The Color of Love

by Julianne MacLean

Consequently, I woke up one morning after a light snowfall and returned to the ridge where I first saw the ocean and walruses and the polar bear.

  Exhausted and out of breath from the hike, I collapsed in the snow and lay for a long time, staring up at the clear blue sky. A cloud hovered up there, directly over my head. It looked like an X. Then it rotated and became a cross. Then it spun and turned into an X again.

  It was quiet on the ridge, except for the gentle rhythmic swish of the waves washing the rocky beach below. Maybe I would encounter the polar bear again. Would he remember me?

  Weak and tired, I rolled onto my hands and knees, paused for a few seconds, then rose to my feet.

  There, before me, lay the flat, silvery sea dappled with shining white icebergs drifting south in the distance. I stared at them, mesmerized, while listening to the sound of the waves.

  Striding forward, curious to know if the walruses were out, I briefly took my gaze off the horizon—until something totally unexpected caught my attention and my eyes grew wide.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  A pair of binoculars would have come in handy, but all I had were my own two weary, bloodshot eyeballs.

  Squinting tightly, I strained to focus on what I thought I saw in the distance. Could it be? Or was I dreaming again?

  I strode faster, all the way to the edge of the cliff and shaded my eyes with my gloved hand.

  There. Yes.

  It wasn’t an iceberg or a whale. Sweet Mother of God, it was a ship. A tiny speck in the distance, but a huge container ship, most likely.

  I began to jump up and down, waving my arms frantically over my head. “Hey! Over here! I’m here! This way!”

  But the ship continued on—its gradual movement barely discernible on the faraway horizon.

  I squatted down on my haunches, sat there in quiet awe, and watched it until it was completely out of sight.

  o0o

  Over the next five days, I returned at dawn to the same spot on the ridge and sat quietly all day next to a signal fire, watching the horizon. Whales and porpoises swam by, and icebergs drifted in peaceful, communal silence. Everything was crisp and blue, and soon my head ached from the strain on my eyes.

  With each passing day, I grew a little less hopeful.

  On the sixth day, however, I saw something new, something out of the ordinary, and shot up from my squatting position on the snow.

  Using both gloved hands, I shaded my eyes from the sun and pulled my eyebrows together to squint further into the distance.

  There! Yes! Again! I hadn’t been dreaming! It was another container ship!

  I threw more branches on the fire, and like before, jumped up and down and waved my arms over my head, despite the fact that I knew it was futile. They were too far away, and I was a fool to be shouting in polar bear territory.

  So I quickly squatted down again and like before, watched the ship in silence until it disappeared from view.

  While sitting there, however, I began to formulate a plan.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Twenty-one days after I spotted that first ship on the horizon and came to the realization that I was not far from a transatlantic shipping lane, I had built myself a raft and was ready to depart.

  I gave no thought to polar bears as I dragged my vessel onto the windy beach, pushed it into the frigid North Atlantic waters and hopped on.

  I had spent many hours chopping down trees and lashing the trunks together with long twisted strips of the nylon fabric I’d saved from the tent. I even used a section of the plane to create a waterproof floor with raised edges.

  I had collected icicles—chipped them into small bits and stored them in the little booze bottles I’d found when I returned to the plane.

  I also armed myself with fishing lines and hooks—from the dried bones of rabbits—and by this point I was blindly determined to push away from the beach and leave here forever.

  The walruses didn’t seem to care that I was going. None of them so much as lifted their heads to watch.

  As I bobbed up and down on the swells and began to float out to where the icebergs and whales made their home, I looked back and wondered if the island would miss me. It had been my home for a full year and I’d most certainly left my mark on it.

  I thought of the lynx staring at me in the darkness. Seth standing on the edge of the mountain, then slipping from view. I remembered my tears on that day.

  Then I thought of the angry white bear that had roared at me on the beach.

  No, I would not miss this island. As I floated away in the cold, blustery wind and felt the salty stinging spray on my cheeks, I decided that come what may—I would rather take my chances with the sea than remain here for another year.

  o0o

  Though it was undoubtedly a risky undertaking, in my defense, I did not leave the island without a plan. I had consulted my compass and established a field bearing when I spotted the ships, and I knew exactly which direction I had to paddle.

  I’d packed enough food and water to last a week, and was prepared to catch more fish if necessary. I had an A-frame shelter I had constructed from an evergreen sapling and some boughs, and I’d also fashioned four serviceable oars—two as backups—and had been alternatively rowing and drifting towards the area where I believed I would eventually cross paths with a ship.

  Little did I know that the sea—just like the island—would not welcome me either. Again, I was in foreign territory and unfortunately for me, there would be challenges ahead.

  All I had on my side was luck—which I suppose is what I’d had in spades from the beginning, though I didn’t always see it that way.

  Chapter Forty

  On my second day on the water, late in the afternoon, I felt something bump up against the bottom of my raft.

  Instantly alert, I crawled out of my shelter where I’d been resting.

  The sky was overcast and there wasn’t a whisper of wind. The water was calm and gray and I was floating between bergs and small slabs of ice.

  I wondered if I’d knocked into one of them.

  A gentle but chilly breeze caressed my face. The salty fragrance of the sea filled my nostrils while water lapped gently against the sides of my craft.

  Thump.

  My eyes flew open and I lost my balance, fell onto my backside.

  What was that?

  Curious, I looked over the side. A black and white shadow moved beneath the surface. Then another shadow slid by, and another.

  Perched on all fours, I gazed from left to right to scan the shiny flat surface of the water around me.

  A black fin rose out of the depths about ten yards away and dove down again.

  Killer whales.

  Just then, a large face bobbed out of the water like a cork directly beside me. Startled out of my wits, I scrambled back into my shelter. “Holy crap!”

  Another whale bobbed his head up out of the water, as if to determine exactly who, and what, I was.

  There must have been five of them, large and small, swimming beneath me in circles. Maybe they were just curious, or playing.

  Then, from a greater distance, two of them, side by side, swam like a couple of torpedoes toward me.

  With wide eyes I watched them approach and braced myself as they rose to the surface a few yards away, then dove down under my vessel, sweeping me up on a wave they’d created.

  Thwack!

  My raft collided with something and nearly knocked me onto my back. Swinging around, I found myself staring up at a giant iceberg, close enough to touch.

  To keep my balance, I grabbed hold of my A-frame shelter which was lashed tightly around my makeshift deck, then looked down and saw that the waterproof floor under my feet had cracked right down the center. Water was already sloshing around my boots, and I knew that if I sank into the icy water, I would be dead within minutes. Even if the raft remained afloat, I wouldn’t survive long if I was wet.

  A young whale bobbed his head out of the wa
ter and looked at me. He almost appeared to be smiling or laughing. Then the two older whales circled around and joined forces again from a distance away.

  What were they up to? As far as I knew, orcas were supposed to be friendly mammals, and I’d heard there were no cases of attacks on humans ever recorded in the wild. Was I to be the first? Or did they mistake me for a seal? Maybe no one had lived to tell the tale…

  Together, they swam in my direction again, picking up speed, just like before, and by doing so, they created another wave that swept my raft right up onto a flat section of the iceberg.

  Feeling threatened by these giant creatures—not knowing their minds or their intent—and without taking time to think about it, I hopped off my broken raft and scrambled up to where the ice was dry. For many minutes I stood there motionless, staring.

  The whales continued to frolic, and created another wave that splashed up onto the berg. Suddenly, my raft was taken away, along with my backpack and all my food and supplies.

  “No!” I shouted, lurching forward to try and catch it, but the waves were still crashing up onto the ice. I had to scramble backwards or risk getting washed away as well.

  Oh, Lord, what had I done? Why hadn’t I tried to secure it? All I could do was watch in horror as it floated farther and farther away.

  Then, to my surprise, water seeped up through the cracks in the floor of my raft, filling it like a bowl, and it sank into the sea.

  Oh, My God…

  The next thing I knew I was half way up the slope of ice, using both axes from my belt to help me climb.

  I wasn’t wearing crampons, so I have no idea how I made it to the top. Superhuman strength fueled by fear, perhaps?

  o0o

  By nightfall I was sitting on top of the iceberg, which was as tall as a three-story building. Hugging my knees to my chest, I watched the sun set over the horizon.

  All my belongings were gone. My raft had sunk and I had no food.

  At least now I was surrounded by an unlimited supply of fresh water—because that’s what icebergs were made of. All I had to do was chip away at my floating island any time I felt thirsty.

  But how long could I go without food and warmth?

  Food…

  Maybe five days? At most, a week.

  Warmth?

  Not nearly that long.

  So there it was.

  My fate was sealed. Survival was out of my hands now, for all I had in my possession was what I carried in my pockets and the two axes hooked on the belt of Seth’s old jacket.

  I took a deep breath, then slowly, achingly, I let go of myself, lay back and stretched out on the ice to look up at the stars.

  Billions of them.

  What a night. So clear and magically celestial under a gigantic full moon while its light glistened on the surface of the calm water below.

  It was so impossibly beautiful, it moved me to tears.

  God, if you can hear me, I give up. If you want to take me now, you can, and if this was your plan all along, I’m sorry for fighting so hard against you. I just really wanted to go home.

  How quiet it was on top of the iceberg. I never knew such silence.

  And so I surrendered to the situation and I floated.

  The sun went down, I closed my eyes, and I floated. Far, far away.

  Contact

  Chapter Forty-one

  Carla

  I should have known it would be a strange night when the power went out mere seconds before the telephone rang.

  Kaleigh was in her bedroom practicing her guitar and I was sitting on the sofa watching a repeat episode of How I Met Your Mother. Suddenly everything went black and the TV went pop before shutting down.

  Kaleigh called out to me. “Mom!”

  “It’s just the power!” I called back. “I’m getting a flashlight!”

  Her door flew open. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the living room,” I replied in a calm voice as I felt my way along the wall toward the junk drawer in the kitchen.

  I pulled it open, dug around until I found the flashlight, turned it on and handed it to Kaleigh. “Here, use this.” Then I crossed the kitchen to answer the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Carla Matthews?”

  The voice on the other end sounded far away, as if it was a bad connection.

  “Yes, this is she.”

  There was a brief pause. “Hi. My name is Donna Fisher and I’m a nurse calling from St. Agnes Hospital in Newfoundland, Canada. Are you the wife of Seth Jameson?”

  My chest constricted with panic and dread. Instinctively, I turned my back on Kaleigh, wanting to shield her from whatever news was about to befall us—at least until I had a chance to deal with it myself.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I replied.

  Another pause. “Well… I have good news and not so good news,” she said. “The good news is that a man was brought into the hospital this afternoon and we believe he might be your missing husband.”

  Her words reverberated inside my brain and I couldn’t breathe for a moment. “What?”

  “He was discovered this morning on top of an iceberg,” Donna continued, “floating in the ocean north of here, but we have no idea how he came to be there. He was spotted by a crew member on a container ship passing through the area, and it’s a miracle they saw him. They had quite a time getting to him.”

  “Oh, My God,” I replied, laying a hand on my chest and turning to face Kaleigh who was staring at me with wide eyes.

  “He was rescued and brought in by helicopter,” Donna explained, “but I have to warn you, he’s not doing so well. We have no idea how long he was out there. He was unresponsive when they reached him and he hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  I was having a hard time comprehending all of this. I didn’t know what to do. “But he’s alive?” I asked.

  “Yes, but severely hypothermic and malnourished. We understand he was involved in a plane crash a year ago?”

  “That’s right.”

  She paused again. “I can’t believe he survived all this time. It truly is a miracle.”

  There was that word again.

  I felt Kaleigh’s hand on my arm. “What is it, Mom?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

  I held her tightly in my gaze. My heart felt like it was going to explode. “It’s unbelievable. They found your father.”

  In that moment, the lights came back on.

  Chapter Forty-two

  As soon as I hung up the phone and explained the particulars to Kaleigh, I immediately called Gladys and told her everything I knew.

  She wept uncontrollably and asked when Seth would be able to come home. I told her they didn’t want to move him yet. She asked if I would travel to Newfoundland.

  “Of course I’m going,” I replied, feeling a sense of urgency that made me want to run out the door that very second. “As soon as we hang up I’ll see about booking a flight first thing in the morning.”

  “I want to go with you,” she said. “I need to see him.”

  I hesitated. “I understand, but you’ll have to prepare yourself. It won’t be easy. He’s not conscious and they said he looks like a mountain man—he’s quite emaciated. Almost unrecognizable. I’m sure they’ll have him cleaned up by the time we get there, but it’ll be difficult to see him like that, Gladys.”

  I couldn’t bear the thought of it myself. Every time I imagined what he must have gone through, tears filled my eyes and my legs turned to jelly.

  “I don’t care,” she sobbed. “I just want to hold my son’s hand.”

  “Me, too,” I replied. Then I reached for a tissue and wiped my eyes. “But we have to be strong. This is good news. We should hang up so I can get us booked on a flight. I’ll call you back as soon as I have things worked out. Stay by the phone.”

  “I will,” she replied.

  I ended the call and turned to meet Kaleigh’s intense gaze. “Can I come?” she asked.

  Thi
s was not an easy moment. I wasn’t sure if my twelve-year-old daughter could handle it.

  What if Seth doesn’t survive? I thought. What if, by the time we get there, he is already gone?

  A terrible heaviness settled into my heart.

  “Yes, you can come,” I replied even though I worried about what we might have to endure. I held out my arms and pulled her into my embrace.

  o0o

  It didn’t take long for me to go online and book three early morning flights out of Boston. I did this without even asking for time off at the bank and had to call my supervisor immediately afterward. Thank heavens she was understanding and told me to take all the time I needed.

  It was not until I went into my room to pack a bag that I realized I hadn’t spoken to Josh yet.

  My stomach rolled over with uncertainty and I sank onto the edge of my bed. For a long while I sat with my hand over my mouth.

  Josh and I had been seeing each other for almost three months now, and things were getting serious. I adored his family, and they adored me, and I’d even gone so far as to introduce him to Kaleigh.

  Kaleigh liked him well enough and didn’t openly object to my dating him, but she was sometimes withdrawn around him, which I supposed wasn’t unusual for a girl her age. She’d often retreat into her room to play guitar and listen to music when he came over.

  But Dear Lord, how was I supposed to handle this? Seth was my husband—Kaleigh’s biological father—and I couldn’t imagine what he had endured over the past year.

  The nurse told me that all he had in his possession besides the clothes on his back were two climbing axes, a journal, his compass and wallet, which included a dog-eared picture of me.

  “It was probably what kept him going all that time,” she had said. “You were his angel.”

  I leaned forward on the bed and covered my face with both hands. Oh, God, Seth. I’m so sorry.

  But sorry for what, exactly?

  For everything he’d been through? For accepting that he was dead when he wasn’t? For letting them call off the search too soon?