The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes

by Shelley Madden

  She smiled at the thought of a warm bath. Dreams was probably in her suite across from hers, enjoying one herself by now.

  She sat down on the edge of the tub, and stared at the faucets. She turned them on one at a time, carefully testing the water with her finger. She whirled the cap off a lovely smelling concoction of fragrant liquid which sat nearby.

  She studied the bottle a moment, unable to recall how much the nun at the orphanage had poured into her tub years before. Slowly, she poured a little into the churning water. The pink liquid mixed with the running water, and quickly dispersed. She waited patiently, only to grow confused. Not many bubbles appeared.

  She swirled her hand in circles in the water, hoping to stir up more bubbles. It was useless. She sat the jug down, and slowly slid into the warm water. Suddenly, she lost her balance on the slick surface, and grabbed the edge of the tub in an effort not to slide underwater.

  Her elbow hit the bottle of sweet-smelling liquid. It fell into the tub, throwing a burst of pink froth across the wall. The scented liquid dripped into the water along with the now empty jug. She sighed in exasperation. She’d never been much good learning to balance on a jutting branch while she and Dreams climbed the island trees. Grace was definitely not her forté.

  Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and inhaled the lovely aroma rising from the frothing bubbles.

  She tried to pull her nightdress over her head, but soon realized it was hopeless, as her wrist was still slightly sore from her fall. She wriggled and twisted, but it was no use. She decided it probably wouldn’t hurt to have her gown washed while she bathed. After all, this is exactly what she and Dreams had done on the island.

  She gazed at the rolling water and inhaled the lovely perfume which now permeated the air. The bubbles were looking very nice, as they slowly rose above the sides of the tub.

  She carefully eased back into the luxurious scented water, and thought of Tommy.

  * * *

  Harmon stared at the silver screen in the theater on the lower level of the mansion.

  The movie was a much needed break he needed. He’d considered inviting a few friends over, but changed his mind, choosing instead to watch the movie with Bice and Hawk.

  The sun had set long ago, leaving behind a city bathed in blazing neon. It was time to relax and forget, at least for now, about the strange occurrences which seemed to follow him from room to room.

  A movement from the darkened doorway caught his attention. Bonita was quietly gliding down the darkened ramp toward him. She was probably bringing their drinks, or more donuts for Hawk.

  She handed him his drink. “Mr. Steele, two gentlemen are here to see you.”

  He groaned. “Can’t it wait? We just sat down.”

  “It’s Tommy and his father, Mr. Steele.”

  “All right, see them to the study. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He watched as she soundlessly floated up the ramp and out the door. Tommy and his father were probably dropping by to thank him for the car.

  He nudged Bice. “Do you mind coming with me? We have company.”

  “Sure.” Bice grabbed his soda, and silently followed the musician out of the theatre.

  * * *

  Tommy stared in amazement at the shimmering gold records which lined the walls of the incredible study.

  Each sat within a sealed glass frame. A tiny light hung above, beaming across the gilded metal discs. They bore the name of a song, or an album of Harmon’s. He was surprised to see so many, not realizing Harmon had sold many records stateside.

  Dr. Killmore also moved about, staring in silence at the magnificent carved desk, skimming his fingers across the ivory inlay. He suspected the piece must have been custom made for its wealthy owner. A private jet sat outside near a landing strip. Beyond it, Harmon’s collection of rare cars were tucked pristinely into a fifteen bay garage. The musician’s mansion made his upper-class estate look like a cracker box. This kind of wealth was beyond his imagination, and he was a multi-millionaire.

  The physician smiled as Harmon entered the study. But the moment the singer met his gaze, his face suddenly flushed a morbid white. He looked very nervous. Apparently, the man was overdue for a check-up.

  “Forgive me for coming unannounced.” Dr. Killmore smiled. “I hear you’ve already met my son through Heaven. It’s a small world, indeed.”

  “Yes, we met.” Harmon stammered. “Is this about Heaven’s X-rays?”

  “No.” Dr. Killmore replied. “It’s about the three-hundred thousand dollar racecar you have gifted my son.”

  Harmon took a seat at his desk, his eyes never leaving the impeccable physician. The man had asked too many questions when he’d reviewed Heaven’s hospital records. He glanced at the doorway, hoping she wouldn’t make a sudden appearance in the study.

  The physician continued. “Tommy can not accept the car. It’s sitting in your driveway now.”

  Harmon leaned forward and nervously wrung his hands. “I’m sorry to hear this. Tommy did a great thing for Heaven, I can’t thank him enough.”

  “He’s a seventeen year old boy. He doesn’t need a racecar.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in eleven months, two weeks…”

  “Tommy!” Dr. Killmore flashed his eyes at the boy, who in turn hung his head.

  Harmon smiled at the boy. “What would you like, Tommy? Would a Porsche work for you? I don’t think they go quite as fast, though.” His gaze was quickly diverted as a droplet of water suddenly materialized on his hand. He stared at it curiously, and wiped it away.

  “Mr. Steele, you are too kind. He doesn’t need an expensive new car.”

  “He mentioned his car was need of repairs, at least let me pay for them.” Harmon offered. Once again, his attention was diverted back to his hand. Another droplet had mysteriously emerged. He leaned back and studied his desk.

  “That is a great idea, Mr. Steele.” Dr. Killmore replied. “Tommy, how does that sound?”

  “But Dad, think of the chicks I could get. We could get.”

  “Tommy!”

  Yet another droplet splattered across Harmon’s arm. Confused, he wiped his fingers across it and sniffed the liquid carefully. “Bice, are you throwing beer on me?” He glared at his assistant, his crippling gaze falling to the drink the man held.

  Bice studied the eccentric musician. “No, quite impossible. I’m drinking a soda.”

  Dr. Killmore watched the musician carefully. Apparently, the celebrity needed a mental health assessment as well. After his odd behavior at the hospital, and his compulsiveness in purchasing Tommy a racing machine, he must surely be teetering on the edge of schizophrenia, with a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder mixed in.

  Harmon ignored the physician’s curious stare. Almost afraid, his gaze slowly traveled to the ceiling, in hopes of discovering the source of the dripping water.

  Dr. Killmore followed his gaze, and gasped in horror. Centered above the magnificent desk, an enormous pool of water hung in limbo. It seemed to be suspended in time, caught between the upper floor and the ceiling tiles. The ceiling groaned in protest.

  He watched as more water droplets slowly rained across the singer’s desk, splattering across the woodwork and ivory. Reflected within each, shimmered tiny faces of Harmon Steele, frozen in horror.

  “For the love of God, something is wrong in Heaven’s room!” Harmon cried. “Everyone, get out of here!”

  Bice was unable to pull his gaze from the ceiling. He staggered backward out of the study, as the future tidal wave threatened to buckle. Finally, he broke free from his frozen stance and raced after Harmon.

  Tommy and his father stared at the ceiling together, unable to speak. In unison, they leapt from the study and gave chase to the men. A resounding crash was heard the moment they approached the staircase. It echoed throughout the enormous mansion.

  The ceiling had finally given in. The tidal wave had won the battle, and was now racing out the study door toward them.r />
  * * *

  Harmon tried to open Heaven’s door. “It’s locked! Where’s the master key?”

  “In my room.” Bice replied. “Where’s yours?”

  Harmon shoved his hands into his pockets, and pulled out several key rings. Several more dropped to the floor. “Let’s see. The yacht key, the plane key, and the Jaguar key. Forget it, kick the door in!”

  “Will it come out of my paycheck?”

  “No!” Harmon’s eyes were slowly beginning to protrude beyond his brow.

  Bice raced across the hall and ran at the door, plunging into it shoulder first. The impact sent him reeling backwards in indescribable pain. He hit the opposite wall, fell and rolled across the hallway. He glanced at the door. It hadn’t budged.

  “Never mind.” Harmon cried. “It’s this key.” He shoved it into the lock, and threw the door open.

  “I’ll strangle you for that!” Bice glared at Harmon, gripping his throbbing shoulder.

  The men plunged into the suite, searching for the Heaven. They looked at each other in confusion and gazed about, sniffing the air. The room reverberated with the thick scent of roses. The teenager was not in her bed, nor was she anywhere to be seen.

  Bice grimaced. “What is that smell?”

  “The bathroom.” Harmon pointed to the closed door. “Hurry, kick the door in!”

  Bice ran at the door as ordered, but this time he thought ahead and plunged into it with his opposite shoulder. The wood creaked and split, but alas, held fast. He groaned in pain. Damned Harmon, and his imported woods.

  “Never mind.” Harmon grimaced at his ailing assistant. “This door doesn’t have a lock on it.” He casually strode over, and easily swung the door open.

  Spittle ran down Bice’s chin, as he seethed through gritted teeth at the musician. “I’ll kill you for this!”

  The men were met with a solid wall of white foam, rising from the floor to the ceiling. The pair stood petrified in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe and unable to fathom what’d happened inside.

  “Heaven?” Harmon cried into the abyss. “Are you in there?”

  Without waiting for a response, Bice shoved Harmon aside and dove into the wall of froth. An ear-splitting crash was heard from within, followed by a string of obscenities. Instantaneously, an avalanche of foam flew out the doorway, covering Harmon in the frothy scented bubbles.

  He sniffed his arm, enjoying the fragrant smell. It reminded him of an English garden he’d stopped to visit while on tour across the pond. “Bice? Did you find her?”

  “Yes, we’re coming. Keep talking, so I can find you.”

  Bice slowly worked his way out of the mess, guiding Heaven by the hand. The pair came out of the bathroom, dripping wet and covered in bubbles.

  “What happened, Heaven?” Harmon demanded. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She’d bathed with her gown on.

  Heaven hung her head in shame. “I couldn’t find the faucets to turn the water off, because the bubbles got so big. I’m sorry, Harmon.”

  Bice glared at the foamy girl. “Did you not think to come to one of us for help?”

  “I managed to get out of the tub, but couldn’t find the door.” She blushed a bright, crimson red.

  Bice wiped the soap from his burning eyes. “How much did you put in the tub?”

  “The whole bottle fell in, and I couldn’t figure out how to turn the faucets off.”

  Dr. Killmore burst into the room, panting with exhaustion. Tommy was on his heels. “Is everything all right in here? We would’ve been here sooner, but we got lost. This place is like the Winchester house!” He gazed at Heaven and Bice, and exploded into a hearty fit of laughter.

  “Hello, Tommy.” Heaven blushed at the handsome teenager. “I didn’t see you, I have soap in my eyes.”

  “Hello, Heaven.” Tommy smiled at the lovely goddess.

  Dr. Killmore gazed at Heaven, carefully studying her wrist. Though he was no orthopedic surgeon, he’d seen her x-rays that very morning. There was no mix-up. A battered boy also came back to life moments before her entourage’s hasty exit from his room.

  “Something very strange is going on around here. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why that girl’s wrist was broken one minute, and suddenly healed the next. Not to mention the dead boy’s room the three of you ran from.” He gazed at Heaven, as if waiting for an explanation.

  “It must’ve been a mix-up.” Bice pursed his lips, hoping to hide any sign of discomfort embedded deep within. “There was probably another patient with a similar wrist injury in the waiting room.”

  The physician stared at the dripping man. He was no damned fool. He hadn’t struggled through medical school for many years to be told by some clown he couldn’t read an x-ray. “That doesn’t explain why a child was risen from the dead.”

  Harmon gave the physician a wintry stare. “Dr. Killmore, we owe you no explanations. Apparently, the hospital pronounced this child dead in error. It does happen.”

  “Not at my hospital. We’d never make such a grave mistake.”

  “Apparently, someone did.” Bice sized up the doctor. “Besides, Heaven was only in his room a few moments. It’s obvious she grew quite bored waiting on us, while you insisted on a lengthily consultation with Harmon and myself, and misdiagnosed her with a broken wrist.”

  “Her wrist was broken, damn it!” The physician was turning bright red, which would rival the Lamborghini Harmon had purchased for Tommy.

  “Dr. Killmore, you’re out of control. I’ll have Hawk show you out.” Harmon moved toward the phone near Heaven’s bedside. He stopped short, suddenly feeling an eerie sensation creep down his spine. The incessant ringing would likely start at any moment. He must fight it. He wouldn’t let himself collapse in front of a roomful of people. It would only show the physician he knew too much.

  “No need.” The physician snorted and shoved his glasses buck up his nose. “I’ll see myself out. Come along, Tommy. These people remind me of the Adam’s family. Very, very strange indeed.” He whirled around and stomped out the door.

  Tommy stood rooted to the floor. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to visit with Heaven, and get to know her. Maybe she’d give him a chance, once she realized he wasn’t as big of a geek as the football team made him out to be.

  “Tommy!” His father roared from downstairs.

  “I’ve got to go.” He raced for the door, but at the last moment he slid to a stop. He turned to steal one last glance at the beautiful girl. He was suddenly afraid he’d never see her again. Something deep inside, something unexplainable was happening, as he watched her gaze beyond him at the doorway.

  A sense of darkness suddenly overwhelmed him. Thick, foreboding shadows seemed to drift from the ceiling, and creep to the floor in an all-consuming onyx fog. He’d seen it before. It was a death fog. The same blackness which had rolled across his mother, after she fell across her easel and lay still.

  Suddenly, Heaven snapped her head toward him. She gazed at him with deep, watery eyes. Eyes which bordered on the edge of heaven itself, but also on the edge of hysteria.

  Eyes which spoke of knowing too much, but eyes which knew nothing. Magic and mystery. Eyes that spoke of life and death and everything in-between.

  It was no wonder she called herself Heaven. Her gaze held the strange magic of a world he’d never seen. It was a good place, wherever it was. It seemed as if she were trying to say something to him. Something only he could hear. Instantly, a feeling of peace drifted over him as he gazed deeper into her starry eyes.

  An innermost sense of calmness and serenity he’d not felt since the tragic loss of his mother overwhelmed him. The faded scent of roses still clung heavily in the bedroom air. The same scent of roses he remembered from her funeral.

  But there was more. A gentle wind seemed to be churning the scent of the flowers throughout the room. The fragrance was steadily growing thicker and heavier. He hung in limbo confused, but in awe. Afraid, but at
peace.

  Having no choice and already anticipating another shout of warning from his father who by now was out the front door, he finally wrenched himself free from the incredible girl’s gaze and raced out the bedroom door.

  “The Adam’s Family?” Harmon grumbled, watching Tommy leap into the hallway.

  Bice thought for a moment, clutching both swollen shoulders with opposite hands. “I think we’re more like the Three Stooges.” He glanced toward Heaven. “But seriously Harmon, we have a big problem now. We need to talk after the movie.”

  “I know.” Harmon sighed as he gazed at Heaven. “God help us, I know.”

  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following morning, Dr. Killmore poured over Heaven’s medical records, inhaling every detail from the girl’s prior visit to the hospital.

  She’d been in an accident on an island not long ago. He checked and re-checked the chart notes. She’d never come back to have the casts removed from her mangled legs. The notes also indicated she needed further surgery, and lengthy physical therapy.

  But she’d simply disappeared, and never returned to the facility for aftercare. Nor, were their any notes stating she’d been transferred to another physician.

  Dr. White was her attending physician during her prior stay, but he’d retired shortly after her hospital visit. He’d check with his former colleague soon. For now, there was extensive research to be completed.

  He studied the x-rays of her wrist again. For the umpteenth time, he compared the two films side by side. Again, the latter x-ray showed a perfect wrist, with no sign of prior trauma. Yesterday, she’d put her hands to the dead boy and somehow breathed life into him once again.

  He walked to the window and pulled the curtains closed, leaving his office bathed in near darkness. He shoved the video from the dead boy’s room into the tape machine, and carefully watched Heaven as she entered.