Pearl of Great Price (35 page)

Always.

C
HAPTER 41

If I’d had a voice for singing, I’d have been belting out the “Hallelujah Chorus” that day. But healing the heart can be a slow process, and Micah’s wounds had festered so long that it would take much more than a single afternoon to set things right.

So we took things one step at a time, starting with convincing Micah to come to church with me the following Sunday and meet my friends. I knew I could trust them to welcome him without judgment, and they didn’t let me down. Coincidentally (or not), Pastor Ed just happened to preach on my favorite scripture, the parables of the hidden treasure and the pearl of great price. Then he ended with the verse that says, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Then Micah squeezed my hand, his warm breath tickling my ear. “My treasure’s sitting right here beside me,” he said, and my heart filled to overflowing.

For Thanksgiving, Micah invited me to his mother’s house in Fort Worth. I hesitated leaving Grandpa and the Swap & Shop during one of the busiest shopping weekends of the year, but Grandpa insisted that between him, Clifton, and Katy Harcourt, they’d manage just fine without me. Even so, I made Micah promise we’d be back late Friday.

Micah’s mother turned out to be a lovely lady, a widow once again since Mr. MacDonohoe had passed away three years ago. She made me feel right at home, although she wasn’t very subtle with her hints about Micah and me tying the knot one of these days. Micah would get extra quiet, and I’d keep my eyes lowered and hope I wasn’t blushing too bad.

I made it through the visit
and
a wild and crazy weekend at the Swap & Shop, and things started settling into a comfortable routine. With Clifton taking over several of the more demanding tasks around the flea market, a spring had returned to Grandpa’s step. He looked rested, serene, like a king surveying his realm. By nature he always had to be doing something—dusting a shelf, straightening a display—but there was an ease about him I hadn’t seen since before our lives got turned upside down last June.

Then Christmas came, and I was blessed to watch another dream come true.

“Okay, folks, it’s that time.” A computerized fanfare accompanied the DJ’s announcement. “All single gals to the dance floor.”

Micah nudged me with his elbow and grinned. “I believe that includes you.”

I crossed my arms and tried to look hurt. “What? I thought I was already spoken for.”

“Oh, you are. You definitely are.” His grin became lecherous, and I had to suck in my breath at how handsome this guy looked in a tux.

“Julie Pearl Stiles, get yourself out here right this minute!” This, from the woman in white who reigned over today’s festivities. Sandy hoisted her billowing skirt and trotted up the three carpeted steps at the right of the Pedersonville VFW hall stage. Flinging the long folds of her tulle veil over one shoulder, she surveyed the giggling single girls jockeying for position under garlands of silk flowers and red crepe-paper streamers.

“Best not keep the new bride waiting,” Grandpa said. “Clifton’s looking mighty anxious to get his honeymoon started.”

“Grandpa!” I’m sure I blushed an even deeper shade of crimson than my antique velvet bridesmaid’s gown.

Grandpa winked. “Facts is facts, ain’t they? Now go catch that bouquet.”

I minced across the scuffed parquet floor in my pointy-toed, too-tight, dyed-to-match satin pumps. On the stage, Sandy casually waved her gorgeous white calla lily bouquet as she inspected the hall for any single female stragglers. Ushered over by her three gawky preteen granddaughters, a sixty-something widow joined the fray, and I quickly found myself engulfed in a sea of satin, lace, velvet, and lamé.

“Okay, I believe we’re ready.” Sandy nodded to the DJ, who did an extended reprise of the electronic drum roll. With a quick but studied glance in my direction, Sandy turned her back to the dance floor.

“Wait!” came a high-pitched yell from behind me. “Unfair advantage. Julie’s too tall.”

I huffed. “Like I can do anything about it.”

Sandy cast me an accusing glance over her shoulder. “You know she’s right, Julie. It’s not fair to everybody behind you.”

“Okay, I’ll move to the back.”
And why am I suddenly so resentful about this?
It wasn’t like I really wanted to catch the thing
.
Neither Micah nor I needed the added pressure.

The “sea” parted, and I reluctantly stepped to the rear. I’d barely turned around and planted my feet when a collective gasp went up from the crowd. I looked up to see a white missile zooming right at my head. I heard a scream—
did that come from me?
—and the next thing I knew, I was crushing white calla lilies to my red velvet bosom.

“Yes!” Sandy.

“Nooooooo!” Every other female on the dance floor.

~~~

“Very clever, grasshopper.” I touched foreheads with Sandy, the mangled bouquet between us. The lush scent of calla lilies filled my nostrils.

“Hey, didn’t I always tell you one day you’d be thankful for your height? You made a perfect target.”

Clifton rested a possessive hand at his new bride’s waist. “So when are you and Micah going to make it official?”

I waved a hand. “Please, Clifton, it’s too soon to even think about.”

“Think about what?” At the sound of Micah’s voice, I nearly dropped the bouquet. He caught it with one hand, offering me a plate with the other. “After your amazing feat of Amazonian athleticism, I thought you could use another piece of wedding cake.”

Clifton rocked on his heels. “We were just asking Julie when you two are planning to tie the knot.”

Put the guy in coat and tails, comb his hair, stick a beautiful brunette on his arm, and he thinks he can get away with anything. “Clifton . . .” My voice rose on a plaintive edge.

Micah cleared his throat, eyes downcast. I wanted to melt through the floor.

Sandy came to our rescue. “Oh, Cliffy, honey, look at the time. We need to hit the road soon.” She squeezed his bicep and cast him a meaningful glance.

Clifton’s eyes widened along with his silly grin. “Well, all righty, then. Let’s get out of these fancy duds and blow this pop stand.”

While the happy couple disappeared to change into traveling clothes, I resumed my maid-of-honor duties by overseeing the distribution of rose petals and tiny, tulle-wrapped plastic bottles of wedding bubbles. My smile was beginning to feel like lockjaw, but at least the activity gave the nervous tension between me and Micah a chance to cool.

Forty-five minutes later, with Clifton and Sandy on the first leg of their romantic getaway to a beach condo in Pensacola (courtesy of Micah’s extensive resort connections), I busied myself in the VFW kitchen helping Mrs. Doakes and Mrs. Monroe pack away the leftover hors d’oeuvres and wedding cake. I glanced through the pass-through to see Micah, tux coat removed, perched on a stepladder ripping streamers from the ceiling and handing them down to Clifton’s dad. I sighed, unable to stifle a twinge of envy that my two best friends were now happily married. Could it really happen for me and Micah someday?

“That should do it, Julie Pearl.” Sandy’s mom burped a Tupperware lid on a bowl of mixed fruit. “Thanks so much for all your help, sweetie. And you tell your grandpa I’ll be more than happy to help out when the time comes to plan your wedding.” She drew me into a hug. “Why, you’re like a second daughter to me, darlin’.”

“Thanks, Mrs. M. I love you too.”

“Julie, you about ready?” Micah stood across the counter, shrugging into his tux sleeves.

“I thought I’d ride home with Grandpa. We’re so close, and you’ve got the drive back to Hot Springs yet.”

“Already spoke to him. He said to tell you he’ll see you at home later . . . and no hurry.”

No hurry, huh? Was everybody ganging up on us?

I stepped around the counter and let Micah drape my white wool shawl around my shoulders. “About what Clifton said, I just want you to know I—”

Micah silenced me with a finger to my lips. “I hadn’t planned it like this—I was going to wait till New Year’s Eve. But here we are, all dressed up for a wedding, you looking like a royal princess and me looking like . . .” He chuckled and lifted his shoulders. “Well, like the maitre d’ at the Four Seasons. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is . . . Julie, you’ve changed my life.”

A bubble of warmth swelled under my breastbone. “No, Micah, it was your willingness to finally let go of the past.”

“Okay, but it was your love that made the difference, pushed me into realizing I
wanted
to change.”

“Well, maybe, but . . .” My warm, fuzzy feeling fizzled into a fog of indignation. “Now just a cotton-pickin’ minute.
Pushed
? Don’t you
ever
go telling people I set out to
change
you. We may have had a few differences of opinion, but you know I’ve always loved you for yourself. Please! Like
anybody
could ever—”

He gave a frustrated groan. “Will you just let me say this, please?”

My mouth fell open and immediately snapped shut. Leave it to me to start running off at the mouth when my nerves kicked in. Was I ready for what came next?

Another deep breath. He took both my hands in his. “Like I said, I was going to do this on New Year’s Eve—you know, the whole ‘new year, new beginning’ scenario—but seeing how happy Sandy and Clifton are, I realized I don’t want to wait a minute longer.”

Still holding my hands, he dropped awkwardly to one knee, and my heart flip-flopped. “Julie Pearl Stiles,” he began, his voice growing husky with emotion, “will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

I swallowed—
hard
. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out except this little tiny squeak that had to suffice for something halfway between
Oh my goodness, is this a dream?
and
Grandpa, get the preacher back in here, pronto!

Mrs. Monroe’s laughter and twangy voice rang out from the kitchen. “Oh, my heavens! We’ve finally found the man who can leave our Julie Pearl speechless.”

~~~

Planning a wedding—
me
? How many years had I doubted this day would ever come, much less that I’d meet the man who could claim my heart, soul, and spirit so completely. Micah’s love had somehow quieted the lifelong hunger to find the man who’d fathered me. But even with Katy Harcourt and Sandy’s mom stepping in to help with the wedding stuff, I couldn’t help missing all over again the mother I barely remembered. And I thought I detected the same regret in Grandpa’s eyes.

Then one day in April, as I was on my way to meet Micah at the florist shop to pick out our wedding flowers, I pulled up next to the Swap & Shop mailbox to retrieve the day’s mail. I flipped through several bills and advertising flyers before a richly textured cream-colored envelope caught my eye. The letter was postmarked Little Rock. The return address, engraved on the back flap, was Renata’s.

My hand trembled as I slid a fingernail under the seal. Since the night of Renata’s attempted suicide, I’d tried hard to put her out of my mind. I’d learned through Geneva Nelson that Larry Channing had committed his wife to a mental hospital. It broke Geneva’s heart to see her only living niece reduced to such a condition, but at least Renata would finally get the help she’d needed for longer than anyone wanted to admit.

Still, a letter from Renata, after all this time? What could it mean? My throat ached with the memories of last summer and fall.

I slipped a stiff, creamy sheet of personal stationery from the envelope, and with it another envelope, sealed and folded in thirds, with my name typed on the front. I tucked it behind the letter while I read the message penned in Renata’s graceful script.

Dearest Julie,

I doubt you ever expected to hear from me again—and maybe you never wanted to. As you may have heard, I’ve spent the past several months at Rosewood Acres Mental Hospital. Part of my therapy has been to face up to the wrongs I’ve done, and—where possible—to make amends.

But how can I begin to apologize for how I’ve hurt you? Words will not suffice. Instead, I offer you this gift—the answer you were seeking when you first came to me last summer. True to my word, I have never looked inside, never needed to, never wanted to. My answer, my truth, lies in my heart.

Whatever your truth may be, rest assured of this one thing: My Jenny could not have been more loved, could not have grown up to be more lovely, could not have lived a happier, more fulfilled, more perfect life than what you have known.

Julie Pearl Stiles, you are the woman I would have wanted Jenny to become. You are a treasure beyond worth.

Always,

Renata

Eyes welling, I held the letter to my face, certain I could detect a lingering scent of the spicy Oriental perfume Renata always wore. Despite how angry I’d been with her, how much I regretted everything that had happened between us, I’d forgiven her long ago—for my own sake and for Micah’s.

With a steadying breath I tore off the end of the sealed envelope and shook it gently. A folded sheet of white paper slid out.

The DNA results.

C
HAPTER 42

December, 24 years earlier

Tulsa, Oklahoma

Angie rocked the listless child and glared at the gruff old man whose knees vied with hers in the cramped space between the rows of chairs. The free-clinic waiting room teemed with patients, many whose racking coughs, festering wounds, or twisted limbs probably should have sent them straight to the ER. Angie could only shield little Julie Pearl’s face and pray they didn’t leave here with something far worse than what they arrived with.