The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes (25 page)

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.

* * *

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.