Free Pearl by C.E. Weisman Page A

dress under the bed.  
    “Baby?” He was sitting on the bed, his dirt-stained jeans on her sheets. He wore a bulls-eye T-shirt cut short at the shoulders, exposing his tanned arms. He pulled his baseball cap backward, revealing a smudge of dirt on his forehead. “You look awful,” he said.
    “I feel awful,” she moaned.
    “Must have caught some stomach bug overnight,” he said. “Granny’s been worried. I’ll tell her to leave you alone today.”
    “Thank you,” she murmured, taking his hand in hers. “Clean up and come lie down with me.”
    He pulled his hand back. “Baby, I’m not going to catch that. One of us has to work. Besides, you reek of vomit.”
    The bitter aftertaste stung in her mouth.
    He placed his hand on her covered leg, rubbing her thigh while keeping his distance. “Looks like we won’t get that mini vacation for a couple more months. Darren’s got this big deal going where a few horse breeders want to use the land and stable their horses. It’s huge, big money. But we gotta get working on building a decent stable immediately. You understand, don’t you, baby?”
    Pearl bit her lip and hid her disappointment. “Of course I understand.”
    Roy kissed the top of her hand. “You’re so good to me, baby. Now, treat yourself and rest all day. I’ll check on you later.”

    Pearl woke with a gasp. She jolted up, her eyes searching the room in the dark. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her hands were locked in tight fists around the sheets. She had been dreaming again, the dream that became a nightmare. A white flowing gown drifting through the field, with iridescent hair sparkling in the moonlight as it raced toward freedom. And then darkness, darkness so pitch black, as though the moon followed the woman behind the hill and disappeared. Pearl counted the seconds as she held her breath. She knew the sound was coming; she knew it would be here any minute. She waited and waited ’til her chest burned and her lungs felt as though they would burst. She waited, and the sound never came.
    She flew out of bed and switched on the light. She feared the dark when these dreams overtook her mind. She crawled back in bed, her knees to her chest, and waited for the calm to take over her body. She missed Billy. He was her only comfort in times like these. He didn’t share the same nightmares, but he felt the same gaping hole in his heart. Had she taken his comfort away by leaving?
    Hesitantly she moved to her small stereo, pushing “Play” on the only CD she ever listened to. Her mother’s voice came through, and it instantly brought Pearl to the floor. How she loved to feel her mother close, her voice clear as though her mother was in the room with her now. She wished desperately she could recall the way her mother sounded when she spoke. She was so used to hearing her only in her songs. It stripped away any memory of her mother’s voice when she wasn’t singing. Except for her laugh—she could always remember her mother’s high-pitched giggle.
    Pearl hit “Repeat” and played the tunes until dawn came through the window. She had never shared her mother’s music before, could barely speak of it. Not even with Roy. He had asked once to hear it, but Pearl wasn’t ready. How could she share the only possession she had that proved her mother’s existence? It was all Pearl had to hang on to. This CD and one small photograph of her mother a week before she left were all Pearl had in the world to prove she had a mother. It was the only way Pearl could know her voice and see her face.  
    If only she knew where she was.  
    Pearl was showered and changed by the time Granny was up. She drank from the glass of water on her nightstand, thankful the waves of nausea had surpassed. Her belly grumbled with hunger. She couldn’t wait for breakfast. She was surprised to see Cindy waiting in the kitchen, her hair in a high ponytail and looking uncharacteristically demure in a long floral dress.