The Color of a Silver Lining

by Julianne MacLean

  Besides that, what I’d endured that afternoon had drained me emotionally. I’d had to lock horns with my soon-to-be ex-husband and push hard to get him to sign his name on the dotted line, which made no sense because he’d made it abundantly clear thousands of times that he couldn’t stand the sight of me.

  I’d also set foot in the house where I once rocked Sammy to sleep in his cradle. Where I breastfed him, and changed his diapers. I hadn’t even been able to look at the playhouse out back. I wondered suddenly if Carter had decided to get rid of it. I wouldn’t blame him if he had. It would be difficult to look at every day.

  Luke took my hand and led me to the family room—a cozy space with antique lights, a Persian carpet on wide plank floors, cherry wainscoting, bookshelves, and a charming wood-burning fireplace in a stone hearth. The dogs followed us and curled up on their beds in front of the windows that overlooked the stone patio and water beyond, where a group of sea kayakers were paddling by, oblivious to the rain.

  We sat down on the brown leather sofa and faced each other, still holding hands. Luke wove his fingers through mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shifted my position and lay my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me while the rain fell softly on the patio stones outside the glass doors.

  “I don’t know. It was weird.”

  “Weird, how?”

  I stared at the coffee table. “It was just really tense. There was nothing but contempt in his eyes, and he spoke to me like I was stupid and unfeeling for wanting to get married again. That definitely caught him by surprise. And then he gave me a hard time about signing the papers, which is the weird part because he doesn’t love me anymore. He doesn’t want to be married to me. He hates me. He just wants to keep punishing me, I guess, and he knows that if I move on, he won’t have that power over me.”

  “At least he signed the papers,” Luke said, after a pause.

  “Yeah. But he was a jerk about it because whenever he sees an opportunity to tighten the screws—to remind me about what happened—he takes it, because he doesn’t want me to be happy. It’s his way of being vengeful. I think he enjoys it.”

  Luke stroked my arm lightly with his thumb. “Well, I want you to be happy, because you’re a good person, Emma. I hope you know that. What happened was an accident, and it could just as easily have happened to Carter. He shouldn’t feel so superior, because it could happen to anyone.”

  I closed my eyes and allowed Luke’s consoling words to wash over me. I tried to absorb them, but still, there was a part of me that couldn’t fully accept what he said.

  I knew I’d probably never be entirely free of my guilt. And there would always be a hole in my heart, but at least, with the passing of time, I’d come to believe that I might be happy again, in other ways and in other places.

  I lifted my cheek from Luke’s shoulder. “You’re a godsend. I don’t know where I’d be right now if I hadn’t met you. I think my life would still be very…” I took a moment to think of the right word. “Bleak.”

  Luke twirled a lock of my hair around his forefinger and gave me a look of encouragement. Or maybe he was seeking assurance. I wasn’t sure. “But it’s not bleak now, right?”

  I smiled and tipped my face up for a kiss. “Not in the least.”

  He pulled me close and our kiss was passionate, full of fire.

  Later, when the rain stopped, we took the dogs down to the rocky shoreline to let them run around without leashes. The water was calm, reflecting the sky and mountains in the distance, and the air was fresh and fragrant. It seemed as if my day had gone from the very depths of misery to the heights of pure bliss.

  What a gift it was to feel content.

  I decided I would never take contentment for granted again. I would make the most of it while it lasted.

  As we picked our way over the rugged coastline rocks while the water lapped gently below, we talked about wedding plans. We hadn’t set a date yet, but Luke thought New Year’s Eve might make it extra special.

  As far as I was concerned, I would have been happy to elope to Vegas on a whim because I’d already had the big white wedding with bridesmaids and speeches and a DJ who played until one o’clock in the morning. Luke, however, had never been married and I didn’t want to deprive him of a proper celebration. Besides, I loved the idea of starting a new life on the first day of a new year. It felt like a good omen.

  So, on that day, on the rocks, gazing out at the sea, I agreed to a New Year’s Eve wedding wherever Luke wanted. Money would be no object, he said, so he was confident he’d be able to find a good venue.

  Chapter Four

  Bev

  Halifax, Nova Scotia

  It was early evening when we finally left the hospital. Louise was exhausted, so I carried her to Scott’s SUV, buckled her into her booster seat, then rode in back with her, toward home, where Claire and I lived across the street from each other. It was a quiet residential neighborhood in the south end of Halifax, where towering oaks provided shade in the summer and filled our world with color in the fall. Claire had been the original owner of my house—a charming little bungalow with hardwood floors and a private backyard. She’d bought it with her first husband, Wes, but when he died, she married Scott who lived across the street. At first, she rented her little bungalow to me, but I bought it from her a year ago, which worked out beautifully because I was a single mom with an only child, and they, too, had only one child. Serena was born a year after Louise, and it was nice that they had each other. They were more like sisters than cousins.

  It was a quick drive home, as we lived only about ten blocks from the hospital. I kept looking at Louise, checking on her, because she seemed overwhelmingly tired, which concerned me. It made sense, logically, considering what she’d been through that day, but something about her seemed different.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, laying my hand on her small wrist.

  She nodded her head.

  “You’ve been very quiet,” I said, gently and quietly. “Does your head hurt? Or your chest?”

  Louise glanced out the window, watching the houses pass by. “No. I’m just sad.”

  My stomach turned over with unease. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  She seemed so tired, I didn’t want to press. By the time we pulled into the driveway, she was starting to fall asleep. I got out of the vehicle, unbuckled her and carried her inside where our dog Leo—a ten-year-old golden retriever—greeted us with a swishing tail and a wet nose.

  Louise buried her face in my neck.

  My mother was waiting for us as well, with a big pot of soup on the stove.

  She hugged us all, and while Claire went home to change her clothes, I carried Louise to her room, helped her into her pajamas and went with her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. I tucked her into bed with her blue bunny, Mr. Rabbit, and she closed her eyes and fell asleep right away.

  Trying not to be too concerned, because it was normal for her to be tired after such an intense physical trauma, I switched off the light and went to change my clothes also. When I returned to the kitchen, Scott, Claire, and my mom were gathered there. Claire was sipping a glass of white wine while Scott was setting the table. Leo was lying on the floor by the fridge.

  “Where’s Serena?” I asked, wanting to tell them about Louise’s near-death experience, but not wanting to bring it up in front of their daughter.

  “Watching television,” Claire replied. “She had a sandwich at the hospital so she’ll probably fall asleep on your sofa. How’s Louise?”

  “Fine, but she’s tired. I doubt she’ll wake up again before the morning.”

  Claire poured me a glass of wine without me having to ask.

  “Thank you,” I replied as she handed it to me. “If there was ever a night that called for alcohol, this has to be it.”

  “Cheers,” she said, holding up her glass and clinking it against mine.

  “T
o our survival today.”

  We all fell silent as we thought of the passengers who hadn’t been as lucky.

  “Is there any news on the rescue effort?” Claire asked Scott.

  He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “They’ve recovered most of the bodies from the wreck. All six were still in the main hold, trapped there, I guess, and the captain was caught in the rigging, just outside.”

  Feeling nauseous, I sat down as well. “That’s awful.”

  Scott continued to explain what he knew. “Out of the five people in the hold, there were three crew members and two passengers—an older couple by the name of Jennings.”

  I turned to Claire. “I wonder if it was the woman who didn’t want to leave the ship. She thought it looked too dangerous outside.”

  “I wonder,” Claire replied.

  We all sat down in somber silence while Mom served up bowls of hot chicken soup with warm rolls, although I didn’t feel much like eating. I had to force myself.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, nonetheless. “It was really good of you to come over and cook for us.”

  “I’m just glad I was able to do something,” she replied, squeezing my hand. “And I’m so grateful you’re all okay.”

  I finished buttering my roll and thought about how I was going to tell them about what happened to Louise. It wasn’t an easy subject to bring up, and I found myself wondering if I’d dreamed it.

  I cleared my throat and set down my knife. “So. I need to tell all of you what Louise said to me after she woke up, when we were in the helicopter. It kind of freaked me out.”

  My mother set down her soup spoon and regarded me with concern. “What is it?”

  I perched my elbows on the table and clasped my hands together. “You all know that she was…” I paused because it was difficult to speak the words aloud, let alone comprehend them. “She was clinically dead for at least five minutes while I was doing CPR.”

  “Yes,” Claire replied.

  “Well…” I swallowed before continuing. “She said she went somewhere. To heaven.”

  Claire’s eyebrows pulled together with surprise. “She said what?”

  I tried to remember exactly what she did say. It was all such a blur.

  I turned my attention to my mother. “She said she wasn’t scared because she was with her Grampy.”

  All the color drained from my mother’s face and she placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, Bev. You don’t think…”

  “I…I’m not sure,” I replied shakily, “but when I asked who Grampy was, she said he was my daddy. And that he was in heaven now.”

  Mom sucked in a breath and began to weep quietly. I rose from my chair and wrapped my arms around her while Claire leaned across the table to squeeze her hand.

  When Mom wiped her tears away, she glanced up at me. “What else did she say?”

  I sat down and spoke gently. “I asked her what he looked like and she said that he had a mustache and happy eyes.”

  “Your father had a mustache since you girls were born, and he certainly did have the most loving eyes I ever knew. What else did she say?”

  I cleared my throat. “She mentioned that she didn’t want to come back here because she liked it there. And when we were driving home just now, she said she was sad. I think it’s because she was thinking about where she had been.”

  Everyone fell silent, staring at me in shock.

  “That’s unbelievable,” Scott said after a few seconds. “Did she tell you why she felt that way? What it was like?”

  “I didn’t get much more from her in the helicopter because that’s when you were brought up,” I said to Claire, “and I didn’t really get a chance to talk to her about it again while we were in the hospital. I didn’t want to upset her or make too big a deal of it, or make her feel like she was a freak. But it was just so hard to believe.”

  “No kidding,” Claire replied, slowly stirring her soup. Her eyes lifted. “Did you tell the doctor?”

  I gave her a look. “Yes, but he didn’t believe it was anything. He says he’s not a believer in that kind of thing. He suggested a psychiatrist.”

  “Psychiatrist!” Mom shouted. “Goodness gracious. She doesn’t need that.”

  I held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I declined the offer.” I turned my gaze toward Claire and Scott. “I’m just not sure what to make of it. Do you guys think she dreamed it?”

  They considered it for a moment.

  “Maybe,” Claire replied. “Or maybe not. They say there’s no proof of an afterlife, but people from all different religions have had those kinds of experiences. How do you explain that?”

  “I don’t know.” I sat quietly for a moment, looking down at the table. “When you found her in the water,” I said, “was she already drowned? I’m just trying to get a sense of how long she was…” I paused again. “Gone.”

  Claire nodded, and seemed to have difficulty thinking about it. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them and spoke, her voice was shaky. “It all happened so fast when the wave hit. We all got swept into the water and I went down deep. When I fought my way back up to the surface and found her, she was floating, unconscious. But it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two after the wave hit. It’s a good thing she was wearing a lifejacket. And I’m glad we didn’t get tangled up in all the sails and ropes, like the captain did.”

  “What happened then?” I asked. “Did she regain consciousness when she was with you?”

  “No. I dragged her away from the ship, trying to get to one of the lifeboats, but the waves kept pushing us the wrong way. I knew she wasn’t breathing, but I couldn’t do anything. I was just trying to keep us both afloat.”

  Claire began to cry and Scott and I both reached for her hands. “You were amazing. She wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you.”

  Claire wiped her eyes and regained her composure. “It was a team effort.”

  The phone rang just then. I leaped out of my chair to answer it before it rang again and woke Louise or Serena. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Bev Hutchinson?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a brief pause on the other end. “Hi, Ms. Hutchinson. This is Gloria Steeves from Evening News at Six. Would you have a few minutes to talk to me?”

  Gloria Steeves. She was a TV reporter who usually covered the biggest news stories of the day, and her witty, off-the-cuff remarks on lighthearted stories made her a popular MC at all sorts of city events.

  “I assume you want to talk to me about the accident?” I said.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind. But first, how are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “I’m so sorry for what you went through. It’s a terrible thing. We’re all reeling from it.”

  “Thank you.” Feeling suddenly nervous, I looked back at the table and mouthed the word Reporter.

  Claire raised an eyebrow, and my mother whispered, “You should just hang up.”

  But I didn’t want to be rude, nor did I begrudge the fact that people wanted to know what happened, so I decided to stay on the line.

  “What do you want to know?” I asked.

  I heard papers flipping. “Well, if you could tell me everything you remember happening, that would be wonderful. And do you mind if I record our conversation?”

  “I suppose it’s fine,” I replied, “as long as you don’t broadcast it. I’d rather not hear my voice on TV.”

  “No problem,” she said. “I’ll just report on what you tell me. No one will hear this but me.”

  “Okay… Well then…” I described everything, exactly as it happened, from the moment the rain began to fall to when we heard the loud crash from above, and then to when the ship turned over onto her side. I told her how professional and helpful the crew had been, and how they came below to get us organized and safely out of the hold, into lifeboats.

  “From what I understand
,” Gloria replied, “you lost your daughter in the water. Is that correct?”

  My stomach lurched because I hated the sound of those words: You lost your daughter.

  “Yes, that’s correct,” I reluctantly replied. “A big wave swept me over the side and I must have hit my head because I was unconscious for a while. But my sister found my daughter and they made it to the lifeboat.”

  “Thank goodness for that. You must be very grateful for your sister.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Gloria was quiet for a few seconds. “But your daughter was unconscious as well, wasn’t she? And you had to perform CPR on her?”

  How did this woman know all this? I supposed she must have already spoken to Susan or Margaret. “Yes. I’m a nurse.”

  “That was lucky for your daughter.”

  “Yes. We all feel very fortunate tonight. Not everyone was so lucky.”

  Something in me seemed to be shutting down, emotionally. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

  But Gloria pressed on. “Is it true that your daughter said she went to heaven during that time?”

  My whole body jolted. “Excuse me, how do you know about that?”

  “We’ve been speaking to a number of people that were involved today.”

  “What people?” I asked, incredulous, because I’d hardly told anyone.

  I doubted it was Dr. Patterson, because he would know better than to break doctor/patient confidentiality. Maybe it was the paramedic. Or even the pilot, who might have been listening to our conversation through the headsets.

  Before I could think about how to handle the situation, I ended the call and slammed the phone into the charger.

  “What’s going on?” Claire asked, concerned.

  I covered my face with both hands. “It was Gloria Steeves from the six o’clock news. She knew what Louise said about going to heaven. I don’t know how she found out.”

  “But that’s private,” Claire replied, exasperated.

  “Evidently not. I don’t know who told her.”