20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
D eclan
I pick the orb from Emma's palm and hold it up to the sun, unable to believe the glittering perfection of the gem. I’ve seen plenty of pearls in my lifetime, some of them truly beautiful.
My father once introduced me to a business partner who had clear South Sea pearls and dark Akoya pearls constellating on her neck. Though I appreciated their elegance, pearls have never been a gem I’ve paid much attention to, as most of my lovers preferred more expensive fare like diamonds and gold.
But this is something else.
Perfectly round and clear, but with a hybrid of colors that I can't quite make out. As I turn it the pearl seems to change color, flashing green, yellow, and red at different turns.
"Amazing," I murmur.
"Told you." Emma stands beside me with her hands tucked at her back looking truly pleased with herself. "And you got lucky too. Usually, you won’t find them this far out."
"I certainly feel lucky," I comment.
The moment feels surreal. I can't believe these things actually exist.
Now, I see what all the hype about this damn Pink Pearl is about. If it looks anything like this, then it just might be worth the trouble.
"It's supposed to have magical properties too," Emma continues. "Although I know you probably don't believe in magic."
"I used to," I inform her and watch her eyes flare open in disbelief. Then she narrows her eyes as if she might be on the receiving end of some mockery.
"You’re kidding."
"I’m not," I smile. "In fact, I used to be the biggest proponent of magic. I watched a lot of David Blaine and Chris Angel when I was like ten. So much that for my eleventh birthday I tried to convince my dad to let me put on a magic show for everyone. I had a plan and even went on the internet looking for an assistant."
"And then what happened?" Emma asks, leaning forward on her good leg.
"Nothing," I say. "My father thought I was too old for such things and refused to organize the party no matter how many tantrums I threw."
"Oh no," she says and holds her hand over her mouth, her eyes gleaming with pity as though I just confessed some heinous abuse.
I smirk. "It’s not so bad. And he was right anyway. I was too old for such games."
"No, you weren't. You were ten. That’s plenty of time to still believe in magic."
"Ok, wasn't. But I wasn’t just ten, I was also the sole heir to my dad's conglomerate which meant a lot of eyes were on me. Even at that age."
That scrutiny drove me crazy for most of my teen years, and I rebelled well into adulthood until I ran into the thing that knocked it out of me
My mother.
"I see," Emma responds sagely.
I raise an eyebrow. "See what?"
"I see what happened now." She nods. "Why you're the way you are. Your father destroyed your sense of adventure at a young age and now you think it's the right thing to do. That's why you're trying to do the same to Amelia."
"That's not what I'm doing with Amelia."
"Isn't it?" She cocks her head in challenge, and I sigh.
"At least not intentionally," I admit grudgingly, and she smiles softly.
"I know you’re not doing it intentionally. You’re only trying to keep her safe. But sometimes that safety can be–"
"Stifling, I know," I say. "I already talked with Amelia and I’m going to try to be better. Ease up a little."
"Really?"
"Yeah. That's why I hired you, isn't it? So you can preserve her 'sense of adventure.'"
Emma appears surprised at first, and then her face splits with a wide grin like I just gave her the best compliment she can imagine. "Consider it done."
I shake my head and then stare at the temperamental sky. It was sunny just a few minutes ago, but it's rapidly darkening again. "It might rain again soon. Let's go back in for now. We'll try for cell service later."
We spend most of the morning in the cabin, where we sit by the fireplace and talk, watching the rain. It's not as heavy as last night, with not nearly as much wind, but it's still cold enough that we huddle together for body heat, this time with our clothes on.
And we talk. Emma asks incessant questions about the magic shows I used to love watching. And even though I try to give short answers, I eventually find myself detailing some of the magic tricks I perfected for my friends.
She listens with rapt attention, her eyes glittering and laughing when I tell her how my rabbit got loose at one of my dad's business meetings.
"Never seen so many old men screaming like little girls," I say, chuckling at the memory. "They thought it was a rat at first." I pause. "Looking back, it might have been a rat. It was pretty small for a rabbit."
Emma laughs again.
She follows my story with one of her own, where she and her friend Tate accidentally ate all the communion crackers at church and rushed to replace them with snacks they brought with them.
"Everyone was confused at Sunday school when they rolled out the Chips Ahoy and Oreos with communion wine," she says. "Although Grandpa thought it was really funny, I got banned from Sunday school for a week." She shrugs. "I didn't care about that. The real punishment was that I had to write a three-page letter of atonement and that was a real drag."
Now it's my turn to laugh. We continue like that, trading stories back and forth, with no end in sight.
It's strange how easy it is to talk to her. I'm not usually so chatty, but with Emma the words flow out of me effortlessly. Even when we're not bantering, I love watching her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs with absolutely no guile whatsoever.
So pure. Beautiful but unassuming. Like the pearl.
In the afternoon, after the rain stops and we venture down the hill slowly, it's almost a shame when my phone dings at the first hour.
"I got it!" she announces.
"What?" I turn to find her leaning against a tree, my phone in her hand.
"Service," she says. "It’s spotty but I should be able to make a call with this."
"Great. Call 911."
"I’ll do one better," she says and dials a number pressing the phone to her ear.
"Rick!" she says after a few seconds. "It's me."
"Emma!" I can hear the panic in the older man’s voice even though the phone isn’t on speaker. "Where on earth are you?"
"At Ashton Woods. I went in to help Declan."
"And why the fuck would you do that?"
"Because he's my friend." She glances around and takes the phone down from her ear, putting it on speaker. "I’m not entirely sure where we are but I think we're close to the top and there's a log cabin here."
There’s a pause on the other side of the phone. "You're at the cabin?"
"Yes," Emma says. "Is that a problem?"
"No, no." He recovers quickly. "I know where it is. I’ll come to get you. Just give me a second."
"Okay," she says right before the line dies.
"I guess rescue is on the way," she tells me.
"I guess it is." I wonder if she feels as disappointed as I do. Somehow, in the last few hours, I forgot we were trapped here. It started to feel like it was just the two of us, on a vacation from the real world.
And I enjoyed it.
But now the real world is about to come barreling back.
There's silence as we head back up to the cabin. Emma lets me carry her. It's part of the deal I made with her to let her come down with me in the first place.
She seems to be thinking deeply about something, and I glance at her, in between watching the ground so that we don't get tripped up.
About a quarter mile away from the cabin, I spot something sitting in between tree roots.
"Hang on," I say and put Emma down temporarily, so I can pick it up.
Emma is blinking at me curiously, and I gesture. "Hold out your hand."
"Huh?" She obeys slowly, and I reach out and drop the thing in her hand.
Her eyes widen when I retreat my hand.
"Two pearls in a row." I can't help the grin that splits my face. "Can you believe it?"
"No." She shakes her head, amazement in her gaze. "That's incredible. No one has that kind of luck."
I shrug. "I guess I'm special then. You can keep that one. I already have one to give Amelia."
"No!" she cries out, shaking her head and holding it out to me. "Take it back."
"It's okay. I don't want it, and Amelia will be happy with one."
"It's not that." She catches my gaze, and I finally register the horror in her eyes "I can't accept this from you, Declan."
"Why not?" I ask, confused.
"Because...the Rainbow Pearls...there's a thing about them."
"A thing."
"Yeah. Legend has it that if two people in love exchange Rainbow Pearls they will be together forever. But if they're not in true love, then one of them will become obsessed with the other."
I snort. "Seems like a complicated system."
"Declan, I'm serious. I can't take this."
I blink at her. "You actually believe in that?"
"Yes, and I don't care how much you make fun of me for it."
"I'm not going to make fun of you, it's just..." I sigh. "Okay, how about if I super-duper promise not to become obsessed with you."
She narrows her eyes. "You think this is a joke."
"Kind of," I admit.
"It's not a joke," she says. "Trust me. It's not."