PluckingthePearl by Afton Locke

to picture how it would be to live here. The
gardens looked fruitful and he knew the water was filled with fish and crabs.
Chores probably occupied most of everyone’s time since there was no plumbing or
electricity.
    The worst part, though, had to be the housing—hot and
stagnant in the summer, damp and cold in the winter.
    “It’s pretty primitive, isn’t it?” Henry asked. “Thank
goodness we don’t have to live like this.”
    Caleb didn’t reply. He was too busy scouring both sides of
the water for any sign of Pearl. The creek seemed to meander forever. Did these
people really row their boats all the way from here to the plant every morning
in all sorts of weather? He’d sure have a hard time arriving for the six a.m.
shift if he had to come so far. No one complained about it either. Everyone
just worked hard.
    Maybe he really wasn’t king of Oyster Island. Without all
his workers, he’d have nothing. He should do something special once in a while
to thank them, he realized—a big picnic or holiday party.
    Caleb rubbed his temples, his head aching from so much
thinking. That woman made him think too much, more than he ever had in his
life.
    “Let’s head back now,” Henry said, “before we run out of gas
or get eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
    “Just a bit farther,” Caleb insisted. He had to see her
place.
    Around the bend, he spotted a shack with turquoise paint peeling
away to reveal large gray patches of wood. When he saw the Johnson name above
the door, his heart sank into the water. That had to be it. He could see gaps
in the walls and holes in the patched roof from here.
    The thought of his Pearl living there nearly brought tears
to his eyes. Her mother had been a housekeeper in Annapolis, he recalled her
telling him. She’d worn nice clothes. What a comedown this must have been for
her, yet she never complained.
    When shuffling footsteps sounded on the stairs leading from
the cabin below deck, Caleb clenched his hands together.
    “You’re up. How do you feel, Mayor Carter?” Henry asked.
    Caleb had hoped they’d get back to Oyster Island before the
mayor woke up. It wouldn’t be easy to explain this little detour. Again, he
found himself having to lie. The sensation of lead sinkers in his stomach was
beginning to feel familiar.
    The mayor rubbed his gray head. “I feel lousy. Why did you
let me drink so much?”
    Because he was easier to be around when he was unconscious,
Caleb thought.
    Mayor Carter looked around and grimaced with disgust. “And
what the hell are we doing here? This is the colored section, for God’s sake.”
    “We blew off course,” Henry said affably.
    “It we get stuck, they’ll sink my yacht or try to steal it,”
Mayor Carter complained. “They can’t be trusted, you know.”
    Caleb didn’t answer. The pompous man’s bigoted remarks had
always grated on his nerves but he’d never come so close to wanting to punch
him as he had today. Thank goodness fall was coming so he could get a break
from these fishing trips.
    He forgot all about the mayor when he saw her.
    She stood in front of a drooping clothesline with a basket
of laundry beside her. He noticed everything, from the way the sun shone on her
arms, to the peaceful curve of her lips. Despite her surroundings, she looked
content.
    The blue scarf on her head made her look wild and innocent.
Better yet, her hair hung loose and long. He had half a mind to knock the men
overboard and whisk her off to the deep seas.
    Henry steered the mayor toward the bow. “How about a nice
big glass of water?”
    Pearl looked up as the boat came closer. Relieved to have
this moment without the other men watching him, Caleb stood with his hands
glued to the railing, staring at her. He didn’t dare smile or move a muscle. It
was enough just to look at her.
    Her arm moved as if she were about to wave but she must have
thought better of it. The sight of the fancy yacht probably reminded her of the
roles they had to play. Caleb