Last Teardrop
The Chronicles of Amber Harris: Book one
Elle A. Rose
Copyright © 2011 By Angela Watkins, Elle A. Rose
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
For my best friend, Jennifer Butler and my husband, Rick Watkins, thanks for believing, even when I didn’t.
Love you
1
Broken Promises
The sun will be rising soon. I can always tell the exact moment the dawn will break. When I was a child, I would hate to see the sun set, but was excited to wake to a new day. Those days have long since past. Those around me are still sleeping. In the next few hours, I will hear the noise of traffic picking up on the expressway-which is about five miles away from where I live. I am already restless. I am ready to leave the quarters of the place most would call a home. I choose not to call it that. I have heard the saying over the years, ‘home is where the heart is’; however, when your heart is as cold and dark as mine, you tend to struggle with that idea.
As the sun climbs into existence for the new day, I stretch and move toward the back door. I have exactly two hours, thirty-nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds until it is time for work. That will be plenty of time for a jog. Yes, that is what I will do. Perhaps on my jog, I will pick up a quick breakfast. I am hungry, and I have found it best not to go to the office with an empty stomach. I am able to concentrate a great deal more, without worrying about that nagging beat of hunger pulsing in my ear.
Stepping outside, I inhale deeply. My surroundings have the fresh scent of the morning sunlight. Smiling to myself, I set off for my jog. I need not run for exercise; my body is fit on its own. I run for the pure enjoyment of refreshing wind flying in my face, and the smell of the morning dew on the trees and grass. The dew falling from the leaves is such a wonderful thing to see, when the sun hits it just right. Of course with eye sight like mine, there are a lot of lovely things in this world that most just walk right by, and will never notice.
I need to slow my pace, as I have picked up on approaching company. I am about four miles away, and do not want them to see me moving too quickly. Ah, yes, I see her now. It is a woman out walking her dog. She is not very happy with her nine month old puppy. Today was her day to sleep in, but the dog would not stop barking. So she decided to finally get up and out of her warm bed to walk him. I owned a dog and cat as a child, and miss being able to have a small companion. Now, most animals do not come near me, so pet ownership is not an option.
As I come closer to the owner and pet, their scents become more intense. An aroma of ginger with a hint of mango and peach encases the sleepy woman. Her small companion smells of dried beef, peas, and rice. Smelling them has reminded me that I am in need of breakfast. Something in the back of my mind tells me to keep going, so as I come near the pair, I smile and do a little nod. The puppy stops, and I notice the hair on his back has begun to rise. The woman is startled by the reaction her little ten pound ball of fluff is having toward me. She tugs at his leash and tries to get him to keep moving, apologizing for his unfriendly behavior. I chuckle and say, “That’s okay, I'm used to it. You wouldn’t believe how often that happens to me. Enjoy your walk, maybe you’ll be able to sleep in next week.” I chuckle again; my young friend has a surprised look on her face. She is wondering how I knew that. I do not give her a chance to ask, as I slowly start picking up my pace again. I am thirteen miles into my jog; it will take me another three minutes to get back to my living quarters. I have one hour, twenty-nine minutes and ten seconds before work.
Since nothing caught my interest, I return to the house with an empty stomach. Hopefully this will not be a big mistake. I do not feel like relocating again. It’s bad enough I have to move every six years or so. I have lived here for two and a half years, and adjusting to this town has come easier than I would have expected. I would rather not move before my time is up. I usually try to live in smaller towns, but decided to give a larger city a chance. Although I like the different variety of food that is offered here, I am still uncertain of the closeness I share with others. In the smaller towns, I need not worry so much about making many mistakes that will be noticed. Here, I am always watching my back-which is funny if you think about it.
What shall I wear for the day? I have the worst habit of throwing clothes away after wearing them once, no more than twice. Then again, after little jogs like this morning, I end up wearing through a lot of my clothes. I know I should consider giving my clothes away to the homeless only that is not always safe. What if my scent is picked up from my hand-me-downs? The poor soul wearing those clothes would be a sitting duck. Hmm, duck, not a top pick for sustenance; nonetheless, it makes my mouth ache just thinking of it. I give my head a slight shake. I need to try to stay on track. My mind is not focused today. I will need to work on this before I enter my office for the day.
I make my way into my walk-in closet, and try to think about what I will wear today. Gazing at my tops, I reach for my teal blouse. I can imagine this top with one of my many pairs of black pants working well as an outfit. You can never have enough black pants. Black is my favorite color, but lately, I have tried to add more color to my dark wardrobe. Next, I grab a cute pair of open toe pumps that are teal with yellow stripes. A yellow scarf for my hair, gold earrings and necklace will complete my look. Looking in the mirror, I like what I see. My long wheat-colored hair is pulled back using the yellow scarf as a headband. The teal looks nice against my pale cream colored skin and the yellow helps bring out my light hazel brown eyes. I quickly dress, giving myself one last look before I head to the car. Although I still have an empty belly, I think this will be an all right day. Settling into my car, I now need to figure out what to listen to on the way to work. I go through this every morning; radio or CD. At least with the CD, I can hear my favorite artist, but then I may miss out on something interesting being talked about on the radio. I guess I will try the radio first.
“You’re listening to 97.6 The Hits with Mac in the Morning. We are here in the studio discussing why some women lie about their age. Ladies, do you lie, and if so, why? Let’s go to the phone lines to see what the callers have to say.”
Hmm. The age old question. Where is my cellular phone? This shall be fun.
“Hello, you’re on the air with Mac in the morning. What’s your name?”
“Good morning Mac, this is ummm …Heather”
“Well top of the morning to you, Heather. Tell me, why do you think women lie about their age? And, do you lie about yours?”
I suppress a chuckle, and clear my throat before responding. “Mac, I think most women lie about their age because they are afraid to admit what they have become.” Mac finds this funny; I hear him and the other announcers laugh before he speaks again.
“So Heather, tell me. Do you lie about your age?”
Now it is my turn to laugh out loud. “Why yes, Mac, I do, but I do not do it because I am afraid of becoming old. I do it because most people would not believe me if I told the truth.”
“Tell me then, Heather, why will people not believe how old you are? Is it because you don’t look your age?”
I know where this is going, but it is okay, I am not using my real name and he will not believe me even though I am telling the truth.
“Mac, I lie about my age because I'm two hundred and twelve years old today.” Now there is
silence on the air, but not for long. I bet all listeners are all thinking the same thing ‘this woman is crazy.’
Mac clears his throat, “So you’re trying to tell me that you're two hundred and twelve years old and still alive. Ha! Please tell me Heather, how is this possible, because the last time I checked that just is not possible?”
I hear it in his voice, he thinks I am pulling his leg, but I am not. What I say is true. “Mac, I am two hundred and twelve years old and it is possible. It's possible because I am a vampire.”
Now I have done it. I know this conversation will end shortly.
“Okay, let me get this straight. You are trying to tell me that you're a vampire? Look sweetheart, I know we have some pretty strange questions and comments going through here, but you by far have rocked the air this morning! Ha! Rochester, New York, we have our very own vampire on the line. Let me ask you this before we move on to the next caller. If you are a real vampire, shouldn’t you be sleeping in a coffin right now?”
Oh these silly, silly humans, they all believe what Hollywood tells them. If they only knew the truth about what could be living next door, or working in the office next to them. Such simple minded things they are. “Well Mac, I suppose you would be right, if we were following along in a book or watching a movie. For your sake, I will say yes, I should be. I will go now before the rays from the sun burn me.” Hanging up the phone, I wonder if this will be the talk of the morning at work, as most of my coworkers listen to this station. If they only knew the truth, I am sure they would not think it was that funny. Placing my phone back in the cup holder, I shake my head. I do not know why I just opened up to those strangers. I guess I should have stuck to the CD player this morning.
I know we should not tell others who we are or what we can do, but sometimes it is just so hard to resist the urge. Some of my family members would not be happy with my little announcement on the air. It is a good thing that they have been living out of the country for over fifty years. I have found, when you do tell a human what you are, most will not believe such a thing. Then again, I often wonder if I would have believed it myself, if I had not become a vampire. After all of these years, I have chalked it up to the fact that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But then again, I have found that most things that end up as life altering situations come at the wrong time. Sometimes when I sleep, I relive that late afternoon, even though it was so, so many years ago, it still feels like yesterday.