The Color of Forever

by Julianne MacLean

  The bells jingled over the door and I jumped. Three men walked in.

  “It’s not them,” I said to Bailey, who sat with her back to the entrance.

  Taking a deep breath, I clasped my hands together on my lap and fiddled with the garnet ring on my middle finger, turning it around and around. Then I spotted a couple walk by the windows. They stopped out front, talked for a moment, and pulled the door open. The bells jingled again and I sat up straighter. “It’s them.”

  They paused just inside and looked around. In those few brief seconds, I was able to take in Chris’s appearance. Though it had been ten years since we last spoke in person, I felt as if I’d known him intimately, forever. Slim and fit, with light brown hair, he looked exactly as he had in my memories of our so-called marriage, and I felt as if I were being reunited with an old friend—a man of integrity, someone who had been good to me.

  Someone I had foolishly betrayed. I felt a dreadful stabbing of guilt in my belly.

  As for Sylvie, she was tall, blond and beautiful, and although she appeared to be about my age, I felt intimidated by the fact that she knew so much more about this than I did. At least, that’s what Chris had implied on the phone.

  They spotted us and approached the table. I rose from my chair and held out my hand. “Hi Chris. Thanks for meeting us.” We shook hands, then I turned to his wife. “And you must be Sylvie. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Our eyes locked and I felt a sudden rush of butterflies as we clasped hands, for there was something guarded in her eyes, an overall wariness in her manner.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she replied, nevertheless, mustering up a courteous smile.

  “This is my friend, Bailey.” I gestured toward her as we all sat down. “She’s from Seattle as well. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.”

  Bailey shook hands with them over the table, and then the waitress arrived to take their drink orders. A moment later, we all stared at each other in awkward silence.

  “Well,” I said pointedly, leaning forward to break the ice. “I’m really curious to talk to you both. I mentioned on the phone that I’d had a vision, of sorts, when I had my cycling accident, and for some reason, Chris, you were in it. When we talked on the phone this morning, you seemed to know something about my accident—that there was a guard rail and a ravine. Can I ask how you knew about that?”

  Chris glanced at Sylvie and raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know, actually. It was Sylvie who told me about it.”

  She sat directly across the table from me. I met her gaze. “When?”

  “It was almost a year ago,” she replied, “not long after Chris and I started seeing each other.”

  “But how did you know about it?” I asked her.

  She glanced uneasily at the other people seated in the pub. “It’s kind of a strange story, and I’m not all that comfortable telling you about it, since we hardly know each other, not to mention the fact that you’re a reporter. I’ve never told anyone except for Chris, and one other person.”

  I spoke gently, hoping she would warm up to me and trust me with whatever secret she was keeping. “Told anyone what?”

  “How and why I know certain things. Why I knew who you were. And you have to give me your word that you won’t use this for a news story. This is off the record. Otherwise I won’t talk to you.”

  “I promise,” I said without hesitation. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m on vacation. This is completely personal.”

  Chris and Sylvie exchanged a look, as if they were deciding whether or not to reveal whatever she knew, then Chris leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. At last, he began to explain.

  “When Sylvie and I first started dating, she asked me if I knew anyone named Katelyn. I said no, and she then proceeded to remind me about the interview I did with you at UW. It was only then that I remembered you, but I didn’t know why she had known about it, or why she was asking.”

  “I still don’t understand,” I said.

  Sylvie sat forward as well. “Maybe we should start with you telling me what you saw in your vision, Katelyn. Or I could guess, if you like.”

  I leaned back and gestured with a hand. “Please, go ahead. I’m very curious.”

  Without wavering, she said, “Did you imagine that you were married to Chris, and that you had a son together?”

  I felt the color drain from my face, and nodded.

  “Was his name Logan?” Sylvie asked.

  I frowned at the sudden ache of longing in my heart and spoke heatedly. “Yes.”

  Chris and Sylvie exchanged another look.

  “Was he sick? With leukemia?”

  I couldn’t take much more of this. It was bringing it all back, making Logan real again. And if these people—who were complete strangers to me—knew about him, surely he had to be real. “My God, yes. How do you know that?”

  Sylvie pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I know it because it sort of…did happen.”

  I quickly shook my head, not knowing what to make of her latest revelation. If it really were true, where was my son?

  “Wait a minute…” Bailey leaned forward as well. “How could it have happened? I’ve known Katelyn all my life, and she was married to a man named Mark. They never had any children. What are you talking about?”

  The waitress arrived just then, set down Chris’s and Sylvie’s drinks and asked if we were ready to order.

  My shoulders slumped at her terrible timing.

  Chris picked up his menu. “We both have patients at 1:00 and have to get back to the office by then,” he explained. Then he looked up at the waitress and handed the menu back. “I’ll have the pan-fried haddock and vegetables with rice.”

  Sylvie ordered the same thing, and Bailey and I ordered chicken salads.

  As soon as the waitress was gone, Sylvie continued. “I know this must seem crazy to you…”

  “Trust me. It doesn’t.”

  She nodded with understanding. “Either way, I think you deserve to know what happened—to me, at least.” She sipped her water and set down the glass. “I had a strange experience last year when I experimented with lucid dreams. There’s also a similar phenomenon called astral projection. I’m not sure what happened to me exactly, and it certainly wasn’t a controlled experiment. I was completely on my own and didn’t tell anyone what I was doing.”

  “What happened?” I wanted desperately to hear everything she had to say as quickly as possible, before they had to leave.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, “but it seemed as if I traveled backwards through time and relived certain events from my past where I did something differently, and when I woke up the morning after, my life was different. I did it more than once, too.”

  Bailey inclined her head. “You mean like in Back to the Future when Marty McFly goes back in time, changes how his parents met, and it affects the future?”

  Sylvie chuckled softly. “Yes, kind of like that. It’s complicated to explain, because it seemed as if each time I woke up with a new life—always on the same day in the present—it was like an alternate reality. Each a parallel life, in a way.” She inhaled deeply. “In one of those alternate realities, I met Chris, and he was married to you. Or at least, he had been. You were divorced, but you had a son named Logan.”

  “We were divorced because I cheated on you,” I said to Chris, “which I would never do in real life. I’m very sorry about that. Seriously.”

  Chris shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, it never happened. All I know is this life, right here.” He reached for Sylvie’s hand and squeezed it.

  “I still remember it,” she said under her breath, regarding me with hooded, mistrustful eyes.

  I shifted uneasily in my chair and tried to speak lightly. “I’m happy for you guys, honestly, and I’m glad I’m not a cheater—in this life, at least. But still….” I paused. “I can’t seem to let go of the memory of the son we had.”

  We
all reached for our drinks and sipped at the same time.

  “I’m curious,” Sylvie said, “about your vision, Katelyn. Was it a dream? Were you asleep or unconscious when you had it? Chris said it happened during your cycling accident.”

  I nodded. “That’s right. But I wasn’t asleep. You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes at the moment of your death? I thought I was going over the guardrail and I panicked—obviously. But the life that flashed before my eyes wasn’t my own. It was like this alternate reality you’re describing. And then I saw myself falling into the ravine and waking up in a wheelchair. It was as if everything happened in slow motion.”

  “That must have been very frightening,” Chris said.

  “It was. But somehow, at the last second, I managed to contort my body so that I hit the rail instead and didn’t go over the edge. I think I had an inkling of it and prevented it.”

  Sylvie swallowed uneasily. “I’m glad to hear that, because in that other life, you did fall into the ravine and you became paralyzed from the waist down. You’re very lucky, Katelyn. I’m so glad that didn’t happen to you.”

  I reached for my wine glass and finished it off. “Me, too.”

  The waitress arrived with our meals and set them down in front of us. As soon as she was gone, I picked up my fork and asked Sylvie another question. “If that truly was an alternate reality that I saw, why did I have that same accident in this reality?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. It’s still a huge mystery to me and I’m trying to move on, to live life in the present. But I also experienced the same thing, because there were events that happened in those other lives that repeated themselves in this one.”

  “Like what?”

  She waved her fork around and chewed delicately while she spoke. “Like the hurricane that ravaged Maine last year. Three times, I went back, spent a few weeks in another reality. In one of them, we were hit by a hurricane. When I finally woke up, here in my current life, that same storm hit a few weeks later, on the exact same date. I was able to predict it and I knew exactly how bad it would be. Other things were the same as well.”

  “Like your grandmother needing surgery,” Chris added helpfully.

  Obviously Sylvie had shared everything with him.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “In that other life, my grandmother had to have some polyps removed, and when I woke up in this one, I asked her to get checked out, and sure enough, she was diagnosed with the same thing. She had to have them removed.” Sylvie moved her food around on her plate and frowned slightly. “Still, other things were different. Like the sailboat. I don’t know why.”

  “What sailboat?” I asked when she offered no further information.

  Her eyes lifted and she seemed hesitant. “When the hurricane hit in that other reality, a sailboat was washed up onto the lawn of the house where I was living. We didn’t know who it belonged to and had to track down the owners by the boat’s name. But in this reality, when the storm hit, that didn’t happen. No boats were washed ashore in that area.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “This is really confusing.” I shut my eyes for a moment, labored to comprehend everything, then I opened them again. “So when I had a near-death experience, I remembered one of these alternate lives that you sort of created for me when you had your visions?”

  Sylvie glanced at Chris. “I guess that’s a sensible conclusion. And I’m just as baffled as you are.”

  “So Logan doesn’t exist at all?” I asked.

  Sylvie set down her fork and regarded me with gentle compassion. “Not in this life. I’m sorry.”

  Feeling brokenhearted and resistant to simply let those memories go, I exhaled sharply. “But how did you get there? How did you reach those other lives? It’s just that…after all this, I feel like he truly is my son and he’s out there somewhere. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve been wanting to find him, but now there’s nowhere real to look. I don’t know where to start.”

  “You’re not crazy,” Sylvie said. “But I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes. You want to find a way to reach that other reality and be his mother again.”

  We all stopped eating, and I felt everyone watching me with concern and pity, which troubled me, because I never liked being pitied. That implied I was weak. Doleful. Unfortunate.

  I tried to explain myself. “It’s just that…I never had children, so I had no idea how strong the pull could be. It’s shocking to me. Ever since my accident, it’s like I’ve been living a life where my child went missing, or died. Bailey knows. I haven’t been myself. I’ve been grieving, but trying to ignore or deny it.”

  Sylvie sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Katelyn. I’m sorry that you were caught up in this, and I’m still amazed, to be honest, that you connected with those memories. But I’m pretty sure that you could never cross over to that other life.”

  “But how do you know?” I pressed, setting down my fork. “Are you worried that if I do go back there and change something, you won’t be married to Chris?”

  She and Chris regarded each other uneasily, then Sylvie bowed her head and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

  “I have no idea what it would mean for this reality.” She picked up her fork again and poked at her haddock on the plate. Then she looked across at me. “But the way I see it, there could be a billion possibilities and it’s likely that one small change can have a ripple effect on how things turn out. Even if you ended up married to Chris again—if you dated him and didn’t cheat on him—the odds of having the same baby are a billion to one.”

  I shook my head, denying that possibility. “My gut is telling me that our son exists, and he’s waiting for me to find him.”

  Now, I did sound crazy.

  Sylvie regarded me with sudden displeasure.

  “I apologize,” I said. “I didn’t mean to imply that we have a son together.” I glanced at Chris. “We don’t even know each other.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” Sylvie said with a kinder tone. “This is complicated. I admit, I’m feeling a bit threatened here, because in that other life, you did try to get Chris back.”

  “After he started seeing you?” I asked with a frown of disbelief.

  She nodded and studied my expression, no doubt searching for my intentions. “And I lost him to you.”

  “I see,” I replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. That memory never played out in my mind. But I promise you, I’m not going to try to steal your husband away. Not this time.”

  I shared a look with Bailey, feeling grateful that I had someone in my corner, here at the table. Someone who knew me well and understood I wasn’t a husband stealer.

  I made an effort to change the subject. “You still haven’t told me, precisely, how you went back in time. I don’t know anything about lucid dreaming. Is it really possible to—?”

  “It wasn’t the lucid dreams,” she told me. “It was something else, or a combination of the lucid dream and a portal of some kind.”

  “Sylvie…” Chris spoke with a note of warning. “You said you weren’t going to—”

  “I think she needs to know,” Sylvie explained to him, then she turned back to me again. “There’s a sundial at a historic home in Cape Elizabeth—the same place where the sailboat washed onto the lawn. I believe the dial might have had something to do with it. The man who owned the house was a sea captain and he lost his wife at a young age when she was swept off the rocks during a storm. I did some research and learned that he spent his life trying to build a time machine, so that he could go back and prevent her death. I think that’s what the sundial was supposed to be.”

  “Cape Elizabeth?” I leaned forward. “Which historic home? Is it the Fraser House Inn? Because that’s where we’re staying.”

  Sylvie dropped her fork and flopped back in her chair. “Are you kidding me? You’re staying at the Fraser House Inn. What made you choose it?”

  I shrugged and glanced uncertainly
at Bailey. “I don’t know. I saw pictures online and I liked the look of it.”

  Sylvie rested her elbow on the table and cupped her forehead in a hand. I found myself staring at the top of her head, worrying that she was about to bring this conversation to an end. “I’ve said too much.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I assured her. “Please, I need to know everything, because I’m already involved. There’s no going back.”

  She lowered her hand from her face. “But isn’t that the point? Trust me, I’ve done this. What matters is the future, not the past. Besides, I don’t want to be responsible for what might happen if you tried to do what I did.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too unpredictable. What if you could never get back here, to this life? Do you want to risk losing everything you know and love?”

  “Every single second of every day is unpredictable,” I argued.

  She turned to her husband, Chris, and regarded him imploringly, as if she hoped he would help her argue the point. He merely shrugged, leaving the decision up to her. And me, I suppose.

  Sylvie turned in her chair to signal the waitress. “I’m sorry, we have to go. It’s almost 1:00.”

  The waitress immediately crossed the pub with our bills and a wireless credit card machine.

  “We’re in a bit of a rush,” Sylvie explained to her while Chris pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

  Bailey and I sat in silence, watching Sylvie and Chris pay their bill and rise from their chairs. “I’m sorry,” Sylvie said. “It was nice to meet you, but…” She paused. “You should go home, Katelyn. Just be happy with your life. Be grateful for what you have.” She gestured toward Bailey. “You have a wonderful friend here, and you’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. You survived a terrible biking accident, and if you go back, you might not be so lucky next time. It’s a second chance that you’ve been given. You should make the most of it by moving forward.”

  That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. It’s why I came here.

  Chris laid a hand on the small of Sylvie’s back and they walked out together. I continued to watch them while the bells jingled over the door and they moved onto the sidewalk. As they passed by the windows, walking quickly, he slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder.