She eyed the stranger, but she followed his advice. The young woman sat down heavily, her gut still roiling but settling down little by little. She looked like her mother but also looked like the man who sired her. She was rather pale at the moment but she had her mother's complexion and her hair was as curly as Hortencia had described seeing when the girl had been born. Her eyes were the same dark gaze as her mother's, nearly identical but much more innocent and bright. It was Pearl.

"Thank you," she said, her voice almost identical as well to her mother's. While she could pass for Anne Carrington's youngest child, Pearl Blacke nee Carrington was the young picture of Hortencia with only slight differences and a mop of the richest, brown curls. She took a grateful sip of the water, first. "I suppose now is about time for me to tell my husband," she said to herself more than anything. "A babe... already..." she then laughed in disbelief, though there was a glow that slowly replaced the haze of sickness that comes with being with child. Joe would be so happy... and Lottie. Oh, she saw how Lottie doted upon her grandson, Jacob, and even Pearl had a hard time not falling in love with the boy, herself. She was learning what a loving family really was. They seemed to yell a lot, but their yelling ended up being productive. One thing she could not say about the Blackes is that they did not love each other.

She smiled and spread her free hand over the still, flat area where that baby was starting to grow.

Then she shook her head when she realized that the man still stood there, lemonade in hand. "Oh-oh, I am sorry, Mister....?"