Pocketful of Pearls (23 page)

“Except you?”

Dinah went to the pile of clothes on the neatly made bed and began to sort through them without disturbing Tamsen’s little
nest. There had to be more shirts and maybe some work pants in here that Matthew could wear.

“Dinah?”

She threw a pair of brand-new jeans back on the pile. “What do you want me to say? That I’m happy she’s coming back? That
I’m looking forward to apologizing for giving her a stroke?”

That was the problem with Matthew. Now that she’d told him everything, she had nowhere to hide. And he’d been there that night.
Had dealt with her suicide attempt. She’d told him what had happened and he hadn’t judged her. When was he going to start?
Now?

“Do you really think it was you who caused her stroke?” he asked gently. “Do you think you have the power to cause blood clots?”

“Of course not.”

“So what do you have to apologize for?”

“For bringing it on!” she shouted. Tamsen started, and her face crumpled up to cry at the harsh sound. Dinah rubbed the baby’s
stomach and tried to lower her voice. “For upsetting her so badly she turned gray and passed out.”

He shook his head. “Not logical. Odds are the stroke was waiting to happen, if that migraine was any indication. Your confronting
her was a coincidence in timing, not the cause.”

“I still upset her.”

“I don’t doubt you did. You may need to deal with the fallout from that.”

That was a truth Dinah had already faced. She still wasn’t sure he was right about her not causing the stroke. He hadn’t been
in the room, hadn’t seen Elsie’s eyes bulging with suppressed fury and pain. If she wasn’t responsible for that, who was?
Anybody? God?

“What do you think upset her?” Matthew took the pair of jeans she’d thrown down and began sorting through the pile for more
possibilities.

She gave him a dry look, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled Tamsen into her lap. “It was either me accusing Phinehas of
rape or me accusing her of allowing it to happen. She didn’t act like a mom once in all those years. She still doesn’t. The
night you came, he came to my room two doors away and she never made one move to help me.”

“She has as much to lose by speaking up as you do, doesn’t she?”

“She isn’t the one being raped, Matthew.” She slung the ugly words at him, perversely hoping they’d hurt him as much as they
hurt her.

“I didn’t mean that. Of course she isn’t. But whether she speaks up against him or you do, what would the result be?”

It was hard to stay furious at a man who so obviously put her interests first—and more, was willing to say so out loud. That
was more than anyone had done for her, ever.

“What would happen if we spoke?” The consequences were so dire and so numerous it was hard to get them all in one reply. “No
one would believe us, for starters.”

“The widow of an Elder? And the daughter of one?”

“Phinehas is our Shepherd. They’re set apart, given special gifts from God in order to do His work.”

“That doesn’t make them immune to criticism. Or criminal liability.”

“It makes them immune in other ways, though. We’d be accused of having a bad spirit, of being malicious and evil minded. Gathering
would be taken out of our home, though it might be anyway, since there isn’t an Elder here anymore.” She looked up from the
baby. “And our reputations would be trashed. My reputation is pretty much all I have right now.”

Tamsen made a cooing noise and reached for Dinah’s nose. She talked around the little hand that explored her face. “The worst
that could happen, though, is that we’d be Silenced.”

“What does that mean?” Matthew asked.

“It means no one can speak to us for seven years. There are degrees of it, but that’s the bottom line.”

“Ah. Shunning. What happened to your friend Julia.”

“No, talking to someone who’s Out isn’t near the sin that breaking Silence is. We talk to outsiders all the time. But talking
to someone who was once Elect and has lost their salvation is like talking to a dead person. It’s definitely frowned upon.”

“So Claire took a risk to tell you she’d done so.”

“Yes.” Matthew had concluded the same thing as she had. There was nothing to prevent Dinah from running to Melchizedek and
deflecting the spotlight from herself by telling him what Claire was doing.

Nothing but this brand-new, fragile thing that might be friendship between them. Claire had put her own safety in Dinah’s
hands—something no one had done before.

All kinds of things were happening that had never happened before. How strange and wonderful and scary.

“Meantime, about your mother?”

“What about her?”

“Did you ever stop to think that perhaps it was more than just outrage over your accusations about Phinehas that upset her
so much?”

“What do you mean?” What could be worse than accusing Phinehas in the way she had?

“I don’t know. How long has she known him?”

Dinah thought back. “My whole life. Some of my earliest memories are of trying to reach the piano keys when he was playing.
I couldn’t have been more than three.” Tamsen lost interest in Dinah’s moving lips and latched onto her fingers instead. “But
I think what did it is me accusing her of allowing it all this time.”

“I can’t imagine any mother doing so.”

Dinah slanted him a wry look. “Try.”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said hastily. “But something must have driven her to it. Don’t you think?”

“I really don’t care if something did.” Dinah got up and adjusted Tamsen on her shoulder. The baby saw Matthew by the mirror
and made another cooing noise. “The point is she allowed it. She let it happen without doing a single thing about it.”

“But don’t you think that—”

“I’m going to make lunch.” Dinah cut him off, too upset at his disloyalty on this topic to care how rude she sounded. “And
then you’d better get yourself out to the barn while I break the news of your existence.”

IF IT HADN’T
been for Tamsen and her enthusiastic reception of solid food, lunch would have been strained and silent. Matthew’s strategy
for handling her, Dinah had learned, was just to be quiet and go away. Then he’d come back and take the problem up again when
Dinah was calmer and could have a conversation instead of an argument.

On the topic of her mother, though, that wasn’t likely. What did he know of the horror of those minutes before her bedroom
door opened, when she had prayed that, just once, one of her parents would get up and come out into the hall and catch Phinehas
in the act?

At ten minutes past three, Uncle John’s big blue sedan rolled up the driveway and came to a stop by the front steps, where
Claire had parked the other day. He helped Elsie out of the car and up the stairs as though she were fragile, as though Elsie’s
monumental selfishness wasn’t already on the lookout for her own safety. Always the dutiful daughter, Dinah kept her thoughts
to herself and kissed her mother on the cheek as she came in.

“Welcome back, Mom,” she said.

Elsie’s glance darted around the room, looking for—what? Signs that Dinah had thrown a huge party in her absence? Evidence
of change?

The only changes were on the inside, and Elsie couldn’t see those. She would hear about them, though. The days of Dinah’s
invisible, silent presence making everything comfortable and smooth were over. Dinah had found her voice in those long days
of one-sided conversation with Matthew. Honesty felt good. It kept the air clear, to the point that she could actually feel
the April sun when she went outside and breathed the cool breeze scented with the crocuses and snowdrops that had poked their
shy heads above the soil.

Dinah planned to keep the air clear inside the house as well. No more forbidden subjects. No more suffering silence. And above
all, no more lies and covering up.

Elsie sat on the couch with a sigh as heavy as if she’d climbed Mount Everest. Then she gaped at the sight next to her on
the cushions.

Tamsen gaped, too, at the strange, horrified face above her. Then she burst into noisy, frightened tears.

“Who—is that—?” Elsie gasped.

“Yes.” Dinah scooped the baby up and cuddled her in the easy chair, where she quieted at hands that had become familiar and
that she’d learned she could trust. Tamsen hiccuped, gnawed her fingers, and gazed distrustfully at her elders.

“This is Tamsen Dinah Traynell, your new granddaughter.”

“So it’s true that she left the baby here.” Elsie’s voice was hushed. “I thought that Jezebel was just stringing us a line
to upset us.”

“If you mean Aunt Evelyn, she was just as upset as anyone. Tammy told her she was coming up for a visit, nothing more. Sit
down, Auntie Meg. Uncle John, you too.”

Cautiously, they sat in a row on the couch, where they all stared at the baby.

“She does have Tamara’s eyes,” Auntie Meg conceded at last. “Do you think she’d let me hold her?”

Dinah handed her over, expecting fireworks. But Tamsen was obviously a good judge of character. She settled into Margaret’s
lap and made a grab for her wristwatch.

“She came when I was gone?” Elsie asked, watching the baby with distress. Her fingers smoothed her skirt over and over, as
if erasing defects in the fabric that only she could see.

“You were still in the hospital.”

“She waited until I was safely out of the way before she forced you to break Silence?”

Dinah couldn’t tell if her mother was angry over that or if it went deeper. Maybe she was disappointed that she’d missed Tamara’s
visit. She decided to err on the side of kindness.

“I don’t think it was that at all. She wanted to visit you. At least, she said so. Then, when I got back from doing something
on the property, she was gone.”

“And no word?” John asked. Dinah shook her head. “What about the baby’s father? Did she tell him anything?”

Here it was. Dinah took a deep, steadying breath. “I went to see Danny Bell and he says he’s not the father.”

“Of course he’d say that,” Elsie retorted in disgust. “As soon as Tamara is located they’ll have to get married. Quietly.”
She looked around the room. “It’s probably big enough in here. Goodness knows who would come, but we have to make the effort
anyway. Linda Bell will be happy about one thing: Danny will be Deacon, though he’s not who I would choose for such a privilege.”

“I believe him,” Dinah said quietly. “He’s not Tamsen’s father. Don’t plan the wedding just yet, Mom. He told me he never
wants to see Tamara again.”

“Well, if he isn’t, then who is?” Margaret wanted to know.

The next ten seconds would change her life, Dinah thought. If she was brave enough.

“Phinehas,” she said.

“Thank our dear Lord for Phinehas,” Elsie sighed, clasping her hands. “If it hadn’t been for his visits I don’t know how I
would have pulled through. He’s been such an encouragement to us, hasn’t he, Meg?”

Dinah tried again. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m exhausted.” Elsie heaved her small frame off the couch as though it weighed three hundred pounds. “John, could you help
me up the stairs to my room? I’ve had all I can take for one day. Dinah, maybe you can put together a tray for me. Just something
light. Eggs and toast, maybe.”

Dinah watched them go upstairs, one halting step at a time.
Have it your way, Mom,
she thought.
But we are going to talk about this, whether you want to or not.

“SHALL I CATCH
you up on what’s been going on?” Dinah pushed open her mother’s bedroom door with one hip and came in with the tray. On it
were two pieces of toast, honey, and two boiled eggs with their tops already cracked off. Dinah had also added a small bunch
of crocuses in a little vase, picked when she’d gone out to wave good-bye to her aunt and uncle as they’d driven off.

Elsie plumped up her pillows against the headboard and looked over the tray with interest as Dinah put it on her lap. “This
looks nice. The crocuses are up already.”

“We’ve had some sun lately. March went out like a lamb.”

Elsie tucked into her eggs. “What else could possibly have happened besides Tamara bringing this baby home?”

“Tamsen’s kind of cute once you get to know her, Mom. Eats like a horse. And she’s really loud. But I think she’s developing
a sense of humor, so that’s a good sign.”

“I hope you don’t get attached to her, Dinah. As soon as Tamara is found, she’ll take her back and that will be that.”

“How are you going to find her?”

“That woman—” Elsie paused and spread honey on a piece of toast. “Evelyn is making inquiries, apparently. And Uncle John is
going to as well.”

“Auntie Evelyn has been quite a lot of help, actually. I think she’s nice.”

“She might be, but she’s a divorced woman living with a divorced man. She turned her back on the way of God and is living
a sinful life. Don’t forget that.”

“Wearing color and having her nose done.”

“Exactly.”

“Mom, you know, if she decided not to stay in the Elect there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with those things.”

“She broke your grandmother’s heart,” Elsie pointed out, as if this were a good reason for a lifetime of shunning. “And your
father’s, too.”

It was news to Dinah that her father even had a heart. It probably broke a few slats in the structure he lived in, though,
and that would have hurt.

“Uncle John is going to put out the word among the Elect in various places,” Elsie went on around her toast. “Tamara doesn’t
know any worldly people. She does know Elect families in Seattle, Spokane, and Richmond, though. We’ve been on the phone to
all of them, so if she does turn up or they hear of her, they’ll call us.”

“Mom, she’s gone Out. She’s wearing color now. I don’t think she’s going to go to an Elect family and ask for a place to stay.”

“We’ve told them she’s confused, and to expect some odd behavior.”

Confused
was an Elect euphemism for a person who was undecided whether to stay in or go Out. It also meant a person who was unwilling
to put herself on the altar as a sacrifice. If Tamara was said to be in that gray area covered by
confused
, the Elect would take her in and encourage her to do the right thing.