The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time (2 page)

Memories of my youth flooded into my being, but for the first time in my adult life, I felt no sudden sinking pain or remorse, no regret over having returned to visit. Maybe it was simply the passage of time. Or maybe it was because I’d made so many changes over the past year. Maybe I was finally ready to let go and see the world differently.

Rolling my heavy suitcase bumpily along the uneven sidewalk to Mrs. Cassidy’s white painted gate, I flicked the latch and entered her yard. When at last I reached the front door, I rang the bell and waited. Before long, the door opened.

“Hello, Sylvie,” Mrs. Cassidy said. “We were expecting you. Come in, come in. My word, look at you.”

Mrs. Cassidy, an attractive, petite woman in her early seventies, pulled me into her arms and held me tight. “I remember when I could scoop you up like a little teddy bear. It’s been too long, sweetheart.”

I hugged her in return, then drew back and smiled. “I know. I’m so sorry. I haven’t been back in a while.”

It had been nearly five years since I’d visited Portland, and the last few times I’d kept my head down and avoided the people who knew what happened all those years ago.

“No apologies necessary,” she said. “You’re a darling to come and take care of Barbara. Now where is that key…?” She rifled through a china bowl on the foyer table—full of change, buttons and keys—until she found what she was looking for. “Here we are.”

Mrs. Cassidy held the key out to me. I took hold and slid it onto my own key ring. “Thanks so much for this,” I said, “and for calling the ambulance yesterday. It’s a good thing you were home.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Mrs. Cassidy replied. “How is she doing tonight?”

“Feeling pretty happy with the pain meds,” I said with a grin. “I doubt she’ll even remember I was there.”

Mrs. Cassidy nodded sympathetically. “You can visit her in the morning and say hello for the first time all over again.”

“I will,” I said with a laugh, “just as soon as I feed that big cat of hers.”

Feeling tired from the long flight across the country, I allowed Mrs. Cassidy to accompany me to the door.

“Let us know if you need anything,” she said. “We’re usually up until 11:00 watching CNN.”

“Thanks so much,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, I was standing on my grandmother’s veranda, next to the white painted hanging swing, staring at the door with a strange fluttering sensation in my belly.

Let’s just get through this, I thought to myself, as I stepped forward and inserted the key into the lock.

Chapter Four

As soon as I opened the door and flicked on the light, I felt a surprisingly pleasant rush of childhood nostalgia. Sadly, it only lasted for a few seconds, then it was followed by unavoidable thoughts of less happy times, which sucked the pleasant rush right out of me.

I tried to shake those thoughts away and focused instead on my surroundings. How small the house appeared to me now. The oak-paneled entranceway seemed narrower, as did the craftsman style staircase. The hanging lamp with its angular stained glass shade seemed not so far out of reach.

Turning to close and lock the door behind me, I jumped in fright when something brushed past my leg.

“Gordon!” My grandmother’s oversized tabby cat sat down on the braided entrance rug and gaped up at me with wide green eyes. I bent to pick him up. “Poor kitty. You must be feeling pretty lonely around here.”

Leaving my suitcase at the door, I scratched behind his ears, patted his silky head while he purred, and carried him to the kitchen to check his food bowl.

As I switched on the overhead light and glanced around at the wood cupboards and familiar countertop—which had not been updated for as long as I had been alive—I again found myself sucked in by the past, feeling as if some things would never change.

Not that I wanted them to. Tonight, there was something comforting about the familiarity of this house. Again, that surprised me, considering what happened here in my teens. Since then, nothing about Portland, Maine had ever made me feel at ease. At least not for the past sixteen years.

Seeing that there was plenty of food in Gordon’s bowl, I suspected he would just be happy to have company, so I set him down on the hardwood floor and said, “You can sleep with me tonight, big guy.”

I opened Gram’s refrigerator—an ancient appliance, straight out of the 1960s. “It’s a miracle this thing still runs,” I said to Gordon as I withdrew a carton of milk, poured myself a glass and added some chocolate powder from the cupboard, which I stirred around with a silver teaspoon.

Carrying my milk to the front parlor, I turned on a lamp and noticed Gram had treated herself to a new television set—a fifty-two-inch flat screen that dominated the area next to the fireplace.

“Good for you, Gram,” I said, picking up the remote and turning it on.

I sat down for a moment to relax before bed, but since I was still on Mountain Time, it felt too early to me. So I watched an episode of
Two and a Half Men,
a bit of
Property Brothers
, then I found a box of crackers and some double-smoked cheddar in the fridge, and stayed up late to watch
The Tonight Show
.

When it was over, I glanced at my suitcase, still standing on its wheels in the entranceway.

“I guess I better lug you upstairs before I fall asleep down here.”

A short while later, after I had unpacked in the spare bedroom, I changed into my white nightie and brushed my teeth.

As I turned off the bathroom light and padded down the hall, the house felt eerily quiet. I thought of Gram living here all alone and wondered if she minded the solitude. It was hard to believe it had been eight years since Grampy passed away. It seemed like yesterday that he was still with us.

Too exhausted to even read, I slipped into bed, decided not to set the alarm for the morning, switched off the light and went straight to sleep.

Chapter Five

It was odd when I woke to the smell of bacon. At first I thought I was imagining it, but as the sleepy, jet-lag-induced fog in my brain cleared, I realized it was definitely bacon in the air.

My eyes opened to bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Still groggy with sleep, I squinted at the blinding light and shaded my eyes.
What time was it?

I glanced at the yellow numbers on the digital clock. It was almost 9:30 and I was at my grandmother’s house… But who the heck was cooking bacon in her kitchen?

Sitting up in bed with a whoosh of nervous butterflies—because I had been under the impression I was staying alone in the house—I tossed the covers aside and tiptoed out to the hall to peer over the railing. I couldn’t see past the bottom of the staircase, nor could I hear any sounds coming from the kitchen, so I decided, rather uncertainly and perhaps unwisely, to go downstairs and investigate.

* * *

“Gram?”

At least it was my grandmother who was standing in front of the stove instead of some random intruder with bad intentions, but the butterflies of panic in my tummy flew into a frenzy nevertheless. “What the heck are you doing here? What about your hip?”

I rushed forward, thinking she’d need help to reach a chair, but even that made no sense. She’d just had surgery.
Yesterday
.

She turned to face me and I was bowled over by how terrific she looked—at least a full decade younger. Her hair was thicker, longer and colored brown, and she was wearing eye makeup.

“What do you mean?” she asked with a bewildered frown, holding up a spatula. “What’s wrong with my hip?”

I stared at her for a moment, openmouthed, and was startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Whirling around, I found myself gaping up at my tall grandfather with his warm and caring eyes behind large, Coke-bottle glasses.

Without a second’s rational thought, I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.

In that blissful moment—as I reveled in the soothing sensation of his hand rubbing up and down my back while he laughed—I realized I was dreaming. It was one of those rare and extraordinary experiences that occur just before you wake, when you are consciously aware that you’re asleep and dreaming. The dream feels impossibly real and you feel in control of what will happen next.

Please, don’t let it end yet. Don’t wake up… Just a few more minutes…

I backed up a step and regarded my grandfather with a powerful wave of love in my heart. “Hi, Grampy.”

“Morning kiddo,” he said jubilantly. “Are you hungry?”

I turned to face Gram again. She was holding out a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. The smell of the hot breakfast flooded my senses and caused me to salivate, and the joy I felt in the presence of my grandparents made me laugh out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Gram asked.

“Nothing, I’m just happy,” I replied, taking the plate from her and sitting down at the table.

The next thing I knew, the dream spirited me, in a flash, to the lake with my summer friends. I sprinted to the end of the dock and leapt in like a cannonball.

Kersplash!
The cool water engulfed me, flowed thunderously into my ears as I sank to the sandy bottom. I pushed off with the ball of my foot and paddled against the resistance of the depths, following the bubbles upward toward the bright, wavy surface and sunlight above.

When at last I broke through and gulped in a breath of fresh air, Ethan was there in front of me, treading water and smiling.

So handsome…so real…

Shock quivered through me and I nearly went under again—for he was my one and only true love. I hadn’t seen him since my youth, but this morning, in this vibrant, extraordinary dream, it was summertime in Portland, Maine. The year was 1998 and I was sixteen years old.

I swam to Ethan eagerly and wrapped my arms around his neck, felt his smooth skin and muscular shoulders beneath my hands, kissed him passionately on the mouth. We sank down together and kissed beneath the surface of the water until we couldn’t hold our breaths any longer. He dragged me up by the hand.

“I love you so much!” I cried out, splashing around, desperate to tell him this one important thing before the dream ended.

“I love you, too,” he replied
,
laughing at my exuberance. “
Forever
. Come on, let’s go.” He began to swim away, back to the pebbly beach and the place where we’d left our towels.

I remained where I was, however, treading water with some difficulty, bobbing up and down beneath the surface, catching brief, watery glimpses of him on the beach, drying off with the towel, pulling on a blue T-shirt.

“Are you coming out?” he shouted.

I wanted to. More than anything. All I wanted was to touch him again, to hold him and stay there with him forever at the lake where we’d loved each other so passionately.

Suddenly my eyes flew open and I sat bolt upright in bed.

I was back in my grandmother’s house. The dream was over. Everything was quiet. It was 2015 again.

A quick glance at the clock told me it was 10:00 a.m. The sun was shining outside.

Still wallowing in the vividness of the dream, my heart pounded with excitement, which was an odd feeling. Usually, thoughts of Ethan left me feeling empty and morose.

I flopped back down onto the pillows as an unexpected wave of euphoria moved me to tears at the memory of that kiss in the water.
Ethan!
It was as if I’d actually touched him, heard his voice and tasted his lips—those lips I once knew so well. As I lay there in bed, his presence remained fresh in my mind. I could still hear him so clearly, calling to me from the shoreline…

Then the memory of the dream began to fade from my mind, and though I fought to hold onto the feelings and sensations, the thrills and the euphoria, everything pulled away from me. I had to remind myself that it was just a dream. Nothing had changed. I was still thirty-three years old. Ethan was gone and I would never see him again. Not in this lifetime.

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I closed my eyes and lay still for a long while, doing my best to steer clear of the familiar gloom.

It was just a dream. Nothing but a dream.

But wow, I thought to myself. It felt so real. How was that possible?

Chapter Six

When I arrived at the hospital an hour later, Gram was sitting up in bed, watching television.

“Morning,” I said warmly as I approached and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling today?”

Still weak and groggy from the pain meds, Gram regarded me with affection and squeezed my hand. “Much better, my darling angel. It’s so good to see you. When did you get here?”

“I was here last night. Remember? I came straight from the airport, but you were pretty out of it after the surgery.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she spoke with childlike innocence. “I don’t remember that at all.”

I smiled. “I didn’t think you would, but it’s not important. What matters is that I’m here now and I’m so glad you’re okay. It must have been a really bad fall.”

Gram waved a hand through the air. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad. I was hardly two feet off the ground when I slipped, and that could have happened to anyone.”