The Color of Heaven Series [02] The Color of Destiny

by Julianne MacLean

  My mouth covered hers in a hungry kiss that pummeled all my senses. I felt the shock of it straight down to my toes.

  She responded with an equal dose of passion, parting her lips and cupping my face in her hands. I steered us together, locked in the embrace, toward the shadows at the side of the house, where I backed her up against the cedar shakes and anchored her body.

  She moaned with pleasure and gripped my shirt in her fists. Her hands roamed up and down my arms and over my shoulders. My heart drummed wildly. I wanted her with a fierce, unstoppable passion as I pressed my body to hers.

  After a long, deep, and immensely pleasurable kiss, I eased back until our mouths were only lightly touching, and whispered, “I’m a very bad boss.”

  “No,” she breathlessly replied. “I think you’re very good.”

  I cupped her cheek in my hand and kissed her again, less hurried this time, more gently. Her lips were soft and moist. She tasted of coffee and sweet apple pie.

  Sexual need streaked down to my core, and I had to work hard to rein in my desires, even while I was celebrating them, for it had been so long since I’d had any interest in touching a woman.

  And Elizabeth was not just any woman. I felt a connection to her that went beyond physical. I cared for her deeply and I wanted to keep her here, safe with me, well loved. I wanted to share everything with her, never lose her.

  I felt her ribcage expand with a deep intake of breath. Her breasts squeezed against my chest, and it was all I could do to keep from sliding my hand up under her sweater. I wanted to take her straight to bed and make love to her quick and hard, but at the same time, that was not what I wanted.

  “My head is spinning,” she whispered, as I dragged my lips across her cheek to her ear, and breathed softly into it.

  Her body shuddered in response.

  “Mine is, too,” I replied. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t want to let go of you.”

  Wrapping her arms around my neck, she clung to me as if we were about to be violently ripped apart. I squeezed her against me and kissed her neck.

  “What’s happening here?” she murmured in my ear.

  “I don’t know,” I said, refusing to release her, “but whatever it is, it’s important.”

  It was a strange thing to say, and at the time, I had no notion of the significance of those words, but they would make sense to me later.

  Marissa’s and Sean’s laughter and their footsteps tramping up the wooden stairs from the beach caused us to step apart. Elizabeth straightened her sweater and smoothed her hair, while I backed away from her, toward the railing.

  She smiled at me, flirtatiously, and I wanted to go running down to the beach to shout across the water and tell the whole damn world that I was in love.

  “Sorry we took so long!” Marissa shouted from the lawn down below. “Were you worried?”

  I leaned over the railing. “Lucky for you the tide is out, young lady, or we might have sent for a rescue team.”

  Marissa and Sean climbed the steps. “What have you guys been up to?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Elizabeth and I answered guiltily, in unison.

  We looked at each other and laughed.

  “Hah, hah.” Marissa wagged a finger at us. “You two ought to take that hilarious show on the road.”

  She behaved as if nothing was amiss, but I knew Marissa sensed something as she led Sean into the kitchen. Elizabeth and I followed.

  “Want to watch Conan O’Brian?” she suggested. “I notice you’ve been recording all his shows since I left.”

  “Sure,” I replied. “Can you stay?” I asked Elizabeth.

  “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she casually replied, and we all filed into the living room.

  I sat down on the sofa with a surprising sense of wellbeing, and wondered how I was going to explain to Marissa that I had fallen in love with the home care worker I had wanted to fire on the first day.

  A woman who had worn combat boots and a temporary butterfly tattoo on her wrist.

  Would wonders never cease?

  Chapter Fifty-five

  “THERE’S SOMETHING GOING on between you two, isn’t there?” Marissa asked me the following morning at the table over breakfast.

  Sean was still asleep in the spare bedroom, and Gladys was up early as always, sipping tea with us.

  “What do you mean?” I replied.

  “You and Elizabeth,” she clarified. “It was weird when we came back from our walk. You missed it Gram, but they were both blushing.”

  “They’re such a lovely couple,” she replied. “Do you have children?” she asked me.

  “No, Gladys,” I replied. “No kids yet, but I promise to keep you posted.”

  Marissa leaned back in her chair and pointed her spoon at me. “There. You see? I was right. There is something going on.”

  “I’m not admitting anything,” I said, crunching fast on my granola, “but hypothetically speaking, if there was something going on, how would you feel about that?”

  The corner of her mouth curled up in a grin. “I wouldn’t have a problem with it, Ryan. You know how I feel about Elizabeth. For a long time I’ve wondered if, maybe, you’re meant to be with her. Maybe that’s why she was placed in our path.”

  “Placed in our path,” I said. “That sounds very New Age.”

  “Don’t you believe in fate?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Marissa leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “What do you believe in? Love, I hope. I also hope you’re going to tell me what happened last night.”

  I smiled and set down my spoon. “You were always such a sucker for good gossip.”

  “Yes, and not much has changed.”

  “I like gossip, too,” Gladys added, and leaned forward in her chair to hear me admit that I lost my head under the stars, and kissed Elizabeth for the first time.

  And it was awesome.

  Marissa and Sean returned to Halifax on Monday afternoon, leaving Elizabeth and me behind to figure out our feelings for each other.

  Gladys thought we were married anyway, so it seemed quite natural for us to sit together on the sofa in the evenings and hold hands. It gave Gladys pleasure to see us together – who knew she was such a romantic? – and who was I to deny an old woman such happiness?

  For twenty-one days straight, we kissed at every possible opportunity. Then, late one night, after Gladys was asleep and we were making out like hormonal teenagers on the sofa, I asked Elizabeth to stay the night.

  She said yes.

  I woke the next morning to find her in one of my hockey jerseys, standing at the stove, cooking eggs. But Elizabeth, barefoot in my home at sunrise, was not the most notable thing. It took me a moment or two to register what was different, but I soon realized there was no sign of the butterfly on her wrist.

  I felt certain that my future was sealed, and that this was why she had come to Nova Scotia.

  Because she was meant to be with me.

  I wish I could say it was as simple as that, but I still had much to learn about the power of destiny.

  Changes

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Marissa

  I KNEW, WHEN I returned home for Christmas, that my world would be altered.

  Since Thanksgiving, Ryan kept me informed about Gram’s condition with in-depth phone calls every Sunday. He explained that she was declining more rapidly than expected, and he wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to remain at home. She was no longer the woman we once knew. She couldn’t remember any of our names, and sometimes she wouldn’t speak for hours on end. She would just stare blankly out through the frosty windows at the fishing boats on the Bay.

  Other times, when she tried to speak, she couldn’t find the right words: ‘I’m hungry. Can I have some dishes?’ Once, she asked Elizabeth to tie her envelope.

  Ryan also confided in me about his relationship with Elizabeth. He told me that she stayed over mos
t nights, but that she was still keeping her apartment, at least for now. Not that she had much choice. Ryan had signed a one-year lease.

  I was curious about their plans for the future. How serious were they? Would they get married one day? Or was this a temporary affair, meant to distract Ryan from the grief of losing Gladys, and Mom, and me?

  These were questions I hoped to answer when I returned for the holidays – so I came home equipped to ask all of them.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  “IT’S SO GOOD to see you,” I said to Elizabeth as I crossed the threshold and stepped into her arms. It felt like heaven to hug her. Gram had been right. She was like a guardian angel, sent here to care for all of us.

  I noticed her hair had grown almost to her shoulders. It wasn’t as black as it was when she first arrived. There were red highlights now, but most importantly – as Ryan mentioned on the phone – the butterfly tattoo was gone.

  “Come on in,” Elizabeth said. “Let me take your jacket.”

  I shrugged out of it and removed my scarf, and she hung everything up in the front hall closet.

  Ryan appeared at the door and kicked the snow off his boots before stepping inside. “The temperature’s dropping,” he said, pulling off his leather gloves.

  “I’m glad you made it home before dark,” Elizabeth replied.

  I found it interesting that she used the word home, as if it were as much her home as ours. Maybe some girls my age might have felt threatened by the presence of a potential new stepmother, but the idea created a warm feeling in my belly, because I loved Elizabeth. I was the one who had interviewed her, and I believed I had made an excellent choice. I also knew Gram would not be here forever, and I didn’t want Ryan to end up alone.

  “How’s Sean?” Elizabeth asked, linking her arm through mine as we walked together to the kitchen.

  “He’s great,” I replied. “His parents will be overjoyed to have him home for Christmas. He’s never been so far away from them before.”

  “Have you met his parents yet?”

  “No, but I spoke to his mom on the phone, and his little sister. She’s a cutie.” My gaze shifted to the living room. The television was on, but the volume was turned low. “Gram!”

  I hurried around the sofa to greet her, but she peered up at me with a knitted brow. Physically, she recoiled when I went to hug her, as if I were a total stranger about to leapfrog over her.

  Pausing on the area rug, I spoke more gently. “Hi, Gram. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” she replied, and I sensed she was just repeating my words. That she hadn’t remembered it was the holiday season.

  “What are you watching?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

  She gestured toward the television. Was she having trouble accessing the words to name the program that was on?

  “Mind if I watch with you?” I asked.

  She nodded to tell me it was okay.

  For a long while we sat in silence, then I took hold of her hand and squeezed it lovingly. She looked at me. Our eyes locked and held, and I knew she was struggling to remember who I was.

  I’m not sure she ever did. She certainly couldn’t form words to tell me so, but I believe in my heart that she knew I was someone who meant a great deal to her. That was enough.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  ON NEW YEAR’S Eve, Ryan had to cover the ER at the hospital. We gave Justin the night off, so Elizabeth and I planned a special evening at home with Gram, just the three of us.

  In preparation, I’d spent hours collecting old photographs from boxes in the basement, scanned them to generate digital files, and created a photo book memento using a website that allowed me to add captions and graphics. The hard copy arrived by mail a few days after Christmas, and I wrapped it in gold foil paper.

  The photos I selected mostly came from Gram’s childhood and the early years of her marriage, because I knew that her long-term memory was more accessible to her than what was stored in the short term. I thought Gram might recognize her sisters and parents, and be comforted by the fact that she could still remember some things, and that she had lived a full and wonderful life. She was not a person without a past. Without an identity. Or a soul. She was loved and valued by everyone who knew her.

  Late in the afternoon, Elizabeth made a last-minute trip to the grocery store to pick up snacks and a cake we had pre-ordered to celebrate the New Year. I remained at home with Gram, who was now in the habit of wandering around the house constantly, moving from room to room, as if exploring everything for the first time. She fiddled with things, moved household items to different and sometimes bizarre locations, and often tried to go outside. We put child safety covers on all the doorknobs, which made it impossible for her to open them, and we also secured the exit doors with battery-operated alarms that Elizabeth had picked up for us at the hardware store.

  I was surprised when Gram bent over the steel bucket in front of the fireplace and withdrew one of the beach rocks.

  She had not painted anything since before Thanksgiving, but today she carried a sphere-shaped stone to the coffee table and set it down. She stood over it, staring for a long time.

  “Would you like to paint that, Gram?” I asked, setting down the washcloth in the kitchen and moving into the living room. “We have paints and brushes.” I fetched one of her other painted rocks, which we kept on the mantel, and showed it to her.

  She took it from me and set it down next to the other rock.

  “I’ll get your paints,” I said, not waiting for an answer.

  After covering the coffee table with newspaper, I poured small amounts of colored craft paint from the plastic bottles onto a foil pie plate, and handed her a brush.

  She dipped it into the green, mixed it with some white, and began to paint odd shapes that made no sense to me – at least not at first. But when she began to add blue, I realized she was painting a globe of the earth.

  “Is that the world?” I asked, when she appeared to be finished and set down her brush.

  She nodded at me.

  “It’s fantastic, Gram. You remember your geography better than I do.” I pointed. “Look, there’s Italy.”

  I couldn’t wait to show her the photo book later that evening.

  Glancing up at the clock, I wondered when Elizabeth would be back, as a light snow had begun to fall, and it was now dark.

  While the paint on the beach rock dried, Gram lay down on the sofa and took a nap. I sat at the computer to watch funny animal videos on YouTube. More than a half-hour must have passed when I heard Gram mumble something. I swiveled in the chair to see if she needed anything, and noticed that the snow was coming down hard and fast outside.

  Picking up my cell phone, I texted Elizabeth.

  Are you on your way? It’s snowing. Drive safely.

  I shoved the phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

  Gram sat up and stared for a long time at her painted globe. Then she stood up and walked past me.

  “Do you need something, Gram?” I asked when she paused at the top of the stairs that led down to her apartment.

  She pressed a hand on top of her head and winced, as if in pain.

  “Are you okay?” I touched her shoulder, but she crumpled and fell forward. Down the stairs she went, tumbling fast, head over feet.

  Adrenaline exploded like fire in my veins as I dashed down the stairs after her.

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  GRAM WAS UNCONSCIOUS when I reached her. “Gram, can you hear me?” I didn’t dare move her.

  Though I was stricken with panic, I managed to keep my head, and with speedy hands, pulled my phone out of my back pocket and keyed in 911. “Hello. My grandmother just fell down the stairs,” I told the dispatcher. “She’s not conscious. Please send an ambulance.”

  While the dispatcher asked me questions and took my address, my heart beat like a drum, and I felt sick to my stomach. Why had this happened to Gram, and tonight of all nights, when Rya
n was on call at the hospital? He would have known what to do.

  And where was Elizabeth? I needed her.

  I bent forward to listen for breathing, and with a profound sense of relief, found Gram’s pulse at her wrist. She was alive, but I couldn’t bear to think about her fall. Surely she’d done some significant damage, broken some bones – a hip, an arm, or a leg. I checked her everywhere, without moving her. There was no blood anywhere.

  “Gram, can you hear me?”

  Still no reply. I didn’t know how long it would take for the paramedics to arrive, so I called Elizabeth’s cell phone in desperation. It went straight to voicemail, which meant it was turned off, she was talking to someone, or the battery was dead.

  I left a message. “Elizabeth, please come home. Gram fell down the stairs. I just called an ambulance, but they’re not here yet, and I don’t know what to do. She’s not moving. Please call me if you get this.”

  I hung up and dialed Ryan’s number. Thank God, he answered.

  I told him what happened, and that Gram was still breathing.

  “Did you call 911?” he asked.

  “Yes, an ambulance is on the way.”

  “Is Elizabeth with you?”

  “No. She went to get some groceries. Her phone is dead. What do I do? I don’t know what to do.”

  I felt dizzy in my panic, but Ryan’s steady voice helped calm me. “Don’t do anything,” he said. “Just stay with her and keep checking her pulse. And for God’s sake, don’t move her.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “Just wait for the paramedics. They’ll have the right equipment to keep her stabilized. I’ll be here in the ER when she arrives, and I’ll take good care of her. You did well, Marissa. I’m proud of you.”

  But I wasn’t proud of me. Gram had fallen down the stairs while under my care.

  I knew I would feel guilty about that for the rest of my life – there would be no escaping it.

  A vehicle roared into the driveway. Hoping and praying it was the ambulance, I ran up the stairs to unlock the door.