Prisoner of the Pearls by Karen Cogan
Though
Debra is saddened by the death of her beloved aunt, she treasures the
historic home in Galveston, Texas the dear woman left to her. Also,
bequeathed, are a string of flawless pearls and a note warning her to
never wear them. Unable to resist, Debra fastens them around her neck.
She never dreams of the history behind the pearls, or the power they
will have over her life. Will she solve their mystery, or wear them to
her death?
Excerpt:
Copyright 2015 © Karen Cogan
Delighted
by the mystery surrounding the pearls, Debra ran them through her
fingers. They were too fine to stay hidden—they should be enjoyed,
admired, and cherished. In fact, they’d go perfectly with her sweaters
and black dresses. Despite her aunt’s warning, she could no more leave
them in a metal container than tear down Lacy’s house.
She took the velvet box and left the room. Then, after canceling the rental on the safety deposit box, she left the bank.
In
the car, she unlatched the clasp and secured the pearls around her
throat. She giggled when she looked into the mirror above the dashboard.
Though the delicate strand complimented her blue eyes and ash-blonde
hair, she felt like a little girl playing dress-up. She’d never owned
anything half as valuable as the pearls.
When
she arrived home, she found an envelope propped against the door. She
opened it to find a sympathy card from the neighbor next door, Mrs.
Morgan, a relative of Lacy’s lawyer. Aunt Lacy had lived in this house
for many years and knew several of her neighbors well.
Though
Mrs. Morgan was elderly now, Debra suspected she would devote much of
the time she sat at her window or on the porch to keeping an eye on
Debra and the house. She was a lovely woman whom Debra had known since
childhood when she spent summers with her aunt.
After
she entered the house, Debra draped her jacket over a chair, for the
morning had grown warm. She made a glass of tea and carried it to the
back garden where little had changed since her childhood. Ferns still
bordered the house and lily pads floated in the fountain.
She
sat upon the fountain seat and admired the azaleas coming into bloom.
Lilies and bleeding hearts lay in several round beds set amidst the rich
green grass. The tall Oleander awaited its turn to bloom in the fall.
When
a shadow fell across the pond, she glanced up. A man studied her, his
heavy head cocked to the side. After a moment, he said, “You must not
remember me, Debra. I’m Dave, Lacy’s ex-husband.”
She
stared hard at him as she struggled with feelings of misgivings. He’d
proved to be a bit of a leech with Lacy and less than honest with Debra.
Since the last time she’d seen him, he’d grown stockier and his hair
had turned entirely gray.
“What do you want?” she asked, placing a protective hand on her pearls.
“To talk to you about the map.” He paused as his gaze fell upon the strand around her neck.
As she stared into his dark, greedy eyes, her apprehension grew. “They’re worthless,” she said, hoping he’d leave.
He
shook his head. “Lacy set great store by them. She kept them locked
away. She showed them to me once when we went to the box for stock
certificates.” He reached out to touch the pearls.
Debra flinched away, thinking of making a run for the house.
Withdrawing his hand, he smiled. “They remind me of your aunt. I’ll always love her.”
Struck by the melancholy in his face, Debra suddenly pitied the man. “She loved you, too, at first.”
“May I sit? I was shocked to learn of Lacy’s passing. I get light-headed when I think of it.”
Nodding,
she stared into the pond and watched the koi that were Lacy’s pets—so
friendly she could hand feed them. Three were orange and two were
yellow. Debra wondered if they responded to their names.
While
she was musing, Dave moved closer. “I’ve always had a soft spot for
you, Debra. Now that you’re trying to start a business, I want to help.
I’ll give you two hundred dollars for those pearls. It’s probably more
than they’re worth. Still, I’d treasure them always.”
Debra shook her head. “I’m sorry, but they were Lacy’s. I can’t part with them.”
“Five hundred.”
“They’re not for sale.”
“They should be mine. Lacy would have wanted that. The pearls want it. It’s like they’re calling to me.”
Before she could stop him, he reached out and touched them. Debra jerked away. How dare he touch her!
She
pulled on his fingers as they curled around the necklace. She couldn’t
loosen his grip. And then an incredible thing happened. A great, gasping
portal shaped like a funnel appeared before them. They were sucked
inside, whirling in a tight, white circle, bound together by his clasp
upon her beads. Debra’s stomach lurched as vertigo overtook her.
When
would it stop? Was she dreaming? She closed her eyes, longing to
awaken. Yet they swirled on in the mist until their rotation gradually
stopped. Debra opened her eyes. What she saw made her close them again.
They
were no longer in her front yard. They stood on bare ground, with only
scrub growth around them and no habitation as far as she could see. It
was Galveston Island, but not the one she knew.
What happened?
Still dizzy, she swayed and shook her head trying to clear it.
Dave
didn’t resist when she pulled the pearls from his grip. Instead, he
sputtered, “Where are we? I don’t recognize this place.”
“I haven’t a clue,” she answered. “The last thing I remember is you’d grabbed the pearls.”
“I
don’t remember grabbing them.” He closed his eyes so tightly his ample
cheeks covered them. Finally opening them, he said, “I guess you know
the legend of those things.” He nodded at the pearls. “I never believed
it could be true.”
“I thought the same thing.” Her heart thundered in her chest as she fought panic.
“What do we do?”
“Let’s walk and look around.”
He gestured in a circle. “Walk where? Nothing’s here.”
“We’re here for some reason. You must have talked to Lacy about these pearls. What do you know about them?”
He held up his hands in protest. “Nothing really. Just an old tale.”
Needing
to take action, she set off toward the Strand, not caring whether he
followed or not. Still, it didn’t surprise her when he did, huffing
along beside her.
They’d
walked over salt grass and around dunes, finally coming to a worn path.
Debra frowned. If they were still on the island, they should have
reached the port by now.
She
stared in surprise when she spotted the harbor. It lay before them,
populated with old-fashioned wooden ships, complete with masts and
rigging. She shaded her eyes and peered up at the colorful flags
fluttering near the crow’s nests. They reminded her of the old car show
she’d seen once in the Astrodome—Model Ts and As, as well as cars dating
from the 1940s.
Unlike those cars, these ships looked new, yet nearly two hundred years had passed since ships like these had filled the harbor.
She heard Dave gasp. “This is the past.”
“Nonsense,” she answered, knowing she had no better explanation.
Further
down the beach, she spotted a few buildings, suggesting a small town—a
town with no cars, no streets, or electric wires. Wherever or whenever
they’d come varied greatly from the Galveston they had left.
Sand
blew from the dunes. The gritty grains stuck to Debra’s moist skin. She
licked her lips and tasted salt. The familiar sensations told her
nothing had changed, but her eyes told her differently.
* * *
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