Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (10 page)

   With rows of beauty products to her left and the linen closet behind her, Julianna glances across the room. There are six sinks placed within a row. Each black marble sink has its own golden motion-sensor faucet attached above it. The white countertop connecting the sinks into one continuous string has a plethora of blue and black swirls within its surface. And the wall of lighted mirrors behind the sinks, seem to make a very big room look and feel even larger.

   To the left of the barrage of sinks, Julianna sees a dark entryway. She walks towards the room to find the light switch placed inside. As she approaches, however, the mysterious room comes alive with light. The startled girl barely stifles backs a scream with the towel in her hands. Her footsteps slow.

   “H-hello?”, she speaks while approaching the soft blue glow emanating from the room,

   “Is someone there?”

   Julianna's heart races as she peers inside. Her eyes quickly glance around in order to catch a view of the intruder. But no one is there. She exhales.

   The teen steps through the threshold of the entryway. To her amazement, an indoor swimming pool stretches across the concrete floor. To its right, sits the spa her grams mentioned earlier.

   “No freakin' way,” Julianna blurts out before her grin.

   The girl spots a wooden door located next to the spa.

   “There you are,” Julianna is relieved to find the toilet. She rounds the eight-lane pool and pulls open the door. Her left brow lifts slightly.

   “Nope,” she says while shutting the door to the sweat box. Placing both hands on her hips, Julianna looks around the room.

  
I thought grams said it was in the washroom area?

   The frustrated teen leaves the pool room. She doesn't give any attention to the room's automatic plummet back into the darkness. The girl drops off the face cloth and towel on the suspended bench as she heads into the hallway. She looks left towards the center room and shakes her head. Julianna turns right and heads down the hall.

   “Aha!”, she declares while stopping at the only other doorway found in the long hallway. She pushes on the set of double-doors to the right and walks in.

   “Of course it does,” Julianna comments on the six stalls to her right and the six sinks to her left. She chooses the nearest stall and sighs in relief while the pressure finds its much needed release. She takes a mental note:

  
Pee-room. Check.

   “No, my granddaughter will
not
be attending any public school,” Martha informs, “I appreciate you calling Mr. Stuart, but Julia has just been through too much to have to deal with a school change on top of it.”

  Martha shakes her head with the phone snugly against her right ear. The red-hair beauty rolls her eyes at her staring husband.

   Frank grins. He knows Mr. Stuart has bit off more than he can possibly swallow. No one changes Martha's mind when it is set. Not even himself. And he ought to know. He's tried walking that road called Martha's will – a road which Mr. Stuart has just staggered upon like some poor drunk.

   “Yes, Mr. Stuart. I am very well aware of the law,” Martha recites back, “But the law, also, states that I have the right to home school her.  And you better believe I plan on doing it.”

   “No, I am not,” Martha answers another objection from Mr. Stuart, “But how hard could it possibly be?”

   “I know there's only two weeks left. Don't you worry yourself, Mr. Stuart. I'll figure something out before then,” the woman explains.

   Martha turns to place the cordless receiver down, “You, too, Mr. Stuart. Thank you for calling.”

   
Click.

   The woman turns and faces Frank. Her stare narrows, “What are you smiling at old man?”

   Frank laughs.

   “Well, I am not laughing at the woman who just took out an innocent high school principal,” the woman's husband of thirty-five years divulges, “That's for sure.”

   The sixty-two-year-old gets up from his Lazy-boy styled couch where he was about to take a nap. The man walks around the glass covered oak wood coffee table and holds out both arms to welcome his frustrated wife.

   Martha's lips form a pout as she walks into her husband's awaiting embrace.

   “I think it was the other way around,” her words convey a mild defeat.

   “What did he say?”, Frank questions while gently wrapping his arms around Martha.

   “I must have a legal certification as a parent-teacher,” the woman explains, “And I've got to get it done within two weeks. Before the school year starts. If not, I'll have to enroll her.”

   Martha pleads to her husband with her blue eyes, “Frank, she's just been through too much already.”

   Frank kisses his wife upon her forehead. Looking into her eyes, the tall man speaks assuredly, “Let me make some phone calls. Judge Reignburg owes me a few favors. And he's on the school board if I'm not mistaken.”

   Martha nods. She leans in and softly kisses her husband's lips.

   “What would I ever do without you?”, the woman asks.

   “That goes both ways, my love,” Frank responds. He smiles as he releases the hug around Martha, “Let me see what I can do.”

   Frank walks towards the phone, “How's she doing?”

   Martha sits on one of the recliners attached to the sofa. She gives him an update of the past twenty-four hours within a few short words,

   “She's strong and doing really well all things considered. I just don't want to keep throwing straw on the camel.”

   Frank nods while dialing the judge's cell phone number. He turns and grins at his lovely wife. She has leaned back with her eyes closed.

  
Ring. Ring. Ring.

   “Judge Reinburg speaking,” a man's voice answers.

   “I may still be an old man, but even I know your phone has my name on it, Donnie,” Frank playfully criticizes.

   The sixty-three-year-old judge laughs.

   “Hello, Frank. What can I do you for?”

   “Donnie, I need a favor,” Frank begins explaining, “Martha has run into a little problem with some kind of parent-teacher certification junk. Would you know anything about this sort of thing?”

   “I do,” Donnie answers, “But I'm guessing by the favor request that's not what you're asking me.”

   Frank remains silent.

   “I see,” the judge speaks. He inquires further, “I take it Martha's decided to spare Julianna the aggravations of adapting to a new school so soon?”

   “Yep. That about sums it up,” Frank reveals.

   “So, what
exactly
do you need from me Frank?”, the judge corners his dear friend, “This isn't really an area of my influence.”

   “We need to get her certified within two weeks,” Frank answers.

   “Two weeks. Geezus, Frank. You want me to walk on water, too?”, the judge mocks.

   Frank runs his fingers through his silver-streaking hair. He turns away from his wife and lowers his voice, “Listen Donnie. The kid's been through a lot. Martha's just trying to lessen her load.”

   The judge sighs. “Some people owe me,” he explains, “I can set up a time for her to come in and test. And this is pushing it, Frank. Under normal circumstances, she'd have to have training hours in. Or take her test at a state certified facility. One or the other. Most of the time, both.”

   “What do we need to do, Donnie?”, Frank wants it all in black and white.

   “If you think she can pass the test,” Judge Reinburg answers, “I can do that much. It's the best I can do. I'm overstepping the boundaries as it is. There are deadlines for these things. And the deadline's already up.”

   “You make it sound like I just asked you to overturn a murder conviction, Donnie,” Frank kindly scolds his friend, “She's no novice.”

   “I know she schooled your daughter,” the judge counters, “And a fine job of it, she did. But that has nothing to do with rules and deadlines. You know that.”

   “I do,” Frank admits. He pauses for a moment before continuing, “She'll be ready.”

   “Sounds good,” Judge Reinburg responds, “I'll get everything set up on my end.”

   “That'll work. Thanks Donnie.”

   “I owe you more than I care to keep track of, old friend,” the judge responds, “And you have never asked me for anything. It's the least I can do.”

   “You want a ring and a marriage proposal?”, Frank questions.

   “Ha-ha,” the judge laughs, “How about we settle on some fishing instead?”

   “You bet. Same place as always. I'll see you there, Donnie,” Frank replies. Hanging up the phone, the man turns and sees his wife walking towards him.

   “Think you can pass a test?”, Frank questions.

   Martha smiles, “You know I can.”

   “I not be needin' to see into da bag from da Lady Crazy tonight,” Julianna mocks.

   She sits the gift bag onto the desk next to her freshly poured glass of chocolate milk. The girl opens her bag of nacho cheese Doritos and plops a chip into her mouth. Sitting down at her desk, Julianna uses her key to unlock her mom's diary. She shifts in her seat to get more comfortable. Julia shakes her head. The teen grabs up the diary, chips, and her glass of oh-so-good chocolate milk. She gets up and walks over to her bed.

   Choosing the nightstand to the right side of the bed, Julianna sits everything on it. She pulls back the thick comforter. It is embroidered with the same star and circle scene she seen in the upstairs carpet. She crawls into her bed, fluffs the two feather pillows, and places them against the headboard. Sitting her back to them, Julianna maneuvers her legs under the comforter and pulls it up to her waistline. She reaches over and picks up her mother's diary. She plops another chip into her mouth before opening the book.

  
July 24, 1989

   Dear Diary,                                                  

    I have discovered why mom only allowed me to look at the white tag books in the library. They are basically a general knowledge set. And I am proud to write that I have figured out what the other colors are for. Well, I think I have.

      I believe the tags have something to do with the doors down the hallway. That's the good news. The bad news is that I have no idea what to do. Mom gave me her diary in the white room. I have already read some of the white books. Better to read than to clean. I'm starting to think she knew I'd choose to read over cleaning. “Well, Theresa. You can help clean the library, or you can read a book,” she'd say. And it just so happens that every single one of them had a white tag.

      I guess I'll start reading the rest. There are so many of them. Maybe, I've slept over a  few of them. But what mom doesn't know won't hurt her.

                                                                                           Sincerely,

                                                                                              Theresa

  
August 24, 1989

   Dear Diary,                                          

   Man I'm good. I am knocking three books out every week. I have figured something else out that I never noticed as a child. The white tags are not the same. None of the colors are.

      Each color has different shades to it. The very last book of each color matches the shade of the door exactly. None of the other shades are an exact match. And the next color tag to read is a tiny perfect mix of the current color and the last tag which matches its door. White and dark-yellow leaves light-yellow. My next tag color.

      The last book of the white tags I am reading now. The book tells about colors and their relevance to the world. It explains about moods, environment, personalities, and all kinds of neat stuff. Color shading is the chapter which put it all together for me.

      Sorry, I haven't written in a while. As you can see I've been really busy. Mom has told me it is mandatory to write to you at least once a month. So, I’ve wrote. Bye.

                                                                                           Sincerely,

                                                                                              Theresa

  
August 29, 1989

   Dear Diary,                                               

    The first yellow tag book explains the door keys. I got excited until I kept reading. According to this book, I should already have the stupid yellow key. This blows. It means I must have missed the clues when I pretended to read. Or I read about it and didn't catch on. Either way it blows. It's back to the beginning of the white set for me.

      Yes, I thought about picking the door's lock. But when I looked at the next book in the yellow set, I seen a lock on it. Book after book is locked. All of them! The only one that isn't is this first one. And if this book could speak, it would probably say, “Hey, Theresa. You are too dumb to continue.” Oh, in case you didn't hear me the first two times, THIS BLOWS!

                                                                                         Theresa

  
No freakin' way.

   Julianna grins. She tries to recall a strange nursery rhyme her mother used to recite when she was around five or six. It always put her to sleep at night.

  
How did she start it? Something about a princess. No, it was a queen. A queen and her kingdom. Her white kingdom.

   The girl smiles and begins reciting the nursery rhyme aloud,

   “The queen searches all of the colorful kingdoms.