The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes
Page 5
Heaven smiled sweetly at the wriggling behemoth. “Now, go pick on someone your own size” She gazed at the two men still standing. They were nothing to her but pawns in a game of chess. “Who’s next?”
Harmon stood on the windy hillside, gaping at the demon-teenager in disbelief. But, he also had a card to play. It wasn’t so long ago he was her age. He glared at her.
“That’s it, I’m calling the orphanage to come get you.” He turned away, and began making his way up the embankment.
“No.” She cried. “No, please don’t!”
Harmon turned back to face her. Sand sprayed around him as the ragged winds threatened to rip him from the hill. “Too late. Pack your things.”
She rushed after him and caught his arm. “Please, give me another chance. Please, I beg of you.”
He stared at her. Her sea-blue eyes brimmed with tears. The eyes that had mesmerized him so long ago. The same eyes he’d never forgotten.
“I’ll bring the car around!” Bice called from the surf eagerly. “Hawk and I will pack her things.”
Harmon glared at him. “Hold on a minute.”
He knew he was in over his head, but he had not expected this. He’d hoped to give her a fairy-tale ending, with out sorting out the reality first. He wondered where she would be if he’d not turned her over on the beach that day. Certainly dead.
Now, there were strange things going on in her room. Things beyond explanation. He had brought a bull into his house of china.
He gazed beyond Heaven, and watched as Bice struggled to pull Hawk from the angry surf. Wave after wave crashed into them, slowly propelling them forward on their faces until they were nearly to the sands. He glared at the girl.
“Apologize to Hawk, and we’ll talk about it later. Meet me in my study in an hour. Don’t be late.” He left her standing in her misery, and stomped toward Hawk and Bice. Together, the men helped the bodyguard out of the pounding surf.
“I’m sorry, Hawk.” She shouted into the winds, as the men headed up the rocky hill. “I’m sorry!”
But her words fell on deaf ears. Neither of the men acknowledged her apology. She watched as they slowly disappeared over the ridge. She fell to the sand, and wept.
Her teardrops spilled onto the same beach she’d been found on years ago. The memories of that last day, lying there alone and helpless and waiting to die. She had no reason to go on without her parents.
She’d fought many years hoping to bring back their memories, to recall the simplest family outing when she was as a child. Her mind always remained a foggy blank, as if trying to see through a frosted pane.
There was something strange about her beginnings. Any normal person would be able to recall at least part of their childhood. But she could remember nothing.
She wondered if they were even her parents. Maybe she’d been kidnapped from a far away exotic country. This would explain why there were no siblings on the boat, nor relatives. Maybe. She sighed in resignation and gazed at the large house looming on the hill.
Harmon had demanded she be in his study in an hour. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how long an hour was. She could barely recall the names of the various objects as they showed her around the grounds.
All she knew was day and night, watching the sun rise and set on the island. She and Dreams had no concept of time. It was pure bliss, there was no need to worry about the minutes ticking away. She laid her head on the sand and closed her eyes.
She woke with a start, wiped the sand from her hands and studied her palm. Only last night it was scorched, according to Bice. Which was the second time her hand suddenly became burned with no logical explanation. She was truly frightened.
She knew that whatever lay before her, she must face. She’d taken care of herself for five long years back on the island. At least that’s what Harmon had said. She really didn’t know how long she’d been on the island. She’d find out how she fixed the beautiful window, one way or another. Her own questions had gone unanswered much too long.
Harmon said he’d never take her back to the orphanage only yesterday. Now today, she had messed up and he told her to pack her things. She thought a moment longer. She didn’t really have anything to pack. The strange man didn’t seem to make much sense telling her to get her things.
She knew one thing. She’d leave this place before they sent her back to the orphanage. Harmon was the only reason she was here to begin with. She wouldn’t let him hold the threat over her head.
She stood up, dusted the gritty sand from her clothes and wiped her face on her shirt. She would show him a thing or two. He didn’t own her. It was his idea to bring her here, not hers. She would never, ever let him dictate where she would live. It wasn’t his business anyway.
She slowly made her way up the steep hill, toward the gloomy mansion in the distance.
* * *
Bice pulled the study curtain back a bit farther, and squinted down the hill for what must have been the twentieth time. “She’s coming up the hill now.”
Harmon sat his glass down and strode toward the window. He could see her slowly making her way up the rocky ledge. He gazed at his glittering watch. “She’s late. It’s been an hour and ten minutes. I gave her an hour.”
“Do you want me to pack her things? I’ll go find a suitcase.”
“Don’t rush me. I’ll handle this.”
Bice glared at his employer. “Last night you were begging me to help with her. Now, you tell me to butt out? You musicians are all the same, crazy.”
Harmon moved back to his desk, grabbed his glass and finished the drink. “Hang around in case I need you. You’ll be the first to know what I decide.” He slammed the glass onto the desk, spewing the remnant of the ice across his newly-written lyrics. He muttered under his breath, and wiped the cubes into the floor.
“The girl is nuts.” Bice added. “She doesn’t belong here. You can’t put your career on hold because of an unwanted freak you happened to find.”
A movement beyond Bice caught Harmon’s eye. His mouth fell open, as his heart slithered down his legs and onto the rich burgundy carpeting. He watched his life giving organ beat on the floor near his feet. Maybe he could grab it quickly and shove it back into his chest before anyone noticed.
Heaven was standing in the doorway, ghastly pale and had quite obviously heard everything the two men had said. Tears once again fell from her eyes. She was covered in sand, and her shirt was wet. Her beautiful blonde hair hung limp and dirty from her tryst on the beach.
Bice whirled around and gasped. “Heaven, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
She stood in the doorway and stared at the men who hated her so much. She realized with clarity it was time to go. Maybe one day, she’d find someone who cared about her. First, she’d find Dreams. They would find another island away from this place, away from these men who had done nothing but call her a freak and threaten to send her away.
She raced from the study and staggered out the front door.
* * *
Chapter Five
Bice raced out the door behind her, and gave chase across the enormous lawn.
But she was as fleet as a deer, and easily outran him. His breath soon came in ragged gasps, as his legs grew weak. “Heaven, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” He called after her.
Harmon soon joined the chase, easily catching Bice in only moments. He’d been an athlete since high school, already used to running and leaping across stage after stage. This had kept him in shape for the many fine women who once adored him. He powered past the tiring man, sneered at him and quickly caught up to Heaven.
He lurched forward and grabbed her arm, bringing her to a sudden stop. Her momentum propelled her forward, and pulled him after her. She lost her balance, and stumbled to the ground.
Harmon sat beside her. “Heaven, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, how sorry we both are. Try to understand Bice was only speaking out of frustration, after seeing you act that way on the bea
ch.”
“I hate him.”
“No you don’t. And, stop with the waterworks.”
“I do hate him so, and I’ll cry if I want to.”
“No, that’s not true.”
“What’s not true?” she asked. “I can’t cry?”
“I don’t know, I already forgot.” He laughed. “Now, let’s go have that talk. Afterward, you can sit by the pool and go for a swim. Let’s forget this day and look forward to a new tomorrow for you.”
“A new tomorrow?”
“We’ll talk in the study. Come on, let’s go.”
He took her hand and lifted her to her feet. He certainly wasn’t used to a female loathing him. Any female. He knew she would need time, time which he had plenty of. He’d spent too many years searching for her. He wasn’t about to give up on her so soon.
Bice followed them silently into the study and watched as Harmon showed her a chair opposite his desk. “I’m sorry Heaven. I lost my temper when you hurt Hawk. He’s a good man and didn’t deserve that.”
She gazed deep into his eyes. She could tell he meant what he said. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have done that to him.”
Harmon smiled. “We’re your new family for now. I know we can never replace your real family, but at least give us a chance to be friends. I won’t bribe you, but if you learn to act like a lady, I’ll ask Bice to call and make arrangements for Dreams to visit. You’ll have to earn it though.”
She didn’t reply. She only stared at him sullenly.
“Bice, please take over from here, I’ve got to get these lyrics finished up.” Harmon waved the soggy papers through the air in a feeble attempt to hasten their drying process. The ink was running into black stains, his words were quickly disappearing before his eyes.
“That’s it?” Bice replied. “You’re going to handle what she did to Hawk by bringing her friend back here? “
“She apologized.” He rummaged around in his desk drawer, found his pen and began carefully tracing over the smudged letters.
Bice glared at his distracted employer. He hadn’t come all the way from Philly to raise a teenager. Obviously, Harmon was pre-occupied. He’d take the girl upstairs and deal with the musician later. “Come on, Heaven. I’ll have Bonita help you get cleaned up.”
He stomped out the door.
* * *
Harmon watched the study door close.
He gazed once more at his smudged lyrics and read them again. No matter how he tried, he didn’t understand a single word he’d written. His mind was no longer one with the music. It was walking upstairs with the Heaven.
He sighed, and stared at the phone. This wasn’t what he’d planned. He suddenly found himself swept back to his childhood. His youth hadn’t been all that great, yet it hadn’t been all that bad either. It was a typical adolescence, almost the white picket-fence type. At first.
He had a sister seven years younger. He shuddered, as he thought of the horrible last day of her young life. They were close and as years passed, he’d found himself in the role of her protector.
His dad was a roughneck in an oilfield, his mother a waitress at a greasy truck stop. Their hours from home were long. His dad was often gone for days at a time. The occasional calls from him became less and less frequent, until they eventually dwindled into nothing. One day his father didn’t come home at all. No one was surprised.
His mother picked up the financial slack by working more hours at the diner. She arrived home well after midnight after working double shifts. Many nights, she was too tired to change into a nightgown.
He’d find her asleep on the couch in the mornings, still in her uniform, as he dressed for school. She awoke to the clattering of dishes, hearing him prepare his sister’s breakfast. She grimaced at the clock, throw on a clean uniform and rush out the door once again. Another day in a endless year spent trying to make ends meet.
Until that day. The day life as he knew it came to an abrupt halt. The day time stood still. It skidded to a sickening stop one day after school. As the car skidded out of control the same moment the children leapt down the steps of the school bus, and straight into hell.
The guilt he endured was insurmountable. The wailing of his mother when she rushed home after she received the call which would forever change her life. The unending parade of neighbors and of friends. Visits by local clergy, even though the family never attended church.
The covered dishes in the tiny dining room of every casserole known to mankind. They’d gone from a happy family of four, and in less time than he could remember became a family of two.
Rose stepped off the bus the same moment the drunk driver careened out of control. The screeching car hit the curb, and flipped end over end straight into the bus in a mass of fiery flames.
He’d waited for her that day, as he did each day after school to walk her home. His books fell to the concrete as he screamed silently, frozen to the sidewalk.
Rose would never see her eleventh birthday, nor, would three other children. The wailing of the sirens, the screaming of onlookers could be heard for miles. The same wailing he heard to this day, moments before he dropped into one of his fainting spells. The wailing of the children never left him.
Afterward, guilt came to call. If only he’d walked to the bus door instead of waiting on the sidewalk, he could have pulled her from harm’s way. If only he’d seen the car, and somehow warned the children of their impending doom before it was too late. If only, if only.
His mother soon faded from a bright, bubbly woman into a walking zombie. After the funeral she returned to work at the truck stop, but things were never quite the same.
His sister’s room remained untouched; a living memorial to her lay in wait behind the closed white door. He’d turned to music as a means of escape.
Weeks later, at only eighteen, he auditioned for a band and won the coveted spot of lead singer. Within a year, the band moved to the West Coast. They played at seedy bars for the next two years, living on the streets and begging for food. Until one day they were signed to a recording contract.
His life was on full throttle then as he had never imagined. Groupies in the crowds lusted and fought over him, as his sweat dripped onto the stage. They toured city after city in the states for the next year, and then traveled abroad. That is when they’d made it big, and cashed in on their enormous wealth.
At Bice’s urging, he bought the mansion overlooking the sea. Like clockwork, he began sending his mother an enormous weekly check. She’d never have to work again. Never again would she be at the mercy of truck drivers who couldn’t keep their hands off her ass.
After years of living in a personal hell, she finally began putting pieces of her life back together once the weekly checks arrived. She was happy once more, at least as happy as she could be after loosing a daughter. She quit the diner, and in time ventured back out into the real world.
Then, he’d found the girl on the beach. He let the authorities whisk her away, watching helplessly as he had the day he lost his sister. He was a shadow on the sidelines as they pulled the children from under the overturned vehicle. As he was the day they’d taken Heaven away.
He pulled open the desk drawer and groped in the back corner for the box he kept hidden within. A box he hadn’t opened in years.
He carefully pulled it out as if it were made of the finest glass, and sat it on the desk before him. The black velvet was pilled with age. Holes had long ago opened on the corners, exposing glints of tarnished metal.
He gently lifted the lid and set it aside. His sister’s picture lay on top of the small stack of memories, each photo faded with time.
He picked it up gingerly and gazed lovingly at her. It was her last school picture, taken a few months before she was cruelly ripped away from him.
As he stared at the photo he felt a gasp escape from somewhere deep within, nearly choking him. He coughed and sputtered, spewing even more foam onto his already unsalvageable lyrics.
The same long honey-blonde curls, the same aquamarine eyes stared back at him. The perfect skin, the porcelain perfect china doll face. The same long thick lashes, the same cheekbones women would die for. He was looking at Heaven.
The ringing of the phone near him jolted him back to reality. He glared at it momentarily, and continued to gasp at the yellowed photo.
His sister Rose looked exactly like the girl upstairs who called herself Heaven. The girl with no past was staring at him. No, it was his sister he was looking at.
He gazed at the ceiling in confusion, knowing Heaven was in her suite above the study. Or was she Rose?
The blasted phone continued to ring. He’d throw it out the window, as he’d done a motel room chair once or twice in the past. He’d watch it spin madly out of control and wait for the horrific sound it’d make the moment it hit the concrete below.
He’d make sure the blasted phone would never ring again. He’d have them all ripped out from every room in the mansion and pile them in a heap, light a match to that blasted bridal magazine, drop it into them and watch in glee as they melted and hissed in the burning flames.
He studied the photo intently, gasping for air as a smothering blackness began to press into his thoughts. The phone continued to ring. Finally, he yanked the receiver from it.
“Hello?” He could only hear the faded hiss of air above the dial tone.
Too late, he realized the phone had tricked him. It was merely a decoy to distract him from the true meaning of the incessant, blasted ringing. He slammed the receiver down. Before it was too late, he tore it from the desk, held it high above his head and threw it across the study.
It spun wildly through the air, reminding him of the chairs from motel rooms in years past. It hit the opposite wall and exploded. Naturally, and as luck would have it, the phone was kind enough to take out his one of a kind Tiffany lamp.
It crashed to the floor and burst into a million colorful fragments. The sunlight cast rays into the shards as millions of colorful prisms floated across the walls.