Diving for Pearls: The Complete Collection (The Pearl Makers) Page 5

  And the very next day, as if to prove her suspicions correct, Mrs. Larsen stopped by unannounced, a ficus plant clutched between her finely manicured fingers. “I thought the place could use a little extra life,” she announced in a false vibrato.

  “Thanks,” Daisy mumbled. “Victor’s just at—”

  “At school, I know. Finishing his education up the way God intended it.”

  Oh, how Elizabeth wished she could intervene, could wrap Daisy in her arms and cover her ears while she yelled obscenities at this horrible woman. It wasn’t Daisy’s fault her lascivious son couldn’t keep his pants on. At least, the two children shared in the blame. At worst, Victor was the tempter in this situation; Daisy the lovesick girl only trying to keep him happy by giving him what he wanted. Besides, she didn’t need school where she was going.

  Elizabeth shuddered at how casually that thought popped up. No, she was not accepting the plan. Not yet. Not ever.

  * * *

  Mrs. Larsen stopped in often, soon dropping the façade of bringing some gift item the trailer positively required to be habitable. Daisy seemed annoyed by her new mother-in-law’s constant comings and goings, but always treated the older woman with a kindness that, frankly, she didn’t deserve.

  Was Elizabeth the only one who noticed that Mrs. Larsen never brought any gifts for the baby? In fact, she never even mentioned the baby at all. Most of her talk was mundane—how things were so wonderful and magnificent in her world, what a good boy Victor was, and, of course, how much more Daisy needed to be doing to keep up her end of … whatever this was.

  One day, Daisy invited Tina over to help break up the monotony that was quickly becoming her life, and Tina arrived with a brown paper bag topped to the brim with yarn, ribbon, and other crafting implements.

  “I’ve been working on an afghan for the baby, but then I realized I could teach you to knit too. It’s such a relaxing hobby—and practical too. Want me to show you how to make some booties?” Tina asked while unpacking the contents of the bag onto the coffee table.

  Daisy nodded vigorously and gave her a tight hug. “I’ve missed you and Daddy so much.”

  A look of concern crossed Tina’s face. “Married life not quite what you expected?”

  “Actually—”

  But Daisy’s confession was cut short by the arrival of—who else?—Mrs. Larsen. Daisy dropped the skein of yarn in her lap and stood clumsily to her feet. The bulge in her belly had started to become noticeable these last few weeks.

  “Hi, Mrs. Larsen. You remember my mom Tina, right?”

  “Yes.” She sat opposite them in the armchair and crossed her legs at the knee.

  Tina spoke next, “I was just starting up a knitting lesson with Daisy. I have an extra pair of needles if you’d like to learn too.”

  “No, thank you,” came the curt reply. She scooped her phone out of her handbag and set to typing furiously onto its tiny screen. All attempts at conversation from either Tina or Daisy went largely ignored. Yet the woman refused to budge, refused to give them any privacy.

  When at last Tina left, Mrs. Larsen popped up and began to riffle through the contents of the fridge. “Victor will be hungry when he comes home. Let’s get a nice stew going.”

  Daisy shrugged but followed her into the kitchen and filled a pot with water for the potatoes.

  Mrs. Larsen set to work on the onions, pausing occasionally to wipe away a stray tear. “Do me a favor, dear?”

  Daisy perked up. “Need a dish for those onions?”

  “No, it’s not that.” She wiped her hands off on a paper towel. “I don’t want that woman stopping by anymore.” She said it so casually as if she’d asked for the girl to pass salt across the table.

  Elizabeth was flabbergasted.

  Daisy didn’t seem to know how to respond either. “What? Tina? But she’s my mom.”

  “Don’t say things that aren’t true.” Mrs. Larsen scowled, then quickly switched to a pleasant smile. “Your mother’s dead, dear.”

  The two women continued to cook together in silence. Elizabeth tried to use her dodge to get Daisy to smack the woman across her gaunt cheek, but Daisy refused to cooperate.

  “This isn’t right, and you know it,” the angel whispered into Daisy’s conscience. “You need to tell Victor what his mother said, how she’s been treating you. You are nobody’s doormat.” But even as Elizabeth said it, she worried Daisy’s pleas would fall on deaf ears.

  Sure enough, as the two were getting ready for bed—long after they’d finished their supper and Mrs. Larsen had excused herself—Daisy explained the weird request his mother had made. But rather than take offense on her behalf, Victor just sighed.

  “I’d do what she says. The Larsens are from better stock, and she just wants what’s best for her grandchild. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Daisy frowned and turned away from Victor in bed, and he did nothing to comfort her. Funny, Elizabeth thought, that Victor had no idea how little his mother cared for anyone but herself. Would she continue to ignore the baby’s very existence once it was free of its mother’s womb? A living, breathing, physical thing?

  * * *

  Ever since the Tina incident, Mrs. Larsen had taken to escorting Daisy on the few occasions she needed to leave the trailer. Victor, of course, carried on as if nothing in his life had changed. He still went to school, to sports practice, hung out with friends, came home and logged a few hours on his X-Box before calling it a night.

  He was happy as could be—any complaints from Daisy but a blip on the radar of his otherwise smooth and peaceful life.

  Daisy on the other hand was suffering, mostly in silence. In the still of the night, she contemplated throwing herself down a flight of stairs or sticking a hanger up into her insides. It wasn’t that she wanted to kill the baby, but what would life be like for it, living under the constant judgment of the Larsens? Daisy was still young, full of potential, save this one thing.

  But she didn’t have it in her to harm a fly, let alone her own child. So instead she blamed herself—for having unprotected sex, for agreeing to marry Victor, for not trying harder to stand up to Mrs. Larsen, for all of it.

  In fact, the baby was the one thing that brought her comfort. Well, as far as she knew. Elizabeth was always there, whispering soothing affirmations into her soul.

  You are a good person.

  Things will get better.

  It’s okay.

  For what else could the angel say? She wasn’t allowed to speak of the plan, and she couldn’t bring herself to lie. So she stuck to whispering these platitudes, day and night, as often as her charge needed to hear them to keep from breaking down in tears.

  But today things would be better. Today she was going to find out the sex of the baby, or so she thought. She giggled as the ultrasound tech slathered the cool gel on her belly and slid the sensor back and forth. At twenty weeks, the baby now had a discernable human form—a button nose, fingers, that persistent, beating heart.

  “Do you want to know whether you’re having a boy or a girl?” The tech asked with a smile.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Larsen intruded. “We prefer to be surprised, the way God intended.”

  The tech shrugged and tossed a look of sympathy Daisy’s way.

  Daisy closed her eyes to keep the tears from escaping.

  * * *

  Finally Daisy decided to fight for herself. When Victor came home that evening, she stood in front of the TV, refusing to budge until they talk.

  “Your mom really upset me today,” she started, recounting the whole scene at the obstetrician’s office.

  Victor listened in silence, his posture suggesting that her concerns were but a minor annoyance in his otherwise perfect day.

  “And besides,” Daisy continued, gathering confidence. “What’s with her always being around? I married you, not your mom, but it seems like I spend way more time with her. You’re never here, and when you are, your attention
is somewhere else. Don’t you love me?”

  “Of course, I love you. Why would you even ask that question?” Victor stood, still seeming far away.

  “Because I’m not happy,” Daisy sobbed.

  Victor finally came forward and wrapped his young wife in a hug.

  She smiled, feeling braver than when the conversation had begun. “If you could just talk to your mother, ask her to back off a bit. I think—”

  Victor ripped away, his eyes darted back and forth as he studied her as if he could not recognize who she’d become. “Back off? Back off? Like my mother is some kind of imposition to you?”

  Daisy knotted her fingers together and stared at a pasta sauce stain on the floor.

  “I can’t believe this,” Victor exploded. “She’s just doing all this because she cares about you. You’re lucky she welcomed you into the family with such open arms. You think she liked the idea of me throwing my life away to marry you? No, but she’s making the best of it.”

  “I’m just trying to tell you how I feel,” Daisy said in barely more than a whisper.

  “Well, the way you feel is wrong. Damn it, Daisy. What the hell?”

  Daisy’s bottom lip trembled. She tried so hard not to cry, to remain strong and demand the respect that she—that all people—deserved.

  But Victor was just getting warmed up. “God, how did I ever fall for such a stupid girl in the first place? Doesn’t know how good she has it. Instead just bitches and moans at every opportunity. Are you finished? Because I don’t have time for this bullshit.” He moved toward her, ready to push her out of the way so he could turn on the TV, get back to his game.

  But Elizabeth saw it coming and managed a dodge just in time. He didn’t lay a hand on Daisy, but still her heart had been badly hurt.

  She continued down the hall and let herself into the bathroom, where she eventually fell asleep huddled on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

  * * *

  Daisy crept out from the bathroom when she was sure Victor had nodded off for the night. She fished her phone from the counter and let herself outside to make the call.

  Theo picked up after the third ring, sleep apparent in his voice. “Daisy? What’s wrong?”

  “Daddy,” she whispered so that Victor wouldn’t hear. “Please could you come get me?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  She ran into his arms the moment he arrived.

  “Daisy,” he mumbled into her hair. “Please, please tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “Not ready for what?”

  “To be a wife, a mom. I’m not ready for any of this. Please take me back.”

  Elizabeth wished they could all go back in time several months, back before any of this had happened, before the plan had begun to unfold. But for now, all Theo could do is return their daughter to her childhood home—which he did gladly.

  * * *

  The next morning, Theo prepared Mickey Mouse pancakes with chocolate chips, and the three of them sat at the table, munching away as if nothing had changed. When in fact, everything had changed.

  As Theo was frying up a second batch on the griddle, a soft knock sounded on the door. Moments later, Mrs. Larsen appeared in the kitchen and motioned for Daisy to come with her.

  Tina wrapped her stepdaughter in a hug. “You know you have a home with us as long as you need one, right?” she whispered under the watchful eye of Mrs. Larsen.

  Daisy nodded. “It’s fine. Victor and I had a little fight, but I know he loves me.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Larsen added. “And he’s very worried about you. We best be going.”

  Daisy kissed both Tina and her father before leaving.

  “Victor was worried sick about you,” Mrs. Larsen said as they both buckled themselves into her luxury SUV. She drove in silence—no further reprimands, no small talk, no radio—as if to give Daisy time to think about what she had done.

  Elizabeth hoped Daisy knew that she had done the right thing, that she could—and should—leave again, that the trailer was no home to her, the Larsens no family.

  They pulled up in front of the trailer, and Daisy got out.

  Mrs. Larsen drove away without so much as a good-bye.

  Victor pounced on his wife as soon as she entered the doorway. “It’s funny,” he said in a tone that suggested no humor in what he was about to say. “That you’d be the one to try to leave when you’re the one who’s so lucky. I didn’t have to stay. I didn’t have to marry you, you stupid bitch. If it weren’t for me, you’d be on the streets, selling your body to feed yourself and your bastard kid. You know that?”

  Daisy’s eyes were wide like an owl’s, her mouth held firmly shut.

  “But, no, I married you, even though I didn’t have to, and I’m here to be a father to your kid, even though I don’t have to. And what do you do?” His voice boomed even louder. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair.

  “You run off like I’m some loser. Like you’re the one who got the short end of the stick in this—” He gestures around their homey trailer. “This arrangement … You embarrassed me really bad, Daisy. How could you go and do that?”

  When Daisy didn’t answer, Victor let out a raspy, angry sigh. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Can’t even say sorry. Aargh!” He made a fist, and Daisy flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, bracing for impact.

  When she opened them again, she saw the hole in the drywall behind them, Victor nursing his reddened knuckles, refusing to look at her.

  “Now look what you made me do.”

  “I- I- I’m sorry,” Daisy stammered. “I’m so sorry.”

  * * *

  Daisy lay awake that night, waiting for Victor to come to bed, to have his way with her, fall into a series of soft snores beside her—the whole time wondering when, when would things get better.

  “It won’t be long now, baby girl,” Elizabeth whispered, for once thankful for the plan, that her daughter’s suffering would soon be put to an end. It only had to get a little bit worse first, then everything could be better.

  When she was certain Victor had entered a deep sleep, Daisy tiptoed out into the night wearing only her oversized pajama shirt. She’d resolved to tell her parents everything, to ask them for help in getting away from the Larsens once and for all.

  Things would be better, she’d decided. And she was right, but not in the way she assumed.

  As her hand wrapped around the knob to the door that stood between her captivity and freedom, the lamp shot on like lightning in the night sky.

  Seconds later, Victor’s arms wrapped around her from behind.

  She kicked at him, scratched him, did her best to get away, but he was so much stronger and she was uncoordinated because of the pregnancy. She twisted and turned, but he only held tighter, meeting each of her blows with one that was doubly forceful.

  Then came the blood, so much blood. Victor let go, fell back, mumbled, “Daze, I’m sorry. I don’t know what… Oh, God! Daze, are you okay? It was an accident… I didn’t mean to… I mean, I don’t know how…”

  Daisy pushed past him and fled to the bathroom.

  Victor fell to the ground, his head in his hands as he cried—more afraid for himself than his injured wife and child, Elizabeth suspected.

  It’s okay, my baby. It’s okay, she whispered.

  But Daisy was terrified. She mopped up the blood with a towel and sat down in the bathtub, rocking back and forth, growing weaker by the second.

  And Elizabeth stayed by her side the whole time, because she couldn’t change the plan, could only bring comfort as it unfolded.

  Hush now. Everything will be all right.

  At some point Victor left for school, gently rasping on the door to tell Daisy goodbye, that he was sorry, that he loved her.

  Elizabeth couldn’t be sure that Daisy had heard though. She was so weak.

  By the time Victor returned that evening, his wife lay dead in
a puddle of her own blood. She never even got to find out that her baby had been a girl.

  Everything faded to white.

  “Is it over?” Elizabeth asked Peter who now stood before her in the familiar place amidst the clouds. “Have I failed?”

  Peter gave her a hug, a gesture he’d never made to her before. “It’s far from over. Come, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”

  Part VI

  Peter beckoned for Elizabeth to come with him. She glanced back at her daughter’s corpse in the tub surrounded by a pink pool of bath water mixed with blood. Her head slumped against her shoulder; her eyes were closed but her mouth was parted slightly. It almost seemed as if Daisy were sleeping, as if she would wake up at any moment, healthy and happy again. Perhaps they could wake up a year ago, back before any of these terrible events had begun to unfold.

  “Come with me,” Peter urged, and Elizabeth turned away from Daisy, realizing she would never see her again—nor would she ever see the granddaughter who had died inside of her. Both their lives had ended before they’d really ever had the chance to begin.

  Elizabeth had failed as a protector.

  Peter returned them to the nebulous in-between. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said. Everything was white, but Elizabeth could still see the imprint of the gory scene they’d just left. Somehow she felt it would always be there waiting for her, just on the insides of her eyelids.

  Once again time disappeared as they floated through the clouds. Whether she’d been separated from Daisy for an eternity or but a fleeting moment, Elizabeth couldn’t say. Somehow both felt true.

  “Are you ready?” Peter asked. He snapped his fingers and the vast whiteness around them transformed. Walls around them formed a tiny ranch-style house. From the looks of the décor, they were now somewhere in the American Southwest.

  A baby cried, and Elizabeth knew.