The Existence of Bea Pearl, page 8
Daddy makes the announcements and there’s cheering, but I’m not listening. I scan the crowd for the mysterious, brown-haired, blue-eyed boy. Dejection sits heavy on my shoulders when all around me are the same faces I’ve seen pretty much my whole life. It’s not until Honey nudges me that I realize Junior walked up.
“Did you hear?” he asks, maybe for the second time.
Based on his pleased smile, I guess his catfish placed so tell him congrats.
“I saved a seat for you,” he says shyly.
Since there aren’t enough tables for everyone at the picnic, a designated “Winner’s Table” is decorated to the hilt. Most people eat on blankets or sit in folding chairs with their plate on their laps, only the old folks eat inside the restaurant on picnic night. I already have a seat waiting for me since I won the ladies’ freestyle and now that Junior won, he has a seat as well.
“Awesome,” I say unenthusiastically.
“Oh, Sara and Beth are waving me over,” Honey says. “I have sooo much to discuss with those two!”
I laugh. “Be careful!”
It’s awkward sitting next to Junior. Luckily, the person sitting on my other side is the little elementary-schooler who won the hot dog eating contest, and she seems very excited to be sitting at the Winner’s Table.
“I’m Emma Kate and I’m going into fifth grade and I do gymnastics which is how I burn off so much energy and can eat so many hot dogs, and I love hot dogs but I don’t love fish, but I like hush puppies, so I’ll eat those unless Mama makes me eat fish, so I won’t seem rude.”
I smile. “Hi Emma Kate, I’m Bea Pearl and this guy,” I point to Junior, “caught some of the fish we’re eating.”
Junior waves and Emma Kate frowns. “I will have to eat some fish, then.” She gives me her full attention. “My daddy is a peanut farmer, and my mama works in the hospital lab. Did you know peanuts aren’t really nuts, they’re legumes? Isn’t that a funny word? It’s French. I know who you are. Mama told me. You don’t seem crazy.”
I stiffen and feel Junior tense up too. “Thank you?”
“Yeah, when we went to the high school football games last year—I looove going to the high school games!—you were my favorite cheerleader. I figure since I’m in gymnastics then I can be a flyer too when I’m old enough. As long as my boobs don’t get too big, Mama says. But Mama said you’re not cheering this year because you’re crazy and that makes me sad.”
I shred a festive bit of crepe paper lying on the table, aware that my face is reddening as she speaks. How can I defend myself? I’m questioning my sanity, too.
“Oh, but Mama told me not to say that to you. I’m sorry. I don’t know any crazy people except my Great-Aunt Tootie and she breaks into peoples’ houses and drinks their beer. Do you break into people’s houses?”
I can’t help but snort. “No, and I don’t drink beer either.”
Emma Kate looks relieved. “Good! Are you really crazy? Mama told me your brother died and that’s what made you sick. I can’t imagine my little sister dead. Gives me the willies.”
I look to Junior for help. He avoids my eyes and my opinion of him sinks lower so that anger mixes in with the sadness, confusion and hopelessness already moseying around in my head.
“Jim is not dead,” I say through clenched teeth, still looking at Junior who’s looking at his plate. His Adam’s apple bobs but that’s it.
“Oh, okay. That’s just what Mama said.” Emma Kate looks around at the picnickers. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He disappeared.” I push back my plate. “I’m done.”
“Oh, please don’t be mad! Mama told me not to say anything and I did anyways. My mouth needs a zipper on it, Daddy says. Please don’t tell Mama I said anything!”
I stretch my lips into a smile and then a thought pops up, the bare bulb a bright light in the darkness that is my head. “I won’t be mad only if you introduce me to your mom.”
She chews a hushpuppy as she eyes me suspiciously. “Are you tricking me to get myself in trouble? ’Cause I don’t need any help.”
I smile for real this time. “If she works in the hospital lab, I want to ask her a question about my brother.”
“My mama can help you not be crazy? And then you’ll be a cheerleader again?”
“Maybe. I hope so.” I climb off the bench seat as Emma Kate wraps hushpuppies in a napkin. Junior hunches over his plate. “Um… thanks for saving me the seat.” I hope he doesn’t offer to come with us.
He turns toward me, nodding, his eyes darting around as if he’s unsure about what he should do.
“I’d feel bad if you didn’t get to finish your dinner,” I say.
“She’s over there, talking to her Junior League ladies.” Emma Kate points and marches toward them.
If it wasn’t for that little girl’s confidence, I would probably keep going and disappear to the other side of the restaurant. When I’m not walking fast enough for her, she grabs my hand, pulling me along.
“Mama.” She tugs on her mom’s arm. “Mama! I wanna introduce you to someone.”
Her mother pulls her arm free. “Emma Kate! Really, you see me talkin’—”
She cuts herself off mid-sentence. The other ladies turn to look at me. Thank goodness Emma Kate doesn’t let go of my hand. Junior League ladies are a social force to be reckoned with and I don’t know what to expect.
“This is my mama, and Mama, this is Bea Pearl. The high school girl you said was cra—”
“Emma Kate!” She says sharply, and then laughs. “Excuse me, ladies.” She walks past other huddles of conversation and we follow. Emma Kate skips along as I trudge after them with a heavy heart, although I’m hoping for answers.
“I’ll just go ahead and apologize for whatever Emma Kate has said, she’s a li’l pitcher with too big ears.” She glares at her daughter but spoils it by ruffling her hair and kissing the top of her head.
I should have planned something to say. “She said you work at the hospital lab?”
“That’s right.”
“Is there any evidence that proves my brother’s dead?” This comes out so soft I’m worried she can’t hear me but her hand stills. She stops twisting Emma Kate’s hair. “I was just wondering… I don’t know why my parents…” I catch my breath.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” Her eyes don’t meet mine. She is pulling her daughter away from me when Emma Kate reaches up, tugs on my ponytail, and mouths I’m sorry. Then they disappear into the milling crowd.
What did I expect?
As far as I know, the only post-flood evidence is a Lake George T-shirt, covered in blood. I assume it’s Jim’s blood, and that’s how they figured out who it belonged to, but really, all I know is what I overheard in those early days of search parties. If Emma Kate’s mom worked in the hospital lab, she’d know about autopsies and stuff like that. Or un-autopsies for people who didn’t die, contrary to what an entire town believes. But the words stick in my throat as if I swallowed a catfish bone. I’m not as brave as I thought I could be.
Fresh air. I need to breathe. Walking in the opposite direction, down to Lake George, I pass the dock and the restaurant building.
It’s twilight now. Momma and the Booty Girls strung up light bulbs everywhere so looking back, the grounds appear magical. Lucas has his guitar out, while couples’ shadows dance in the grass. On the other side of the restaurant, the only light spills out of the windows. I barely make out the tune as the restaurant blocks most of the sounds.
Plopping on the grass, I sigh heavily. Since the visit to the police department turned out to be such a bad idea, I don’t know if I should continue this hospital lab angle. Though it feels like there’s a lead here somewhere. I don’t know if it’s because I’m unsure of where to look next or because Emma Kate’s mom acted like she was hiding something from me. But why? And what? Is it something so horrible she thought it would finish breaking me? Or—since she doesn’t know me—could my parents have put a gag order on the entire town to keep me in a somewhat safer cocoon from the truth?
Will the truth of what happened hurt me more than Jim’s supposed death? That’s impossible to imagine. So, it must be because my parents think I’m guilty. That it’s my fault. I shiver despite the heat and wrap my arms around my knees, thinking back to what Colin said earlier, that just because everyone thought the earth was flat didn’t mean it really was.
My heart thumps faster. Is that what he’s trying to tell me then? I probe the question. Maybe if I bother it enough, I’ll get some answers. Why do I feel so strongly that Jim’s still alive? A mystical brother-sister connection like what twins have? I don’t think so. It feels more like a known truth. The sun always rises in the east until one day it decides to rise in the west. That just seems wrong—unnatural—and that’s how I feel about Jim’s disappearance. I wish Colin were here to help me sort out my head.
“I am.”
I suck in so much air I inhale an entire swarm of mosquitoes. Colin sits next to me and pats my back as I choke on the bugs.
“Seems like I’m always saving your life.”
“Saving me from mosquitoes?” I glare at him as soon as I catch my breath.
“From asphyxiation, West Nile, Zika,” Colin shrugs with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “So, you wished I was here and now I am.”
“What, are you my fairy godmother now?”
“Don’t you have to have wings and a wand for that? No, you said it out loud. I was close by.”
I’m glad it’s too dark for Colin to see my face. As embarrassed as I am—as I always am around him, it’s amazing how good his hand feels on my back. As if suddenly remembering it’s still there, softly drawing circles, he snatches it back. “Close by? Are you stalking me?”
He laughs. “Didn’t you say a water sprite sent me? It would make sense that I’d be near water.”
“Makes as much sense as anything else does. Guess that means I’m stalking you.”
“It is odd to see a girl like you wander off by herself on a night like tonight with the music and the dancing. I figured your boyfriend would sneak off with you.”
“One, he’s not my boyfriend. Two, I’m not that kind of girl.” Though I can’t deny how right it is to be here in the dark with Colin. Wouldn’t mind sneaking off with him. I scratch at my too hot cheeks as my imagination takes off.
He leans back on his elbows. The light is too dim to read his features, but I feel his eyes on me. “Why’d you wish I was here?”
I sigh, hugging my knees to my chest. “Thinking about what you said earlier. About the world being flat and what my parents know.”
“Your parents more than likely know the world isn’t flat.”
“Harhar. That girl who won the hot dog eating contest? Her mom works in the hospital lab and I’m almost certain she’s hiding something from me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve come up with also. Discovered there’re two blood types on the shirt. The general consensus is the second one’s yours, but surprise—no one actually knows for sure.”
“Two? Mine? How’d you hear?”
“I told you I’d help you figure this out.”
“About that offer… Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why help out the crazy girl you just met that you have to save all the time?”
“We didn’t just meet, Bea Pearl.” Colin’s low voice causes goose bumps on my arms.
“Well, not ‘just’ as in today, but …”
“No, as in this past spring. I was here when the Chatothatchee flooded.”
I shake my head emphatically. “I would have remembered you.”
“Maybe I just wasn’t as real to you then as I am now.”
“Please stop with these brain teasers.” With the physical exhaustion of working all day and swimming in the race coupled with the emotionally wrenching eavesdropping of Sara and Beth and the conversation with Emma Kate, I’m unraveling. Tears gather, then hang heavy like rotting pears on a tree.
He sits upright and tilts my chin. He smells of sunshine. My breath catches as his face is close enough that I can make out his expression. It holds tenderness, concern, and something else I can’t place but has my heart pounding, trying to lodge itself in my throat.
“Bea Pearl, I …” He lets out a whooshing breath and takes his hand away to run through his hair.
I study his face but can’t read his expression. Whatever he’s about to tell me won’t be good.
“I’m here as part of a school co-op with Fish and Wildlife with my uncle.”
“Ah, the real reason why you’re always near water.” And why I’ve never seen him before. I nod in understanding and wait for him to get to whatever is causing that odd look on his face.
“I left an expensive piece of equipment at one of our stations and knew Uncle Rob could get fired if it was lost. It was my fault, so I went to get it.”
Realization knocks me back like the flood surge. “You were the guy in the johnboat, the one who pulled Jim out of the river?” And then anger rolls in, hot waves licking at my face.
“Yeah.”
I rise up to my knees in front of him. “You realize that no one believes that I saw a boat pick up Jim, don’t you?” My voice is so soft and low, it scrapes along my throat. It would rather scream. “Not a damn soul came forward, so I was patted on the head, pretty much ignored, because there wasn’t any proof. It’s the whole effing reason my parents and the sheriff could declare him dead. And you knew what you did this whole time.”
He hangs his head.
“So, where is he? Where’s Jim?” He told me no one actually knows if that second blood type is mine. Could his be the unknown blood on Jim’s discarded shirt? The thought horrifies me. My anger pushes it away.
“Bea, I wasn’t supposed to be out in the boat. I hadn’t told anyone what I was doing. The engine couldn’t handle going against the current. I had to go a good ways before I found a place cleared out enough that I could pull up without getting knocked into trees. Jim was unconscious. I left him in the boat and walked back to the ramp. There was no way I could have carried him, because he was so badly hurt. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“Badly hurt? Where is he?” I sink back to the grassy bank, my fury unsure, my hands fluttering nervously like those damn broken-winged jays.
“He was gone when I returned with the truck and trailer. No idea how or where.” His fists clench. “We helped sandbag but then the field office moved us downriver to help out. When I first came back to Georgefield and heard he was dead, I felt guilty. What if I was the last person to see him alive? I called Lake George to ask about him but got hung up on. I told the sheriff’s office—”
“They know? What did they say? Who specifically did you talk to?”
Colin shakes his head. “I don’t know. A guy? He thanked me and said they’d look into it, but I never heard anything back.”
My shoulders slump. “And they still don’t believe me? What kind of proof do I have to have?” I blink tears away. Or try to.
Colin’s watching my face. I turn my head away to hide my eyes. He gently touches my jawline but then drops his hand. “Then I saw you, found out he was your brother, and that you still believed he was alive. I thought since I didn’t know where he was, I’d help you.”
That phone call. The first time I felt hope. “So that’s why that night on the dock you offered to help me find him?”
He nods, the concerned look on his face making me feel better.
He leans in, earnest. Our knees touch.
Then someone calls my name.
He cups my cheek with his warm hand for the smallest slice of a second. I let out a whooshing sigh and stand on my wobbly legs. “Over here,” I holler. When I look back, he’s melted into the darkness. I walk towards the lit restaurant gangway.
Honey meets me. “Your mom is looking for you.” She looks behind me into the dark. “Oh, were you with someone? You look flustered.” Her eyebrows raise. “Junior?”
“No way, just needed some breathing room. Is Momma mad?”
“Not any more than usual.” Honey grimaces apologetically. “She acted surprised you weren’t with me.” She grabs my hand. “Lucas’s rocking that guitar. Let’s go dance after you check in with your mom.”
And we dance in the grass until Lucas’s strings break, the something else in Colin’s expression guiding my feet and arms. I pretend I’m the Old Bea for a song. The thought that the second blood type might be mine—or Colin’s, if he’s not telling me the whole truth—is pushed back for a song. Just one. Don’t I deserve just one dance?
Probably not.
11
Sandbars & Wasp Stings
Another dream with the sparkle-eyed whatever-she-is keeps me from sleeping restfully. I wake, sweating, and throw off the quilt. Daddy’s remark about the mud on the well box runs circles in my head, chasing the dream. I can’t sleep so I may as well make use of the time to search for clues. Even if it’s three in the morning.
It’s near water so maybe I’ll see Colin. I smile and pull a T-shirt over my camisole.
Flashlight in hand, I ease out of the front door, careful to not let the screen door slam behind me. A cold nose on the back of my knee makes me gasp. Toby was at the mercy of a gaggle of toddlers during the picnic, so I’m surprised he’s awake. He follows me off the porch, across the street, past the concession stand and to the pool.
It is dark and still. The humidity presses against my face until I can taste it. Bats swoop around the streetlight in front of the restaurant. I jump when there’s a crash from the garbage bins but I’m sure it’s from the feral cats. Or raccoons. I turn the flashlight on to keep them from getting too close. Or to keep from stumbling into a tick-eating, toothy ’possum.
Being farther from the streetlight, it’s even darker around the well box. My bare feet sink into the ground that grows more mucky the closer I get. Momma and I planted swamp irises in the wet dirt years ago, their dagger-like leaves catch the illumination from my light, throwing sharp shadows on the high walls of the well box. I walk around to the back. The mud line Daddy mentioned is gone.
