The Color of a Silver Lining

by Julianne MacLean

  “Do you want to ask me any questions about your daddy?” I asked Louise when she sat up on the edge of the bed. “I’ll do my best to answer them if I can.”

  Her expression grew serious and she rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around my neck. “No, Mommy.”

  I held her close for a moment, rubbing her back. I couldn’t resist asking. “Is there anything you want to tell me about your Papa and Nanny? What did they say to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “They must have said something.”

  She took a long time to answer. “Just that they loved me and they wanted me to meet my daddy. That’s why they sent me back here.”

  I held her away so I could look deeply into her eyes. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  “I did.”

  “No, honey. This is the first time.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t know. I forgot.”

  My belly began to roll with nervous knots, because obviously, she hadn’t wanted to tell me about this.

  “Do you want to meet your daddy?” I asked. “Is that why you drew that picture?” I’d always known this day would come, but I’d expected it to happen during her teen years. And who knew where we’d all be by then?

  Louise shook her head. “No, I don’t want to meet him.”

  I let out a breath and sat back on my heels again. “It would be okay if you did. I wouldn’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged a shoulder.

  “Are you…shy?”

  “I just don’t want to.”

  I took a moment to let all this settle in and not say the wrong thing. She was only five, but this mattered. It wasn’t something I wanted to mess up.

  “He’s not a bad person,” I said. “I liked him when we knew each other. I just haven’t seen him in a long time, and I don’t know where he lives. He doesn’t even know about you, sweetheart, but if he did, I’m sure he’d love you very much. Are you sure you don’t want to meet him? I could find him if you want me to.”

  “I’m sure.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  I felt as if my whole world was spinning out of control, and all the decisions I’d made about raising Louise on my own were going to fly back in my face and knock me out.

  “But you might change your mind someday,” I continued, “when you’re older, and if you do, we’ll do whatever you want. I could contact him for you.”

  She nodded, but I sensed she was afraid of the idea. I realized that outside of her Uncle Scott across the street, she’d had no father figure in her life. I’d never dated anyone since she was born because I didn’t want our home to become a revolving door of men coming in and out of our lives. All she had was me, Claire, and Scott—and my mom.

  “How about some breakfast,” I suggested, needing to change the subject so I could let this percolate. “And would you like to go to the mall today? We could have lunch there.”

  “Yes!” she cheered, and ran to the kitchen.

  I took a moment to collect myself, and followed her out.

  * * *

  After Louise and I spent the morning at the mall and the afternoon at an indoor playground, she was exhausted. When we arrived home, I settled her in the living room to watch a movie, then I seized the opportunity to call Claire, because I needed to talk to someone about what happened that morning.

  “You’re kidding me,” Claire said with surprise. “She drew a picture of her other grandparents? Have you ever mentioned them to her before?”

  “Never. I couldn’t even tell you if they’re dead or alive, but I sure would love to know.”

  “Yes, because if they’re both alive and well, then at least you’d know it wasn’t true. I mean…the part about Louise going to heaven and meeting others who had passed on. As far as our father goes, she always knew he wasn’t with us anymore. We’ve talked about him many times, so she could easily say she saw him in heaven and it would make sense. But her paternal grandparents…”

  “I’ve never mentioned her father’s family to her. I’ve rarely mentioned him.”

  Claire considered all this. “What else did she say about it?”

  “That these other grandparents wanted her to meet her father. That’s why they sent her back. You can imagine how that hit me like a brick. I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Did she actually ask to meet him?”

  “No, she said she didn’t want to, which I was relieved to hear, even though I tried not to show it.”

  Claire was quiet for a moment. “But Bev… Was that coming from her, or you?”

  I was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You’ve always known how I felt about this whole situation. I thought it was a mistake from the beginning not to tell the guy that he was going to be a father.”

  My hackles rose. “And I explained to you why I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to raise Louise on my own, and I didn’t need help from a one-night stand I’d met in a bar. And believe me, I’ve tortured myself over that decision many times since she was born, and if I could do it again, maybe I’d do it differently. I’m not sure. But I can’t change it now. It’s water under the bridge. I just have to figure out how to move forward from here, with the way things are.”

  “But someday,” she pressed, “Louise is going to want to meet her father. It’s a certainty, Bev. And how would you feel if you were in his shoes? To find out that you had a kid and never knew it? Then suddenly out of the blue, a teenager or a grown woman shows up on your doorstep? That’s not fair to him.”

  “I know that.” I rested my forehead in my hand because this was a painful conversation. “But my decision was never about him. His feelings were not my top priority, because what mattered was what was best for me and Louise. I didn’t want to risk bringing a total stranger into our lives. What if he was a terrible, abusive person? A drug addict, or a sleaze ball.”

  “But what if he wasn’t?” Claire replied. “If you had such a fantastic time with him that weekend—and actually went to bed with him—you must have trusted him, at least a little.”

  I sat down and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes, I did. But some men are good at being charming.”

  Claire scoffed into the phone. “You know what I think?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Yes. I think you were just scared. Scared that he’d reject you, or that he wouldn’t love you, or that he’d abandon you eventually.”

  “Yes!” I practically shouted into the phone. “That’s exactly what I was scared of. And please don’t start saying I have daddy issues because of what happened when we were kids. This isn’t about that.”

  “Yes, it is, because you do have issues,” she argued. “It’s why you’re still single, because you think any good man will be snatched away and your whole world will fall apart.”

  I tried to stop her. “Please, Claire…”

  “It’s true. Don’t try to deny it. One day, you’re running through the sprinkler and everything’s wonderful, and the next minute, you’re watching your father bleed to death in the ditch while your mother loses her mind.”

  Nausea pooled in my belly. “I didn’t call you about this to be reminded of how miserable we were when Dad died. I just wanted to tell you about the picture Louise drew.”

  Claire didn’t say anything for a long moment, but I could hear her breathing.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I didn’t mean to be so hard on you.”

  “Well, you were. But forget it. I understand, and you’re right. I do have issues. That’s why I wanted to do my best to protect Louise. I never wanted to invite a stranger into our lives. I’m not a fan of unknowns.”

  “Life is full of unknowns,” she replied. “You can’t escape them, no matter how hard you try.”

  I stood up and went to the fridge to get some cranb
erry juice.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Claire asked. “Will you just sweep this morning’s drawing under the carpet? Or will you try to find out if the other grandparents are still alive? Or not.”

  I considered that for a moment. “I am curious.”

  Balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear, I poured the juice into a glass.

  “Would it be hard to find them?” Claire asked. “Jeez. You haven’t even spoken about Louise’s father in five years. Do you even remember his name?”

  I shook my head at her and scoffed. “Of course I do. I remember everything about that night. He was a charming, handsome stock broker. His name was Luke. Luke Hawkins.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Luke

  Oak Bay, British Columbia

  They say time flies when you’re having fun. When you’re not, it can lodge itself into your psyche like a dark sludge.

  When I finally heard a car door close out front, it was just past midnight. The dogs got up off their beds in the family room and barked as they trotted to the front door. I tried not to appear as eager as they were, but truthfully, I’d been watching the clock for hours, wishing Emma would just text me and let me know how things had gone with the psychic. But I hadn’t heard a word from her.

  I stepped into the foyer when she walked in.

  “You’re up,” she said, appearing surprised to see me. “I thought you might have gone to bed.” Closing the door behind her, she removed her coat and hung it up in the closet.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  She kicked off her shoes and met my gaze. “It was unbelievable.”

  “In a good way?” I asked.

  She nodded and without missing a beat, stepped into my arms.

  I held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. I buried my face in her neck. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, but I’m really tired. Can we go upstairs? I’ll tell you about it in bed.”

  “Sure. I’ll just let the dogs out one more time. I’ll see you up there.”

  I watched her go upstairs.

  A short while later, I walked into the bedroom to find her under the covers, lying on her side with her eyes closed. At first I thought she was already asleep, but she slowly sat up and watched me get ready for bed.

  “I don’t even know how to describe it,” she said, as I brushed my teeth. “When I tell you, it’s going to sound crazy. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m nuts for buying into it.”

  “It sounds like you think she was the real deal,” I replied as I dropped my toothbrush back into the cup and wiped my mouth on a hand towel.

  “Yes, even though the rational part of my brain keeps trying to convince me to be skeptical, I can’t ignore what my gut is telling me.”

  I grew more curious by the second and slid into bed beside her. “What happened?”

  She took a deep breath and sat up straighter against the pillows. “Well, her name was Maria, and she’s a very shrewd business woman—incredibly successful and rich—which made me suspicious when we first got there. All I could think about was what you said about con artists and it being an ‘industry.’ Anyway, there was a crowd of people in the waiting room, so she was shuffling clients in and out every fifteen minutes, which seemed completely impossible to me—to imagine that she could have any sort of meaningful encounter with any of us. It felt like a money grab, because we were all paying five hundred bucks each.”

  “Five hundred dollars?” I replied, dumbfounded.

  “Yes. But Carter paid for it because it was his idea. So, when we finally got in to see her, she was direct and to the point, and the three of us sat down together at a table, and we all joined hands—”

  “Kind of like a séance?”

  She paused. “Well…yes, except that we were in a brightly lit space with giant windows and a beautiful view, so there wasn’t anything creepy about it. It wasn’t like a haunted house or anything. Not like what you’d imagine.” Emma reached for my hand and held it. “So, then she just started telling us that our son was there too, and that he wanted us to know he was fine, and that he wanted us to be happy. That was the main message.”

  “She could say that to everyone,” I mentioned. “For that matter, you or I could start a psychic reading business and say that to everyone. All we’d need is a website and some smart marketing materials.”

  Emma held up a hand to stop me. “I know that, but then she said something that blew my mind. She said Sammy wanted to put Carter in the blue naughty chair because of how mean he was to me.” Emma regarded me expectantly. When I said nothing at first, she sat forward to explain further, and her tone grew increasingly passionate.

  “The blue naughty chair was something we introduced when Sammy was two—for time outs—but we never even used it because he was such a good kid. There was no way Maria could have known about that.”

  I stared at Emma for a moment because I wasn’t sure how to respond. It did sound remarkable, but maybe Maria had an assistant who was very good at research. I was still skeptical.

  “Wow,” I managed to say. “So, that’s what made you believe in it?”

  “Yes. And I know you can’t possibly understand this, Luke, because you weren’t there—and I can tell by the way you’re looking at me that you think it’s a bunch of malarkey—but I felt Sammy in the room with us. Everything else Maria said seemed to come directly from him. Things he wanted Carter and me to hear. Things she could never know.”

  I wanted genuinely to understand and believe her, but I was having a hard time with this. I’d never been much of a church goer, and though I tried to be open minded, the idea of heaven had always seemed like wishful thinking to me. Even the books she had shared hadn’t convinced me completely. “Like what?”

  “Like…” Emma slowly slid her hand from my grasp. “Sammy wanted Carter and I to forgive each other.” She held me in her intense gaze for a few seconds, as if she were testing me—waiting to see how I would take that. Then she looked down.

  “Should I be worried?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” she replied, shaking her head. “I love you and this is where I want to be. With you. But it was an incredible experience today. I’m still not over it, and I’m not sure I ever will be. I don’t think I can ever look at life the same way again.”

  Her eyes lifted and they were wet with tears.

  All I could do was slide closer and wrap my arms around her. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either, and you won’t, I promise. But I’m glad I went there today and I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you with me, but it was something I had to do with Carter.”

  The mention of her ex-husband’s name caused a pang of unease in me, but I pushed it away. “So…did you?” I asked.

  “Did I what?”

  I sat back and looked her in the eye. “Forgive each other.”

  Emma watched me for a long moment, then she nodded. “Yes.”

  She offered nothing else, but I wanted more. I wanted to know every last word they had spoken to each other during the trip there and back. Did they cling to each other? Did she cry on his shoulder and tell him she was sorry for leaving him? Did he ask her to come back to him?

  Another part of me didn’t want to know what was said. I wasn’t sure I could take it.

  “I’m so tired,” she said apologetically, making it clear she wanted to end the conversation at that. “Can we go to sleep?”

  “Sure.” I rolled away from her and switched off the lamp.

  She snuggled close and laid her head on my shoulder, draped her leg across my thighs. I fell asleep praying that she had gotten the closure she needed today, and that everything would be okay for us from now on.

  * * *

  A few weeks later, the lease finally ended on Emma’s apartment in Victoria. I’d been asking her to move in with me, officially, for months, but she hadn’t wanted to take the plunge. She hadn’t changed her addres
s at the post office, and though she stayed at my place most nights, many of her personal belongings were still at her apartment. But now it was time at last for us to take things to the next level, and I was glad.

  When the movers delivered everything, we asked them to put the furniture into my garage until we figured out what to do with it. Emma thought she might like to give the sofa and chair to her cousin Lori who planned to renovate her basement over the winter.

  All the boxes containing smaller items were brought into the house, and we spent all day Saturday going through everything while it poured rain outside.

  “How much of this do you want to keep?” I asked as I opened a box full of kitchen utensils and plastic bowls.

  Emma came to inspect what was inside. She withdrew a wooden spoon. “I don’t know. You have a fully equipped kitchen. Maybe we should just give it all to charity.”

  “Or we could hang onto it and store it for our kids,” I replied, “for when they move into their first crappy apartment twenty years from now.”

  She gave me a funny look. “You certainly like to plan ahead.”

  “Go figure. I wasn’t even a boy scout.” I kissed her on the cheek.

  Using the utility knife, she sliced through the packing tape on another box and found a casserole dish inside. She wanted to keep that one in particular, but everything else was a duplicate of what I already owned and we decided to part with it.

  That night, when everything was unpacked and put away—or boxed up for the Salvation Army—we sat down on the sofa to watch television.

  “I’m glad you’re here, finally,” I said, reaching out to her.

  “Me, too.” She snuggled close and rested her cheek on my shoulder.

  Breathing in the fresh scent of her shampoo, I said, “I want you to feel like this is your home, too, Emma, and if you want to change anything or redecorate, we can do that.”

  She looked up at me and smiled. “I love it here. I wouldn’t want to change a thing. Except maybe the paint color in the bedroom, along with the drapes. It’s kind of manly.”