Bice had told him in the study Heaven was different, without telling him too much. He used carefully chosen words that day. Heaven was a ticking time bomb for being discovered, and Harmon and Bice knew it all along. They only wanted to protect her.
They knew sooner or later someone might find out the girl’s secret. The two men had gone to great lengths to keep her mystery unsolved. Now, his father lay in a coma all but brainwashed of the ordeal.
There was only one person left who knew too much.
Tommy stared at the physician, feeling his muscles grow rigid and his knuckles go numb as he held the arms of the chair in a death grip.
He would protect Heaven, at any cost.
* * *
Three days later Bice had not stirred.
His muscles were slowly becoming flaccid, his skin sallow and pale. To make matters worse, he was loosing weight. His ribs were more pronounced, his trousers covered skeleton-like legs and his lips were dry and cracked.
Harmon and Heaven sat by him day and night.
Hawk and Bonita came and went, yet Harmon never offered to tell either what truly happened that night. Neither pressed him.
Heaven refused to leave the ailing man’s side. She spoke to him as if he could hear every word. Other times, she’d grasp his hand and clutch it to her teary cheek. She often lay weeping against his chest, listening to the sound of his weakened heartbeat.
Harmon watched silently. He knew if Bice didn’t wake soon, he would never wake. The man would die of dehydration if he didn’t come around. Maybe, he would die anyway. He’d toyed with the idea of putting him in a hospital, but Heaven insisted to let him be.
He knew she was right. If he took Bice to the hospital, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. He couldn’t even begin to sort things out, much less be forced into the position of telling the tragic tale that had unfolded on a night which should have been a fairytale.
They would take her away if he relented. If this were to happen, he’d have no reason to exist.
But he couldn’t let Bice lay there and die. If he were not back with the living by morning, he’d have no choice but to take him to the hospital whether Heaven liked it or not, and suffer the consequences. He sighed, as he slowly drifted into a restless sleep.
The clock above him ticked the hours away silently.
* * *
Tommy glanced at his watch. It was almost time for lunch break. He hadn’t spoken to Heaven since after the Prom Friday night. Hell night.
His very first time to attend the Prom, his first time to even have a date or a girl look at him for that matter, was nothing but searing wreckage in his mind. A burned in memory of a fiery car on the bottom of a desolate canyon. Searching for the body of his father as flames burned in the distance. He shoved his books into his locker, and headed toward the lunch room.
“Hey Tommy, do you want to sit with us?” A popular girl asked.
“No, maybe next time.”
Her friend giggled. “He has eyes only for Heaven.”
He’d tried to call her three days straight. Her cell phone rang endlessly each time,
finally clicking into a recording which said her mailbox was full. He’d left her many endless messages deep into each night.
He blushed as he thought of one message in particular. A message he desperately wished he could somehow reach through the airwaves and pull out of her phone. He’d told her he loved her.
His face turned crimson as he thought of her reaction to hearing that message. He was tired and worried about his father, and hadn’t slept. He couldn’t have possibly meant it. But on the other hand maybe he did, in a friend sort of way.
His father was awake now, mumbling and moaning about a girl with aquamarine eyes. When the nurses asked him to clarify, he shook his head in confusion and blurted out incomprehensible words on various medical subjects, such as how to perform a rhinoplasty.
Tommy smiled as he thought of Ben. He was out of the intensive ward now, and the two had spent an hour each day visiting. Ben would be home soon, and back in school. The two made many plans, and had a lot to look forward to.
And best of all, the strangest thing had happened when Dr. White pressed him for details about Heaven.
The physician oddly fell victim to some sort of breakdown, right in front of him. He’d simply told the man he’d seen his wife with another man the night before, at a very cheap motel, in a very bad part of town. He gave the pale physician a blow-by-blow account of the details, watching as the man grew sickly green and fall in a faint to the floor.
The untold story of Heaven he would never hear. They carted him away, and the last he heard the family was considering putting him in a mental ward.
He glanced at his watch again. If he couldn’t reach her soon, he would drive to the estate after school.
He couldn’t wait a minute longer to see his friend.
* * *
The clock ticked from somewhere in the distance, slowly waking him with its rhythmic beat. He opened his eyes, and gazed about the room. A strange room, but still oddly familiar.
Sunlight filtered through the window, yet he didn’t know if it was a sunrise or a sunset. He didn’t know what day it was, or for that matter, what month it was.
He gazed at his hands. Why, he didn’t know. They were still there, attached to his arms, which were attached to his body. He carefully ran his hands across his chest. He didn’t know why, but it was still there. He heard a snore next to him, and gazed to the side of his bed.
A man with fiery hair lay asleep on a cot near him. He struggled to remember who he might be. He blinked his eyes and studied the stranger, trying to sort out a foggy memory. Ah, it was Harmon. Good old faint over everything, eccentric and odd Harmon Steele.
He gazed beyond the sleeping musician. His eyes fell on a big lumbering fellow asleep on a chair in the corner of the room. An empty donut box rested neatly on his lap. He had graying-blonde hair, and feathers hung from braids which framed his tired face. A rather peculiar fellow he was, with massive arms the width of tree trunks.
He struggled deep inside, trying to put a name with the face. Hawk, that was it. Hawk, the donut-loving bodyguard who fit right in with their odd family.
His stare fell to the opposite side of his bed. He blinked in surprise. An angel slept near him on a big chair, pillows and blankets were neatly tucked around her. Her porcelain skin reminded him of his mother’s peach cobbler, back in…back in…Philly, yes that was it, Philly. Beautiful honey-blonde curls hung beyond her shoulders and framed her perfect doll-like face.
He shook his head in confusion, and squinted at the mysterious girl. He struggled inside, fighting to bring back a memory of whom she could possibly be. He’d never before seen this angelic girl in his life. Frustrated, he sat up to get a closer look, hoping to remember something about her.
He could recall nothing.
He sighed in despair, confused and saddened he couldn’t remember who she could be. He lay back on the pillow, tears of sorrow slowly filling his dark eyes.
Minutes later he determinedly wiped them away. He struggled to the edge of the bed and stared once again at the unknown angel. Quietly, he picked up the largest book he could grasp. It nearly fell from his hands, but he slowly managed to pull it onto the bed next to him.
He heaved himself up, panting in exhaustion. Finally, he caught his breath and launched the book into the air, watching in glee as it spun madly about and crashed to earth.
“What in the world?” Heaven leapt from the chair, taking with her a tangle of blankets and pillows. She rubbed the knot on her head, and glared at Bice.
Bice smiled at her sweetly, and fluttered his dark lashes. He pointed to the bookshelf behind the chair, and grinned. “It must’ve fallen.”
She whirled around and stared at the empty wall. “There is no bookcase there, Bice.” She turned back to him. “Bice?”
He smiled at the girl. “Heaven!”
“Oh, Bice!” She
rushed to him and leapt into his outstretched arms.
“My dear, dear girl.” He whispered as he held her close. “Thank you, Heaven. Thank you.”
Epilogue
After he regained his strength, Bice was overcome with the sudden urge to study hurricanes. He bought book after book, relentlessly pouring over them late into each night. Once in awhile if the notion struck him, he’d toss one at Heaven and point to an invisible bookcase behind her.
Harmon fretted for weeks over the loss of his prized Ferrari. Finally, with Bice and Hawk at his side for support, he managed to somberly enter his garage. He eventually picked out another, in a different color. But it just wasn’t the same as the shiny red one.
Hawk continued to work for the odd family, and on occasion if he talked sweetly to Bonita, she’d fry him up a batch of tasty donuts. He never asked what happened that awful night. Because deep down he knew, and besides, he didn’t talk much anyway.
Tommy and Heaven remained the best of friends. She told him his father tossed her cell phone into the darkness that dreadful night. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe one day he would tell her he loved her. But for now, he was happy to be her best friend.
Harmon gave him back the Lamborghini. Now, girls were falling at his feet like gumballs each time he turned the key. But he was always on his way to a certain secluded mansion on a hill to visit a very odd family, and to see a very special girl. A lovely girl with aquamarine eyes.
He turned the key and smiled, as the racecar’s engine roared to life...
* * *
About the Author
Shelley Madden is an award-winning author who resides on her small farm in Wise County, Texas, along with her ponies, poultry, dogs and cats. She enjoys writing, fishing, shooting her pink guns and falling off her horse, Diamond.
She writes a weekly column for an entertainment magazine, is a guest columnist for a local paper and is a frequent contributor to Heartwarmers and Petwarmers.
Her short stories have been published on numerous websites world-wide, and broadcast on radio.
She aspires one day to learn how to change the light bulb in her gun cabinet.
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