The Color of Heaven

by Julianne MacLean

  She sat back in her chair and nodded. “Yes, he did, and I’m glad you understand that now, that you know what kind of man your father was, and still is. You were never close, I always knew that, but you didn’t know the whole story. If your father was distant toward you, it was only because you reminded him of what he could never be to me. He always knew I loved Matt most, and then you. When Jen came along, that was different. She was our child together, and by that time, we had begun to build a real marriage.” She leaned forward. “That’s part of what you need to understand here today. Time does heal wounds. Eventually. The scars might remain, but life goes on. I loved Jen, and I loved your father. I always will. He was my hero. He never let me down. He never disappointed me, not once, and I will always be grateful to him for that.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That still doesn’t answer my question. If anything, I’m even more confused. Why did you leave us?”

  She stood up. “I think you already know the answer to that question, Sophie. You’ve always known it, but you were confused when you came here. You don’t understand where you are or what is happening to you.”

  My vision blurred. She wasn’t clear to me. Nothing was.

  I heard a creak on the stairs and felt a terrible compulsion to weep. “Is there someone else here?”

  My mother nodded. “Yes.”

  I turned slowly in my chair and found myself staring at my daughter, Megan, who stood motionless in the doorway. Her brow furrowed with concern, and she spoke with a hint of anger. “I’m fine here, Mommy. I told you that. Nanny’s taking good care of me. But you need to go back now. Go back. Go back.” She started to walk toward me, as if to push me away. She was annoyed with me.

  I whirled around to face my mother. “Am I dead?”

  “Not yet,” she replied. “There’s still time, but you must want to live.”

  Suddenly I was shooting through a dark, narrow tunnel, rounding a smooth curve. Graffiti lined the walls – which made no sense to me – and I was terrified by the speed at which I was traveling, and the strangeness of the place.

  Was it a subway tunnel?

  Where was I?

  My eyes fluttered open and I blinked up at the bright blue sky. There were no clouds. It was a perfect day.

  Was this heaven? How long had I been traveling? Was I really dead now?

  I put my hand on my chest and massaged where it hurt. I walked my fingers across my ribcage, trying to identify the pain, then I struggled to sit up.

  Looking all around, I realized I was sitting in a cemetery. The stone next to me said:

  Cora MacIntosh

  Beloved Wife and Mother

  Sept 12, 1948 – Nov 17, 1984

  Visions of my mother’s funeral flashed like sparks of light through my brain, along with disturbing images of the plane crash, which we had seen on television.

  My mother was dead. She didn’t leave us by choice. I was wrong to blame her. She never meant to die.

  I rose up onto my knees and ran my fingers over the letters and numbers chiseled into the stone. Sept 12, 1948 – Nov 17, 1984

  Why did I never think of her, or talk about her? Why did I push this away?

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, as I touched her name. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and realized I was not alone.

  Bewildered and slightly dizzy, I turned to look up. I lifted a hand to shade my eyes from the brightness of the sun.

  “Hi Sophie,” the man said. He was very handsome. “I think you might be lost. Please, let me help you.”

  He hooked an arm under mine and helped me to my feet.

  Chapter Fifty

  Standing at my mother’s grave, I gazed into a pair of eyes the color of the ocean on a clear day. There was something familiar in them. I was spellbound.

  “Who are you?” I asked, but somehow I already knew. This man was my father.

  He smiled, and I understood immediately why my mother had fallen in love with him, and why they were meant to be together. I understood it in a way I never understood anything before, except for the love I felt for Megan on the day she was born. It happened instantaneously.

  “You’re Matt,” I said, offering my hand.

  He shook it. “And you’re Sophie.”

  I laughed through joyful tears, wondering how any of this could be possible. I felt truly blessed.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

  “Me too, I guess.” I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  He was very calm and serene. Devastatingly beautiful.

  “Am I dead?” I asked.

  “No. You’re in the hospital right now. That’s why your chest hurts. They’re defibrillating you.”

  I massaged my heart again with the heel of my hand and glanced all around. “So I’m not really here.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  More than a little confused, I squinted at him. “Where is here exactly? Am I in heaven?”

  He shook his head. “No. Heaven’s that way.” He pointed toward the sky. “Closer to the blue.”

  I looked up. “I see.”

  And I did see. It was all so exquisite and breathtaking, the way the clouds rolled majestically before my eyes.

  As a soft wave of understanding slowly rose within me, washing away all the panic and despair, I regarded my father affectionately in the bright sunshine.

  “Walk with me,” he said, and I followed.

  Suddenly, we were strolling on a sandy beach, marveling at the thunder of the surf and the cries of the seabirds overhead. A strong, salty breeze cooled my cheeks.

  “Megan told me to go back,” I said, pushing a windblown lock of hair behind my ear. “But I’m not sure I want to. Being with her is all that matters to me. I think I’d rather stay here with her, and get to know you.”

  “Trust me,” he said with a charismatic smile, “there will be plenty of time for that. It’s my duty as your father to tell you that you still have work to do. You’re not done yet.”

  “No?” I looked out at the water, then hopped over a foamy wave that slid up the beach and nearly soaked my feet.

  My father stopped walking and met my gaze. “There are still some things you need to work out, Sophie. There are people you need to love for a little while longer.”

  “My dad,” I said, feeling a rush of emotion in my heart. “Peter.”

  He nodded, and we started walking again.

  “There are others, too,” he told me. “Don’t give up hope. You never know what brilliant accomplishments might be in your future.”

  I nudged him with my elbow. “Do you know what those accomplishments are?”

  He chuckled. “I know certain possibilities, because I’ve been watching your life, but only you can make them happen. You just need to recognize inspiration when it strikes. And be brave. Don’t lose faith in the good things, even when life is tough. The good things come in waves, along with the bad.”

  I looked out at the water again as I considered his advice. “Well, after all of this – losing my daughter, my husband, crashing my car and dying – I can’t imagine what else could be worse. Surely things can only get better from here.”

  “There, you see?” he said with a smile. “If you got through all this, you can get through anything. You’re stronger than you think.”

  I linked my arm through his. “I’m starting to believe you. The story Mom told me, about you and her… It was beautiful. It made me remember what it feels like to be in love, and to feel inspired.”

  In a quiet flash, we were standing outside the hospital doors.

  “Why didn’t I know what was happening to me?” I asked. “Why didn’t I know that Mom was dead, and that this wasn’t real?”

  “What do you think?”

  I pondered it. “I was so angry with her for all those years. I needed to blame her for leaving us, because it was easier to be angry with her than it was to miss her. But all I ever wanted was to see her again and ask t
he questions she left unanswered – questions that were burning inside me. And I wanted to be with Megan.”

  “So you came here,” he said, “but you didn’t know where here was. It was too much for you to fully comprehend, that’s all. It’s not your fault. Death is… strange.”

  I took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to go back to my body, I know that much. Not after seeing Megan in the lake, which proved to me that there was something more beyond what we know. And I wanted so badly to see my mom again.”

  “Grief is difficult. You were only fourteen when she died, and your father took it hard. He packed all of you up and moved you to Augusta. Remember?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s because your dad loved your mom very much, and it was hard for him. You should talk to him about it.” Matt looked through the reflections in the glass doors. “Be good to him, okay? He’s had it rough, too. You know how it feels to lose someone you love.”

  I fought back tears and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Rising up on my toes, I kissed him on the cheek. The sliding glass doors opened, and I stepped inside.

  I turned back to look at him one last time, and he waved at me. His eyes were exactly the way Mom described them – as blue as the sea.

  “See you around,” I said, lifting a hand to wave good-bye.

  His baby blues glimmered. “Definitely.”

  A light appeared behind him – a brilliant, dazzling light, more calming and loving than any words can possibly describe – and everything made sense to me as I watched him back into it.

  I was no longer afraid, and I knew that everything would work out.

  A heavy mist poured in through the open doors and the next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back, listening to the steady beep of a heart monitor, while I blinked up at a clean white ceiling.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  My lips cracked with dryness as I opened my mouth to speak. I felt as if I’d been hit by a truck, and couldn’t form words.

  Turning my head slightly on the pillow, I glanced up at two IV bags – one was clear and one was yellow – each dripping fluid into a tube that fed into my arm.

  Suddenly, Dad’s face appeared in front of me. Not the ghost of my biological father. This was Peter, the man who had raised me and loved me as his own.

  Though I could not yet move, I felt a tremendous surge of joy skitter through my veins. I was alive, and my father was here, sitting at my bedside.

  He touched his forehead to my shoulder and broke down in a fit of weeping.

  I realized I had never seen him cry before, not even when Mom died. He had always worked so hard to be strong for us.

  Patiently, I waited for him to compose himself. He lifted his head, wiped a sleeve across his whole face, then bolted for the door. “Nurse! Someone! My daughter’s awake!”

  Two nurses came running into the room. One of them checked the heart and oxygen monitors, while the other leaned over me. “Hello Sophie,” she said. “Welcome back. Can you hear me?”

  I managed to nod my head.

  “That’s good. Can you blink your eyes for me?”

  I did that, too.

  “Excellent. Now squeeze my hand. Very good. What about your toes? Can you wiggle them for me?”

  I was able to do all the things she asked.

  But she had one more question. “Do you know who I am?”

  I shook my head. No. I’d never seen her before.

  “I’m your nurse, Alice. Do you know who this man is?” She pointed at Dad, who was standing at the foot of the bed.

  I worked very hard to move my lips and tongue, to take in enough air in order to push the words out – words I wanted very much to say out loud. When I finally spoke, I regarded him steadily. “He’s my father.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room. “She seems good,” Alice said cheerfully, patting Dad on the shoulder. “This is wonderful.”

  He let out a tiny sob, mixed with laughter. “Yes.”

  “She’ll be groggy for a little while, but that’s normal. I’ll send for the doctor and be back in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  He sat down next to me and took hold of my hand.

  “How did you get here so fast?” My voice was weak. “Did you drive all the way from Augusta?”

  “Yes, I came right away, as soon as Jen called and told me what happened. But you’ve been in a coma for a week, Sophie.”

  I blinked in surprise. “A week?”

  “Yes. Do you remember anything? Do you know what happened to you?”

  I stared uncertainly into his worried eyes. “I had a car accident.”

  But there was so much more…

  “The driver behind you said you swerved to avoid hitting a deer. Do you remember that?”

  I nodded. “My car rolled down the bank and landed on a frozen lake.”

  “That’s right. The driver behind you called for help.”

  I began to wonder if it was all a dream. A week-long coma would provide more than enough time for the heavenly invention of elaborate scenarios about my dead mother and her tragic love life before I was born.

  “Did I die?” I bluntly asked.

  Dad hesitated, then answered my question. “Yes, Sophie, and it’s a miracle that they were able to bring you back. A miracle.”

  My heart began to race. I thought back to the accident and everything I had witnessed from a place outside my body, and needed to know what really happened.

  “I drowned, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but you were hypothermic, thank God. That’s the only reason they were able to save you. They brought you here in an ambulance and were able to resuscitate you after about forty minutes. Can you believe that, Sophie? Forty minutes. And here you are.”

  I struggled to get my bearings, for this was all so strange and inconceivable. “I guess a lot can happen in forty minutes.” I wasn’t sure if I should tell him what I’d experienced during that time – or what I think I experienced. I still wasn’t completely certain.

  “Could I have a drink of water?” I asked. My mouth was still dry, and my head was throbbing.

  He went to the bathroom and ran the tap, then returned with a paper cup and a straw which he held to my lips. I lifted my head to take a small drink, and relaxed back down on the pillow.

  “Thank you.” Feeling tired all of a sudden, I closed my eyes.

  Megan’s image – standing in the doorway of my mother’s house –appeared in my mind. I’m okay here, she had said to me. Nanny’s taking good care of me.

  An unexpected sense of calm moved through me, and I began to believe that I really had traveled to heaven – or someplace between here and there.

  Opening my eyes, I glanced up at my father. “I’m glad you’re here. It means a lot to me.”

  “Of course I’m here,” he replied, almost laughing as he sat back down. “I know I haven’t been the best father to you, Sophie, but I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. You and Jen… You’re all I have.

  I squeezed his hand. “But you were the best father,” I told him. “And it was my fault, too, because I wasn’t the best daughter. I was rebellious and headstrong and I just think… after Mom died… you and I became disconnected.”

  He bowed his head and nodded.

  “Why didn’t we ever talk about her?” I asked.

  He looked away and mulled over the question for a moment. “It hurt too much, I guess, so I thought it would be better not to.” He met my gaze. “And I blamed myself for what happened to her. I thought everything was my fault, and I didn’t want to admit that to you and Jen. I was afraid you’d hate me.”

  “How could it have been your fault? It was a plane crash.”

  He sighed heavily. “We argued about her leaving. She wanted to drive to Chicago, but that meant she’d be gone for a week. I didn’t want her to go – I never did – so she compromised that time by saying she’d fly and be back in twenty-four hours.”r />
  I swallowed uneasily. No wonder he had withdrawn from us after the accident. He had been harboring this guilt for a very long time.

  “Tell me more about that,” I said, encouraging him to continue. “I never understood why she wanted to go to Chicago by herself all those times. For years afterward, I thought she must have been having an affair. I heard you arguing about it. I knew those trips of hers pulled you apart.” I paused. “But she wasn’t having an affair, was she?”

  “No.”

  He wouldn’t look at me, so I laid my hand on his cheek and spoke softly. “It’s okay, Dad. You can tell me the truth now. I’m a grown-up. I can take it.”

  Still, he wouldn’t answer me. He kept his eyes lowered, so I revealed the truth for him.

  “I’m not your real daughter, am I?”

  He swallowed hard and shook his head.

  I felt a tremendous sense of relief.

  “I always knew Mom was pregnant when you married her,” I said, “but she was pregnant by someone else, wasn’t she?”

  At last, his watery eyes lifted, and he gazed at me with apology and remorse. “I know how it must seem to you, Sophie, but it wasn’t like that. Your mother loved that man very much and she would have married him, but he died, sweetheart. That’s why she went to Chicago every year in November. To visit his grave. I’m sorry. I should have told you a long time ago.”

  “It’s okay, Dad.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m just glad to know it now. And what you did for Mom – the way you loved her all those years, and took care of us… You were her hero, and you’re mine, too. You’ll always be my hero.”

  He stood to gather me into his arms, and told me that he loved me.

  Whatever disconnection existed between us in the past began to fall away. I felt, deep in my heart, that I understood him now. I felt very close to him.

  “Does Jen know that we’re half-sisters?” I carefully asked, as Dad sat down again.

  “No. I never told anyone.”

  “Well, I think we should tell her. I know she’ll understand when she hears the whole story.”

  He continued to hold my hand, then suddenly he frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You don’t want me to tell her?”