields. Did you pull up on the same side of the river as the boat ramp or on the side where his shirt was found and where you pulled Jim out of the water?”
“Boat ramp side.”
I perk up. “Only the Lake George side of the river was searched extensively because of the way the currents flow. Can you take me there?”
Colin looks over the river and skips a rock. It bounces three times before sinking. “That’s the problem. I can’t find the road. Everything looks different now that it’s not flooded, but the road I could’ve sworn I was on is paved and curves west. I can’t find it. I’ve looked for it every chance I get. Do you think we should get the police involved?”
I consider it. That makes the most sense. Sheriff Oakwood will be able to muster a bigger search party and cover a lot more area than just Colin and me. Only if the sheriff believes me. If they blow me off, will the vicious cycle of distrust and doubt start all over again? I shake my head. He knows about Colin saving Jim, but still won’t believe me. I’m sure he figured it out same as we did. He’s not stupid, so there must be a reason that side of the river wasn’t searched as well as our side. “It’s me against the Flat Earth folks.”
“Don’t forget me. I still want to help, that hasn’t changed.”
I shiver, either from the breeze on my damp skin or from the anticipation of what he’s saying.
He takes off his shirt and slips it over my head. I open my mouth to protest but his shirt is warm and smells so good, I decide against it. And I finally get to see those chest and arm muscles! They’re better than I imagined.
“I hear an engine.”
I freeze when I hear the low rumble of a truck engine and the muted boom-boom of a stereo. “They wouldn’t leave without me!” I yelp, taking off running. All the pokey, prickly leaf matter ignored in the face of being left. Colin is right behind me. The clearing where we parked is ahead of us through the trees.
“They’re gone,” he says.
I burst through the tree line, twisting my ankle as the ground abruptly changes from hard, compacted leaves to soft sand. Off guard, I fall so fast that Colin trips over my foot, sprawling on top of me. “Ooof!” The air squeezes out of me—he’s heavy.
“Sorry! You okay?” He gets to his knees.
I’m incredibly glad I have his shirt on because the tumble shifted my swimsuit top. I twist away from him and put everything back where it belongs. When I peek at him, he’s looking everywhere but at me. My embarrassment fades at his chivalrousness.
The sand squeaks as he moves. “Wanna make some sand angels?” He grins and offers me a hand as we both stand. “How’s the ankle?”
“What? Holy crap, my ankle! Ow!” I shift to take the weight off it. Then I hear the sound of a boat motor. “Sara and Beth.”
“Want me to flag them down?”
“Too late.” The engine rumble is already receding. “The way this river bends, they won’t see you. And knowing Beth, she’d probably let me ride until she spots a gator then throw me in front of it with a bucket of chum as my parting gift.”
“She must be the wasp.”
“One and the same.” I try to put weight on my foot again.
He grins and drapes my arm over his shoulder and scoops up my legs. I need to focus on something besides these very delicious muscles. “Totally can’t believe Honey rode off and left me. Did she forget I was here? Was she that caught up in her new boyfriend? I don’t believe it.”
“Maybe the wasp told her you’d already left?” Colin heads away from the river and toward the woods.
“That makes sense.” I say, a sliver of my brain wondering if I’m truly safe with the last person who saw my legally declared dead brother alive. Most of me is trying really, really, really hard not to notice how close his mouth is to my face. “You feel real for a water spirit.” I tentatively graze my index finger on his bare, sun-warmed shoulder. I examine the shadows between his neck and chin, imagining how the soft, scratchy skin would feel against my lips. Not a very helpful way of calming myself down but I’ve pretty much forgotten about the pain in my ankle, or even that I have ankles.
He laughs softly. “How many water spirits have you felt?”
“True,” I sigh. “Why don’t you change into a horse? That would be easier than carrying me like this.”
“A horse? What?”
“Oh, I guess you aren’t a pooka-type water being. That’s good news actually. I wouldn’t want you to drown me.”
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You are something else, Bea Pearl.”
“Something else?” I repeat, confused.
“I meant it as an expression. But yeah, if I’m a water sprite, what does that make you?”
For some reason that simple question scares me. Bad. “I exist.” Fear pinches my voice, making my words come out small and disfigured.
He must sense my panic because he quickly says, “Of course, okay, the existence of Bea Pearl is not to be discussed. To Bea, or not to Bea, is not the question. Weather, politics and religion only.” As he talks, his jawline scratches against my temple, snagging on the curls escaping my braid.
I smile at his Hamlet reference and let out a steadying breath. “It’s like two miles back to the house. Are you going to carry me all that way?”
“Nah, we’ll just take my four-wheeler.”
“What? You have a four-wheeler?”
He carries me down the deer path, approaching a thicket of pines, where lo and behold, a blue four-wheeler waits. “How do you think I got down here?”
“Became one with the river? Wait, so you are stalking me.”
“I was down here already. Y’all drove right past me.”
“Really?”
“Yup, you were crouched low in the truck bed.” He helps me get comfortable on the back, climbs on himself, and we take off toward Lake George. There’s no talking over the motor, just the wind and bugs rushing past.
I don’t know what to hold onto. Obviously, the best place would be around his waist. I chicken out and prop myself on the metal bars behind me, daydreaming about what it would feel like to be gutsy enough to wrap my arms around him. Warmth collects between us. The inside of my knees rubs against his legs. I want us to ride forever and ever but the closer to home we get, the more I can imagine Momma’s reaction. I don’t want Colin to see that. To see my broken family, and subsequently, to see too much of my broken self. He makes me wish for the Old Bea to return.
I tap him on the shoulder. We’re close enough to Lake George that reality might slap me in the face. We slow down and he turns his head. “Hey, do you mind dropping me off here?”
He shifts in his seat so he can see me better. “What? Your ankle may be broken.”
I bite my lip. “It’s barely throbbing, so it’ll feel better when it quits hurting.”
He gives me the same look I give my dad when he tells me that. “Okay. If you’re sure?”
I’m not sure about anything but he helps me off the four-wheeler anyway. “Thank you.”
He looks at me, touches my shoulder. “I’m glad I was in the right spot to help you home today.”
“Me too.” I pull off his shirt and hand it to him, then turn as if I’m heading home. I wait until he drives off to start hobbling. I don’t want him to see how bad it hurts to walk.
With the help of a bamboo pole, I’m able to make it to the house without crying. Momma, Daddy, Honey, and Lucas are on the front porch, and they all come toward me as soon as Toby barks. Momma looks as if she was crying which makes me feel worse than my ankle does. Jim’s disappearance has already given her so much pain, and I don’t want to be the one that gives her more. I prefer the refusal to acknowledge our gaping hole to this fresh anguish.
“Oh, Bea!” Honey cries, hugging me tightly “We are so, so sorry!”
I lose my balance and almost fall down.
“She’s hurt, Honey!” Lucas says, as he grabs an arm with Daddy.
“What’s wrong?” Daddy looks me over. My swimsuit is dry from the ride. Arms, legs, and feet sting with cuts from sticker bushes, and I can only imagine what my hair looks like, blown dry by the breeze, the braids surrendering to a losing battle.
“My ankle. Can I sit down?”
They lead me to a wicker chair on the front porch. Honey is now full-fledged crying and Momma’s face is white with dark, worried circles under her eyes.
Since Honey can’t talk coherently, Lucas fills me in. “When we got out of the water, Beth was the only one there with our stuff. She told us that you were ranting about how she wasn’t right for Junior. Y’all had words and you told her you were going home. Your stuff was gone, so we left too. We tried to catch you on the trail before you got too far ahead, but we didn’t see you on the path and didn’t see you once we got back here. All of us were really worried.”
I shake my head. “We did have words.” I’m not about to repeat what she said about Jim in front of my parents. “So, I went for a swim. I left my bag and flip flops on my towel.”
“They weren’t there,” Honey sobs. “I should have never left you with her! I knew she was poison. And now you had to walk miles and miles with a broken leg!”
I squeeze Honey’s hand. “I’m pretty sure it’s just sprained. And it’s not your fault.”
“We’re taking you to get checked out,” Momma says quietly. “And you’re not to go to the river again.”
“What!? That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Momma goes inside the house to get her keys and purse.
“Is this because of Jim?” I yell through the open front door. “Are you punishing me for him being gone?” I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut, glutton that I am for punishment. But not right now. I’m desperate for answers. “What aren’t you telling me? Why do you want him dead?”
Momma strides out the door. Her footsteps are gun reports on the hollow wooden porch. She flattens her hand and slaps me.
My head jerks back in shocked surprise. The anger is fading from her eyes and I can see she regrets it, but I’m too outraged to care. My cheek burns and my eyes water.
“What you did at the restaurant was uncalled for. Don’t you ever touch his stuff again.” My mom’s face collapses in on itself, hurricane-swept and shuttered.
Daddy takes the keys from Momma’s other hand and tosses them to Lucas. “Take Bea Pearl to the ER.” Then he ushers my pale, stiff mother inside, her eyes glittering harshly.
Honey and Lucas help me up into the truck. I need all the help I can get because my bottom jaw seems to have permanently come unhinged. Does she mean the beer?
“Sorry y’all had to see that,” I whisper once I can speak, my voice heavy with misery.
Honey squeezes my fingers. “None of this would’ve happened if we had just ignored Beth.” Her voice wavers.
If Lucas wasn’t there, I would probably let myself break down into a teary pool of anger and wretchedness but instead I focus on relieving Honey’s guilt. “How would you have known until y’all got back home? And where is everyone else?”
“Tim borrowed my truck to take the girls home,” Lucas tells me.
Honey hands me a wrinkled sundress she pulls out of her beach bag. I slip it over my head.
The angry pink on my cheek fades by the time we reach the county hospital, though my ankle has darkened like a summer thunderstorm. It’s badly sprained, not broken. I will have to wear a clunky brace but at least I won’t be starting my sophomore year in a cast. I’m secretly relieved there’s an easy excuse to use if anyone asks why I’m not cheering this year. No one wants to know the real reason is because I lost myself.
Losing who I used to be is why I reacted in fear when Colin said, ‘You’re something else, Bea Pearl’, because I really am something else.
I’m someone else.
Losing Jim made me lose myself. Around Honey and Colin, my old self peeks through sometimes. My abnormally normal self. Which is weird because Colin didn’t know me before.
To the Flat Earth people, I am too quiet, miserable, and delusional. I don’t want that to be my entire future existence. In addition to finding Jim, my lost self needs to be recovered as well. I bet they’re together somewhere.
Or maybe I’m just approaching the state line of Crazy.
“We can bedazzle the brace,” Honey says skeptically once we’re back in the truck, heading out of town.
“Bea, you want me to take you home or do you want to come to our house?” Lucas asks.
I hesitate. I don’t want to face Momma’s anger again, but I should be home. “I don’t know.”
Honey holds my hand. “Your mom was really scared for you. And also, what they found in the restaurant.”
“Found? Is that what she meant about not touching someone’s stuff? What happened? I didn’t see anything when I filled the cooler this morning.”
Honey and Lucas exchange a look. She grips my hand tighter. “Mama wants you to come over to our house. Is that okay with you?” she asks.
I swallow hard. This scares me. Her mom, Mrs. Grace, works for the Department of Human Resources. Why does she want to talk to me?
“Your dad thinks it’s best.”
I nod and bite my lip to keep it from trembling.
13
The Eye & The Voice
Mrs. Grace makes sure I am comfortable on their screened-in back porch, getting me a padded ottoman for my ankle, turning the fan to the highest setting, and bringing us sweet teas. Honey can’t sit still and I’m sure I look nervous right along with her.
“Relax, Girls,” Mrs. Grace turns on the bug zapper. “Bea Pearl’s safe.”
“Thanks for the tea,” I say. She beams at us then sits across from me.
Honey takes a deep breath, fidgeting with a throw pillow.
“Jeez, I feel like you’re about to break up with me,” I joke feebly.
Mrs. Grace tucks her bare feet underneath her. She’s wearing teal leggings with a floral tunic and looks so at ease with the world. I ache with the wish that she was my mother. At least for now. Instantly, my thoughts shift and I feel intense guilt toward my own broken mother who—when she’s not working—can barely be bothered to comb her hair. “I’m not here in any official capacity. I’m listening as a friend to your mother, who’s having an awfully hard time lately. As are you.”
I nod and focus on the lattice pattern on a pillow, tracing it with my eyes until I feel the tears recede. My own private flood is contained.
“Tell me what you intended with the restaurant.”
“Um, the beer? I only had one.” I glance at my best friend, wide-eyed. “Honey didn’t drink any.” Honestly, I can’t remember if she did or not. It feels like forever ago instead of just this morning.
“Beer?” Mrs. Grace looks from me to Honey who shrugs. “No, the photos of Jim in the restaurant.”
“What? What photos? I didn’t see anything this morning. I woke up minutes before we left for the Sandbar.” I look to Honey. “You didn’t see anything either, right?”
Honey shook her head. “I didn’t go inside though.”
“The restaurant was already unlocked, and I went straight to the kitchen.” My heart thumps as if it wants to crawl out of my chest, it hurts so much. I rub my bee necklace in agitation. “What’s going on?”
Mrs. Grace picks her phone up from a side table. “Your dad sent me these. He was preparing for a police report, but your mom was adamant that you did this.” She hands me her lit up phone.
It’s picture after picture of Jim, blown up on canvas and propped up against the walls. Grainy close ups of him eating, laughing, shooting hoops, and stretching before a swim. I start shaking my head and don’t stop.
“Your mom heard the front door at three last night.” Mrs. Grace’s voice is gentle, as even as a breeze through a willow tree. “She said when she got up at five there were muddy footprints tracking from the front door to Jim’s room, back to yours.”
Now the shaking has moved from my head to my hands. My grip on her phone tightens so I won’t drop it. I can’t stop staring at each picture. My feet were muddy still when I woke up. Did I go to Jim’s room before I came to bed? Probably. It’s gotten so second nature, that I do it now without thinking. Every night before bed, I check for open windows and disarray, try to keep it nice for him when he gets back.
“Bea?” Honey’s voice squeaks the tiniest bit. I hand the phone to her and slide my trembling hands up and down my ribs, hugging myself.
“Did you go outside early this morning?” Miss Grace asks.
I nod.
“Did you hang these pictures up to get your parents’ attention? Honey told me that you aren’t happy that they had him declared dead.”
Oh my God, if she says something about closure, I’m going to rip the feathers out of one of her throw pillows. “Would that make anybody happy?” I take a deep breath through my nose and let it hiss out my teeth. I see why my parents asked Mrs. Grace to talk to me. If this conversation was with them, we would have already passed the snarls and gotten to the shut-down, shut-out silence. If I was speaking to the sheriff right now, he would already have me arrested. He doesn’t believe in innocent before proven guilty when it comes to me.
Mrs. Grace nods. “Poor word choice on my part. I apologize. Won’t you tell me what happened?”
I rub my fingers on the nubby trim of the nearest pillow. “I had a bad dream and took a walk to clear my head. I walked through the irises.”
