Island Pearl: Catica Island Inspired Romance, #4

By Sandra E Sinclair

"A Life of Despair, Dreams, and Hope." 

Pearl Mazanec had a tragic beginning, a life filled with disappointment and self doubt. Everyone she cared about taken from her, thrusting her into instant parenthood when she’d only just started her adult life. The man of her dreams lost, having to take a backseat to the responsibilities she’s faced with.

Pearl always suspected fate had a hand in the cards she was dealt, and she played them anyway. But she hadn’t realized how twisted, and cruel fate could be. Even though she’d experienced it first hand on her entry into the world. 

Death, stole her chance at love, and it’s through death—and six degrees of separation that brings the man of Pearl’s dreams back into her life. Only to drive home how impossible her love was. The gap between their class, status, and power was designed to keep them apart. 

It seems Pearl was destined to never receive her happy ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 13 Doors Publications
• Release date: Aug 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386602477

Book preview

Chapter 1

Perspiration ran down her face . Her head thrust from side to side. Desperation clawed through her as she ran. Trapped in the darkness of her subconscious mind, hands stretched ahead of her, reaching out in hope of changing the past. She screamed out, but no sound was emitted as the cold hand of guilt squeezed tightly around her throat, choking her.

Pearl bolted from her nightmare as tiny fingers gently caressed her cheek.

Hey, pumpkin, what are you doing out of bed? Pearl turned her head to mop at her face, and remove the tears from her eyes with the corner of her pillow. Hasana’s hands curled around her neck.

You was having a bad dream.

Was I? Oh, baby, did I frighten you?

I’m not a baby, I’m five. Hasana’s hair fell over her face as she nodded her head, her bottom lip trembling. Pearl tilted her head and smile. Wide-eyed Hasana said, Yes, but I was already scared.

I’m sorry, pudding. Did you have a bad dream too?

She nodded again.

Pearl pushed the hair from Hasana’s face, and kissed her forehead. Well, let Auntie Pearl fix that for you.

Pearl slipped her hands under Hasana’s pyjama top, and wiggled her fingers against the child’s skin, blowing raspberries into her little niece’s neck. Hasana collapsed in fits of giggles, trying to wriggle her way out of her auntie’s hands, her feet running in the air as if she was riding a bicycle.

Okay that’s enough. Pearl wrapped her arms around her. Do you feel ready to go back to your own bed?

Yeah, but I’ll still be scared. Her tiny hand cupped Pearl’s cheek. Tears hovered at the brim of the most piercing emerald eyes. Pearl quivered. For one so young, Hasana had the most haunted, grown-up expression she’d ever seen on a child.

Oh, precious, did I worry you?

Hasana’s face fell, and she nodded. I worry about you and mommy all the time.

I worry about you and your mommy too. You’re too little to be worrying about us grown-ups, pumpkin. You’re just a little girl, and little girls shouldn’t have anything troubling them until they’re at least ten.

Hasana scrunched up her face. But I’ll still be little when I’m ten. Daisy’s ten, and she’s only this much bigger than me. Hasana held up her hand indicating a small distance between her thumb and index finger.

Yeah, well, that’s because Daisy’s mamma needs to give her some vitamins. Poor thing looks like she has rickets.

What’s crickets?

Nothing, and don’t you go repeating what I just said.

I won’t. What happens at home, stays at home, or child services will come for me.

That’s right. Well not the last bit. Who told you child services would come for you? Pearl didn’t know why she asked the question when she already knew the answer, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure.

Daisy.

Daisy talks too much; don’t you believe that. I’m going to have words with Daisy’s mommy. I’m never going to make that happen to you. I won’t let anybody take you away from us.

Daisy said it’s because I don’t have a daddy, and it’s not right what goes on in this house. That you and mommy are just kids.

She did, did she? Well that’s because she doesn’t know how special you are. Your daddy is looking down on you from heaven. She slid Hasana’s unruly hair behind her ear.

Forgetting for a moment who she was talking to, Pearl said absently, Where Daisy’s daddy’s going, he won’t have that luxury. Her hand flew over her mouth. Don’t you going telling Daisy what I said about her daddy.

I won't.

Okay, kitten, let’s get you to bed.

Can I just sleep there? Hasana pointed to the other side of the large bed.

What happens if I roll over in my sleep and crush you into tiny bits like a cookie? Pearl asked, tickling Hasana under her arms.

Hasana laughed, and wriggled free. You won’t. I’m only little. I can make myself tiny. So small you can’t crush me. She showed Pearl by folding herself into the fetal position, grinning.

Pearl clicked her fingers. Drat, outsmarted by a five-year-old. Okay, you win. Let’s get some sleep.

She drew Hasana into her arms, and they settled down under the covers facing each other. Somehow Hasana’s thumb found its way to her mouth. Great. I’ll be waking up to stinky thumb breath. But Pearl smiled, and stroked her little niece’s hair as her breathing began to even out.

She wished sleep would come as easily for her. However, she had to check on Hasana’s mother, Monet. There was no doubt in Pearl’s mind, Hasana had entered her room only after she’d tried to wake her own mother and failed. Which could only mean, Monet was dead drunk or she’d taken sleeping pills.

Monet needed to fix herself up, if not for herself, then for her daughter. Five years was a long time to grieve. Pearl didn’t want Hasana to grow up resenting the world like she did. Ruth had been a great older sister to Pearl, but she was never her mother. Her father’s ambivalence toward her up until the day he killed himself was no picnic either.

Pearl wondered if clinical depression was a gene found in family members. She worried one day she would get there too. Or were her teenage years of being a rebel without a cause, her version of being depressed. Before now, she’d never really been a good role model for Monet growing up.

She shifted Hasana’s limp form, her floppy limbs dangled as her thumb slipped from her mouth. Hasana curled into a ball the instant Pearl laid her on the pillow on the other side of the bed.

Time to go see what was up with Monet. The floor creaked and moaned its disapproval underfoot. Everything in this rickety old house needed repair. A quick glance behind her assured her Hasana slept soundly. She crept from the room, and into the hall where the hardwood floor screamed as she tried to tiptoe down the hall.

The door to Monet and Hasana’s room lay open. Monet was stretched out on the bed. Her head and shoulders hung over the side, still dressed, and the stench of stale alcohol and perfume filled the air. Pearl sighed, and glanced over at the crumpled sheets of Hasana’s bed. She knew it was Monet’s drunken entrance that had woken the child.

Lord, how do you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?

Chapter 2

Pearl struggled to get Monet undressed, as Monet grumbled her sluggish protest. Limp, but effective limbs swung out as she fought against Pearl’s intrusion—kicking and clawing for Pearl to leave her alone. The long wrestling match came to an abrupt end when Monet ran out of steam, and Pearl finally managed to make her more comfortable in the bed.

She took one last look around the room, then switched out the lights, and went to check on Hasana.

Hasana was still asleep, Pearl’s chest swelled every time she looked at the child. She was so like her grandma Ruth. Pearl didn’t miss not having a mother—she’d never known her. Nor longed for her either. All she’d ever known was Ruth, and she missed her like crazy. These last five years without her rock were surreal. She’d just been going through the motions.

If she fell, Ruth had always been there to catch her, or kiss her boo-boos. Not anymore. She had to be Ruth for Monet and Hasana. The responsibility was hers, and hers alone. Emotion burned at the back of her eyes. She blinked her tears away, and crept back into the hall, then paused, staring at the closed door of the man who had saved them from homelessness.

However, old Mr. Constantine was dead. With him gone, their future looked uncertain. In the gloomy, haunted atmosphere of this two story, three-bedroom house, Pearl knew why her nightmares had returned. But for the life of her, she didn’t have a clue what to do about any of it.

How did she get here at twenty-three with little to no income? History had repeated itself, but to her it had been crueler. Everyone else had someone to lean on. She was completely alone, with the added responsibility of an eighteen-year-old, single parent niece—fast becoming an alcoholic, sleeping pill, toting junky, and her great-niece Hasana, who was great in more than just her title. That little angel was the glue which kept Pearl and this diabolical family together.

Pearl rubbed at the tightness in her chest, and glanced at the closed door of her savior. She didn’t even have him anymore. How much lower would she get before things turned around? She could almost see through the wood as she remembered. Behind that door was a room filled with memories, some happy and some not so much. It lay empty due to the owner’s demise.