The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes

by Shelley Madden

  She smiled at him and held the boy close. He wriggled happily, grasping locks of her hair and shoving them into his mouth.

  “The Senorita…the girl…” She spoke in broken English, and shook her head.

  “Go on.”

  “The Senorita, she put her manos on little Niûo’s head.” She whispered, holding the boy tightly. She raised one hand into the air, and placed it upon her child’s head.

  “Her hands? She put her hands on his head?” His eyes threatened to bulge from their very sockets. His heart began to race, pounding as a racehorse crossing the finish line. He hung in eternal anticipation as she carefully spoke each word. If this woman said the words he so badly wanted to hear, his life would be forever changed.

  “Si, Senor.” She thought a moment longer, until a wave of realization finally washed over her delicate face. “Senorita, she is a Santo.”

  “A what?” He clung desperately to each word as she carefully spoke.

  “Santo.” She stammered, trying to choose the correct words. “I believe you call a Saint, Senor.”

  “I see.” His mouth had gone dry. He needed a drink soon, because his tongue was now suddenly adhered to the roof of his mouth. It finally broke free, allowing him to speak as his eyes glazed in thought. “You can take the boy home today.”

  He knew he’d get no further details from her. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to understand them without an interpreter. Besides, he had research to do. He’d read Heaven’s medical records when he was attending to her wrist injury. He would have to re-read them, and search for a clue as to what’d happened in the boy’s room.

  He remembered she’d been in the hospital only a short time before, when her legs were crushed. According to what he’d read and the x-rays he studied, she should not be walking. No person could heal from that traumatic of an injury, much less walk again so soon.

  He suddenly realized why she’d never been brought back to the facility for cast removal, or physical therapy. There was no need. Her guardians seemed incredibly protective of her as well. Right down to when he showed them the X-rays, and they’d dismissed what was clearly in black and white as if it were nothing. He knew they were hiding something.

  He’d get the video tapes from the waiting room she was in, and the tapes from the boy’s room. But, his personal life was pressing him. He knew he must get home to check on Tommy.

  He wasn’t looking forward to telling his son the bad news about his best friend.

  * * *

  Bice gazed at the lovely girl sitting patiently on the bed. She was as fresh and bright as a new spring day. No sign of what had occurred the day before etched her haunting eyes. She’d slept an entire day though.

  “Heaven, Dreams is here for a visit. I’ll bring her in shortly. First, I’d like to apologize for not keeping my word with you and missing our walk. I have no excuse, thus I will offer none.”

  “Dreams is here?” She whispered. “You’re kidding?”

  He watched as a wave of delight crossed her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. He was off the hook.

  “Harmon is speaking with Dreams at the moment. We’ll ask Bonita to fix her a nice lunch. Later, you two can go for a swim in the pool, if you’re up to it.”

  “Thank you, Bice.” She leapt from the bed, and threw her arms around him.

  “In the meantime, you have chores to do. Your arm and leg are healed. I won’t ask any question as to how or why. Somehow, I know better.”

  Heaven hung her head in silence.

  “Harmon has decided he wants you to work around the household, to earn your keep. This fall, you will have a tutor.”

  She said nothing, only nodding her head in agreement.

  “Bonita is waiting for you in the kitchen. Today, you will learn to make a salad and set the table for lunch.”

  “I’ll head right down.” She smiled at him.

  Bice studied her a moment longer. She was obviously unaware of the havoc she’d caused at the hospital the day before. No swelling could be seen in her ankle or arm. Additionally, she didn’t seem bothered by the fact that somehow her body worked at the speed of a jet when it needed to mend a wound.

  He strode out the door, leaving her to dress. It was time to meet Harmon in the study.

  He had a few questions he wanted to ask Dreams himself.

  * * *

  Harmon stood and smiled as Dreams came into the study. He motioned for her to take a seat opposite his desk.

  She seemed a bit nervous, and her face was flushed with anxiety. Her chiseled cheekbones sported bright pink blotches, as if she’d fallen into a cotton-candy vat at the local carnival. The teenager was still wearing the same drab grey dress they’d picked her up in the day before.

  “Don’t be nervous, Dreams.” He smiled. “I’d like to offer my apologies for not getting a chance to visit with you last night. As you know, Heaven turned up missing. After she was located, some rather odd things happened.”

  She gazed at him curiously. “What odd things?”

  Harmon strummed his pen on the desk. He gazed beyond Dreams at the tiffany lamp perched on its throne near the window. There was no way around it. He’d have to be direct with the girl. He was left with no choice, but to find out anything he could to solve the strange occurrences. Too much had happened in too short of a time to write off as a coincidence. The girl upstairs should not even be walking. He rubbed his temple, and studied Dreams once again.

  “Dreams, I really don’t know where to start. Take a look at this.” He pulled a golden coin from the drawer and slid it in her direction.

  He watched her pick the token up and turn it over carefully in her hands. Her face suddenly went pale as recognition swept across her dark eyes. As pale as the freshly laundered sheets he and his sister Rose hung to dry in the summer winds.

  “It’s her.” Dreams moaned. “My God, it’s Heaven.” Her arm suddenly snapped away from the coin, as if it had been molded from the venom of stinging insects. It flipped into the air, and spun in dizzying circles across the desk.

  Harmon slapped the coin, and slid it into the drawer in one swift movement. If Dreams grew any paler, he feared a call to the morgue would be the next item on his agenda.

  “I have no answers for you.” She mumbled. “You might be better off finding her an island to leave on in peace, is my only suggestion.”

  He leaned forward. “What do you mean? Heaven might be in great danger after a certain episode at the hospital yesterday. Please, tell me what you know about her.”

  “What happened at the hospital?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Look, Dreams. She’s your friend, isn’t she? Now, tell me why you want me to take her back to an island. Last time I went to sea, I damned near wound up dead.”

  Dreams sighed in resignation and twisted a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Don’t forget, you’ re the one who insisted we come back to the states. It would’ve been your own fault if that hurricane had taken your ship and crew. We were fine where we were. Especially, Heaven.”

  “The island is gone Dreams. Long gone. It’s been underwater since we pulled you and Heaven from that death trap. Please, tell what you know about her.”

  Dreams rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and sighed. “She would have been better off left for dead, rather than bringing her back to the states. Regardless of the hurricane, she was safe on that island.”

  “I don’t understand.” Harmon admitted. “How could she have been safe there when a damned hurricane wiped it out?”

  Dreams leaned forward and met his gaze. “That island was her only protection from whom she is. I can’t explain why she is the way she is, but there was a reason she chose to leave the orphanage and live where few others would live. She was only trying to protect herself, and you came along and blew it. You’re the reason she’s in grave danger.”

  “Dreams, you must believe me. I had no idea Heaven was like she is unt
il I brought her here. Now, tell me what you’ve seen.” He slammed his hand on the desk and watched the girl jump at the sound.

  She gazed at him intensely, but hesitated. Finally she spoke, clinging to each word for fear once it slipped from her mouth, the skies would open up and swallow her whole. “There was a boy at the orphanage…”

  Harmon fought the sudden urge to vomit as she spoke. The feeling was so strong, he pushed his chair from the desk and bent over the garbage can. He hung in suspended animation for what seemed like days. He was finally going to get some answers about Heaven.

  The problem was, he wasn’t sure if he still wanted to hear what she had to say. He studied the contents of the waste container. Wadded up lyrics and a broken ball point pen gazed back at him. It would be much easier to leap into the steel canister and bury himself beneath the forgotten debris, rather than face the facts about Heaven.

  She’d come from an island to begin with. It was no wonder the authorities were unable to locate any family stateside. She’d escaped from the orphanage in an attempt to protect herself from the scorn of her peers. Not to mention the ridicule she must have endured from the other children.

  Dreams confirmed his worst fear. She too, had seen strange things unfold in Heaven’s presence. And, he’d determinedly hunted Heaven down and brought her right back to the States against her will.

  He’d unknowing taken her from the only possible safety she knew. And, he’d placed her in grave danger. Because now, her secret was out.

  Dreams studied the unusual man. “Mr. Steele, are you all right?”

  He gazed at her. “The hurricane destroyed the entire archipelago. Do you understand? It’s impossible to take her back there. Now, tell me what happened at the orphanage.”

  Minutes passed. She hesitated, and bit her lip. “The boy fell from the slide one day...”

  Harmon leaned forward. “Go on.”

  “When he fell, he cut his head wide open. Blood was everywhere.” She glanced out the window, studying the sea in the distance.

  “Tell me. Tell me everything, Dreams.”

  “Heaven was close by when he fell. She…” Dreams could not continue. She couldn’t believe it herself. But, to have to tell someone was against the very fiber she stood for. She knew she had no choice though. If Heaven were in danger, she’d do what she could to help.

  “Tell me Dreams, I beg of you. I must know.”

  “She ran to the boy, who was screaming in hysterics and covered his head with her hand. She was only applying direct pressure to stop the bleeding, like we were taught in first-aid class. She cried out for the nuns to come quickly. But by the time they arrived…” She choked back a sob.

  Harmon gazed at her. He could say nothing. He already knew what Dreams would say. The gig was up. Curtain call. The show, at last was over. Time for the swan song. Word for word, he already knew. It was pointless conversing any further. But he forced himself to listen.

  “By the time the sisters arrived, she lifted her hand from the wound to show them the injury, but it was gone. I saw it myself, God Almighty, I saw it myself. The wound disappeared.” Dreams was beyond her breaking point. Recalling the event was simply too much to ask. The last of the color drained from her face. She doubled over, and slid from the chair.

  Bice walked in the door at the same moment. He’d heard everything. He lifted Dreams from the floor and gazed at the ashen musician. “I’ll get her to her room. Will you be all right?”

  Harmon gazed at his friend, doubled over and vomited on the dead ball point pen and useless lyrics.

  * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Tommy?” Dr. Killmore called from the doorway. “I’m home!”

  He threw his luggage from the medical convention aside, flipped through the mail and made his way to the living room. He was frustrated. He was half a day late getting home. The sun had long ago set, taking with it another day in his life.

  He turned the TV on, drew the shades and sat down to relax. He groped for the TV guide, finally finding it between the sofa cushions. As he flipped through the pages, he quickly noticing something felt odd. The pages stuck to his fingers, as he struggled to turn them. He flipped on the nearby lamp.

  He stared at his fingers in the amber glow, already knowing what the sticky stain was. The small magazine was covered in blood. He leapt from the sofa as if it had shocked him. Horrified, he gazed at his white leather couch and reeled in sickness. Dried blood covered nearly one side of it, and he had sat in it. He groaned.

  “Tommy!”

  He watched his son raced downstairs, and slide to a screeching halt in the doorway.

  The boy was the color of death itself.

  He glared at the boy. “What happened to my new couch, Tommy? It looks like you skinned a cat on it!”

  “Dad, I can explain.”

  They were interrupted by the jangle of the doorbell. Dr. Killmore glared at Tommy, turned on his heel and stomped to the door. At this rate, he’d never get any rest.

  Tommy watched his dad answer the door, and signed with relief. Hopefully, it was an entire troop of girl scouts with hundreds of brochures to pick thousands of cookies from. Better yet, maybe it was a salesman with zillions of handy-dandy kitchen items to demonstrate.

  “Stay right there young man, you have some explaining to do.” His father called from the doorway.

  The physician opened the door. Standing in the doorway was the most impeccably dressed chauffer he’d ever set eyes on. His dark uniform was neatly pressed, its long sleeves capped with white cuffs and followed by white satin gloves. His ensemble was finished off with a matching hat, trimmed in gold braid.

  “For Monsieur Tommy.” The chauffer swept into a low bow, and dropped a set of keys into the physician’s hand. He touched his hat, and marched back to the waiting Limo parked at the curb.

  The doctor stepped onto the porch, and watched the long car slowly roll away. He gazed at the keys in his hands, complete with a leather keychain emblazoned with the letter ‘L’.

  Something glinted under the streetlights in the driveway. He turned slowly to look, almost afraid of what he might see.

  He gasped in astonishment. A pristine candy-apple red Lamborghini Murcie’lago sat in his driveway. He was already very familiar with the model of the car. Several physicians at the hospital owned one. It was a popular car for the ultra-wealthy.

  “Tommy!”

  The keys fell from his hand and dropped to the cold stone. He’d had more than enough for one day. He’d been choked, his new couch was covered in blood, a dead child had been risen, Ben’s face was shattered beyond recognition and now this. Perhaps he should’ve flown up to Saratoga and played the ponies, postponing coming home for a day. His luck might have been better if he’d stayed in New York.

  He could only stare numbly at the gleaming red car, as Tommy ran up behind him. He could hear the boy panting over his shoulder.

  “Gee dad, did you buy a new car?” Tommy wheezed.

  Ignoring him, the physician stomped to the drivers side and peered in. An envelope was neatly placed on the seat. He pulled it out, and quickly scanned the card inside. He could feel Tommy’s hot breath on his shoulder.

  He read it out loud, “Tommy, my sincere thanks to you for helping Heaven last light. Sincerely, H. Steele.”

  Dr. Killmore took his son by the arm and led him back into the house. “Tommy, would you care to explain to me what happened last night?”

  Tommy craned his neck behind him, stealing one more glimpse of the dream car in the driveway. The chicks he could get with that car would be non-stop, like a broken gumball machine, scattering at his feet when he turned the key.

  “Tommy!”

  The boy quickly snapped back to reality, realizing he had quite a story to tell.

  * * *

  Dr. Killmore sat at the kitchen table, trying to absorb the story his son told him.

  He was proud, despite the boy’s poor judgment of leaving his ve
hicle to plunge into the woods. Yet, he’d done the right thing advising the musician where Heaven was. He swelled with pride, knowing the boy was also thinking of his own future.

  His wife, the boy’s mother, had died tragically only three years before. Since then, it was only the two of them, when he wasn’t out of town at medical conventions. Tommy would make his mother proud. She’d instilled in him family values, as well as high standards for honesty. He gazed at his son, seeing his greatly missed wife in the boy’s eyes.

  “What about the car? Can I keep it Dad? Can I? Can I?”

  “Son, that is a three-hundred thousand dollar racecar. Mr. Steele has no business sending that expensive toy over for helping Heaven.”

  “But Dad…”

  “I had the bad luck to meet her this morning.” He inadvertently rubbed his throat, recalling how close to death he might have actually come.

  “Bad luck, Dad?”

  “She tried to strangle me at the hospital with my own tie, while I examined her.”

  “Aw, Dad. She was only upset over what happened last night. Plus, she was hurt.”

  Dr. Killmore gazed at his son, and sighed. “Tommy, there was an accident last night and Ben is in the hospital.”

  Tommy leapt from the table and rushed to his father’s side. “Ben? Take me there, please!”

  “You won’t be able to see him for awhile, son. I will take you as soon as he’s out of intensive care. Meanwhile, you and I are going to pay Mr. Steele a visit.”

  * * *

  Heaven sat on her bed, gazing about her newly cleaned room.

  She wanted to make things right between Harmon and herself. He’d given her chance after chance since she’d come here to live. He’d shown incredible patience toward her, and he’d even brought her friend to visit. She was determined not to let him down again.

  She was proud, and best of all, she felt good for the first time in very long time. Her suite looked wonderful, which made her feel even better. She’d neatly stacked her fashion magazine at her bedside, and had even made her bed.

  She’d helped Bonita in the kitchen earlier. Afterward, she and Dreams had enjoyed a wonderful lunch, and caught up on everything. Later, they swam in Harmon’s seaside pool which overlooked, as Harmon called it, the City of Angels. She was absolutely thrilled her friend had come for a visit. But the shadows had grown long much too soon, and she’d become weary.