A Pearl Among Princes (17 page)

“Yes,” Father says.

His face winces and he touches his chest. He reaches into the trunk and takes out a large envelope, wrapped in a purple ribbon with a gold seal. “Here are the papers to prove it, Gracepearl. Here is your seventeenth gift.”

My head swoons. I sit down on the chair.

Father winces again. “You were to have two years to consider your decision, but with my health, now—”

“I'll get the doctor,” Mackree says.

“Father,” I shout, standing.

The pain subsides. His face softens. “It's gone,” he says. “Stay, Mackree. Here, Gracepearl, the final gift.”

Father reaches into the trunk. He takes out a purple satin box, tied with a gold ribbon.

There is an envelope, “Happy birthday, Gracepearl,” in Mother's writing, on top.

I unseal the envelope and read the letter, again hearing Mother's voice inside.

I hear Mother laugh gently.

With trembling hands, I untie the ribbon, open the box, and lift out the last gift.

A crown.

I am keeling, the room is reeling. Mackree wraps his arms about me.

I look at my father. “But, what now . . .”

“My darling,” he says, “this is overwhelming news. Please forgive me if you think I should have told you sooner.”

“No, Father. It isn't that. It's just, what do I do now? What does this all mean?”

“You can still take your time, Gracepearl,” Father says. “Whether I live or die, you have a choice. It will be a shock to the branches, to the Order, to the world, that a sturdy sapling of the thirteenth branch, the noble House of Pine, lives on. In that envelope is all of the paperwork, the letters and documents you will need to claim the throne—in my absence, it can be yours before you turn eighteen.”

My hand reaches out, then back, trembling.

“Or, burn the papers,” Father says, “and keep the crown for whimsy when you dance in the woods.”

My head is throbbing. I look at Mackree.

“Ahhh!” Father shouts, his face contorted in pain.

He struggles for air. Mackree rushes for help.

“Cook!” Nurse Hartling races in, then off to get the doctor.

“Father,
Father.
” I kiss his cheek, tears raining down on his beloved face.

“Happy birthday, darling daughter,” he whispers. “Enjoy your gifts.”

“The only gift I want is you,” I sob. “You, Father.”

“Sing me something, princess,” he says.

I gulp and begin to sing a lullaby, one Mother often sang to me. The melody is light as a breeze, the words soft and warm as a blanket. My voices catches on the word in the lyric “ma-kree.”
My heart
.

“I'm here, Pearl,” Mackree says, holding me. I am here. Don't worry. I'm here.”

CHAPTER 28

Pearl's Place of Peace

Father still breathes, but just barely. He sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. I do not leave his side.

“He may never awaken,” Doctor Jeffers says. “You must brace yourself for that.”

“No,” I say. “I won't.”

Mackree stays with me as much as he can, but his duties call him to the stables each day. Lu and Nuff bring me food and company. “Go home and rest,” Lu implores me. “We will stay,” Nuff says. But I will not leave my father's side.

I pray to Mother to intercede on Father's behalf. “Please let him live, God, please.”

Finally, on the fourth day, Nurse Hartling insists I go home for a rest. She will not take no for an answer. “You need fresh air, Gracepearl. Go now, go. I'll attend to him constantly, I assure you.”

I walk home in a daze, like a ghost in a dream.

At the cottage, I boil water and bathe myself. I wash my hair and put on clean clothes. I pick up the jeweled mirror and look at my reflection.

There in the corner is the purple trunk Mackree carried back here from the hospital. The memory of the revelation sweeps over me, but all I can think about is Father.

“Mother, why are you so silent of late? Why do you not speak to me?”

I walk to Father's room, pick up the pine pillow and press it to my nose, breathing in the comforting scent, a soothing salve for my spirit.

My place of peace beckons. I hurry to the forest.

Passing by the kettle pond where Mackree and I first held hands, I pause and dip my hand into the water. It is soft and warm. I touch my fingers to my lips, remembering the kiss we shared on the beach. Not a kiss between friends. A kiss between two in love.

Something rustles nearby and I turn in fear. Just a squirrel, how silly. Since when do I scare so easily? I walk by the birch tree sentries, standing post on either side of the path, past the brambleberry bushes now hanging fat with sweet-tart treasures. I part the heavy thicket of evergreen branches and now, at last I am here.

The smell of pine envelops me in perfume, like incense from the church. I breathe in and out, deeply, fully, in and out and in again. The House of Pine? A princess? Perhaps a
queen
? I shiver. How can this be true? Shocking news, but yet not so shocking. It is as if somehow I have known all along. Now the longing, the dreams, my choice . . . it all begins to make sense.

I am frightened. I hug my arms about me. What will my future be?

Gracepearl, my girl
.

“Ohhh!” I cry out. “Mother, at last. So you haven't abandoned me.”

“Will Father live? Please tell me. Why didn't you answer me these long days in the hospital? When I needed you most, you left me alone.”

Mother is silent for a long while.

I let Mother's words sink into me. I try to understand. “But Mother, what of Father. Will he live?”

“Pearl!” Mackree's voice tells me he's near.

“Mackree,” I call out.

And then there's his face flushed from running, framed all around with pine. He steps into the clearing. He comes and touches my arm. “Nurse said you were at home, but I knew you'd be here. Good news, Pearl! Your father awakens.”

“Talk of nine lives,” Nurse Hartling says to Father the next morning, “why Cook, you are lucky as a cat.”

Father laughs and Nurse Hartling raises her hand. “No laughing, you must rest.”

“That's right, Father,” I say, shaking my finger. “No laughing, no talking, no anything, just rest.”

“Is that a royal order?” Father whispers to me with a wink.

“Yes,” I say, “it is.”

Nurse Hartling leaves. I'm so relieved. This king is a cat indeed. And, in that moment when my heart allows my head to clear, something wonderful begins to dawn upon me.

“Father!” I exclaim. “Is there a ship for the House of Pine?”

“Yes indeed, darling. I called for it last summer when I feared my end drew near.”

“The thirteenth boat . . .” So that explains. “Captain Jessie?”

Father nods, smiling. “He has always been a good faithful friend of the family. Loyal and true.”

CHAPTER 29

The Summersleave Ball

I wake before dawn on the morning of the Summersleave Ball. There is no one at the beach. The sky is purple with a rising curtain of shimmering red out along the horizon. I mount the steps of the old bell tower to wait for the sun to announce the new day. The tower now makes me think of a castle. A princess.

Princess Gracepearl Cole. Who is she?

Mackree promised to keep Father's surprising birthday revelation to me a secret. I chose not to tell Lu and Nuff just yet, for as much as I love them, I wanted my mind to be clear so I could hear my own voice talking. Now I understand why Mother is more silent of late. She is teaching me to listen to myself.

Caw
. A gull spreads its wings near.
Caw, caw, caw,
like a trumpeter heralding the arrival of royalty.

Yes, yes indeed, the regal sun. The sky brightens and gold rises straight up out of the sea.

I close my eyes in gratitude. Immediately the faces appear. And while I have never met even one of them, they now feel like family.

“Soon,” I say. “I am coming.”

In the afternoon, after my kitchen duties, I gather some daisies, cornflowers, and lilybells and go to meet Lu and Nuff at Nuff's cottage to prepare for the Summersleave Ball.

We fix each other's hair. I weave a crown of wildflowers like I've worn each year since we were first old enough to go to the dances. The Muffets always ask why I'm “wearing weeds” on my head. I smile to myself. Wouldn't the Muffets be surprised if I were to wear my new crown! But, no, I have not yet decided.

“What are you smiling about, Gracie?” Lu says.

“So many things,” I say. “So many things.”

“Aren't you the mysterious one,” Nuff says.

Nuff's mother brings in her basket of face colors, creams, and powders. She lets us each pick a favorite perfume. I choose the one that smells of pine.

And then, all at once without warning, no bells or bursts of light, I know what I must do. Something my whole self is certain of. “Till tonight!” I say, and rush off.

When I reach the beach, the gulls welcome me. The sun hangs low in the sky. I find a good driftwood stick and a smooth stretch of sand upon which to write: