The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time

by Julianne MacLean

  “At least we’d have each other,” I suggested. “Not everyone has rich parents to support them. Most of us get by just fine on our own. You could come and live here and we could be together. And my parents would help us. I know they would. You could go to college here.”

  “In Montana?”

  “Yes,” I replied, hesitantly.

  “How would I pay for it?” he asked with disbelief. “No. That can’t happen. Our lives would be totally screwed. Forever.”

  My heart broke at the sound of that word on his lips—the word he’d spoken so many times in such a loving way.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Honestly.”

  He was quiet for a long time. Then at last he spoke.

  “I know,” he replied in a gentle voice that comforted me. “It’s not your fault. I’m just in shock. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

  I let out a breath of relief. He was still my Ethan. He still loved me.

  “I wish you were here,” I said. “I hate that we’re so far apart.”

  “Me, too. If I could get on a plane right now, I would, but I can’t. Just give me some time, okay? I need to figure out what to do.”

  “All right.” I took a deep breath and gazed out the window. “Can you call me tonight?”

  “I will. And don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  “It will.” He paused. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Yes. I love you, too. More than anything.”

  With that, we said good-bye, and somehow I managed to get through the rest of the day without revealing to my family that my world had just been turned upside down.

  After supper, I waited by the phone for Ethan to call.

  Chapter Fourteen

  August 5, 2015

  I woke with start on Gram’s living room sofa, sat up and rubbed my eyes. The fire was still blazing on the flat screen TV, and the dawn sky was growing bright outside the windows.

  I picked up my phone to check the time. I had laid it on the coffee table the night before, and the battery was now dead. Swinging my legs to the floor, I rose from the sofa but stopped in my tracks when I noticed the front door was wide open.

  With my heart suddenly burning with panic, I hurried to push it shut and turned the lock. “Gordon?” I called out, whirling around to look for him. “Are you here?”

  I heard the familiar musical ping of the cat jumping onto the piano keys from the top of it. It was his favorite spot at the front parlor window. His paws hit the floor and he trotted toward me to rub up against my legs.

  “Why was the door open?” I asked, bending to scoop him up into my arms. “Did someone come in the house?”

  Or had I walked in my sleep? I used to sleepwalk often when I was a child, but I hadn’t done it in many years—at least not that I was aware of.

  “Did you get out?” I asked Gordon. “I suppose you were outside chasing mice?”

  He purred as I scratched behind his ears. Then I glanced around uneasily, wondering if someone had indeed come inside. Mrs. Cassidy perhaps? But that couldn’t be. She had given me her only key.

  Tiptoeing quietly into the kitchen, I looked around for signs of an unexpected intruder or any other clues to suggest someone had been inside the house while I was asleep. With Gordon in my arms, I searched both floors from top to bottom, and even descended to the musty basement, but nothing seemed out of order or missing.

  “Maybe I forgot to close the door all the way,” I said to Gordon as I put him down on the kitchen floor. “Maybe the wind blew it open.”

  He continued to purr and rub up against my legs.

  “Are you hungry?” I opened the refrigerator door and withdrew a carton of milk. I poured some in a saucer and watched him lap it up at my feet.

  Then I glanced at my laptop on the table and recalled my research on lucid dreaming. I remembered trying to fall asleep with memories of Ethan, but I couldn’t seem to recall if I’d simply replayed everything in my mind before drifting off, or if I’d actually dreamed it. I was confused and muddled. It felt as if my brain were full of cotton.

  On top of that, I was heartbroken all over again. As I recalled the tragic end to that incredible summer—and thought about what had happened the following year—I had to sit down and take a breath to steady my nerves.

  Later, when I got in the shower, I was further unnerved when a narrow stream of dirt slid down the drain, which could only have come from the bottoms of my feet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Can I ask you a question, Gram?” I said as I rolled the bedside table toward her. “How’s the lock on your front door?”

  She adjusted the tray to her liking and reached for the bowl of Jell-O. “What do you mean? Are you having trouble with it?”

  “Not exactly, but when I woke up this morning the door was open, so I’m wondering if the latch is loose, or if I didn’t close it tightly enough last night.”

  “Open!” she replied in shock. “You were upstairs sleeping the whole time?”

  “I was on the sofa, actually. I fell asleep watching TV.” I decided not to mention that I had been staring at a fake fire and might have walked in my sleep out her front door. I still couldn’t explain it myself and wasn’t sure what had happened.

  “Did Gordon get out?”

  “I don’t know, but he was there, sitting in his favorite spot on top of the piano, at dawn when I woke up.”

  “He thinks he’s a guard cat,” she informed me, “but he’s not. You’re lucky some crazed hoodlum didn’t walk in and try to steal my good silverware.”

  “I doubt that’s what today’s hoodlums are looking for, Gram. They’d be more interested in that giant flat screen TV of yours.”

  “And what would they do with it?” she demanded to know. “Lug it down the street?”

  “Probably,” I laughed. “Thieves are bold these days.”

  She nodded in agreement and finished eating her Jell-O.

  “Can I ask you another question, Gram?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  I looked down at my hands in my lap and tried to figure out what, exactly, I wanted to know.

  “Do you know much about what happened after that first summer I spent with Ethan? I mean…did you ever talk to Mom and Dad about my…” I stopped, because I couldn’t bring myself to speak the word out loud.

  Gram’s eyes lifted and she set her empty bowl on the tray. “Are you talking about your abortion?”

  I inhaled deeply, relieved that she was willing to be blunt. “So you did know.”

  She reached for my hand. “Yes, I knew. Your grandfather and I felt very guilty about it, since we were the ones responsible for you that summer. The whole thing was so hard on your parents.”

  “It was hard on me, too.”

  “I’m sure it was. You were young and I could see how much you loved Ethan. It’s a shame how it all turned out.”

  I sat for a moment, running my fingers over the back of her aged, blue-veined hand. “I didn’t want to do it, you know. If it had been up to me alone, I would have had the baby and kept it. What I really wanted was to marry Ethan. I was only sixteen, but that’s what I wanted. I think we would have been happy, if only…”

  Gram regarded me with compassion. “There’s no way to know how that would have turned out,” she said. “That’s the thing about regret, and over-analyzing the past. We can wish all we want that we had done something differently, but maybe a different path might have been all wrong for us, and things would have turned out far worse than they are today.”

  “Or better,” I suggested.

  She stared at me for a long moment. “The point is, life throws curve balls at everyone. For all you know, if you’d had that baby, you might have had a stroke during childbirth. Maybe you wouldn’t be here today.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Besides… You remember what his family was like. They would
n’t have accepted you or recognized your baby as their grandchild. They would have done whatever was necessary to cut you out.”

  “That’s probably true,” I replied. “Looking back on it, what I should have done was hire a lawyer and taken them straight to the cleaners. Even if they wouldn’t let Ethan marry me, they might have paid me off. I could have been a rich woman—and kept my baby, too.”

  Gram considered that with a raised an eyebrow. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

  With a resigned sigh, I leaned back in my chair. “Who am I kidding? I couldn’t have done that to Ethan. I loved him. Remember how much you and Grampy liked him, too? He fit in with us, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” she replied with a look of fondness in her eyes. “He was a nice boy, but nothing can change what happened. No amount of wishing for what could have been will make any difference in your life today.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Jenn,” I said with a sad chuckle as I lowered my gaze. “She’s always telling me to forget what happened and move on.”

  “You don’t have to forget it,” Gram said. “It’s part of who you are, but you do need to move on. You’re still young. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  “Which is exactly what my parents said to me at the time, when I was sixteen.” I let out a deep breath. “I just wish I could lay it to rest. It’s like I lost a part of myself after that summer, and I’m still searching for that missing part. Or searching for something. All I want to do is go back there in my mind. Relive it. Find what’s missing. Hold onto it.”

  “There’s nothing back there but tears.”

  I nodded. “Maybe.”

  Later that afternoon, after I left the hospital, I drove out to Cape Elizabeth to walk along the rocky shoreline and think about what happened after my abortion.

  I had spent the winter in Montana, going to school and missing Ethan terribly while he was at Yale. We emailed each other every day, counting the minutes until we could be together again the following summer when we both returned to Maine.

  I had hoped that Ethan and I could pick up where we left off, before we’d found out I was pregnant. I wanted to pretend it never happened and bury the grief and regret I felt over not having our baby.

  Sadly, nothing turned out for the better when I was reunited with him at last, because I couldn’t simply move on. I was still hurting, yet I wanted to be happy again. I was impatient for a perfect life with Ethan where there would be no sorrow.

  If only I had not pushed so hard to try and make things go my way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maine

  Summer, 1999

  “Slow down, you’re driving too fast,” Ethan said to me as we rounded a bend in the road on the way out to Cape Elizabeth. It was the first time he’d let me drive his Porsche—just after he’d finally agreed to take me inside his parents’ summer mansion on the water. But only because they were in New York and the housekeeper was off duty for the evening.

  “I can’t help it,” I said, taking my foot off the gas pedal and hitting the breaks hard. “I’m annoyed.”

  He placed a hand on the dashboard to brace himself. “I don’t know what the big deal is. You’ve been wanting to see the inside of the house for ages, and now I’m taking you there. I don’t know why you’re mad.”

  We had both been back in Maine for over two weeks and had promised each other we wouldn’t dwell on what happened the previous fall when he sent me money for the abortion—but then he couldn’t afford to fly out for the actual procedure. My parents had gone with me that day.

  It was a miracle they’d agreed to let me come back here, after everything that happened. What they really wanted was for me to stay home that second summer and get a job in Billings, scooping ice cream or something. But Ethan and I were still in love and I suppose they feared that if they forbade me from seeing him, I would have done something drastic—like quit school and run away from home.

  I wouldn’t have done that. After what happened with the pregnancy, I’d grown up a lot. I didn’t want to make any more mistakes. All I wanted was to be with Ethan and for things to work out between us. We’d managed to make it through the school year, after all. That was something. Maybe in time we could still get married.

  And yet, I was impatient.

  “You promised it would be different this summer,” I reminded him as I sped up again and shifted into a higher gear. “When I agreed to take the money for the abortion, you promised you would introduce me to your parents, but now you’re saying that you won’t. I don’t want to have to spend another summer sneaking around. I hate how it makes me feel—like you’re ashamed of me.”

  “I’m not,” he replied. “And why do you need my parents’ approval? They’re not important. What matters is what’s between us. You and me.”

  “They’re your parents and they’re a part of who you are,” I argued. “I know you say your father’s really strict, but I’m sure I could win him over.”

  Ethan shook his head with frustration.

  I turned briefly to look at him. “You don’t think so?”

  “I know them. They wouldn’t give you a chance. My dad would threaten to cut me off, and believe me, he doesn’t make idle threats. Seriously, Sylvie… Just be patient and let me get through college. Once I get into law school, I’ll be set on my own and it won’t matter. But I have to get in first.”

  I swallowed over my frustration and drove faster toward Cape Elizabeth. When we finally arrived and I turned up the long tree-lined lane to his family home on the sea, the sun was just setting.

  As we emerged out of the trees, I beheld the white painted Georgian mansion before a glorious pink sky, and decided to let go of my disappointments and enjoy the night. Ethan was right about one thing at least. I had been wanting to see the inside of this house for ages. I didn’t want to spoil it by arguing with him about the past or the future or anything else.

  Pulling the car to a halt on the white gravel drive, I shut off the engine and handed the keys to Ethan. He regarded me in the gleaming twilight, appearing uncertain.

  “I’m sorry I was upset,” I said, leaning closer to wrap my arms around his neck. “I’ve been bottling things up all winter, trying to pretend everything’s fine, but it was rough being away from you. I just had to get everything out.”

  But I hadn’t gotten it all out. There were still so many other issues I didn’t even touch on—mostly to do with my unhappiness over terminating my pregnancy. His parents were the least of my troubles, but I doubt I was mature enough at the time to fully understand the complexities of my emotions.

  “I’m sorry, too,” he replied, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “I remember what I promised you last fall, and now I’m reneging on that. I’m a heel. You deserve better.”

  I touched my forehead to his. “You’re not a heel, and I don’t want anyone but you. This is fine. I’ll wait forever if I have to, as long as I know we’ll be together in the end.”

  “We will be,” he assured me, and I believed him with every inch of my soul. “Now let’s go inside.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is incredible,” I said as I climbed the steps leading to the stately front veranda beneath a high-columned portico. “I hope you appreciate how lucky you are.”

  “Actually,” he replied, “I probably don’t. I’ve been coming here since I was born, so I’m never bowled over.”

  I grinned flirtatiously. “That’s why you’re lucky to have me. To help you appreciate the life you’ve been given. It’s no fun if you take it for granted.”

  He slid his arm around my waist and kissed me on the cheek. “I agree.”

  Together we entered through the front door, which boasted a massive brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head. Once inside, where it was quiet and dimly lit, I felt as if I were standing in a museum, after hours.

  Ethan flicked on a light and the crystal chandelier over my head illuminated the wide e
ntrance hall, decorated with Victorian styled wall paper and old family portraits.

  “Are these your ancestors?” I asked, moving forward to look more closely at a painting of a woman in a Victorian wedding gown.

  “I have no idea who any of these people are,” he replied. “The house was a wedding gift to my parents, from my mother’s father. I think it came fully furnished from the previous owners in an estate auction.”

  “Does your grandfather ever come to visit?”

  “No, he died when I was three. I don’t really remember him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” My eyes traveled up the length of an ornately carved staircase railing, then I glanced toward the dining room on my right.

  Ethan gestured with a hand to suggest I explore wherever I wished.

  “Do your parents have a lot of dinner parties?” I asked, taking in the giant mahogany table that could seat at least twenty guests.

  “Not too many out here,” he replied. “They do most of their socializing in New York.”

  He followed me as I wandered into the front parlor—a large room with antique furniture that looked as if it had come straight out of a historical costume drama on television, with lords and ladies, parlor maids and butlers. There was a fireplace big enough to crawl into, surrounded by a white marble hearth.

  We continued toward the modern updated kitchen at the back of the house, then into a library with a wall of bookcases behind a heavy, old-fashioned desk and leather chair.

  I strode to the bookcase and ran my fingers along the spines of all the old books. “I can just imagine pulling one of these out and discovering a secret door to another world. You know…like in the old movies?”

  “I should take you up to the attic sometime,” Ethan said. “You’d love it. It’s full of all kinds of weird Victorian gadgets and clocks that haven’t been wound in a century.”