The Color of Heaven

by Julianne MacLean

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He said nothing for a few seconds, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You should probably go.”

  He might as well have hit me in the face with a baseball bat.

  Fighting tears, I picked up my bag, opened the door and got out. “You really are an ass, Matt. Do you know that? I never wanted to believe it before, even when Peter told me I couldn’t trust you, but I guess I have no choice now. But I’m not letting you leave without telling you that you have broken my heart, because I never cared for anyone the way I cared for you. I thought we were the same, but now I have to accept that we’re not. Because I’m not like you. I don’t shut out the people I love.”

  I slammed the door and turned away, then let the tears gush from my eyes. Quickly, I made my way across the dark lawn in the direction of my dorm. I didn’t allow myself to look back and see if he had driven away, even though, to my eternal chagrin, there was a part of me that hoped he would come running after me and tell me he was sorry, and plead with me to forgive him.

  If Peter were here, he would tell me not to entertain such foolish hopes – that no, we could not be friends, because Matt could not be trusted. I was better off never seeing him again. For as long as I lived.

  I stopped suddenly and wiped the exasperating tears from my cheeks. I could not walk into my dorm like this. I had to stop crying and catch my breath.

  A car door slammed.

  I turned around.

  Matt was striding across the lawn toward me, with long, purposeful strides.

  Oh, God…

  My heart throbbed painfully in my chest. I couldn’t breathe through my embarrassing shuddering sobs.

  A part of me wondered if I should take off and run in the other direction. Then all at once he was upon me, backing me up against a tree, taking me into his arms and crushing his lips to mine.

  I dropped my bag with a thud. My arms flew around his neck. It was like being swept out to sea. I couldn’t find the resolve to kick against the current, because despite everything, I still wanted him with a passion that overcame reason.

  I have no idea how long we stood up against that tree, kissing in the darkness while his hands explored my body, as if the world were coming to an end.

  Finally he dragged his lips from mine. “I’m so sorry.”

  Stunned and emotionally drained, I blinked up at him.

  “I never should have come to see you,” he said. “It was selfish. I shouldn’t have taken you sailing today. I should have just left it.”

  “But why?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Something was wrong. I could feel it. We had shared so much over the past few days. There had to be a reason why he pushed me away like this, and it was not what he had explained before.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” I said.

  He grimaced, almost as if he were in physical pain.

  “Tell me.” I took his face in my hands.

  “I’m sick,” he finally confessed. “I have to have an operation in a couple of weeks, and if I don’t have it, all the doctors tell me the same thing. That I won’t live to see the spring.”

  I stood staring up at him, unable to move. “What kind of operation?”

  “I have a tumor in my brain,” he explained. “It has to be removed.”

  I felt like I was going to vomit. “Can they do that? Can they remove it and cure you?”

  “I’m told there’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “Fifty percent,” I repeated in a daze, clinging to the hope that it would be successful. Of course it would. It had to be.

  He stepped back, giving me a moment and some space to digest this. I moved away from the tree, wandering off a little ways to comprehend what he’d told me. I looked up at the dark, star-speckled sky.

  “When did you find out?” I asked.

  “A month ago. I was having headaches, so I went to see someone.”

  I turned to face him. “Do you still have them?”

  “Yes. I have one now.”

  I wished I could take that pain away, but knew that I couldn’t. I could do nothing to change what was happening. “Does your father know?”

  “Yeah, but he’s been keeping his distance. He hasn’t called or anything since I told him.”

  I fought to contain my anger at the man who had abused Matt as a child, then drove him away from Camden, and who now could not bring himself to offer support when it was most needed. “I don’t understand that,” I said. “You’re his son.”

  Matt merely shrugged. “I’m through with hating him. When something like this happens, you let go of all that stuff. I’ve forgiven him. That’s all I can do. And I’ve told Gordon that. I’ll want Dad to know it.”

  “Don’t say things like that,” I quickly said, almost scolding him with my tone. “You’re going to be fine. Gordon won’t have to tell him anything.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  A breeze whispered through the branches above us.

  It would soon begin to rain. I could smell it in the air.

  “Where will they do the operation?”

  “In Chicago,” he replied. “It’s why I have to go back next week.”

  “Let me come with you,” I said, wondering what Peter would say, but knowing that for once, it wouldn’t matter.

  “No,” Matt firmly replied. “You don’t have to do that.”

  I stepped closer. “I want to. I want to be there with you when you’re in the hospital. And we could spend some time together between now and then.”

  He spoke harshly. “I said no, Cora. I don’t want you there.”

  “Why? I’ll give you space when you need it. I’ll give you whatever you need. And what happens afterward, we can decide that later. I won’t expect you to marry me or anything like that. Just let me spend the next few weeks with you. Just that. Please.”

  He gently touched my cheek, while I waited for his answer.

  “I’m scared,” I said.

  His expression grew tender, then he took me into his arms again. Tears returned to my eyes, and I convulsed with weeping.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “Please don’t cry.”

  “Just let me come. Let me be with you.”

  The rain began to fall in a fine, silvery mist, cold upon my skin. Fog crept low along the ground.

  Sophie

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  I stood up at the kitchen table and shook my head at my mother. “I don’t want to hear anymore. I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” she firmly replied, “and you will, because you have to hear it. You’re not the only person in this world who has suffered, Sophie. Life is hard. It’s cruel sometimes. It’s merciless and unfair, but we all go through difficult times, one way or another. You’ve had more than your share of knocks lately, I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t mean you get to quit. No one gets to quit. You keep fighting, every day, and sooner or later, the grief fades a little. You grow stronger, find joy again, and everything gets easier. You come out of it more equipped to handle the next wave, which will come eventually. There will always be waves.”

  I heard what she was saying, but my mind was fixed on something else she had told me about that night on the lawn at Wellesley. I’m scared, she had said to Matt.

  I sat back down. “Megan told me she was scared. When she was in the hospital, in those last few days… She said she was afraid of dying.”

  My mother inclined her head at me. “And what did you tell her?”

  “I told her that there were kind and beautiful angels waiting for her in heaven, and that they would love her and take good care of her.” I swallowed over the jagged stone of despair in my throat. “But then she asked if I would be there, too, and I had to tell her no, I couldn’t go with her. That she had to go alone.” My throat was closing up. I barely managed to get the words out before my voice broke. “And she said, ‘But I want my momm
y.’”

  I covered my face with both hands.

  I had not told anyone about that conversation, not even Michael. I had never been able to repeat it aloud. I could not even bear to think of it.

  “You said the right thing, Sophie.”

  “Did I?”

  Oh, God….

  “Yes, you were a wonderful mother. No one will ever be able to take that away. Not from you or her. Megan had a beautiful life with you. She was loved more than any child could ever dream of being loved.”

  The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, and I struggled to blink them away.

  My mother stood up and fetched a tissue from the box by the telephone. She handed it to me, and I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

  “Did he have the operation?” I asked, wetting my lips, reclaiming the steadiness of my voice. “Did you go back to Chicago with him? Did he let you stay?”

  “Yes.” She sat back down.

  “What happened?” I was desperate to know the answer. “Was it a success? Did he live?”

  My mother turned her gaze toward the window and took a deep breath before she told me the rest.

  Mountains

  Chapter Forty

  Cora

  After Matt told me a bit more about the operation, I went back to my dorm room when all I wanted to do was stay with him, to get back into his car and drive far away for hours and hours. Tearing myself away from him was – up until then – the most difficult thing I had ever done.

  I didn’t sleep a wink. I tossed and turned and cried. Eventually I got up and sat in the window. When the sun finally appeared over the horizon, I waited until a reasonable hour, then called Matt at his brother’s place and asked him to come and get me right away.

  He said no. He told me to go to all my classes, and that he would meet me outside afterward. That was the condition. He didn’t want to be responsible for me flunking out of Wellesley.

  We went out for dinner again that night, and walked around town holding hands, talking about anything and everything. Not just his illness. Good things, too, like the book he had been working on.

  The leaves were changing, but the air was balmy. We walked for a long time, sat under a tree for a while, and I was never so content or so grateful just to be alive and in his presence. Despite the terrible news he had delivered the night before, I felt extremely fortunate to be spending those hours with him. Everything was magical – the smell of the autumn leaves in the air, the sound of his voice, the familiar scent of his skin.

  I knew, as the night wore on, that Matt was my true soul mate, and that nothing I’d ever experienced with Peter could compare.

  Don’t misunderstand me. I loved Peter deeply and felt guilty for this betrayal, but what Peter and I shared was different from this. Our relationship was practical and sensible. We were best friends, and I respected him. He was decent and honest and had been raised in a good family. My own parents adored him – they never cared much for Matt – but none of those things mattered as much to me as the harmony I experienced with Matt. Whenever we were together, all was right with the world, and I knew I was going to have to confess this to Peter and my parents.

  Oh, how I dreaded the thought of it.

  I didn’t wait or put it off. I felt it was important to do the right thing. It’s what Peter would have expected of me, and I of him if the situation were reversed.

  So, again, I slipped a coin into the slot on the payphone, sat down on the stool, and with a heavy lump in my stomach, listened to the coin fall inside.

  A moment later, Peter picked up on the other end of the line.

  “Hi Cora,” he said. “I hope this is important because I’m really busy. I can’t get this balance sheet to balance.”

  I swallowed uneasily and considered doing this another time…

  When I didn’t’ speak, and the seconds ticked by like minutes, Peter asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Struggling to steady my nerves, I sat up straight on the stool. Heartache throbbed inside my chest.

  “Not really,” I replied. “I have some bad news. It’s about Matt.”

  Another awkward silence rolled through the telephone wire and filled my heart with dread.

  “Well…” I didn’t know where to begin. “He’s not doing so well. He’s sick, Peter. He has…” I paused. “He has brain cancer.”

  Just saying the words out loud caused a hot ball of fire to ignite in my gut. I took a deep breath and forced myself to continue. I couldn’t fall apart.

  “My God,” he said. Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. “Is he going to be okay? Can they do anything for him?”

  “They’re going to operate to try and remove the tumor,” I explained. “He told me there’s a fifty percent success rate if he survives the surgery. He’s young and healthy, so that’s a good thing.”

  “Fifty percent. Those aren’t great odds, Cora.”

  My stomach churned and I shut my eyes. “That’s not what I want to hear right now,” I said. “It’s not helpful. And besides, I disagree. I think they’re excellent odds. We need to stay positive and hope for the best. Promise me you’ll do that.”

  He was quiet for a minute. “I just think we should prepare ourselves, that’s all. I’d hate to see you get your hopes up.”

  God! I was so angry with him in that moment! I wanted to shout into the phone, reach through the wires and shake him. He was always so cautious about everything. I’m sure if it was up to him, he’d tell Matt to go check himself into the hospital right now because there was no point in doing anything else. And while he was there, he should write his obituary so it would be ready to go into the morning paper after the operation. Just in case.

  “Well, I am going to get my hopes up,” I told him, “and that’s where they’re going to stay. I’m going to talk to Matt about the future and how great his life is going to be when he gets out of the hospital. I’m going to spend every minute with him and make plans for next year, and the year after that.”

  Another pause. “What kind of plans?” Peter asked.

  I looked up at the ceiling as a wave of sadness washed over me. How was I supposed to say this over the phone? How could I tell Peter how I truly felt? He was going to be crushed.

  “I don’t know, exactly,” I replied. Not because I was trying to spare his feelings, but because it was the truth. Matt had never been the sort of person to stay in one place for very long. He was a wanderer – or at least he had been up until this point in his life. With or without the surgery, I knew the future would be uncertain. I couldn’t be sure that he would give me his whole heart forever or get down on one knee and propose.

  But did I even want that? Wasn’t that part of the problem in my relationship with Peter? He was ready to say I do, while I was having doubts and feeling as if I was suffocating.

  Knowing, however, that Peter deserved a better answer than the one I had just given, I cleared my throat and continued. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I can’t lie to you. I have feelings for Matt. I’ve always had feelings for him and I need to be with him right now.”

  I heard the chair creak in his office, then he got up and closed the door.

  “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  I took another deep breath. “I’m saying that I need my freedom so that I can spend time with him.”

  He scoffed. “Is this what I think it is? We’re breaking up? Is that what this phone call is really about?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry?” His anger made me jump. “Have you lost your mind? You’ve spent two days with this guy and all of a sudden you want to throw away something we’ve had since we were kids? We’re supposed to get married. We’ve been in a relationship for almost five years. I think you better put some more thought into this, Cora. He’s not reliable, and besides, he could be dead in a month.”

  “Peter!” I couldn’t listen to those words. I knew he was hurt and angry, but that was crossing the line.


  And I most certainly had put thought into this. I had thought about it my entire life. Even while we were apart, Matt was always there, living in my heart. I had missed him and longed for him, and it didn’t matter how much time we had left. Even if it was going to be brief, I had to take it.

  I hoped, of course, that it would not be brief. I wanted to be with Matt until I drew my last breath.

  The surgery was going to be a success. That’s what I told myself over and over, and when he recovered, everything was going to be different. We were going to make up for lost time.

  Peter was wrong about Matt. In every possible way.

  Chapter Forty-one

  The phone call with Peter did not end well. He wanted to know how much time I had spent with Matt, and if we had kissed or “done anything.”

  I told him the truth, that yes, we had kissed and held hands.

  Peter didn’t say anything right away, but I heard the stress in his breathing. Then he told me he never wanted to see my face or hear my voice again. He hung up without saying good-bye.

  I went back to my room and cried for a while, and wondered if he was right. Maybe I had lost my mind. I remembered how Matt had treated me in the car on the way back from Marblehead, when he had shut me out with such ice-cold derision.

  Peter had never treated me that way. We had never hurt each other, nor had we ever argued heatedly about anything. At least not until today.

  A short while later, I dragged myself up off the bed and returned to the phone booth to drop another coin into the slot. This time I would tell my parents about Matt’s illness and explain how I had just broken Peter’s heart and ended our unofficial engagement. I suspected they weren’t going to be happy about it either. And I was right. They were very sorry to hear about Matt’s diagnosis, but they were deeply confused and bewildered by my decision to end things with Peter, for he had become an important part of our family. They adored him, and they were concerned for me.

  Over the next five days, Matt and I spent every possible waking moment together. He wouldn’t let me skip any classes, so he dropped me off five minutes before each class and was there outside the building waiting for me when I came out.