Read Online Pearl of Great Price by Myra Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Myra Johnson
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Religion & Spirituality, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Christian fiction, Christian, Women's Fiction, Mystery & Suspense, Christian Books & Bibles, Religious & Inspirational Fiction
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powerful flea-and-tick soap I could get my hands on. And then a trip to the vet for vaccinations and a complete checkup.
After lapping up some water, Mama Dog stood in the kitchenette gazing at me with sad, hopeful eyes. She whimpered and ran her tongue across her muzzle, her gaze dropping to my pants pocket.
“Ah, you smell those doggy treats.” I tugged a biscuit from my pocket and offered it to her. “Poor, hungry thing. Sure wish I knew where you came from, girl.”
With each bite she grew more trusting. I inched farther into the bedroom until I knelt at the side of the mattress where the puppies lay squirming, their eyelids and ear flaps still sealed shut. Without so much as a growl or a snarl, Mama Dog ambled past me and curled up around her babies, resting her chin on one tiny rump. Her gentle eyes spoke gratitude.
The time had come. I made my way outside and called to Grandpa, where he rested on the stone retaining wall. “Get the puppy box. We’re ready to roll.”
We’d just arranged the dog and her puppies in the back of the van when I heard the low rumble of an approaching vehicle. My heart did the cha-cha-cha on its way up my throat. I climbed in the rear door next to Mama Dog. “Get in and drive, Grandpa.”
But before he could get his rusty joints moving or I could slam the door, a car pulled up behind us. Not Hobart’s maroon pickup. A silver Mercedes.
The driver’s door swung open and a long, bronze leg stretched toward the pavement. A thick, mahogany-colored mass of hair appeared above the door, and I found myself staring into the smoky depths of wide tortoise-shell sunglasses.
The air whooshed out of my lungs. “It’s you !”
C HAPTER 6
August, 25 years earlier
Hot Springs, Arkansas
Rennie sat on the top step of the front porch, chin resting on her bare knees. Above her head, metal creaked against metal as the “Welcome to Pearls Along the Lake” sign swung from its short chains in the steady breeze. The house behind her stood empty now. The brawny men in their olive-green jumpsuits had carried out the last of the packing crates and furniture—everything except Jenny’s toddler bed, matching dresser, and the decorated pine toy box Daddy had built.
Rennie thought back to the day she’d helped Mama cut out six yellow-beaked ducks and eight pink-nosed rabbits from the leftover roll of Jenny’s wallpaper. After trying several different arrangements, Mama had Rennie spread craft glue on the back of each figure before she positioned them just so on the sides and lid of the toy box. Then they carried it outside to the patio and coated it with several layers of clear shellac, until it glistened in the afternoon sunshine.
That had been one of Mama’s good days—too few and far between.
Now, Mama said she couldn’t bear to see those things from Jenny’s room again. Aunt Geneva had already packed up all Jenny’s clothes and toys and donated them to the Salvation Army. With nothing left of her little sister but a few sticks of furniture and the starched yellow Priscillas adorning the windows, Rennie could almost imagine tears to match her own in the wide, staring eyes of the ducks and rabbits staring down from the walls.
Her father’s footsteps echoed behind her. He rested his large, warm hand on the crown of her head. With his callused thumb he smoothed back her sweaty fringe of bangs. “Time to go, Rennie.”
Without looking up, she answered, “I don’t want to.”
Daddy lowered himself to the step next to her. “I know, my girl, I know. But you’ve seen how hard”—he cleared his throat and blinked several times—“how hard what happened this summer has been on your mother. We need to leave here, for her sake.” He sniffed. “For all our sakes.”
She’d heard the speech a million times—from Aunt Geneva, Daddy, even their pastor. They’d each explained in patient detail how none of them could be expected to heal from the tragedy if they stayed on where the
After lapping up some water, Mama Dog stood in the kitchenette gazing at me with sad, hopeful eyes. She whimpered and ran her tongue across her muzzle, her gaze dropping to my pants pocket.
“Ah, you smell those doggy treats.” I tugged a biscuit from my pocket and offered it to her. “Poor, hungry thing. Sure wish I knew where you came from, girl.”
With each bite she grew more trusting. I inched farther into the bedroom until I knelt at the side of the mattress where the puppies lay squirming, their eyelids and ear flaps still sealed shut. Without so much as a growl or a snarl, Mama Dog ambled past me and curled up around her babies, resting her chin on one tiny rump. Her gentle eyes spoke gratitude.
The time had come. I made my way outside and called to Grandpa, where he rested on the stone retaining wall. “Get the puppy box. We’re ready to roll.”
We’d just arranged the dog and her puppies in the back of the van when I heard the low rumble of an approaching vehicle. My heart did the cha-cha-cha on its way up my throat. I climbed in the rear door next to Mama Dog. “Get in and drive, Grandpa.”
But before he could get his rusty joints moving or I could slam the door, a car pulled up behind us. Not Hobart’s maroon pickup. A silver Mercedes.
The driver’s door swung open and a long, bronze leg stretched toward the pavement. A thick, mahogany-colored mass of hair appeared above the door, and I found myself staring into the smoky depths of wide tortoise-shell sunglasses.
The air whooshed out of my lungs. “It’s you !”
C HAPTER 6
August, 25 years earlier
Hot Springs, Arkansas
Rennie sat on the top step of the front porch, chin resting on her bare knees. Above her head, metal creaked against metal as the “Welcome to Pearls Along the Lake” sign swung from its short chains in the steady breeze. The house behind her stood empty now. The brawny men in their olive-green jumpsuits had carried out the last of the packing crates and furniture—everything except Jenny’s toddler bed, matching dresser, and the decorated pine toy box Daddy had built.
Rennie thought back to the day she’d helped Mama cut out six yellow-beaked ducks and eight pink-nosed rabbits from the leftover roll of Jenny’s wallpaper. After trying several different arrangements, Mama had Rennie spread craft glue on the back of each figure before she positioned them just so on the sides and lid of the toy box. Then they carried it outside to the patio and coated it with several layers of clear shellac, until it glistened in the afternoon sunshine.
That had been one of Mama’s good days—too few and far between.
Now, Mama said she couldn’t bear to see those things from Jenny’s room again. Aunt Geneva had already packed up all Jenny’s clothes and toys and donated them to the Salvation Army. With nothing left of her little sister but a few sticks of furniture and the starched yellow Priscillas adorning the windows, Rennie could almost imagine tears to match her own in the wide, staring eyes of the ducks and rabbits staring down from the walls.
Her father’s footsteps echoed behind her. He rested his large, warm hand on the crown of her head. With his callused thumb he smoothed back her sweaty fringe of bangs. “Time to go, Rennie.”
Without looking up, she answered, “I don’t want to.”
Daddy lowered himself to the step next to her. “I know, my girl, I know. But you’ve seen how hard”—he cleared his throat and blinked several times—“how hard what happened this summer has been on your mother. We need to leave here, for her sake.” He sniffed. “For all our sakes.”
She’d heard the speech a million times—from Aunt Geneva, Daddy, even their pastor. They’d each explained in patient detail how none of them could be expected to heal from the tragedy if they stayed on where the
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