The Color of Forever

by Julianne MacLean

  While Bailey continued to search for flights, I waited for the innkeeper to answer the phone. I clicked through the picture gallery, admiring the mansion’s massive front veranda with Georgian-style columns and high portico. Inside, the house maintained a historical style with antique beds and a spectacular dining room with gilt-framed family portraits on the walls.

  At last, someone answered. “Fraser House Inn. Could you hold for a moment, please? I’ll be right with you.”

  I waited with high hopes that there would be two rooms available.

  o0o

  “That’s the strangest thing,” the woman said to me on the phone. “I had to put you on hold because I was handling a cancellation for two rooms just now. Otherwise, we were fully booked. So yes, I can most certainly accommodate you tonight. How long will you be staying?”

  “Let me check.” I glanced over my shoulder at Bailey and spoke quietly. “They have two rooms available. How long will we stay? A week?”

  “Yes, that sounds good. And I found a flight. It’s at 5:10 p.m. Flying time is under six hours, so we should get there around midnight. But we’ll have to pack in a hurry. Might have to skip lunch and grab something at the airport later.”

  “No problem.” I spoke into the phone again. “We’ll be staying a week, checking out next Saturday. Will that work?”

  The clerk paused while confirming it. “Yes, that will work out fine. And if you’re arriving at midnight, I’ll unlock the front door for you. Just come in and I’ll get you settled.”

  “Thank you so much.” I gave her our names and our credit card information, then hung up.

  Turning to face Bailey, who was still working on our flights, I said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s so impetuous.”

  She nodded, somewhat distracted. “I can definitely use a getaway.”

  Ten minutes later, after the flights were booked and paid for, Bailey left to go home and pack, while I ran upstairs to do the same.

  Maine

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was past midnight when our cab turned off Cape Elizabeth’s main road and pulled onto a narrow, wooded lane.

  “I’ve never been inside the Fraser House Inn before,” our driver said, leaning forward over the steering wheel as he drove slowly through the fog. The beams of his headlights barely penetrated the dense wall of mist. “I think it’s a good thing that someone is finally making good use of it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s a historic landmark, of course,” he said, as if he shouldn’t have to state the obvious. “But it was empty for a number of years after the wealthy, New York widow who owned it, passed away. Actually, it was empty for quite a while before that because she hadn’t set foot in the place after her son and husband died there—on the same night. It was a terrible thing.”

  “What happened?” I asked, glancing at Bailey who raised her eyebrows at me.

  “Oh…let me see…” He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “As I recall, the father had a fight with the teenage son and he got a bit rough with him. He pushed him into the fireplace and the kid cracked his skull right open and died. Then the father, upset with himself, no doubt, went upstairs and did himself in.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “When did that happen?”

  “Not that long ago,” the driver explained. “Less than twenty years, I would guess. Time seems to fly by so fast these days. I can’t keep track anymore. Ah, here we are.”

  Bailey gave me a look and shook her head with disbelief, as if to say, Why in the world would he tell us that?

  All I could do was shrug my shoulders.

  We emerged at last from the tree-lined lane, and the brightly lit house appeared before us, like a giant sailing ship, out of the mist.

  “It’s bigger than I expected,” Bailey said.

  I sat forward on the seat, craning my neck for a better view while the cab’s tires crunched over the white-gravel parking lot, until the car came to a halt at the foot of the wide, painted staircase.

  As our driver got out and retrieved our luggage from the trunk, I slid out of the back seat, set my feet on the ground and stood up to breathe in the delectable, briny scent of the sea, while working hard to purge that tragic story from my mind. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply and held my breath for as long as I could before letting it out.

  When I re-opened my eyes, I wished I could see the water, but there was nothing but blackness and fog surrounding me, cloaking the thunderous roar of the surf crashing onto the rocks beyond the edge of the lawn.

  “The surf’s not usually that loud,” our driver informed us, “but we had a few days of high winds. It should calm down for you by tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a clear, windless day. The ocean will be quieter.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I replied as I accepted my large red suitcase and paid him his fee, plus a tip. “It’s kind of frightening. It doesn’t make me want to go for a walk in that direction.”

  He inclined his head. “Me neither.”

  Bailey, standing beside me and looking up at the steep staircase, extended the pull bar on her suitcase. “This should be a challenge. As usual, I packed way too many shoes and books.”

  “Two of my favorite things,” I said with a grin as our cab drove off. I lifted my bag and led the way up the stairs to the front door.

  o0o

  “Welcome to Fraser House,” the innkeeper said, crossing the spacious entrance hall from a room at the back. She was a slim, attractive older lady with upswept hair and rimless glasses. “I’m Angela.”

  Standing on the welcome mat, I allowed my gaze to sweep across the dark wood wainscoting, antique portraits, and the large crystal chandelier over our heads. The staircase boasted an ornately carved, oak newel post topped with a brass statue of a woman, like a Greek goddess, holding a lighted globe in her hand. Everything felt very familiar, from the pictures I’d seen online.

  I set down my suitcase. “What a beautiful home,” I said as Angela reached us.

  “Thank you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay here. But you must be exhausted after your long flight. Would you like to come this way? I’ll get you your keys.”

  We followed Angela into a parlor to the left where the reception desk was located, along with a number of inviting-looking sofas and oversized upholstered chairs in front of a massive white marble fireplace.

  I nudged Bailey and gestured toward it, wondering if that was where the son cracked his skull open.

  No doubt this house held a number of secrets in its past. Wouldn’t it be interesting to learn them all?

  A few minutes later, Angela showed us to our rooms on the second floor. She kept her voice low as we climbed the elegant staircase, so as not to wake the other guests.

  “Breakfast is included,” she informed us, unlocking Bailey’s door first. “We serve it in the dining room from 7:00 until 10:00. You each have your own private bathrooms, and you should find everything you need in there.” She showed Bailey inside while I waited in the corridor, peeking over Angela’s shoulder to sneak a look at the room. I spotted a four-poster canopy bed with a floral quilt, and a braided rug on the floor.

  Next, Angela took me to my room at the end of the hall and unlocked the door for me. I followed her inside and marveled at the canopy bed of my own with a clean white comforter and pillows. “Does the fireplace work?” I asked, strolling across the rug to the window, though I could see nothing but my own reflection in the glass.

  “Yes, it does. There’s kindling in the box right there. You can use it whenever you like, or if you’d like some help getting it started, just let me know. Can I get you anything else before I retire? A glass of brandy perhaps?”

  “No, this is wonderful. Thank you, Angela. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She left me alone and closed the door gently behind her.

  I stood in silence for a moment or two, feeling dazed as I stared at the empty grate in the fireplace.
When I lifted my eyes I beheld a portrait of a young Victorian woman over the mantle. She was very beautiful, with red hair and penetrating eyes that seemed to stare right through me.

  A soft knock sounded at the door just then. Knowing it was Bailey, I broke myself out of my reverie to answer it.

  “I just wanted to see your room,” she quietly said as I invited her in. “Oh, this is gorgeous. What do you think?”

  “I love it,” I replied. “Look at that picture.”

  She stared up at it. “Wow. She’s beautiful.” Bailey moved to the window. “I wonder what the view is like.”

  “I don’t know. You can’t see anything right now, through the fog. But listen to the ocean. I can’t believe how loud it is, even with the window closed.”

  “No kidding.”

  “And I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and see what the day brings.”

  “Me too,” she replied. “Now let’s get some sleep. I’m pooped.”

  She walked out and left me alone to get undressed and slip into bed, where I continued to listen to the sound of the waves exploding onto the rocks at the base of the lawn.

  For the longest time, the constant roar kept me awake, but I was mesmerized by it, and half-tempted to walk down to the shoreline to see what the waves looked like. But I knew better than that because I could only imagine how massive they must be and how dark it would be outside. Instead, I put my earplugs in and forced myself to turn over and go to sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Let’s not forget,” I said to Bailey the following morning as we stood in the car rental office, waiting for our vehicle to be brought around, “that the entire reason I’m here is to try and meet Chris and see if he’ll be willing to talk to me. Once that’s done, we can relax on the beach for the rest of the week. Although I do need to get my resume sent off to CNN. Don’t let me forget to do that.”

  We stepped out the front door as our rental car pulled up.

  “This is great,” Bailey said, striding closer to the shiny white SUV and running her hand over the hood.

  We looked it over with the attendant for any scratches or dents, then I signed on the dotted line. We both got in, shut the doors, and drove off the lot.

  “I was thinking about everything when I woke up this morning,” I said, pulling onto the street and trusting the GPS on Bailey’s phone to lead us to downtown Portland. “I think it would be best to simply call Chris’s practice and ask to speak with him. I don’t want to pretend to be calling about anything else, other than what I’m actually calling about. I’ll tell him who I am, mention that I interviewed him ten years ago at UW, and say that I’m in town and have some follow-up questions about the past ten years since we last spoke. I’ll ask if he wouldn’t mind meeting me for lunch or coffee. Today, preferably.”

  Bailey nodded with approval. “That sounds surprisingly reasonable, considering how bizarre this is.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s no getting around that. If he asks specifically what it’s about, I’ll say it’s complicated, and that I’d prefer to meet in person. I want to see his face when I tell him about my flashback. I want to know if there’s anything there. Maybe he has a nephew named Logan, or a son, or God knows what. Or maybe he’s had a similar experience.”

  We drove into town, straight to Temple Street Dental, and pulled over to the curb, out front.

  “This is so weird.” I dug out my phone from the depths of my oversized purse. “If you only knew how freaked out I am right now, knowing that he’s in there—the guy I remember being married to.” I held up a hand. “And you don’t need to say a word. I know it’s not real.”

  “Thank God.”

  I found the website for the dental office and called the number. It rang twice before the receptionist answered.

  “Temple Street Dental,” she greeted cheerfully. “Cassie speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning. Dr. Jenson please.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s with a patient right now. Who may I ask is calling?”

  I gazed uncertainly at Bailey, hesitant about giving my name, but it would seem odd if I didn’t. “It’s Katelyn Roberts. I’m a television reporter from Seattle. I interviewed Dr. Jenson a number of years ago and I’m doing a follow-up piece. Could you have him return my call as soon as possible? I’m only in Portland for a few days.”

  “Certainly. He should be available in about fifteen minutes. Can I get your number?”

  “Sure.” I gave Cassie my cell number and hung up.

  “So what’s happening?” Bailey asked expectantly.

  “He’s going to call me back in about fifteen minutes.” I gripped the steering wheel and lightly tapped my forehead against it a few times. “This is nuts. My stomach is churning.”

  Bailey watched me for a few seconds. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s go window shop. Take our minds off it.”

  “Impossible,” I replied.

  Nevertheless, I got out of the car and followed her to a shoe store.

  o0o

  At the fifteen-minute mark, we were climbing back into the leather seats of the SUV, waiting for my cell phone to ring. Five minutes went by, then another five minutes. Then at last, my phone rang.

  My heart flew into a frenzy. I took a deep breath before swiping the screen with my finger. “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Katelyn Roberts?”

  The quiet sound of Chris’s voice surged through me like a lightning bolt.

  “Yes, it is. Hi, Dr. Jenson. Thanks so much for returning my call. I’m not sure if you remember me, but—”

  “I remember you,” he coolly replied, cutting me off. “You interviewed me for a news segment in Seattle, about ten years ago.”

  My blood began to race as my heart rate accelerated. I swallowed hard and rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s right. I’m wondering if you might have some time to meet me for a follow-up interview.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and my stomach turned over with dread, for there was something noticeably standoffish in his tone.

  “What exactly do you want to know?” he asked, warily.

  “Um…” Again, I swallowed over a thick lump of unease, and strained to sound amiable and confident, but decided it was no use. I couldn’t pretend to be conducting a follow-up interview about Seattle grad schools. I wanted to tell him the truth and let the cards fall where they may.

  “Actually, it’s not about the interview, per se,” I confessed. “It’s about something else, but I feel a bit strange talking to you about it on the phone. Would you be able to meet me for coffee or something?” He offered no response. “If you really want to know,” I added, clearly beginning to ramble, but words spilled out of my mouth faster than I could stop them. “I’m right outside your office, sitting in my car. I just flew in from Seattle last night. I know that sounds crazy, but I sort of had a…I don’t know how to describe this. I was in a cycling accident a year ago and I lost consciousness for a bit. Um…I had a vision or a premonition or a dream… I’m not sure what to call it. But you were in it, and I just want to talk to you and try to figure out what I saw.”

  There was another long pause. This one seemed to go on forever.

  “Hello?” My heart was pounding thunderously in my ears. “Are you still there?”

  “Are you okay?” he finally asked. “I mean, from the accident. Were you hurt?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Only a bit. I had a few scrapes and bruises and a concussion, but I’m okay now.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Did you go over the guard rail? Did you fall into a ravine?”

  I sucked in a breath and darted a look at Bailey, who was watching me intensely.

  “No, I didn’t fall into a ravine,” I replied, holding her steady in my gaze. “So you know something about that.”

  “I do,” Chris replied. Then he fell silent again.

  By now my heart was racing faster than wildfire. “Can we meet?” I asked.
“I’d really like to talk to you. I’m right outside.”

  Again, he was hesitant. All I could do was wait and try to keep my breathing steady.

  Finally, he spoke up. “Yes, I’ll meet you. But I think the person you really want to talk to is my wife, Sylvie.”

  My eyebrows pulled together with bafflement, for there had been something strangely familiar about his wife in the wedding picture. Nevertheless, apprehension flooded my senses.

  “Would she be willing to meet me?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “She’s right here beside me, nodding her head. She works here as well. Can you meet us for lunch?”

  “Absolutely. What time, and where?”

  He was quick to lay out a plan. “There’s a pub a few blocks south of here. It’s called The Old Stone Keep. We’ll be there at noon.”

  “Great, I’ll see you then. And is it okay if I bring a friend?”

  “Sure,” he replied, and ended the call without another word.

  I set my phone down on my lap and blinked a few times, struggling to clear my vision and calm my breathing.

  “Did you get all of that?” I asked Bailey.

  She stared at me in disbelief. “Yes, and I have to admit, I’m stunned. I thought you were imagining all of this, but how did he know about the guardrail and the ravine?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied. “I’m just as stunned as you are.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bailey and I arrived at The Old Stone Keep fifteen minutes early. It was a classic English-style pub with dark wood paneling, heavy tables and chairs, and booths at the back. Bailey ordered sparkling water, but I ordered a glass of wine to help calm my nerves. I took a few large, unladylike gulps as soon as the waitress set it down in front of me.

  “Slow down there, Sparky,” Bailey said. “You don’t want to stagger out of your chair when you stand up to shake their hands.”

  “No, definitely not. That wouldn’t do at all.” I removed my sweater and draped it over the back of my chair, and picked up my phone to check the time. It wasn’t quite noon.