Chapter 15Hester and Pearl

Roger Chillingworth - a seriously creepy, old dude with a face that stuck with people - headed off, shuffling along the ground. He picked up random herbs and roots, tossing them into the basket he carried. His long gray beard practically dragged on the dirt as he moved.

Hester watched him for a bit, wondering if the fresh spring grass would just die wherever he stepped, leaving a brown, withered trail across the green. She was curious about the herbs he was collecting.

Would the earth, somehow sensing his negativity, give him poisonous plants, totally new kinds of weeds popping up under his fingers? Or would everything good just turn bad, toxic, whenever he touched it? Did the sun even shine on him?

It felt like a dark shadow was following him, no matter which way he went. And where was he even going? Would he just disappear into the ground, leaving a dead patch where only poisonous stuff like deadly nightshade and henbane would grow, all thriving in a creepy, wild way?

Or would he sprout wings and fly off, looking even uglier the higher he went? "Sin or not," Hester Prynne said, her voice laced with bitterness, still watching him go, "I hate that guy!"

She scolded herself for feeling that way, but couldn’t shake it. Trying to let it go, she remembered those days long ago, in another country, when he’d come out of his study around dusk and chill in the firelight of their home, bathed in the glow of her wedding smile.

He needed to soak in that smile, he’d say, to warm up his scholar's heart after so many lonely hours with books. Those scenes once seemed totally happy, but now, seen through the lens of her hard life, they felt like some of her worst memories. She couldn’t believe those times ever happened!

She couldn’t believe she’d ever married him! She regretted that decision more than anything, enduring and returning his lukewarm handshake, letting her smile blend into his.

It felt like a bigger offense than anything he’s faced since, that he’d convinced her she was happy with him when her heart was clueless. "Yeah, I hate him! Hester repeated, even more sharply this time. "He betrayed me! He’s done me wrong worse than I did him!"

Guys should be scared to win a woman's hand unless they’re also winning her whole heart.

Otherwise, it could be their unlucky fate, like it was Roger Chillingworth’s, when someone with a stronger connection wakes up all her feelings, and they get yelled at even for the calm, happy vibe they gave her - the fake version of happiness they made her think was real.

But Hester should’ve let go of that unfairness a long time ago. What was it even about? Had seven years of wearing the scarlet letter and all that pain not brought any regret?

That short moment, watching old Roger Chillingworth disappear, really showed what Hester was feeling - stuff she probably wouldn't have admitted to herself otherwise. Once he was gone, she called her kid. "Pearl! Little Pearl! Where are you?"

Pearl, always buzzing with energy, hadn't been bored while her mom talked with the herb-collecting dude.

At first, like we already know, she’s been playing around with her reflection in a puddle, waving at the ghost-like version of herself, and trying to jump in, even though it was like trying to reach the sky. Then, realizing neither of them was real, she found something else to do.

She built tiny boats out of birch bark and loaded them with snail shells, sending out more ships than any merchant in New England - but most of them sank close to shore. She caught a horseshoe by the tail and grabbed a bunch of five-fingers, letting a jellyfish melt in the warm sun.

Then she scooped up the white foam from the incoming tide and tossed it in the air, chasing after it with super-fast steps to catch the big snowflakes before they fell.

Spotting a bunch of shorebirds eating and fluttering around, the mischievous kid filled her apron with pebbles and, creeping from rock to rock after those little seabirds, showed off how good she was at pelting them.

Pearl was pretty sure one little gray bird with a white chest got hit by a pebble and flew away with a hurt wing. But then, the little elf-kid sighed and stopped playing because it made her sad to have hurt a tiny thing as wild as the sea-breeze or as wild as Pearl herself.

Her last job was gathering seaweed, making herself a scarf, or mantle, and a head-dress - basically, rocking a little mermaid look. She totally got her mom's knack for costumes.

As the final touch to her mermaid outfit, Pearl grabbed some eel-grass and tried to copy the design she saw on her mom’s chest. A letter - the letter A - but bright green instead of red!

The kid rested her chin on her chest, staring at it with this weird, intense look; like figuring out its secret was the whole reason she was born. "I wonder if Mom will ask me what it means?" she thought.

Just then, she heard her mom’s voice, and Hester Prynne appeared, flitting along like a little seabird, laughing and pointing at the decoration on Pearl’s chest. My little Pearl, Hester said after a beat, the green letter, on your little chest, doesn’t mean anything.

"But do you know what this letter means that your mom is forced to wear?" "Yeah, Mom," the child said. "It’s the big letter A. You showed me in my horn-book." Hester looked into her little face.

Though she saw that familiar look in her dark eyes, she couldn't tell if Pearl really understood the symbol. She felt this strange urge to know what she thought. "Do you know why your mom wears this letter, sweetie? "Totally! Pearl answered, looking bright-eyed at her mom.

"It’s for the same reason the minister puts his hand on his heart! "And what’s that? Hester asked, half-laughing at the silly thing the child said, but then her face went pale. "What does the letter have to do with any heart, except mine?"

"Seriously, Mom, I’m telling you, that’s all I know," said Pearl, sounding way more intense than usual. "Ask that old dude you were chatting with! Maybe he knows something."

"But for real now, Mom, what does this scarlet letter even mean? - and why are you wearing it on your chest? - and why does the minister always cover his heart?"

She took her mom’s hand, holding it tight, and looked into her eyes with a seriousness you rarely saw in her wild, unpredictable personality.

Hester realized the kid might actually be trying to connect with her, like a little kid, doing everything she could, as smart as she knew how, to find some common ground. It showed Pearl in a totally different light.

Before this, Hester loved her fiercely, her only real love, but didn't expect much back. Pearl was like an April wind - always moving, having random bursts of energy, and moody even when she was good.

She’s more likely to give you a cold shoulder than a hug, but sometimes, just for a moment, she’d softly touch your cheek or play with your hair, leaving a dreamy feeling behind before flitting off to whatever she was doing. That was Hester’s take on her daughter.

Anyone else might have just seen a lot of difficult traits, and seen them in a much darker way. But now, Hester wondered if Pearl, with her quick mind and sharp observations, was old enough to be a friend, someone she could share her worries with, without being disrespectful to either of them.

Hidden in all the chaos of Pearl’s personality, there was always - and had always been - a strong sense of courage, a stubborn will, a fierce pride that could be shaped into self-respect, and a deep dislike for a lot of things that turned out to be based on lies.

She had feelings, too, but they were kinda sour and off-putting, like the taste of fruit that’s not quite ripe yet. "With all this going for her," Hester thought, "the bad stuff she got from her mom must be seriously intense if a good woman doesn’t come out of this little elf."

Pearl’s habit of obsessing over the scarlet letter felt like a built-in part of who she was. Ever since she could think, she’d been on this mission. Hester sometimes thought Providence had a plan for justice, giving Pearl this strong pull.

But she's never considered if there might also be a purpose of kindness. If Pearl was treated like a spirit, as well as a kid, maybe she was meant to ease the sadness in her mom's heart - to turn it into something better? - and help her deal with the feelings that were still there, locked away.

These thoughts buzzed around in Hester’s head, as real as if someone had whispered them. And there was Pearl, holding her mom's hand tight, looking up with big eyes, asking those searching questions again and again.

"What does the letter mean, Mom? - and why do you wear it? - and why does the minister always put his hand on his heart? "What should I even say? Hester wondered. "No way. If this is what it takes to get Pearl to understand, I can’t do it. Then she spoke. "You’re being silly, Pearl," she said.

"What questions are these? There are things a kid shouldn't ask about. What do I know about the minister’s heart? And the scarlet letter? I wear it because of the gold thread."

For the past seven years, Hester Prynne had never broken her promise to the symbol on her chest. Maybe it was like a charm, a tough but protective spirit, that just bailed on her. Like, it knew something new had snuck into her heart, or something old never really left.

Little Pearl, though, didn’t let it go. She kept bringing it up - a couple of times on the way home, at dinner, while Hester got her ready for bed, and even once after she seemed totally asleep. Pearl would look up, with this mischievous glint in her dark eyes.

"Mom," she said, "what does the scarlet letter mean?"

And the very next morning, the first thing Pearl did when she woke up was pop her head up from the pillow and ask that other question, the one she’s somehow linked to the scarlet letter: - "Mom! - Mom! - Why does the minister keep his hand over his heart?"

"Shush, you’re being impossible!" her mom snapped, harsher than she ever had before. "Stop bothering me, or I’ll put you in the dark closet!"