The Color of Forever

by Julianne MacLean

  But no. If I was going to end up with Aaron, the last thing I wanted to do was begin our relationship with a lie. So, in the end, I decided to come clean, dial his number, and tell him the truth.

  At least some of it.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  “You had dinner with Jack,” Aaron said, after I rambled my way through an explanation about why I hadn’t answered his calls all evening. His voice was cool, aloof. “I thought you said you didn’t meet him today.”

  “I didn’t,” I replied. “Not at the news station, but then he texted me later and asked to meet me, and it wouldn’t have been smart to say no.”

  “Because of the job,” Aaron said, as if he needed a firm confirmation as to why I would accept an invitation to dinner from the brother he had explicitly warned me against.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  There was a long pause. “What did you talk about?”

  It hardly seemed like the right moment to tell Aaron that I believed I was reincarnated and that I had known him, and his brother, in a past life, and that’s obviously why they hated each other in this one—because they had fought over me before. Based on how he had responded to Jack’s revelation all those years ago, I wasn’t confident he would respond well to mine either.

  Would I ever tell him about it? I wondered uneasily. And could I be happy with someone who didn’t know everything about me? Wouldn’t that be like living a lie?

  “Work, mostly,” I replied. “The whole news industry. There’s a lot going on these days. It’s not what it used to be.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie. Jack and I had spent time discussing that.

  Again, Aaron was quiet, and I had the sense he was pacing around his condo, not wanting to reveal how agitated he was.

  “So you’re not going to come back tomorrow,” he said. “Is that because you’re planning to see Jack again?”

  I knew I had to answer the question truthfully, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words.

  “Please don’t,” he firmly said. “Don’t see him again. Just come home.”

  I found it odd that Aaron would use the word “home,” when I didn’t have a home in Maine. I was only visiting from Seattle, and there was no commitment between us. No promises. We weren’t together like that.

  Not that I didn’t want something more solid. I did. Even now, when I was so utterly and totally confused about what was happening here, I wanted that.

  The prospect of losing Aaron stirred something in me. A sense of longing. I felt desire in my bloodstream—the desire to return to him, touch him and hold him tight, to give myself over to him completely and never let go, despite the fact that we knew so little about each other.

  Surely that meant something, didn’t it? That I was feeling desire in this moment? Or was it just a physical response to the sound of his voice and the memory of what a good kisser he was?

  At the same time, I didn’t want to be pressured right now. I didn’t want to be given an ultimatum. “I don’t know,” I said. “I need time to think about this.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “You didn’t just talk about the news industry, did you,” he said in a low voice.

  Suddenly, I had no trouble finding the right words to reply. “No.”

  A prolonged silence caused my stomach to clench tight with apprehension. I waited with bated breath for Aaron to say something, but there was only silence on the other end.

  “Hello?” I said. “Hello?”

  Still…no reply.

  “Aaron? Are you there?”

  But the call went dead. He’d hung up on me.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  I did not try to call Aaron back that night, because I still didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t wish to be forced into making a decision. Nor did I feel that I was any position to explain the complexities of the situation to him. He could never understand. I wasn’t sure I understood everything myself.

  What I needed was a little time and space to figure this out, and if Aaron wasn’t willing to give me that, then maybe he wasn’t the right man for me after all.

  What I wanted—what I’d always wanted—was someone who understood me completely and would love me forever. A man I understood and loved equally in return. A relationship with mutual trust.

  My thoughts flitted back to what Jack had said to me that final morning in the lighthouse keeper’s cottage—or rather what Mr. Williams had said to Evangeline when she was devastated over her husband’s infidelity.

  I want you to know that I meant what I said. I do love you, Evangeline, and I always will. I will be right here waiting, if you ever need me.

  Feeling a reassuring sense of peace wash over me, I picked up my phone again and texted Jack.

  Thank you again for a great night. I’m going to stick around for another day. Let me know what time I should come by tomorrow.

  He responded immediately: Thank goodness. How about 6?

  I agreed and he texted me his address, which was not far from Madison Square Park, where we had met that afternoon.

  Afterward, I stayed up watching CNN for a while, then I finally fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.

  o0o

  The following day, I did what any normal twenty-first-century woman, with time to kill, would do in New York City. I went shopping in the morning, then I walked around Central Park at lunch time. I spent the afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where I bought a unique piece of jewelry—a reproduction of a first-century Roman ring that I couldn’t resist.

  I wore the ring to Jack’s place for our dinner date, along with a black floral sundress I’d purchased that morning at Saks Fifth Avenue, which I wore with a crimson sweater that matched the tiny flowers in the dress, and my black ballerina flats.

  When I arrived at Jack’s apartment on the third floor of a century-old building, he opened the door and surprised me by kissing me on the cheek.

  “Welcome,” he said. “Come in.”

  He stepped back and invited me inside. It was a modest one-bedroom apartment with plenty of light and a view of the street below. A full wall of bookcases was jammed with hardcovers and paperbacks, as well as a shelf of vinyl record albums. The dark-brown leather sofa looked comfortable and well-worn.

  “This is cozy.” I glanced toward the small white kitchen where a pot was simmering on the stove.

  “I hope you like chili,” Jack said. “You’re not a vegetarian are you? I probably should have asked.”

  “No, I eat everything.”

  “Good,” he replied. “Please, make yourself at home. Take a look around. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “That would be nice, thanks.” While he went into the kitchen to pour me a glass, I set my purse down on a chair, then sauntered toward the bookcase. Curious about what he liked to read, I discovered that he had very eclectic tastes. There was everything from Tom Clancy novels to biographies of historical figures, Garfield comics and non-fiction books about world politics and economics. I reached the record albums and pulled one out.

  “I see you like Van Morrison,” I said, finding three more of his classic albums. I slid them back into place and pulled out the Beatles’ White Album, and next, a Nina Simone record.

  “You should stop there,” Jack said from the kitchen as he poured the wine, “before you come to Barry Manilow’s Greatest Hits and you change your opinion of me.”

  I laughed. “I love Barry Manilow.” I glanced around and spotted a turntable and full stereo system that looked like it had been purchased in the eighties. “We should put it on.”

  Jack approached me and held out a glass of wine. “Whatever your heart desires.”

  I took the wine from him, and he located the album in his collection, right away. He removed the vinyl record from the sleeve and placed it on the turntable, switched it on, and carefully set the needle down on the first track, “Mandy.”

  “Ah,” I said with a sigh. “That takes me back. My mother used to pl
ay this album all the time when I was a kid.”

  We chatted about our childhoods and how different everything was from today, basically because of the explosion of digital music.

  “You were smart to keep your turntable,” I said. “Most people got rid of them when they switched to CDs.”

  “What can I say?” Jack replied as he returned to the kitchen. “I have an appreciation for antiques.”

  While he put a salad together, I turned my attention back to the books and found several titles about heaven, reincarnation, and near-death experiences. “The Illustrated Tibetan Book of the Dead,” I said as I pulled the book out and flipped through it. “This sounds a bit creepy.”

  “It’s not at all,” Jack replied, reaching for a knife to chop a tomato. “You can borrow it if you like.”

  “Maybe.” I slid it back into place, and ran my finger along some of the other spines. I then came to book entitled Only Love is Real—A Story of Soulmates Reunited. I pulled it out to discover that it was written by a psychiatrist named Brian Weiss, M.D., who appeared to be an expert on the subject of past lives and regressions through hypnosis.

  While Jack worked in the kitchen, I quietly moved to the sofa and sat down to read for a minute or two.

  Chapter one began with a quote from Kahlil Gibran, and the words “There is someone special for everyone.” I continued to read, and came to the following passage:

  He takes your hand for the first time, and the memory of his touch transcends time and sends a jolt through every atom of your being. She looks into your eyes, and you see a soul companion across centuries. Your stomach turns upside down. Your arms are gooseflesh. Everything outside this moment loses its importance.

  He may not recognize you, even though you have finally met again, even though you know him. You can feel the bond. You can see the potential, the future. But he does not. His fears, his intellect, his problems keep a veil over his heart’s eyes. He does not let you help him sweep the veil aside. You mourn and grieve, and he moves on. Destiny can be so delicate.

  I felt shivers along my spine as I read those words and thought of how Aaron had hung up on me the night before, angry about my decision to remain in New York and communicate with his estranged brother. All the hair follicles beneath my skin tingled, and I found myself covered in goose bumps.

  You mourn and grieve, and he moves on…

  My stomach muscles clenched tight with a feeling of dread—a fear of inescapable heartbreak. Was that what destiny had in store for me? Mourning and grieving?

  But of course, there was no veil over Jack’s eyes. He knew exactly who I was, and what we were to each other. There was some comfort in that.

  Obviously, Dr. Weiss knew a thing or two about the experiences of people like me. I wished I could read the rest of the book that very night, along with every other book Weiss had written on the subject.

  “Could I borrow this one?” I asked Jack, holding it up.

  “Of course,” he replied, as he continued to work on the salad.

  I picked up my wine and read the next chapter.

  o0o

  After Jack and I ate dinner at the small round table in his kitchen, we sat down on the sofa to listen to more music and resume our conversation about the past.

  Maybe I drank too much wine, but I soon found myself confessing my truest, innermost feelings, even though it probably wasn’t exactly what Jack wanted to hear.

  “I know that Aaron doesn’t believe in any of this.” I said. “But that breaks my heart—because if he was my husband once and we shared a life together, I feel like he should know. Like I have a duty to convince him. Make him believe it. Help him to remember.”

  Jack shook his head. “He doesn’t want to believe it. And besides that…” He paused. “I don’t understand why you care so much, considering what he did to you. Back then, I mean. He cheated on you. He slept with another woman.”

  The reminder caused an immediate aching sensation in my heart, and I buried my forehead in my hand. “I don’t understand it either. I can’t explain.”

  “I think it’s his surface charm that trips you up,” Jack said. “And his money—the success and the giant penthouse apartment. That’s what it was back then, too—when he had the fancy coach and servants and silk top hats. I always knew there was no way I could compete, because I was just a lowly lighthouse keeper in a threadbare jacket. But don’t be distracted by all that. Think about how he cheated on you.”

  I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. “Argh. Maybe I’m doomed to keep coming back over and over to repeat the same mistakes, because my husband in this life cheated on me, too. He was handsome and successful. Is that my problem? Am I that blind and shallow that I can’t see what’s beneath the surface?”

  Jack knew all about Mark. I had shared my story with him at dinner the night before.

  Jack reached for my hand. “Maybe this is your chance to turn that around and learn the lessons that you’re meant to learn.” He gazed intently at me. “Not all men are cheaters, Katelyn. I certainly would never do that to you. I’m not built that way.”

  I squeezed his hand in return. “I know. You’re a good man. A true friend.”

  His eyes roamed over my face and settled on my lips, and I had the feeling he was going to lean closer and kiss me. I felt a rush of nervous butterflies suddenly, because I wasn’t sure what it would feel like to kiss Jack. I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to happen, because after the time I’d spent with Aaron over the past week, I was far too confused and disoriented to start kissing other men. Even if it was someone I cared for deeply.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Jack’s shoulders slumped with frustration. I chuckled softly. “As luck would have it.”

  Although a part of me was relieved.

  Jack rose from the sofa and opened the door without checking the security peep hole. I couldn’t see who was outside in the hall, but when I heard the tone in Jack’s voice, I knew.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

  Who else could it be, but Aaron?

  He wasn’t going to be pleased to find me with Jack. But he must have known I would be here. It’s probably why he had come.

  Jack tried to shut the door, but Aaron blocked it with his foot and forced it open. He walked into the apartment while Jack backed up and shook his head with disgust.

  “Come on in then,” Jack said, irritably, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

  I rose to my feet. A part of me wanted to say, “This isn’t what it looks like.” But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said something equally lame. “Aaron. What are you doing here?”

  “I drove all this way to see you,” he replied, “because I don’t want you to be with him.” He gestured toward Jack, who scoffed and walked to the kitchen to get a beer out of the fridge. “Come with me now. We’ll go somewhere and talk.”

  Jack returned to the living room. “She’s not going anywhere with you. And you should leave.”

  Aaron pointed a finger at him. “You had no right to move in on her like this, Jack. She’s mine.”

  “I’m not yours!” I shouted. “I’m not anyone’s.”

  Jack set the beer bottle down on the counter, and with that masculine swagger—which seemed dangerous all of a sudden—he approached Aaron. “I told you to go.”

  Aaron turned to me. “Come with me.”

  I glanced uneasily at Jack, who gave me a pleading look, as if to say, “You’re not going to do this again, are you?”

  My whole body tensed. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to go with Aaron and clear the air, but I didn’t know how to, unless I told him everything—that I thought I was reincarnated from a past life where he was my husband. But that sounded crazy, even to my own ears. I couldn’t possibly say those things to someone who didn’t understand. Not yet, when we were still just getting to know each other.

  Maybe Jack recognized my desire to make things right with Aaron, because his cheeks flushed red
with anger. He spoke to Aaron. “I told you to leave, but Katelyn will be staying here.”

  Aaron shook his head. “She can make up her own mind.” He turned to me. “Katelyn…”

  Jack scoffed. “Is it your mission in life to take everything I want?”

  By now I was speechless, watching them argue. I began to wonder if the root of this rivalry went even further back in time, long before my existence as Evangeline.

  “I told you, she’s mine,” Aaron said.

  I gasped as Jack shoved Aaron. Aaron fell backwards onto the desk by the door and knocked a stainless steel water bottle to the floor with a noisy clatter.

  Aaron immediately came hurling back toward his brother, tackling him like a linebacker. The loud, crashing sound caused me to jump back in fright.

  “Stop it!” I shouted, lunging forward, wanting to pull Aaron off of Jack, but before I could get close enough, Jack slammed Aaron into the kitchen cupboards.

  “Jack! Stop it!” I grabbed hold of Jack’s arm to prevent him from going after Aaron again.

  Aaron glared with malice at his brother. “You had no right,” he said. “Not then and not now. She was my wife.”

  I blinked a few times in shock, and turned to look up at Jack, who frowned at Aaron.

  “What did you just say?” Jack asked.

  Aaron ran his tongue over a bloody gash on his upper lip. “I said, she was my wife, and I loved her. No matter what you think, I made her happy.”

  I stared in a daze at Aaron, who said this as he hugged his ribs from the impact against the cupboards.

  “You knew,” Jack said with disgust. “You remember everything?”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I asked Aaron. “I didn’t know if it was you.”

  “I didn’t know it was you either,” he replied. “Not for sure. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy.”

  Exhaling sharply with disbelief, I simply stared. “I wouldn’t have thought that.”

  “But I didn’t know. I couldn’t risk it. At least not so soon.”