The Soul's Mark: FOUND (2 page)

“Have Eric and Luke been in yet?”
 
Angelle asked, as the big
iron
gate
clanked open.

Joe’s smile widened.
 
“Mr. Carter came in about twenty minutes
ago,” he chuckled.
 
“He was looking
unusually green today.”

“Green?”
Angelle questioned, as she raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Oh you’ll see.
 
Trust me, it’s hard to miss,” he replied,
shaking his head and laughing.
 
“You
ladies have a nice day.”

“Thanks Joe.
 
You, too.”
 
Angelle rolled up her window and thrust the
car forward through the gate, climbing up the hilly street.
 
Trees lined either side, immaculately
groomed, and Amelia could just barely see the tops of the houses past
them.
 
Obviously, people here really
liked their privacy.

As soon as they were clear of the gate, Amelia
said, “Sorry if I sound really stupid but…” she paused and took a deep, calming
breath, “What do you mean it’s your job to know?
 
Aren’t you a student?”

“Don’t be silly.
 
You don’t sound stupid at all.
 
That’s actually a very good question.
 
None of us are in school.
 
We all work for Mr. Lang managing different
parts of his businesses.
 
I manage the
Dreams Come True Scholarship that you won.
 
Out of all the applications, you definitely deserve this more than
anyone I have ever seen.
 
I just can’t
even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you after your parents
passed away, and to be there when it happened, to see them murdered.” Angelle
made a sad tsk sound and then a long sigh.

Tiny beads of sweat popped up on Amelia’s
forehead and a sudden flash of her parents ripped through her mind.
 
Her mouth opened, and then closed, not sure
of what to say.
 
So many thoughts swirled
through her brain.
 
No one was supposed to know.
 
She
didn’t want the sad looks and the comfort any more.
 
All she wanted was to move on.
 
Amelia swallowed hard, trying to loosen the
orange-sized lump that was lodged in her throat.
 
She wiped at her sweaty forehead, turned to
Angelle, and said in a small voice, “You know about my parents and the foster
homes?”

“I know everything, honey,” Angelle replied
warily, glancing over quickly, eyes red and glassy with unshed tears.
 
She reached over, giving Amelia’s knee a
little reassuring pat.

Amelia leaned against the cool window,
exhausted and unhappy and tried to get her head together.
 
It was all happening.
 
Everything she had wanted to hide from.
 
Everything she had wanted to leave behind.
 
Was she ever going to be able to move
on?
 
A thick, tense silence fell over the
car, giving an ominous feeling, as if a storm was brewing, rolling in and
surrounding her with darkened clouds.

“But things are going to change for you
now,” Angelle continued, breaking the silence and sending Amelia a dazzling
smile.
 
“We’re so excited to have you
staying with us.
 
You really are
something special.
 
How in the world did
you manage to get such good grades and stay so focused?”

Amelia didn’t want to talk.
 
She just wanted to sit there, silent and
miserable.
 
But she also didn’t want to
be rude.
 
She knew that would just make
it all a whole lot worse, so she took a couple of deep breaths and said, “I
guess I just really love to learn.
 
Well,
that and running.
 
They’re sorta my…
escape.”
 
She looked at Angelle for a
prolonged second, and then asked hesitantly, “Um, how many people live at the
house?”

“There’s Eric and Luke.
 
You’ll meet them today.
 
They handle all the businesses Mr. Lang owns
here in town.
 
There’s also Lola and
sometimes Mr. Lang.
 
They both should be
back in a few weeks.
 
I’m sure you’ll
just love them.
 
You’re going to fit in
wonderfully.
 
I just know it.”

“Wait a minute,” Amelia said, a panicked
knot wrenching tighter in her stomach.
 
“You guys all live with your boss and he’s moving me into his own
house?
 
That’s crazy.
 
Why would he do that?”

“Hmmm.
 
I guess that does sound a
bit strange.”
 
Angelle paused, bringing a
pink polished fingernail to her lips and then gave Amelia a thoughtful glance
before turning her eyes back to the road.
 
“I never really thought about it before.
 
The five of us grew up together here in Willowberg so when we started
working together it just made sense to all be in the same place and since it’s
where it all started we made it the base of operations.
 
But really, he isn’t around that much
anymore.
 
He stops by every few months
for a quick visit and then he’s off again.
 
For you though, it’s all part of the Dreams Come True experience.
 
You’ll understand when you see the
place.”
 
Angelle turned off the street
onto a hidden driveway lined on both sides by weeping willows swaying gently in
the breeze.
 
“We’re here!” she announced.

When they passed through the trees Amelia’s
jaw actually dropped.
 
The house was not
so much a house as a mansion, but it reminded her more of a castle from one of
those childhood fairy tales her mom used to read her.
 
It was all arches, turrets and balconies,
with a brown tiled roof and gray stone walls.
 
And it exuded a magical elegance.

Amelia blinked a few times, licked her lips
and swallowed the nerves that were jumping around like grasshoppers.
 
“You can’t be serious,” she blurted out,
awe-struck.

“Pretty amazing, right?”
Angelle chirped with a sparkle in her eyes.
 
She maneuvered the big SUV around the west
side of the house and into a motor court with large carports on both sides and
parked in between a green Corvette and a mud-caked Jeep.

“That’s the understatement of the year,”
Amelia mumbled under her breath.

Angelle turned off the car and hopped
out.
 
When Amelia didn’t move, she peeked
her head back in.
 
“Are you coming in or
did you just want to stay in the garage?”

Still gaping, Amelia struggled to unbuckle
her seat belt, which took a few tries and when it finally clicked open, she
snagged her backpack and got out.

Amelia’s legs felt like rubber as she
walked back out to the motor court where Angelle was waiting, looking like a
glossy magazine photo in her low-riding jeans and white empire-cut long-sleeved
top.
 
She looked completely in her
element standing in the expansive court.

“What do you…?” Angelle started, but was
cut off abruptly by the sound of a shrill scream coming from the house.
 
There was a clattering of pots and pans
crashing onto the floor.

Angelle stiffened, and her light bubbly
smile vanished.
 
She whirled around
quickly and gracefully, which Amelia would have thought was impossible in her
six inch stiletto heels, and she moved in front of Amelia, taking on a
protective stance, as if blocking her from some unseen danger that was about to
drop.

The shrill screaming continued,
relentlessly, like a banshee, and it cut through Amelia like a knife, chilling
her to the bone.
 
There was another
voice, a man’s voice, hollering from inside the house.
 
Amelia couldn’t make out what he was saying,
but the tone definitely wasn’t good.
 
Then another clatter pierced the air, like glass breaking into a million
sharp-edged shards.

“Crap,” Angelle said, relaxing her stance
slightly.
 
“It’s coming from the
kitchen.
 
This can’t be good.”
 
She shot Amelia a frazzled look and then
dashed up the steps of the porch.
 
At the
glass double doors, she turned back and waved, gesturing for Amelia to
follow.
 
“Come on, honey,” she called,
before rushing into the house.

The screaming grew louder and another
clatter echoed through the doorway.
 
Amelia rushed after Angelle, jogging over the inter-locking stone,
dazed, as if she had stumbled into an alternate universe.
 
She climbed the three steps of the
stone-covered porch and peeked through the open door, trying to stay out of the
way of whatever chaos had been unleashed.

A faint smell of smoke washed out, followed
by a man’s agonized yell.
 
Amelia glanced
around, realizing she was walking into the kitchen.

“Ouch,” he groaned, sounding a bit
amused.
 
His arms were raised in an
attempt to protect himself from the blows of a broom swishing furiously at
him.
 
“It was an accident!” he cried out.

On the other end of the broom was an
elderly woman who looked to Amelia like she was made of circles, with a round
pudgy face and plump round body.
 
She had
on a flowery apron splattered with some kind of yellowy goo and she was
screaming unintelligible utterances at the man as she continued to beat him
relentlessly.

Suddenly, Amelia saw the stove light up,
fire crackling and blazing.
 
Forgetting
the scene in front of her, she dropped her bag and rushed in.
 
What had her mother said about grease fires?
 
Baking
soda, use baking soda
, Amelia thought,
that
was it.
 
She whipped open the fridge,
frantically searching and grabbed a box of baking soda from the door.
 
She dumped it on the burning grease-lit
frying pan.
 
The fire
extinguished
in a billowing cloud of smoke and she
coughed when she sucked in a breath.

“What the hell is going on?” Angelle
yelled, jumping in between them.
 
She
snatched the broom out of the woman’s hands and tossed it out of reach.
 
It flew across the room, and slammed into the
wall before clattering to the marble floor.
 
“That’s enough.”
 
She grabbed the
man by the shoulders and shoved him away.

“He’s ruining my kitchen.
 
Look at this mess,” the elderly woman said in
a tizzy, surveying the mess.
 
Amelia
followed her gaze and noticed that the yellowy goo was splattered everywhere,
smeared across the large cherry island, globbed on the weathered black wall
cabinets, dripping from the ceiling, as if a bomb of stickiness had gone off.

The man was rubbing his shoulders, looking
at Angelle as if she had really hurt him.
 
Amelia stood back and watched, trying to stay out of the way.
 
He was just as tall as Angelle, and bulky
with muscles like a football player, a really hot football player.
 
“I was just trying to make pancakes for
Amelia,” he said, smiling bashfully at Amelia.
 
Then he looked back over at Angelle, “And in case you missed it, she was
hitting me.
 
Why did you shove me like
that?”

Angelle rolled her eyes in a dramatic show
of annoyance, “I’m sure you deserved it Eric.
 
You usually do.”
 
She looked over
at the woman, who was now scurrying around the kitchen trying to clean up the
mess.
 
“What did he do, Mabel?”

That’s
Eric,
Amelia realized.
 
She giggled.
 
He really was looking green.
 
That’s what the guard had been talking about.
 
His shaggy, uneven, punk style haircut was dyed
in a vibrant, bright green.
 
Hot
, she thought.
 
Green hair, hot?
 
Well, on him, yes, it was really hot.
 
He was covered in the same sticky goo—pancake
batter?

“He used a blender without the lid,” Mabel
said.
 
Her voice was stern and a touch
motherly and she had a soft accent, maybe English, Amelia thought. And she
looked absolutely fit to be tied.

He just shrugged.
 
“Stirring was taking too long.”

“You’re such a dork—and what’s with the
hair?” Angelle laughed.
 
“You look like a
little punk.”

“Don’t knock the hair,” Eric said, leaning
back against the island, arms folded across his chest.

“You can’t go to the office like that,”
Angelle said.

“Don’t have to.
 
I’ve been promoted to personal
chauffeur.
 
And I think it looks
great.
 
I thought you would appreciate
it.”
 
He batted his eyes and struck a
pose.
 
“It totally matches my eyes.”
 
He looked Amelia over and then pushed off
from the counter, strolling towards her with a mischievous grin on his face.

Amelia had hoped they had forgotten about
her and she really hoped she wasn’t drooling, because man, he was sexy, like
head to toe sexy.
 
He stopped about a
foot away from her and she met his eyes, which indeed matched his new hair
color.

Eric dropped into a gallant bow and she
giggled like a little schoolgirl.
 
He
took her hand in his, and kissed it lightly.
 
“Welcome my lady,” he said playfully.

Angelle groaned.
 
“You are such a moron.”

Eric laughed and dropped Amelia’s
hand.
 
Wow, what a laugh.
 
She felt it vibrate in the air.
 
Clear, loud and full of raw energy.
 
He strolled back over to the island, and
leaned lazily, elbows propping him up.

Amelia couldn’t take her eyes off him and
he was grinning at her as if he knew why she was staring.
 
She was sure he knew exactly how sexy he
was.
 
If Angelle hadn’t spoken up, Amelia
would have been happy just to stay there and stare.
 
“This is Mabel,” Angelle said with laughter
in her voice.
 
“She’s our housekeeper,
cook and den mother.”

“Hello dear.
 
How was your trip?” Mabel asked distractedly.

“It was okay,” Amelia answered.

“That’s good, dear.
 
Look at this disaster.”
 
Mabel let out a long, exasperated sigh.
 
“At least I caught him before he burnt the
house down.”
 
She paused, scrubbing at
the counters.
 
“Why in the world were you
making pancakes?
 
It’s almost dinner
time.”

Eric was still leaning against the counter,
watching her.
 
Amelia could feel his eyes
scanning over her and her heart started jumping, beating erratically.
 
“She had a long trip,” he shrugged.
 
“Thought she’d be hungry.”

“We just finished rebuilding the kitchen
from the last time Eric tried to cook,” Angelle added.

“Um, can I help clean up?” Amelia asked and
took a small step towards the sink, looking for another cloth.

“That’s okay, dear,” Mabel said.
 
“You two run along now and I’ll clean up this
mess.”
 
Mabel made a shoo-ing gesture and
shot Eric a look, not a good one.

“That’s her nice way of saying get out of
my space,” Angelle said, ushering Amelia away from the mess.
 
“Believe me, you don’t want to stay and
help.
 
Come on, I’ll give you the grand
tour.”
 
Angelle pulled Amelia along
through the kitchen.
 
“Eric, bring
Millie’s bag to her room,” she called over her shoulder.

“Make the tour quick,” Mabel said.
 
“I don’t want you to be late for dinner.
 
I’m making your favorite Amelia, Fettuccini Alfredo
with chicken.”

“That sounds great,” Amelia said, and
Angelle towed her through an open doorway, out of the kitchen.

They entered a cozy looking room with crisp
white walls and rich wood floors.
 
“This
is one of the living rooms,” Angelle said.
 
There was a fireplace on one side and on the other, an entryway to a
veranda and traditional comfy-looking couches.

Amelia snuck a peek over her shoulder, back
into the kitchen, at Eric who was watching her with a curious expression.
 
His intense green eyes met hers.
 
They drew her in and everything around her
seemed to melt away.
 
Her body flushed and
her pulse quickened.
 
She had an
overwhelming urge to run to him, throw her arms around his neck and kiss
him.
 
She was sure he would be a good
kisser.
 
Those full lips definitely
looked kissable.
 
She licked her lips,
imagining how it would feel.

Suddenly, he blinked and gave his head a
little shake, breaking the spell and Amelia realized with a sucking, gasping
breath that she had stopped breathing.
 
A
lopsided grin stretched out on his face, he winked at her and turned away
leaving the kitchen, Amelia guessed, to get cleaned up.

“He’s… oh my God… hot,” Amelia said under
her breath, and Angelle shot her a surprised and somewhat confused look.
 
Amelia instantly clapped her hands over her
mouth and a fire flared in her cheeks as she flushed.
 
“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out
loud.”

“I’ll totally pretend I didn’t hear you,”
Angelle replied, and she wrinkled her nose, “because,
ewwwwwww
.”
 
She continued to
pull Amelia through the living room out into a brightly lit hallway.
 
“Here is a powder room,” she pointed to the
right at a closed door.
 
They took a few
more steps, “and this is my room.”
 
She
pointed to the left.
 
The door was open
and Amelia was able to sneak a quick peek before being pulled up the
stairs.
 
The walls were a bright shade of
buttery yellow and the bed was covered in a fiery orange with mounds of
pillows, all the bright colors of flowers and sunlight.
 
It somehow seemed perfect and matched
Angelle’s bubbly personality.
 
There were
clothes strewn on every surface and spilling out of the overstuffed closet.

They started up the steps, hidden off to
the side, just past Angelle’s room. “To get to the second floor you can use the
staircases on the east and west wings of the house and then there is also the main
stairs in the foyer,” Angelle explained.

On the way up the twenty-six steps, Amelia
caught the muffled sounds of splashing water and a whiff of a clean, soapy
scent.
 
At the top Angelle paused for
just a second and pointed to a closed door on the left, “That’s Eric’s room.”

He’s
in the shower,
Amelia’s mind drifted, looking at
the closed door and realizing he must have snuck upstairs while Angelle was
showing her around.
 
She could almost
imagine his muscular form all covered in suds.
 
Her heart rate quickened and Angelle shot her a look, grabbed her hand,
and dragged her on a bit too roughly, and she stumbled.

“Again...
ewwww
,” Angelle said.
 
“You
seriously have to stop that.
 
He’s like
your brother.”

“What?” Amelia asked, flushing a bright
cherry red.
 
“My
brother?”

“Yeah, your brother.
 
You’re part of the family
now so that makes him family, hence brother.”
 
She stopped in front of the next room beside Eric’s room.
 
“This is the media room but good luck getting
it ‘cause Eric’s always playing those stupid video games.”
 
The room was the same crisp white and rich
wood that flowed throughout the house.
 
There were two plush couches and a few beanbag chairs.
 
A massive television hung on the wall, and
the built-in entertainment stand was cluttered with gaming equipment.

They continued on. “And this is the games
room,” Angelle said, before dragging Amelia onward.
 
She caught a glimpse of what might have been
a pool table, but she wasn’t completely sure.

As Amelia was dragged on, a thought dawned
on her, like a flash of lightening.
 
Mabel had said she was making her favorite dinner—but how would she
know
that?
 
“Hey Angelle… how did Mabel know that my favorite
dish is Fettuccini Alfredo?”