A Place Called Paradise. Honey PerkelЧитать онлайн книгу.
to see Mommy looking so pretty, going out dancing with their daddy. They had been darling girls. Both of them.
She felt so old these days, and her arthritis seemed especially bad tonight. Iva had resorted to using her cane more and more, feeling every bit her seventy-five years.
Iva gazed through the hall and into the next room where George sat. His shoulders were rounded, his head bent over the book he was reading. Iva had noticed a change in him as well. He’d grown frail. His hair had whitened and his skin had loosened; his aging body no longer a friend. And his heart ... she constantly worried about him.
Now at the age of eighty-two, George was old and ill, the years suddenly having caught up with him. It was true what people said: that a heart could actually break after a great loss. That was what had happened when Jill died. The shock was killing them both.
Iva was always taken aback to see how calm George seemed at tense times like these. That hadn’t changed from his younger days. Not even now at the brink of the greatest challenge of their lives. But Iva knew him well enough to know he felt things as deeply as she. He’d loved his daughter and felt as committed as Iva to find justice for Jill and her husband. That was why they were here, wasn’t it?
She and George were familiar with Bernard and his reputation around the world — avenger of evil. Human, or not. They’d had a chance to see him in action while they vacationed in Sri Lanka in ’05. After the town was devastated by the tsunami, Bernard had pulled survivors from the waters, lifted boats and houses, done the unbelievable to further the rescue. Bernard, sent by the heavens, the locals had believed. Bernard, worker of miracles.
Iva thought about how it might be to work alongside him in this latest operation. She was getting restless, tired of waiting. Why had he called them to come? She hoped it had something to do with avenging Jill’s murder.
“Perhaps, we should leave this place,” she called out to her husband.
George instantly looked up from the book he’d been reading. He was surprised by her comment.
“We can’t leave! Do you want to go home to Mercer Island?”
“No, no, no,” Iva said quickly, trying to calm him down. “You misunderstood. I don’t want to return home. I was thinking maybe we should go look for Bernard.”
“Bernard knows where to find us. He told us to check in here and wait until he contacts us.”
“I know, but I’m getting antsy. All I do is bake tea breads, or walk the floors. We’ve been here for three days.”
George laid his book down and slowly got up from his chair. He came to Iva’s side and put his arms around her.
“You bake wonderful tea breads, Iva.” He gave her a soft kiss.
Iva smiled, her eyes filling with tears.
“Jill used to like them, too. Apricot Walnut Spice was her favorite.”
“I remember.” George wiped her eyes dry. The two were silent for several moments. “Why don’t we go to dinner tomorrow night? You like Annie Rose’s.”
“Oh, George,” Iva exclaimed. “I’d love that.”
He squeezed her hand lovingly. “And just you wait, my darling. Bernard will contact us as soon as he sees fit.”
At that moment a strong gust of wind pushed against the cottage. The motel shook. A downpour of rain followed.
Ben and Michael
In cottage number two, Ben Dunzer stepped out of the shower. Grabbing the towel from the chrome rack, he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone. Michael Matson stood at the sink shaving.
“Hey! Can’t a guy have some privacy?” Ben said in a thick Irish accent.
Michael rinsed his handsome, rugged face. “Almost finished.” Then with a grin, he snapped his towel against Ben’s bare leg.
“Damn!” Ben was in no mood for Michael’s off-beat humor.
“Come on, man, don’t be so touchy.”
“This is bullshit. Waiting for Bernard.”
“We should be used to it.” Michael tightened the belt of his robe. “We can’t do anything till he contacts us. This one’s going to be big. Bernard’s been acting weird.”
“How can you tell?” Their employer was a ghost. Wasn’t that weird enough?
Ben felt anxious. Edgy. Patience had never been one of his strengths. He recently began to work with Michael and Bernard, hoping to contribute something to the team. Having written a dozen books on the subject, he was probably as qualified as anyone.
Ben loved what he did, bringing the human aspect to victims of supernatural crimes and disasters. He believed people felt much more comfortable talking and dealing with a live person than a ghost any day. However, he and Michael must never forget that the mastermind behind everything was Bernard. And they respected him for that.
Outside, the rain and wind pounded against the bathroom window. The ceiling fixture flickered on and off, threatening a power outage. But the lights remained bright against the summer storm.
Halley Bee
In cottage number five, nine-year-old Halley Bee, clung to her mother. Night Terrors. That’s what Dr. Ranken had called them. It was always the same. The nightmares. The visions. The voices. In the daytime, too, though nights were the worst. Everything had changed since that day last summer when shots rang out in the convenience store and her sister Emma was gunned down. The day Mama had gone deaf. One year ago last week.
After the episodes, she was always ill, sometimes staying in bed for days. Headaches. Nausea. Flashing lights and pain across her eyes. Halley Bee supposed it was the price she had to pay to have the Gift.
It didn’t matter to her that Mama hadn’t heard her screams in the night. She’d been there for her just the same. The only good that had come out of Emma’s murder, if one could call any part of it “good”, was the fact that her beloved sister was with her all the time now.
It had bothered Halley Bee at first that she hadn’t figured out why she and Mama had been told to come to Seaside. After all, she had the Gift, didn’t she? She should know these things. She should see them. Feel them. Halley Bee knew who Bernard was. Everyone with the Gift did. He was their mentor, their advisor. Their hero. Bernard was admired throughout the world. She wanted to do whatever she could to impress him.
Halley Bee hugged her cat, Buckley, as she lay in Mama’s arms. Her heart wasn’t pounding quite so hard now. She wasn’t quite so scared. This latest vision had been of Nonni, her beloved grandmother, who’d come to her screaming some kind of warning. Hands waving. Eyes ablaze. Blackness all around her.
Outside, the surf pounded against the rocks at Surfer’s Cove, the wind and rain at its back. Halley Bee didn’t notice; she was thinking of something else. She knew that somewhere in the dark, Bernard was watching over them. Watching over this beach town he loved so much. But, another thought was pressing on her mind — a darkness. A stench. Halley Bee knew beyond any doubt that there was another energy. An evil force trying to destroy them all.
Morning
The next morning, Lulu was anxious to explore this small beach town. To purchase coffee, sweet danishes, chocolates, jellies, and donuts. Just the basics. And some candles. White. Also, she hoped to meet up with Bernard later.
She showered and dressed in a green skirt, striped t-shirt, and red boots, minus the brown smudge on the right toe. Catching a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, she stopped to study her reflection. It was not something she did often. She examined the splash of orange that streaked across her lifeless gray hair and the slight lines in the corner of her eyes. Creases not wrinkles, she told herself. She inspected her second chin and puffy body. In her forty-six years