Spring 1855
Silas watched as Pearl, on her father’s arm, made her way down the walk toward the front porch of the house. She wore a long white dress, with Grandmama’s heart-shaped amethyst at her throat, and dogwood blossoms twined in her hair. In a semicircle around the yard, the slaves—along with Pearl’s Uncle Deke, who looked distinctly uncomfortable—had gathered to witness their union.
Silas and Pearl had waited more than a year to marry, and although Silas had grown increasingly impatient over the past couple of months, he was glad they had agreed to a long courtship. Both of them wanted to take their time, to get to know each other, to be sure they were making the right decision. And the delay had served them well. They had grown more and more in love during the past year, had learned to accept each other and honor each other’s gifts.
The wait was worth it. Tonight, when they shared a bed for the first time, they would come together as a couple completely devoted to one another and to their mission in life. Two whole people, committed not to changing each other, but to changing the world in which they lived.
For the first time in his life, Silas truly believed he could make a difference—with Pearl at his side. He was beginning to acknowledge, much to his own surprise, that God—or fate—had been leading him, that all this had been planned from the beginning. And he was glad someone else seemed to be guiding him, for this certainly was not his idea of how his medical career should take shape.
When Robert Warren had cut off his financial support, Silas hadn’t had the faintest idea how he would make ends meet. Fortunately, he had been able to cancel all of Regina’s orders for expensive furnishings for the house. The money saved would buy him some time. But when those resources were gone, then what?
It was Pearl, ultimately, who helped him set aside his fears and find the faith he required to listen to his heart rather than his mind. Unlike Regina, she had simple tastes and the readiness to sacrifice for the sake of a dream. “Silas,” she had told him, “I don’t need diamonds or ball gowns or fancy furniture. All I need is a husband who is willing to follow his calling. Everything will work out; trust me.”
And it had. Pearl had set up a chicken house in the backyard, and within a year they had a good stock of frying hens and rich brown eggs. Harmon Avery had rounded up a few patients in town, folks who were willing to pay, albeit modestly, for the services of a physician. The slaves bartered goods for doctoring—cornbread and pies and big pots of turnip greens, lovely patchwork quilts and, thanks to Booker, a houseful of finely crafted furniture that cost Silas no more than the wood from which the pieces were made. And although there was never any money, he always had food and shelter and the love of good friends.
And he had Pearl. He had never expected to find the woman of his dreams in a slave camp, dressed in boots and dungarees. But there she had been, as if waiting for him to come to her. And whatever the future held, from this day on, she would be his forever. Silas couldn’t ask for much more than that.
Last night, after dinner, he had presented Pearl with the amethyst and pearl brooch he had been given by his grandmother. As he told her the story of how Grandmama had passed it on to him with the exhortation to choose wisely, tears pooled in her soft blue eyes.
“I wish I had known her,” Pearl whispered.
“And I wish she had known you,” Silas responded. He paused for a moment, remembering. “But then again, perhaps she does know. Maybe she’s looking down on us now, smiling. I have no doubt she’d approve.”
Pearl took the heart-shaped stone and turned it over reverently in her hands. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I’ll treasure it forever.”
Silas squinted at the brooch. “There’s a pearl missing. It must have fallen out when Regina threw it at my head.” He grinned wryly. “I’ll have to get that fixed.”
Pearl thought about that for a moment. “No,” she said at last, “I’d rather leave it as it is. It’s like the human condition—precious, yet flawed. And priceless, even in its incompleteness.”
Silas gazed in wonder at the woman who was to become his wife. Sincerity. Purity. Nobility.
“Make certain you choose wisely,” Grandmama had said.
And despite himself, Silas had.
Booker stood at Silas’s side as his best man. Had Robert and Olivia Warren known of this plan, they would have been horrified, but to Silas’s way of thinking, Booker was the only choice for the honor. This man had become his best friend, his supporter and encourager, and, in an odd way, he was the one who had brought Silas and his bride together.
Silas took Pearl’s hand, and together they stood before the befuddled minister as he led them through their vows of lifetime love. His voice shook when he said, “I do,” but the tremor was derived from intensity rather than fear. Silas was not afraid to make this commitment; it was the truest thing he had ever done in his life.
More quickly than he had anticipated, the brief service came to a close. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the minister intoned solemnly.
Silas leaned toward Pearl, and just as his lips met hers, she whispered, “No gravy today,” and dissolved into laughter.
A mighty cheer arose. They were just about to step off the porch and make their way around to the back of the house, where tables full of fried chicken and cornbread and wedding cake were set up in the yard, when Booker produced a broom. With a wide grin, he laid it on the ground in front of them.
“Now it’s o-fficial,” the big black man said.
Silas took Pearl’s hand, and the two of them jumped the broom together. And amid hugs and handshakes and congratulatory kisses, they made their way to the backyard to celebrate with their family.
He awoke at dawn with that blasted rooster crowing loudly enough to raise the dead. For a minute Silas looked around, dazed, then realized that a warm body lay next to him in the bed.
Pearl. His wife.
She was curled up on her side with the wedding ring quilt tucked around her shoulders, and Silas felt his heart melt with love for her. How beautiful she was, with her hair spread out like a fan across the pillow!
Tenderly he reached out and brushed a tendril away from her ear. She stirred and turned toward him. “What time is it?”
He looked at his pocket watch on the bedside table. “Almost six.”
“Too early,” she moaned, covering her head with the quilt. “We didn’t go to bed until after midnight.”
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured.
Cautiously, so as not to disturb her, Silas got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He stoked the fire in the stove, put on a pot of coffee, and then, still in his nightshirt, headed outside to the chicken coop. The morning dew chilled his bare feet, but he didn’t mind. He felt exhilarated, at one with the entire world. Yes, he decided. He liked being married. Liked it a lot.
He gathered two handfuls of fresh eggs and returned to the kitchen. While the bacon was frying, he went back outside and cut a single red rosebud from the bush next to the kitchen door. Within a few minutes he had a tray loaded with coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs, and the rose.
“Breakfast in bed?” Pearl mumbled sleepily when he came into the bedroom. She sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Is this going to be a regular habit?”
Silas laughed. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Then I’d better take advantage of it while I’ve got it.”
When they finished eating, Silas laid the tray aside and put his arms around Pearl. “You are such a gift to me,” he murmured in her ear. “I only wish I could give you more.”
Pearl sat up and glared at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, sweetheart, every man wants the woman he loves to have the very best. I know that life with me is likely to be difficult. We don’t have much money, and probably never will, and—”
She put both hands on his chest and pushed him so hard that he fell back against the pillow. “Don’t ever let me hear you talking like that again!”
“What did I do?”
“I married you for yourself, you idiot, not for anything you can give me. We’re together, we have a wonderful house, good friends, a purpose in life. Have I ever given you any indication that I want more than that?”
“No, but—”
“No buts.” Her eyes pierced his with a steely gaze. “I am not Regina Masterson,” she said with deliberation. “I don’t care about the ’finer things’ in life. I care about what’s in here—” She poked a finger into his breastbone. “Understand?”
Sheepishly, Silas nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Don’t forget it.”
He moved closer to her. “Have we just had our first fight?”
“Maybe.”
“Is it over?” He reached out a hand and gently stroked her cheek.
“I guess so.”
“Then we can make up?” Silas drew her into his embrace and felt her warmth seeping into him. She relaxed against him and lifted her face to his. The kiss, when it came, was gentle and sweet at first, becoming increasingly passionate as her lips lingered on his.
No, Silas thought, Pearl was not Regina Masterson. She was a fiery, opinionated, stubborn woman with a heart big enough to hold him forever. She would always stand by him, always support him, always tell him the truth, even when he didn’t want to hear it. She was, indeed, a gift. A pearl of great price.
“Maybe we should fight every morning,” he murmured into her hair.
She smiled up at him with an expression that held a world of love. “Only if you bring me breakfast in bed.”