The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time

by Julianne MacLean

  I stared at him, dumbstruck for a moment. “Chris?”

  His face lit up the instant I spoke his name—as if he wasn’t sure I would remember him—then he slid out of the red-cushioned bench to rise to his feet and hug me.

  As we stepped back, I said, “Holy Cow. It’s good to see you. You look great.”

  He was no longer the thin, lanky boy I remembered from my youth. He had filled out and gained some sophisticated friendly laugh lines around his eyes.

  I had only seen Chris once since those first two summers we spent together, as Chris’s family had moved to Seattle. He and Ethan hadn’t kept in touch.

  Chris did come to Ethan’s funeral years later, however. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember much about seeing him that day. I had been a total mess.

  “Ditto,” he replied, looking me up and down. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  We stared at each other in amazement for a few seconds. It was so incredible, how we’d met again after all that time.

  Eventually, he slid back into the booth. “How long have you been working here?”

  I shrugged, because everything was still so vague and a tad indistinguishable to me. “A few years… After what happened…” I gave him a look. “You know what I mean. I knew I had to get out of the house or I’d just wither away.”

  “Of course,” he replied with understanding, for he knew the details of the drunk driving accident that had taken Ethan and Tyler from me.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Are you living back here now, or just visiting? I remember that your family moved out West when you were what…eighteen…nineteen?”

  “That’s right,” Chris replied. “We’re all still living out there. I’m just visiting. Here on vacation for three weeks.”

  His dark-haired friend at the table piped up. “He’s taking care of my house and dog while I take my wife and kids to Europe.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  Chris gestured toward his friend. “I’m sorry. This is my cousin, Jared. Jared, this is Sylvie. Sylvie and I go way back. She was married to Ethan Foster.”

  Jared’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh…” A quiet gloom settled over all of us as Jared acknowledged with a nod what had happened to my husband and son eight years ago. Of course, he would know the story if he lived in Portland. It had been all over the local news at the time.

  “Are you still living in the Foster mansion?” Jared asked, speaking in a casual tone, to lighten the mood.

  “Yes. It’s really too big for one person, but I can’t seem to leave it.”

  “That’s understandable,” Jared replied.

  Chris and I stared at each other for a few lingering seconds until I had to mentally shake myself out of a sudden melancholy. I strove to think about all the good times we’d shared as a foursome in our teen years—Ethan, me, Chris and Jean, riding our bikes out to the lake, roasting marshmallows at Chris’s parents’ cottage in the woods, and eating french fries at the Lobster Shack. They had been incredible summers.

  “What can I get you to drink?” I asked, turning my eyes to Jared before it became too obvious that I was totally distracted by memories.

  They ordered a couple of beers. As I passed by the bar, I said to Cassie, “Two Guinesses,” then I went to take the orders from the ladies up front.

  “So you know him?” Cassie asked after I returned from the kitchen a few minutes later to collect the drinks she had waiting for me on a tray. “He’s really cute,” she whispered.

  “His name is Chris. He’s grown up a lot since we hung out together.”

  “Who is he?”

  I picked up the tray and spoke softly. “He was Ethan’s friend when they were kids. We hung out with him for two summers, then his family moved out West. He came to the funeral, though. That was the last time I saw him.”

  She cocked her head to the side to check him out. “He certainly turned out well. Who’s his friend?”

  “That’s his cousin, Jared.”

  “He’s not bad either,” Cassie said.

  “Settle down,” I said with a chuckle. “He’s married. Besides, there’s to be no drooling on the customers.” I grinned and headed back to their booth.

  “Here we are.” I set the beer glasses on the table. “Did you decide what you’d like for lunch? Or do you have any questions?”

  I met Chris’s gaze and we shared a smile.

  “No questions,” he replied. “Jared?”

  Jared was still poring over the menu with great intensity. “I’ll have the club sandwich with fries.”

  “And I’ll have the pan-fried haddock,” Chris added.

  “Rice or potato?” I asked.

  “Rice.”

  “Excellent choice.” I smiled.

  After I took their menus and delivered their orders to the kitchen, I waited on a few other customers that came in. It was a busy lunch hour, even for a Friday.

  Later, after I gave Chris and Jared their bills and processed their credit card payments, I told Chris again how great it was to see him. Then I said good-bye and returned to the kitchen to check on other lunch orders.

  I had just delivered four salads to a table up front, when Chris walked back in, jingling the bells at the door. At first I thought he might have left something behind, but he lingered at the door, gesturing me toward him as our eyes met.

  My heart pounded a little faster as I approached. “Hey.”

  “Listen,” he said, “we should get together and catch up while I’m here. Do you want to grab some lunch this weekend?”

  “I’d love that,” I replied. “I work tomorrow but I’m off at four.”

  “How about dinner then?”

  “Sounds great. Should we meet somewhere, or…?”

  “I’ll pick you up at 7:00,” he said.

  After he left, I found myself standing at the door, staring in a daze at the jingling bells, for I felt transported—back in time to those easy, romantic summer days and nights when I was sixteen years old.

  “Excuse me, miss?” one of the ladies at the front table said. “Could we get another beer for Gwen?”

  “Sure,” I replied with a smile as I hurried back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Clearly we have a lot of catching up to do,” I said to Chris as he pulled out of my driveway. “After you left the pub, I realized I didn’t even know what you do for a living, or if you’re married with kids. I don’t know anything.”

  He shifted the Honda CRV into third gear as we drove down the long tree-lined lane. “I’m a dentist,” he replied. “I have a practice in Seattle with three other doctors and we’re all good friends. We cover each other for vacations.”

  “Do you come back here often to visit?” I asked.

  “Not as much as I’d like to.” Chris glanced at me briefly before turning onto the main road. “I like Seattle and everything, but I think this will always feel more like home to me. I’m glad Jared’s still here with his family, and my uncle’s here, too. It gives me a reason to come back.”

  “Married? Kids?” I asked.

  He made a face. “That’s kind of complicated. The short answer is no, I’m not married. I’m divorced, but we have a son—Logan—so that’s what keeps me in Seattle.” Chris looked at me. “He’s an amazing kid. Honestly…Sylvie, he’s incredible. You wouldn’t believe it.”

  I felt a rush of happiness at the love I saw in his eyes and heard in his voice, accompanied by a pang of regret for the loss of my own son.

  “How old?”

  “Nine,” Chris replied. “But we’ve had a rough go of it the past couple of years. It hasn’t been easy.”

  My eyebrows pulled together with concern. “Why is that?”

  Chris kept his eyes on the road. “Logan was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia when he was seven. He’s being treated, but it’s not easy. Feels like we’re at the hospital all the time.”

  The happiness I’d felt seconds ago drained out of me. I knew what it
meant to lose a child—nothing is ever the same after that—and I couldn’t imagine living with that fear every day.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I gently replied. “Is he going to be okay?”

  Chris’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “He’s putting up a good fight. He’s in remission right now so we’ve got our fingers crossed. He had a few appointments this week, otherwise I’d have him out here with me for the full three weeks, because he loves Jared’s kids and would have liked to see them before they fly off. They all get along really well. Katelyn is going to bring him out for the third week so we can do some sailing and whale watching. He loves to be out on the water.”

  “Is Katelyn your wife?” I asked.

  Chris gave me a look. “Ex-wife.”

  I was feeling very curious about what had happened to cause the breakdown of their marriage and how their relationship was working out now, after the divorce, but it seemed too personal a question to ask in the first five minutes of our re-acquaintance, so I left all that alone.

  “Where are we going for supper?” I asked.

  “I thought I’d cook us dinner at Jared’s house,” Chris replied. “I drove him and his family to the airport this morning, so I’ve had all day to putter around, pick up groceries. Their place is on the water. Does that sound okay?”

  “It sounds great, actually.” In that moment, I experienced a flash memory of Chris’s cottage in the woods where we’d spent so much time together that first summer. “Do your parents still own their summer place?” I asked.

  Chris flicked the blinker and turned onto a side road. “No, they sold it a long time ago, the year after we moved. I wish they’d held onto it. It was dumpy and rustic, but man, I loved it.”

  “Me, too. We had so much fun there. I remember the tire swing and the sound of the river. I swear, roasted marshmallows never tasted so good. Not in all my life.”

  Chris nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean. They shouldn’t have let it go, but I guess it was pretty far to travel for a cottage—clear across the country. They wouldn’t have been able to use it much. At least that’s what they said.”

  “You could always buy it back,” I suggested.

  He nodded at me again. “You know…I’ve thought about that. Many times over the years.”

  “Do you know who owns it now?”

  “No idea,” he replied, “but I might check it out while I’m here. You never know.”

  “Make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

  Chris chuckled. “Yeah.” He slowed down and we pulled onto a paved driveway that led to a modest-sized home with gray cedar shakes and a covered veranda.

  “Nice place,” I said.

  “It’s not exactly the Foster mansion,” Chris replied, “but it’s cozy.” He shut off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come on in.”

  I got out, slung my purse over my shoulder, and looked around. The lawn was freshly mowed and there were wooden flower boxes full of colorful red geraniums. “Someone likes to garden.”

  “Jared’s wife, Melanie. She’s always out here with the hose, watering stuff and clipping back leaves.” He climbed the steps to the front door. While Chris searched for the right key, I heard a dog barking inside. “You’re not afraid of dogs are you?” Chris asked.

  “I love dogs.”

  “Good. This one’s a real pussycat, actually. She only barks when there’s someone at the door, then she’ll just lick you to death.”

  He unlocked the door and stepped inside. A small white ball of fur immediately jumped up to greet us. “This is Buffy,” Chris said.

  I bent down to let her sniff the back of my hand. “Aren’t you adorable? Great name, Buffy. Slay any vampires lately?”

  Chris laughed. “That’s exactly who she was named after. Melanie loves that show.”

  He led me into the kitchen at the back of the house. It was slightly dated with honey oak cupboards and a green laminate countertop, but the view over the water was spectacular. The house was nestled in a quiet cove with a few other houses, all with private docks and sailboats moored further out.

  “This is a great spot,” I said.

  “It really is.” He hung his keys on a hook by the fridge. “That’s Jared’s boat out there. The white one on the left. Do you sail?”

  “I used to. Ethan and I went out a lot when we were first married and had a boat.”

  I stopped myself at that, because I didn’t want to explain how I never wanted to take Tyler out when he was a baby. I’d wanted to wait until he was older and knew how to swim, but that day never came. After the funeral, I couldn’t bear to look at the boat because I regretted not taking him out sooner. I was always playing it safe—which didn’t make much of a difference in the end.

  I sold the boat ages ago.

  “I could take you out sometime if you want,” Chris said.

  “That would be nice.”

  Chris opened the refrigerator and withdrew a giant bowl of cooked lobsters and another bowl of pasta salad. He set the bowls on the counter.

  “Normally I would ask if you liked lobster, but I remember how you used to devour them. You could crack a shell open like nobody’s business. With your bare hands, even.”

  I laughed. “I’m still pretty good at it.”

  “I figured you would be. Talent like that doesn’t just disappear. Why don’t you grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, a couple of glasses, and meet me out on the back deck?”

  I agreed and went to fetch the wine.

  Chapter Thirty

  As it turned out, Chris was no slouch in the lobster-eating department. He devoured two large ones in the time it took me to eat one, and this he did while telling me all about dental school and how he met his wife, Katelyn.

  At the time, Katelyn had been a young and ambitious television journalist working on a segment about the challenges of getting accepted to graduate schools in Seattle. She’d interviewed Chris on camera, and he called her that night to invite her out for dinner after the piece aired. Two years later, they tied the knot—a month after he received his dentistry degree.

  “So what happened?” I asked as I sat back in my chair and poured a second glass of wine for myself. “Is it too bold of me to ask why you’re not still together?”

  Chris emptied his lobster shells into the plastic bowl on the table, then set his plate down on the deck floor. Buffy trotted over to lick the juice.

  “It’s kind of a sordid story,” Chris replied, sitting back in his chair. “It might require another glass of wine.”

  I reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.

  “I don’t think that’s nearly enough,” he mentioned with a hint of a grin.

  I picked up the bottle again to top up his glass to the brim. A few drops spilled over onto the table and he nodded appreciatively. “That should do the trick.”

  “Okay,” I said, leaning back. “I’m listening.”

  We sat for a moment in silence while he stared out at the water, and a somber note settled over the table. I realized suddenly that none of it was really a joke to him. When at last he began to explain, I was completely wrapped up in the moment, wishing things had turned out better for him.

  “Things went sour a couple of years before Logan got sick,” Chris said. “He was five. I thought everything was fine between Katelyn and me. We were both working, happy in our jobs, even talking about having another baby, but it always seemed to be something she wanted to do ‘next’ year. There was always a reason to push it forward into the future. I was starting to think we might not ever have a second child, so I started to push her a little harder about it, because I’d always imagined we’d have at least two, maybe three. I didn’t want to wait too long.”

  Chris took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. “Then one day I came home from work and a suitcase was packed and waiting for me by the door. Katelyn was nervous and quiet. I didn’t know what was going on. Then she sat me down and told me she didn’t want to ha
ve any more children with me, and that she was in love with someone else—a jazz musician who also managed the local hardware store. His name was Joe.”

  I sat forward and rested my arms on the table. “Oh, God. And you were the one who had to move out?”

  He nodded. “She said it would be best for Logan if we didn’t upset his life any more than we had to, and of course it would be best for her to take care of him, because she was a stay-at-home mom at the time and I was working a lot—to pay for the incredibly expensive house we’d just bought.” Chris reached for his full glass of wine which he carefully lifted to his lips, and took a sip.

  “I was furious,” he continued. “I threatened her with a custody suit and told her Logan was going to live with me and I was going to fight for her to have only limited visitation rights. It was really ugly. Then I picked up the suitcase and walked out. I went to stay in a hotel. I called Jared and ranted and raved. Then I called my lawyer. I don’t think I ever hated anyone as much as I hated Katelyn that night.”

  “I don’t blame you for being angry,” I said. “It must have felt like a terrible betrayal.”

  “It took a few days,” he continued, “but I calmed down, eventually. When practicalities entered into it, I had to be logical and admit that she was right about one thing, at least. I couldn’t be the one to take care of Logan because of my hours at work, and despite everything, I couldn’t deny that she was a great mother. She loved him more than anything. She took him to the library and the park every day, taught him how to bake cookies and play the piano. She was always there for him during the day. I would have liked to be, but I couldn’t just quit my practice.”

  “That must have been hard, to surrender to that.”

  Chris took another sip of his wine. “At first I thought it was just a phase Katelyn was going through—like some kind of early mid-life crisis—and eventually she’d dump Joe and want our comfortable life back. I asked myself if I’d ever be able to forgive her when she came running back to me—so that we could be a family again for Logan’s sake—but she was really in love with that guy. And I knew on some level that he wasn’t a bad person. Logan liked him and all I wanted was for Logan to be happy.”