“Hi there,” she said, reaching for one of the books on the table and opening it to the title page. With her pen poised and ready, she said, “What’s your name? Would you like me to make it out to you?”
I felt rather awestruck because she was a bestselling author, yet at the same time I felt I knew her, that we shared a personal connection. Though I supposed everyone who read her book felt that way, because she had shared something very personal and intimate with all of us.
“That would be great,” I said. “My name’s Nadia.”
While she squiggled a few words and signed her name, I said, “I already read it as an eBook because I was interested in what happened to you. I’ve been having some strange out-of-body experiences myself.”
She closed the book and looked up at me. “Really?”
Nervously, I continued. “Yes. I had a heart transplant eight months ago and I keep having these recurring dreams that I’m flying. Sometimes I’m flying over the hospital where the transplant surgery was performed.”
She tilted her head to the side. “That’s interesting. I’ve never spoken to an organ transplant recipient before. Lots of NDEs, but your story’s a bit different.”
I nodded. “I’m not really sure what to make of it. I don’t know if I’m just dreaming, or if it’s a memory of what I did and where I went while I was on the table. Or maybe…” I paused.
“Maybe what?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.
I felt silly suggesting it, which was silly in itself because the person I was speaking to claimed publicly to have traveled to heaven and back. She even wrote a book about it.
“Tell me,” she said, handing the autographed book to me.
I hugged it to my chest and spoke quietly. “I wonder if it’s the person whose heart I have inside of me. Maybe it’s his soul flying around and we’re connected somehow. Or maybe he had some unfinished business and he can’t leave to go wherever it is we’re supposed to go after we die.”
Sophie stared at me for a long moment, then reached down to pick up her purse. She dug into it for a small notepad and jotted something down.
“This is a book you should read,” she said. “It’s about cellular memory and there are some references to organ transplants. I met the author at a convention once. He’s a smart guy and has done a ton of research. He has a website so you can contact him if you want to. He might be able to answer some of your questions, but more likely, he’ll want to pick your brain. You should also look into astral projection. That’s something different, but maybe in your case it’s some sort of combination of the two.”
She handed me the piece of paper and I realized I was holding up the line. There was still a large crowd of readers and fans behind me.
“Thank you,” I said. “This has been really helpful.” Mostly, I was grateful to talk to someone who didn’t think I was completely delusional.
“Good luck,” she replied, “and congratulations on getting that new heart.”
I smiled at her. “I appreciate that. I feel very blessed.”
* * *
Over the next few days, in between Ellen’s bottle feedings and walks to the park with the stroller, I researched the subject of cellular memory and read a few memoirs written by people who had undergone organ transplants.
I also investigated astral projection, which is another form of out-of-body experience, but does not always accompany death. It can happen during sleep or other altered states like meditation or surgeries. There were even some websites that provided instructions on how to do it and control it.
While I learned a great deal about different alternative theories—and took the skepticism into consideration as well—none of it answered the burning question in my mind about what my dreams truly meant. I had nothing tangible to offer as evidence of a spiritual or cellular connection to my donor because I had no idea who he was, where he’d lived, or whether or not he liked onions…or anything else.
Nor was I making an effort to take my spirit on a joy ride each night. It was beyond my control, and in all honesty, it just felt like I was dreaming.
I suppose that made me as much of a skeptic as the next person.
Chapter Twenty-five
Two weeks went by, and because I stayed up late reading each night, I slept like a log. There were no thrilling expeditions out the window and over treetops and telephone poles. There were no dazzling aerial views of the city at night.
Eventually I began to let go of the desire to know more about the man whose heart now beat inside my chest. I was too busy with motherhood and the requirements of my recovery to dwell on much else outside my daily routines. I was focused on Ellen’s laughter in the park, the way she slept soundly in her crib and the miracle of her first baby steps.
She was only eleven months old when she walked from Diana’s arms to mine in the kitchen one evening. A prodigy, surely. A future gymnast or perhaps a long distance runner. I suppose dreams come in many forms.
Nevertheless, the memories of my nighttime escapades were ever-present in my mind, hovering there like curious hummingbirds. Each night when I slipped into bed I gazed out the window and wondered if I would go flying.
Each morning I woke up feeling disappointed.
Then the letter arrived.
* * *
“It can’t be possible,” I said to Diana when I finished reading it. “Full custody… Can he even do this? Why would he want to? There’s got to be something else going on here because you know what he’s like. He can’t actually want to be a father to Ellen.”
Diana read the letter a second time, then set it down on the table. “As a parent, he does have legal rights. I just never thought he—of all people—would want to exercise them.”
It was a long and complicated story, but Diana knew my baby’s father, Rick, better than most people because she’d almost married him two years ago. I saved her from that certain peril, however, when I fell for his charms myself and was the cause of their breakup. Less than a year later, I was alone and pregnant with Rick’s child, waiting for a heart transplant.
Now this.
“Didn’t he say good-bye to those rights,” I asked, “when he told me he wanted no part in Ellen’s upbringing and paid me to stay away? I signed a legal document promising not to ask him for child support or anything else if I accepted the money.”
“That protected him, not you,” Diana said. “The Family Code is written to assure that children have frequent and continued contact with both parents after they separate, and it encourages parents to share rights and responsibilities. So if he’s asking for full custody, he must have something up his sleeve.”
“But what if it’s not in the child’s best interests?” I asked. “Rick doesn’t even know Ellen. He’s never seen her or held her. He doesn’t know her sleep schedule or what she likes to eat.”
I felt sick to my stomach at the thought that I could lose any of my rights as a mother. That my child would be separated from all that was familiar and full of love. Her life would be drastically changed. I couldn’t bear to think of handing Ellen over to a man who thought only of himself. Rick had never wanted a child. He didn’t love her.
“When it comes to proving what’s best for the child,” Diana explained, “you’d have to show that Rick would be an unfit parent and I can tell you right now that would be virtually impossible. Rick is charming, successful, wealthy, law-abiding and brilliant. He could sell snow to Santa Clause. I just don’t understand why he’s asking for full custody or how he thinks he can get it. It surprises me.”
I rested my elbows on the table and bowed my head. “Doesn’t he know I named you as Ellen’s legal guardian in my will? You’re the best person to take over because she knows you and loves you. And you’ve supported us both through all the hard times recently. Was Rick there? No. Did he offer any help? Of course not.”
“He does know I’m named as her guardian in the will,” Diana explained. “The last time I spoke to him, he
seemed relieved to hear it. But obviously, he’s changed his mind.”
“But why?” I asked. “This isn’t like him at all. Something must have happened, because the last time I checked his Facebook page, he was enjoying the single life quite a bit.”
Diana raised an eyebrow. “How long ago was that?”
I rolled my eyes. “It was a long time ago. And you can be darn sure that I haven’t given that jerk a single thought since the day I took all his money.”
“You didn’t take all his money,” Diana reminded me. “He has plenty left over to hire a hot shot lawyer, so we need to take this seriously. We need to decide what we’re going to do.”
The baby monitor lights flickered and Ellen began to cry.
“I’ll get her,” I said, rising to my feet, “because I don’t want to waste a single moment with her.”
As I climbed the stairs to our room, I thought about Rick living on the other side of the country. How, exactly, did he expect to work out any sort of custody arrangement? Did he really think I would put Ellen on a plane and wave good-bye forever?
No. That was not going to happen.
I’d fight him to the death if I had to.
Chapter Twenty-six
That night, shortly after I fell asleep, the dream came to me again. It had been more than two weeks since I’d gone flying and after the dream, when I woke and sat up in the darkness, I felt surprisingly calm.
Was this dream some sort of defense mechanism? I wondered. Was it my body’s way of escaping the stress in my life? A way to protect my new heart?
When I rose the next morning, the day was hazy and humid. I changed Ellen’s diaper, then tiptoed to Diana’s room to see if she was awake yet. Her bed had not been slept in which was not unusual since she became engaged to Jacob.
I carried Ellen downstairs to the kitchen and warmed up a bottle, then settled myself comfortably on the sofa to watch an early morning re-run of Gilligan’s Island.
After Ellen gulped down the entire contents of her bottle I shifted her in my arms, held her over my shoulder and patted her on the back. She let out an unladylike burp.
“Wow. That was something,” I said in her ear. “But hey, I’m not judging.”
The Gilligan’s Island end credits played and Ellen fell back to sleep. I carried her to the kitchen and gently laid her down in the carrier, then plugged in the kettle to make a cup of tea while I cooked some oatmeal.
As my breakfast boiled on the stove I re-read the letter from Rick’s lawyer and tried to figure out how I was going to deal with this mountain in front of me.
“My client wishes to know his daughter and wants to establish a parental relationship as soon as possible.”
That was the part that stumped me. The wording made it sound almost urgent—as if Rick couldn’t bear to be away from his daughter for another minute of his life.
I supposed that was how these divorce lawyers operated. They charged ahead aggressively. It could have nothing to do with Rick’s true wants or desires. The lawyer just wanted to win.
Feeling a sudden stroke of genius, I stood up from the table and padded into the den to turn on the computer. As far as I knew, Rick and I were still Facebook friends and I was curious about what was going on in his life recently. Was he in a relationship? Maybe his new girlfriend wanted a cute baby to cuddle and he wanted to get one for her.
When I logged on and searched for Rick, however, I discovered that he had deleted his Facebook account which seemed odd, considering he represented athletes and sports celebrities and was in the business of networking with people.
I could just call him, I thought, but wanted to check with Diana first, because I didn’t want to jeopardize my position. My relationship with Rick hadn’t exactly been mature. I had lost my temper with him more than once and I didn’t want to give him any new ammunition to use against me in court.
If it even came to that.
I hoped it wouldn’t, because I wasn’t sure my new heart could weather that much stress.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“I was thinking,” Diana said to me that night after I settled Ellen in her crib, “that the gloves need to come off and we need to fight hard and convince the court that Rick is not a fit parent for Ellen. It’s unlikely we can prevent him from seeing her if he wants to, but we can at least try to keep any custody rights to a minimum and keep me listed as her legal guardian in the event of your death.”
“How would we do that?”
“By focusing on his single lifestyle and the parade of women who come and go from his condo. But even with that, I still think a judge will rule in his favor—at least with partial custody—because he is the father.”
“What if he’s with someone?” I asked. “Engaged or something. That plan could totally backfire if he’s in a stable relationship and I’m… Well, nothing about my life has been stable since I got sick. I’m also a single mother. We have to find out his status.”
I sat down on the sofa and Diana joined me.
“I checked for Rick’s Facebook page this morning,” I told her, “but he took it down so there’s no way of knowing if he’s still single.”
“I noticed that.” Diana rested her head on her hand. “And his phone number was disconnected. I tried calling directory assistance but there was no number listed for him in LA. I also called the agency but they said he was on vacation. He may very well have moved in with someone for all we know.”
“It’s strange, don’t you think,” I said, “that he’s suddenly so inaccessible?”
“Yes,” Diana replied, “and we need to know what’s going on with him before we formulate a plan. Who knows, maybe he really has turned over a new leaf and wants to be a good dad. Maybe it would be in Ellen’s best interests to invite him back into your life. If nothing else, he could offer financial support.”
I scoffed. “Call me jaded, but I can’t imagine how he would be good for Ellen in any way. He broke your heart, then he broke mine and countless others, no doubt. I don’t want him to break Ellen’s heart as soon as he starts to feel boxed in, because that seems to be a pattern with him.”
“Believe me, I know,” Diana said. “But he’s Ellen’s biological father and you might not have any choice in the matter.”
I stood and walked to the window, stared out at the darkness. “It feels as if all my life I’ve been fighting one battle after another. Nothing’s ever easy, is it?”
“Life should come with a warning label,” Diana replied. “Caution. Ups and downs ahead. Proceed with extreme care.”
A thought came to me suddenly, and I swung around to face Diana. “Did Rick ever mention his brother to you?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “No. Rick has a brother? I lived with him for over a year and he never told me that. He said he was an only child.”
“The brother’s name is Jesse,” I told her. “And he probably didn’t mention it to you because he wasn’t proud of the fact that they haven’t spoken to each other in over ten years. Rick never told me why but I’m pretty sure there’s some dark and dirty skeleton in the closet between the two of them. Rick said he thought Jesse lived here on the east coast but he wasn’t sure.”
Diana stood. “Rick grew up in Connecticut. I know that much, and his parents still live here. His father’s a dentist. I met them once when they came to LA to visit. They never mentioned another son.”
I inclined my head. “If Rick and Jesse are estranged, do you think Jesse might be willing to tell us why? Maybe he has some information that would be helpful.”
Diana blinked a few times. She was probably still in shock that Rick had a brother she never knew about. “It depends on what happened between them and what kind of person Jesse is. If he’s a drug addict or in prison or something, he wouldn’t be credible.”
“How can we find out?” I asked. “Do you know Rick’s parents well enough to contact them?”
“Oh no,” she replied. “I wouldn’t go that route. They’re probab
ly gung ho to help Rick get custody of their only grandchild. Besides that, if they didn’t disclose to me that they had another son when I met them, they’re probably estranged from Jesse, too. Ashamed of him most likely.”
We stared at each other intensely.
“Let’s go look him up online,” I suggested.
Diana nodded. “Great minds think alike.”
We both made a beeline to the computer in the den.
Chapter Twenty-eight
There were dozens of Jesse Frasers on Facebook. Though we were able to narrow the results down slightly, based on approximate age and location, it was impossible to locate the man we were searching for. We didn’t even know if Jesse was older or younger than Rick.
Eventually we gave up and shuffled off to bed. I had trouble falling asleep, however, because something very powerful was compelling me to find this man. I felt certain that he would help us somehow and that my future with Ellen depended on our finding him.
When I woke the next morning after a restless and dreamless sleep, I fed Ellen in the kitchen and waited for Diana to come downstairs before she headed off to work.
“Good morning,” she said as she entered the kitchen in a black skirt, blazer and heels. “Good, you made coffee.” She poured herself a cup and kissed Ellen on the top of the head.
“I figured you could use it. We were up late last night. Did you sleep okay? Because I hardly slept a wink. I couldn’t stop thinking about Rick’s brother. I really want to find him and talk to him. I just have a funny feeling.”
Diana sipped her coffee. “Then we should keep looking because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s never to ignore a gut feeling.” She reached for a banana in the fruit bowl and peeled it. “I know a guy who might be able to help. The firm uses him sometimes to dig up information. If I tell him the names of Rick’s parents, he’ll probably be able to get us a phone number and address fairly quickly.”
The Color of a Dream Page 7
