The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes

by Shelley Madden

  The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes

  By

  Shelley Madden

  Copyright 2012 by Shelley Madden

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any manner without express written consent from the author.

  Any characters in this book are strictly a figment of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

  Cover art and photography courtesy of Gene Domingo

  Copyright 2012

  www.geneseditions.com

  Cover Model Andrea Roberts of Dallas Models

  Ebook Formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  To my fashionable mother, whom inspired me to write during my darkest days, and to my father whom without, I’d be lost.

  Table of Contents

  Aquamarine-The Gem of the Sea

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty One

  22. Chapter Twenty Two

  23. Chapter Twenty Three

  24. Chapter Twenty Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Aquamarine-The Gem of the Sea

  It is said Neptune, The King of the Sea, gave Aquamarine as his gift to the mermaids, and from then on, it has brought love to all who have owned it. Aquamarine was believed to keep sailors safe and guard them against storms. Aquamarine is also a healing stone…

  Chapter One

  The warmth of the sun traced its feathered rays across her face.

  Her thoughts gradually came into focus as she woke. She opened her eyes and blinked, gazing at the unfamiliar surroundings within the room. She followed the sunlight toward the curtained window and watched the rays gently filter through.

  She carefully studied the room. Strange objects lined the walls in front of her bed. They seemed vaguely familiar, yet her memory could not recall their names. A large black box hung in the corner by seemingly invisible brackets, its blank glossy screen stared at her in silence. She studied it a moment hoping to remember, but finally gave up in frustration.

  She swept her gaze to the opposite side of the bed. A man sat in an armchair nearby, he appeared to be in a deep slumber. Rays of sun played across him, turning his hair a fiery chestnut. Odd designs wove around his upper arm. Colors and patterns whirled into one, perhaps telling stories of his past. On his opposite arm, a red car bursting through flames was carefully imprinted.

  A memory stirred within her as she gazed at him. A memory of the sun, and the seas and the sands. She could smell the salty sea wind again. Her eyes momentarily fluttered closed. She could see the island. White beaches and blue lagoons sheltered by billowing palms. The ebb and flow of the tides. The tendrils of sea grass and tiny crabs it left behind.

  She was running from him, this man beside her, on the island she lived on and loved for years. She didn’t know how many years, for she had no way to track time. But it was him, she had no doubt. He’d come to take her away, along with the only other person who lived on the island. Her friend, Dreams.

  She frowned, as she struggled to beckon forth the fuzzy images in her mind. She could see a shadowy grey building, she could hear the laughter of children drifting down the gloomy halls. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered the orphanage. How much she had hated it there. The daily feeling of despair, loneliness and isolation.

  She’d made a plan one day. She and her friend snuck away on a foggy night, and made their way to the shoreline. When the time was right, they quietly crept into a waiting luxury liner and stowed away.

  Laughing and giggling in the days that followed, the pair went virtually unnoticed. They bravely made their way amongst the passengers, helping themselves to whatever amnesties befell them.

  But the days of bliss on the high seas quickly came to an end. A rouge wave appeared without warning, and nearly capsized the ship. Salty water had poured across the sun-bleached deck, sending the wealthy passengers scurrying away.

  Rescue tugs were called. The whitened captain, with his glittering gold buttons and silvery stripes, ordered the passengers into their waiting cabins. He’d explained to the frightened vacationers the liner would be towed back to shore. The girls gazed in horror at each other.

  They would never go back to the orphanage. Out of desperation, they tossed several pieces of luggage into the churning waves and leapt from the crippled ship. They clung to the bobbing suitcases with relentless determination throughout the night. Where they were headed, they didn’t know. Nor, did they care.

  A day later, exhausted, dehydrated and badly sunburned, the current finally carried them to a tiny island. The tiny island became their home. Two unwanted and unloved teenagers had found bliss.

  Until the man with hair the color of the island baboons arrived. The same day the great storm struck.

  She opened her eyes, finally able to remember the last day on the island. The winds had blown a palm tree over. It toppled upon her, and had crushed her legs. She remembered screaming. She remembered the terrible pain. It held her tightly pinned against the whitened sands, as the rains beat down upon her.

  He’d done this, the man with the strange pictures on his arms. He was the reason she’d hidden behind the tree. She gazed down the length of the bed and hesitatingly lifted the sheet which covered her legs.

  She stared at them in horror, and screamed.

  “What the hell?” Harmon Steele leapt from the chair, but he’d awaken too quickly, his body was moving before his feet could catch up. He stumbled forward, landed against the side of the bed and hit his head squarely on the metal frame. He moaned in pain.

  The girl screamed again.

  He pulled himself up, but the moment his face met hers she bellowed once more and rolled toward the far side of the bed.

  His emerald eyes blazed in horror at the brazen girl. Her arms dangled from the side, reaching for the floor as she tried to pull her injured legs behind her. He leapt to the far side of the bed, grabbed her arms and lifted her back onto the bed.

  She scowled at him and screamed even louder. The sound reverberated throughout the room, which sent him stumbling backward in surprise. She watched with unhidden glee as his leg caught the small table behind him. His arms propelled madly in the air, reminding her of the small planes which had often flown above the island.

  But his situation was hopeless. He toppled over and crashed onto the table. Its legs slowly splayed out and quivered, until at last they exploded across the floor. Splinters of wood flew from beneath as he hit bottom with a resounding bang.

  She glared at him for a moment. Unable to help herself, she burst into laughter.

  “What in Sam hill is going on in here?” Bice demanded, as he burst into the room.

  She gazed at the man in the doorway. This man she’d not seen before. He was tall and lean, his arms rippled with bronzed muscles. His dark wavy hair barely skirted his shoulders. Golden brown eyes stared in disbelief at the mess in the room.

  She didn’t care. She opened her mouth wide and howled, until both men could only stare at her aghast and simultaneously clutch their ea
rs.

  Bice rushed to her bedside. In a moment of desperation and at a lack for realizing the consequences, he clasped his hand across her mouth.

  She twisted from under his grasp, and with the swiftness of a snake bit him.

  He squealed and yanked his hand away, staring in shock at the blistering red teeth marks across his palm. He shook his hand madly, waving it about wildly through the air until all but the most excruciating of the pain finally ebbed. “Do that again, I’ll bite you back.”

  Harmon sat on the floor amongst the broken pieces of table and laughed. He shook his head, carefully picking splinters from his pants. “I warned you Bice, she’s a tiger.” He stood up and brushed the remnants of wood from his backside.

  “Can you talk?” Bice gazed at her, struggling to smile despite the wrenching pain in his digits.

  She was the picture of beauty. Porcelain perfect skin with the face of a doll. A face models would kill to have or to buy. Flowing locks of golden hair hung to her shoulders. Her arms were strong and tanned from the island sun. Plus, she had a damned nice set of teeth. But her aquamarine eyes burned fire at him.

  She glared at him, screwed her face into impossible contortions until she resembled a side-show carnival mirror, and screamed again. She didn’t know why she was here, how she got here, nor why the baboon with strange pictures on his arms dare bring her to this place.

  Whatever their reasons she could care less. She’d been forgotten too many years, which she learned to prefer. She was better off alone. For the most part that is, except for her friend Dreams.

  “I don’ know.” Harmon carefully approached the opposite side of her bed once again. “She was on the island five years. Do you think she forgot how to talk?”

  “Let’s try this.” Bice leaned over the scowling girl.

  “I’m Bice Wayne, and this is Harmon Steele. I’m his assistant, and friend. He’s a musician, and I manage his band and line up his shows. You are in his mansion near Los Angeles, overlooking the sea.”

  The men watched as a wave of recognition swept across her face. She blinked and gazed out the window.

  She could see the ocean glittering in the distance. She’d been surrounded by the sea for many years. The rolling blue waters had brought her to the island. In this place, she could smell faint traces of the salty sea in the air around her. The azure waters had kept her safe, and brought her peace.

  But long ago, before the orphanage, the same ocean brought her unforgiving despair. It’d taken her family. Now, those same blue waters had brought the evil fire-haired man, who’d taken her away from the only peace she’d ever known.

  She gazed at Harmon, standing so casually at her bedside seemingly swollen with pride for bringing her to this miserable place. He almost looked happy. It came to her with sudden clarity. The monster was going to take her back to the orphanage she’d snuck away from.

  In an instant, she lurched at him. Her upper body flew from the bed as she struck with sinewy precision, having mastered the fine art of climbing the island trees many a dark moon.

  Harmon staggered backward in surprise, but she clung to him with one hand and pounded his head with the other. Her broken legs were once again dangling from the bed, as he attempted to back away. She didn’t care.

  Bice leapt across the room and pulled the maddened teenager away from his wealthy employer. He pulled her back onto the bed, and pressed her shoulders to the mattress.

  Gasping for breath, he fought the sinewy girl until she finally tired and lay still.

  “She’s angry, Harmon.” Bice muttered. “She’s obviously blaming you for her injury. Not to mention, taking her from the island.”

  “She’ll have to get over it.” Harmon replied. “I won’t have her attacking me again. Get her calmed down.”

  “Have you lost your mind? I’m your manager for God’s sake, not a damned babysitter.”

  Harmon gazed at the girl. Sweat was beginning to march its silvery beads across her chest as more droplets materialized across her brow. Her cheeks were flushed pink with anger. He could almost hear the tick-tick of her internal time bomb waiting to explode once again.

  He couldn’t have her hitting his face. His face was loved by thousands of his fans overseas, even though he hadn’t sold many records stateside in years. “You live here, you can at least help me teach her to act like a respectable human.”

  Bice eyed the teenager. “How old is she now, twelve?”

  “Bite your tongue.” Harmon glared at him, his eyes thinning to slits. “She was ten when I found her on my beachfront, which was seven years ago.”

  Harmon moved toward the window and drew the curtain back. He gazed beyond the stained glass pane to the sea below. Waves churned in the distance. A wave of despair washed across him, prickling him to his very bones.

  He could see the very spot where he’d found her. He would never forget. That day haunted his every waking hour. Eventually, it cruelly found a way to penetrate his dreams.

  He watched through the window, seeing once again the girl lying in the sand as a single gull chipped away at the flesh on her leg. Strings of seaweed were caught in her hair and wrapped around her ankles.

  Ten years ago, he was a nouveau riche musician who’d purchased the mansion only days before. His success was more than he could have ever dreamed. He’d cashed in on his sudden wealth at only twenty five years old. But that first walk along the west side of his property changed his life forever.

  Her parents laid face down and bloated in the sands nearby. Dozens of gulls pecked at their bodies. A small wooden boat protruded at an odd angle against the rocky cliff, some of its battered wood scattered across the shoreline. Clothing floated in the waves, moving back and forth along the shoreline as the tide teased the fabric into living forms.

  He’d rushed to the girl first. He didn’t know why. Perhaps, it was because she wasn’t the color of death. Perhaps it was a gut instinct.

  He drove the gull away insanely, gently turned her over and wiped the sand from her face. She opened her hazy aquamarine eyes and stared at him.

  There was something about her eyes. The way the sunlight caught the golden flecks against the watery blue, making them dance. But there was something much, much more behind her eyes.

  For seven long years he’d never forgotten her eyes. She’d gazed deep into his soul that day. He knew she could see everything he’d ever done and every place he’d traveled to. As if he were staring into his own reflection in a mirror of his life. That day, he’d felt some sort of unexplainable connection to the dying girl.

  The longer he stared into those bottomless eyes, the more he could feel her probing into the dusty cobwebs of memories long forgotten. The ocean winds whipped his hair into his eyes at that very moment. The spell was broken.

  He turned and stared at the frightened girl. His belly suddenly wrenched with guilt. She looked like a trapped animal, staring straight through his skin and into his soul. As she’d done the day he turned her over on the shoreline.

  He carried her into the house that miserable day, and called the police.

  Silently on the couch she’d lain in shock, until the officers and child welfare workers arrived. In short order the bodies were removed from the beach. The last he heard, she’d been taken to an orphanage. No one came forward to claim her. No one knew her name. Her parents were never identified. Not a living soul knew from where she’d come.

  Harmon gazed at Bice. “I need your help for awhile. She obviously loathes the ground I walk on. I’ll leave, maybe you can get her to talk. Or better yet, talk some sense into her. She would have died on that island in the storm. We were lucky to get out alive. Not to mention her friend would have died along with her.”

  “Dreams?” The girl moaned.

  Bice and Harmon whirled around and stared in disbelief at the teenager. She could talk, she was not a mute after all. She not only could speak, but was listening carefully to their hushed voices, absorbing their words in sto
ic silence.

  “Now’s your chance.” Bice shoved Harmon toward the girl. “Tell her the truth. Tell her why she’s here.”

  “No. I can’t. I’m not ready.”

  “Do it. She has to know. It will be much easier the sooner you tell her.”

  “Oh hell, not now.” Harmon thought a moment, and carefully took a step toward the bed. He could feel Bice’s eyes searing sizzling heat into his back. Invisible spears of fire were propelling him forward.

  His shirt might burst into flames if he were to suddenly stop. He’d make front page of the morning paper, “Man bursts into flames in his own home, investigators think spontaneous combustion may be a factor.” At least he’d make the paper that way. It’d been awhile since he’d made front page of any paper stateside.

  He shook his head clear, and took another step toward the waiting teenager. He stopped a few feet from the bed, slowly pulling the armchair toward him. Taking great care not to get too close, he eased himself down. Her eyes still burned blue fury at him.

  He slowly inhaled, waiting for all hell to break loose again. Unbelievably, she remained silent. He sighed with relief.

  Finally, he spoke. “Seven years ago, I found you on my beach, you were nearly dead. You know your parents didn’t make it. I called for help, but since no one knew who you were or if you had any relatives, you were sent to an orphanage.”

  He didn’t know how much she understood. He watched her eyes, the glowing aquamarine eyes, the very color of the sea itself, but they would not give up what she might be thinking.

  “I was twenty-five years old when I found you.. Since that day, I could not forget you. Don’t ask me why, maybe it was the look in your eyes. From that day forward I thought about you every day no matter what part of the world I was in. You were stuck in my head. I wanted to do something for you that day, to somehow help you, but it was out of my hands. I was gone up to a year at a time on tour with my band.”

  She remained silent. He watched her carefully study him. At least she seemed to be listening.