The Color of a Memory (The Color of Heaven Series) (13 page)

“Not long afterward, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see where he lived and worked, so I drove here with Ellen. We found his apartment and stopped for a little while to play in the park across the street.”

“The playground with the red slide?” Jean asked.

“Yes. And while we were there, your granddaughter saw us out her front window, and she and Audrey came outside to join us.”

Jean’s head drew back slightly. “Really. So you’ve already met Audrey? She never mentioned it.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell her who I was,” I admitted. “We had a nice time chatting, but she thought I was some random stranger. When I came here today, I was worried she’d be here and might be upset when she recognized me.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Jean replied. “That’s quite a story. It must have been a shock when she walked out of the house.”

“It was,” I replied, “but I was glad I got to meet her. I loved how she talked about Alex. She said he had a good heart. It was a special moment I’ll never forget.”

We stepped onto the stone patio and Jean kissed Garry on the cheek. Turning to me as she opened the door to go inside, she said, “Help me set the table?”

I nodded and strode toward her.

“After we eat,” she said, “I’ll get out those photo albums I promised to show you.”

“I can’t wait to see them,” I replied.

Jesse and Ellen came running across the lawn just then. Ellen was wearing a crown of daisies around her head.

“What have you been up to?” I cheerfully asked, lifting her up over my head.

“Playing,” she replied, and I squeezed her against me.

The day had been quite perfect so far, and I was glad we had come. It hadn’t been awkward at all.

At least not until later, when it was time to go.

Chapter Thirty-two

After we said good-bye to Jean and Garry at the door, Jesse and I walked back to the car with Ellen between us holding both our hands.

“Elevator!” she said, wanting to play the game where Jesse lifted her up and down.

We both laughed and swung her like a little monkey between us.

When we reached the car, Jesse got into the driver’s seat while I buckled Ellen into the back. As I was bent over, fiddling with the straps, I became vaguely aware of a car pulling up behind us and parking at the curb.

With Ellen fastened securely into her seat, I straightened and shut the door, then found myself standing face-to-face with a woman. For a few seconds I stared at her questioningly, then realized it was Audrey.

She glanced down at Ellen in the car seat, then back at me. “You…” she said.

My stomach did a somersault. “Yes,” I replied. “I’m sorry, this is awkward.”

“I’ll say it is.” Her cheeks flushed the color of two red hothouse tomatoes, and her chest heaved, as if she were suddenly hyperventilating. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to meet Jean and Garry,” I replied. “They invited me.”

Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. She looked fit to be tied. “They
did
? My God.”

Suddenly I realized I was not looking at a woman in pain who was still dealing with her grief. This was something else entirely. It was flat-out rage, and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why.

Seeing Through the Smoke

Chapter Thirty-three

Audrey

Three Weeks Earlier

It had been two years since I was forced to watch Alex take his last breath. Or rather, I watched the machine do it for him.

Wendy still had some memory of her father—mostly because I made a point to talk about him every day—but I worried that later in life, she would have trouble recalling anything about him.

Memories of early childhood are muddy at best for most of us. I certainly couldn’t remember
anything
from my toddler years, though it helped to see pictures. I only wish I had used my camera more often during my brief marriage to Alex.

At least I’d had all of them printed at the local photography store. My collection of photos consisted of a somewhat archaic shelf of albums with cellophane-covered pages.

Who even has these anymore
? I wondered as I stood in my living room one morning, staring at them. Everything in our modern world had gone digital in such a short span of time. Whenever I visited my friend’s houses, all they had was a single battery-operated picture frame sitting on a shelf with a continuous dissolving slideshow.

I had to ask myself…what would happen if there was some sort of apocalypse, zombie or otherwise, where batteries were hard to come by? In a situation like that, only the photos printed on paper would be any good to look at. So I printed everything. I needed our memories to survive, to never fade. I needed physical evidence of Alex’s existence. Nothing less would do.

But it was that very physical evidence that nearly destroyed me on the second anniversary of his death. A part of me wishes I’d never unearthed that picture because the heartache that resulted was unimaginable.

Then I began to wonder if I was
meant
to unearth it…if Alex had somehow led me to it. Perhaps he had called to me from the great beyond. Jean sometimes said she felt as if he was still nearby, calling to her from the garage.

And so, I went there. I sat in the front seat of the old Buick that held so many special memories for us.

Then, in an instant, my life was turned upside down. Everything I believed in was crushed.

I
was crushed, and I felt like a fool.

Chapter Thirty-four

What was I looking for when I opened the glove box? Nothing. I was just bored and tired of weeping like a baby from behind the wheel, staring out the open garage doors at the row of cedars on the far side of the paved driveway.

You have to get over this, I told myself.
It’s time to move on
.

But I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t let go. I could feel Alex, always at my side, whispering in my ear, telling me not to forget.

Though I loved him deeply, still, there were times when I resented him—or rather his ghost, if such a thing existed—for such selfishness. Why did he want to torture me like this? Wouldn’t he prefer for my heart to heal? For me to find happiness again? To let go of the sadness and anger over the fact that he was taken from me, and I didn’t even get to say good-bye?

Which brings me back to the moment I reached across the seat to open the glove box and rifle around inside.

What was in there?

Not much—just some old napkins from the time we went to a midnight drive-through on the way home from the movies, not long before Alex died. I had been working nights that week and was craving a burger with extra pickles. He got it for me, of course. He always said he wanted to give me everything.

He gave me Wendy, but he also caused me great pain from beyond the grave when that glove box door fell open.

* * *

Imagine my surprise when I discovered a picture of a baby which was taken during an ultrasound. At first glance I thought it must be Wendy, but as I peered closer I realized it was different from the picture I had of her.

Turning it over in my hand, I found a few words scribbled on the back in blue pen.

For Alex – I hope she has your good looks!

– C.

A tiny heart was drawn in the bottom right-hand corner and just below that, it was dated one week before Alex died.

I swallowed uneasily and tried to make sense of it. Were there any close family members who might have been expecting a child at that time—a cousin or a niece? His sister, Sarah, had never been pregnant, as far as I knew. And this note was signed with the initial “C.”

For a long time I sat there, confused as I stared at the photo. Suddenly there was a ringing in my ears. Then I found myself fighting a wave of nausea that rose up in my belly as I recalled the weeks before Alex’s death, when he came home late from work and seemed distracted all the time.

I wasn’t proud of what I suspected while sitting in the front seat of his car—that he might have been having an affair—because he wasn’t here to defend himself, and I certainly didn’t want to become a jealous wife two years after his death, but what else could this be? My father always said, “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.”

Oh God…

My heart throbbed in the most excruciating way, and I closed my eyes.
Please, not this. Don’t let it be this. Not my Alex.

Tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t seem to breathe without my ribs quaking and shuddering. How could this be?

No…it
couldn’t
be.

For a long time I sat there in shock, overcome by a wave of grief that felt the same as it had when the doctor told me Alex’s head injury was so severe, he would never open his eyes again. I don’t think there is a way to describe the hurt I felt, knowing my worst fears had come true—that I had been wrong to trust my husband, and the love I believed to be special and mutual was not the forever kind—at least not for him.

I cried and cried until I was completely spent, then I slipped the photograph into the pocket of my jean skirt, got out of the car and went to collect Wendy. I had to say good-bye to Jean and Garry quickly before I lost control of my emotions again.

Chapter Thirty-five

As soon as I arrived home, I pressed play on a DVD for Wendy and went a little crazy in my bedroom.

Not long after the first anniversary of Alex’s death, I had cleaned out the closets and gotten rid of most of his personal belongings—a horrendous chore I didn’t feel ready for at the time, but Cathy had encouraged me to do it.

Now there was little left to search through—no pockets where I might find evidence of a hotel room stay or a receipt for lingerie he never gave to me.

These were all terrible clichés, of course, which was why I felt completely delusional as I plugged in his old cell phone—one thing I had kept—and searched through all the calls from those final weeks. I found nothing out of the ordinary, no numbers I didn’t recognize, no unfamiliar contact names that began with the letter C.

Tossing the phone onto the bed, I paced back and forth, not knowing what to do. I wished I was one of those women who could turn a blind eye and ignore unpleasant things. Why couldn’t I just stuff the ultrasound photo into a trash bin on the street and sweep it from my mind?

Alex had been gone for two years now. I couldn’t confront him or walk out on him in a huff. It would never lead to a divorce. What was the point in even knowing the truth—if in fact there was something to know?

All that being said, I knew I’d never be able to let it go because I was
not
one of those women who could turn a blind eye, and I didn’t want this photo to destroy the wonderful memories I had of my husband.

Besides, what if Alex had another child out there somewhere? A half-sister for Wendy? Didn’t we both deserve to know the truth?

Surely someone had the answer.
But who?

Sitting down on the bed, I stared at the telephone for a long moment and could think of only one person.

* * *

Alex’s friend David had been a pallbearer at the funeral, and he had come around to the apartment a few times to lend a hand after Alex passed. He helped me set up a new computer when my old laptop was too slow, which I greatly appreciated because I was slightly tech-challenged.

He also took care of some practical details at the department, like making sure I received Alex’s final paychecks and benefits and dealing with Alex’s personal belongings in his locker.

Around that time, David started dating a female police officer and the last I’d heard, they’d moved in together. That was a year ago and I hadn’t spoken to him in a long time, but now I had a good excuse to call.

Or maybe it wasn’t exactly a
good
excuse. I didn’t want David to think I was losing my mind, creating dramas just to keep Alex alive in my imagination.

But I had to find out the truth.

Since I didn’t know David’s number off hand, I reached for Alex’s cell phone and found him in the list of contacts. Then I called from the landline on the bedside table.

David answered after the first ring. “Hello?”

The beat of my pulse accelerated. “Hi David. It’s Audrey Fitzgerald.”

“Hey,” he gently replied. “It’s great to hear from you. God, it’s been way too long.” He paused. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault. I should have called to check on you. How are you doing?”

“No need to apologize,” I said. “I’m doing well. Wendy’s growing like a weed. She’ll be starting school soon.”

“Wow,” he said. “That’s great. Time sure flies. Are you still working in the ER?”

“Yes, as many shifts as I can get,” I told him. “How about you? Are you still with the department?”