The Color of a Dream

by Julianne MacLean

  I sat forward, still staring at the television, though my mind was somewhere else. “I need to check something.”

  Gently I shifted Ellen onto Jesse’s lap and went to log into the computer.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “I want to check obituaries for the day I had my transplant.” I typed the question into the Google search field and waited for the results to pop up. “I’m looking for someone named Alexander. Or Alex.”

  Ouwix.

  After a few clicks, an obituary with a photograph appeared.

  There he was—the man in my dream who had flown with me to the hospital that night before the scheduled court appearance.

  I quickly read over the text and learned that Alexander Fitzgerald was a firefighter in Manchester who had died on duty.

  Swiveling around in the chair, I asked Jesse, “Did you bring my heart from Manchester?”

  He regarded me intently. “You know I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

  “I know,” I replied with defeat, swiveling back around to face the computer screen. “It’s confidential.”

  I continued to read the rest of the obituary that ended with the statement that Alexander Fitzgerald was survived by a wife named Audrey and a three-year-old daughter named Wendy.

  Chapter Sixty-three

  “Do you think I knew somehow?” I asked Jesse when I slipped into bed beside him that night. I reached for the hand lotion and rubbed some on my hands. “When I had that last flying dream, did I know my donor was named Alex? Had I read it or heard it somewhere? Maybe when I was on the operating table they mentioned his name and I heard it, stored it in my memory. That could explain this. But what about Ellen’s blanket? Why would she name it Ouwix? Is she having flying dreams, too? Does she associate Alex with sleep and her blanket?”

  Jesse closed the book he was reading and set it on the table. “I don’t know. But whatever she’s experiencing can’t have anything to do with cellular memory because she was delivered before you got your new heart.”

  I pondered that. “You’re right. Then could it be his ghost? They say children can sometimes see spirits better than we can. Maybe Alex is checking in on both of us.” I sighed heavily. “Or maybe I’m losing my marbles. Maybe I heard the nurses mention his name in the OR, remembered it subconsciously, and now I talk in my sleep and she hears me say his name. We did share a room for the first year of her life.”

  “Who knows?” Jesse replied. “I never used to believe in the paranormal or magic, but lately I feel as if I’m seeing things for the first time.”

  “How so?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I’m still amazed by the fact that I was the one to deliver your heart to you. Then your sister contacted me out of the blue and now here we are—married. How could that all be a coincidence? And now I’m speaking to my brother again after ten years, and I have a feeling that if he and I can smooth things over, anything’s possible and there might be hope with my parents, too. Ellen has named her blanket Ouwix, and you somehow knew that Alex Fitzgerald was your donor…”

  “I thought that was supposed to be confidential,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “You figured that one out on your own,” he reminded me.

  I slid deeper beneath the covers and rested my cheek on his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across my arm.

  “Was I really just dreaming about flying?” I asked. “I know I’ve never actually gone flying at night. People can’t fly. We don’t have wings. But what does it mean? Is it astral projection? Or is it my spirit—somehow merged with Alexander’s because I have his heart inside me now? And was my spirit merged with yours as well, because I had dreams about you, too? Or is it just my imagination making all this up?”

  I thought about the book I’d read by Sophie Duncan—the author I met at the book signing who’d had an out-of-body experience when she crashed her car into a frozen lake. While she was unconscious, she’d learned things about her family she never could have known otherwise. Later she’d also found an old manuscript in her stepfather’s attic that turned out to be written by her real father—a man she never knew existed before that.

  My own situation was curiously similar…because even if I’d heard my donor’s name on the operating table, it still didn’t explain how I could know what he looked like.

  Were our spirits somehow connected? Or was this just some sort of psychic ability?

  Jesse turned out the light and held me close as he drifted off. I had a harder time falling asleep, however, because all I could think about was the life my donor had lived, and all he’d left behind. Since seeing his face in my dream, he was so much more real to me now.

  Chapter Sixty-four

  “We’re almost there,” I said, glancing back at Ellen in the rearview mirror. “Then we’ll go to the playground and have a picnic.”

  I smiled at her and continued driving through the city of Manchester. I was looking for the fire station. I had done some online research about Alexander Fitzgerald and couldn’t help myself. I was curious. I wanted to see where he’d lived and worked.

  I would leave it at that, of course, because I’d already tried to contact his family and they’d made no overtures to meet me. I simply needed to see something of his life. That was all. Then I would go home and put it to rest.

  * * *

  Ellen looked out the window when I pulled over on Merrimack Street.

  “Look at the fire station,” I said. “See all the red trucks?”

  She made no comment. She was more interested in flipping her fabric doll around like a gymnast, so I decided to move on. I checked my mirrors and pulled out onto the street again.

  A few minutes later I turned onto Notre Dame and drove slowly, searching for Alexander’s house. I spotted the right number and pulled over at the curb.

  It was a large white three-story building that looked as if it had been converted into apartments. I wasn’t sure what level he lived on, but it didn’t matter. It was enough just to see his neighborhood and know he had walked along these sidewalks.

  I’d done my homework and knew there was a playground across the street, so I turned off the car, got out and slung the lunch bag and diaper bag over my shoulder.

  “Ready to go play?” I asked as I opened the back door and freed Ellen from the safety seat.

  I carried her across the street and set her down in the play area where she toddled to the red slide.

  Keeping my eye on her, I pulled the blanket out of the diaper bag and spread it out on the grass, then went to help her climb the steps of the play structure. She slid down the baby slide and shouted, “Again!” as she ran back around to the steps.

  We were the only people in the park, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. It was a beautiful day and I was grateful—as always—to be alive.

  After awhile we sat down on the blanket and I opened the lunch bag. Ellen enjoyed some Cheerios and a juice box while I sat back and crossed my legs at the ankles, watching her chew.

  Every so often I glanced across at the big white house on the other side of the street and thought about how the man who once lived there had died before his time. He was gone now. Gone from this world. But how generous of him to choose organ donation while he was still alive. I might not be sitting here today if he hadn’t signed those papers. And where would Ellen be? Not with me. She would be somewhere else. With Diana most likely. Perhaps with Rick if things had been different.

  The front door of the house opened just then. I sat up on my heels when a woman walked out with a small child. She locked the door behind her.

  Good Lord. Was it Alexander’s wife, Audrey? Her child looked to be about two or three years old. A girl.

  My heart began to race and I wasn’t sure what to do as they crossed the street and started walking toward us. Does she know who I am? Did she somehow sense her husband’s heart beating in the playground across the street? Is that why she was walking toward u
s?

  I managed to relax when she didn’t make eye contact. She merely jogged to the play structure with her daughter who climbed the yellow bars and slid down the big, swirly slide.

  Ellen turned and saw that another child had arrived, so she dropped her juice box and toddled back to the structure. I had no choice but to follow. Soon I was smiling pleasantly at the mother.

  “Hi,” she said. “Great day isn’t it?”

  “Gorgeous,” I replied.

  “Your daughter’s adorable,” she said. “How old?”

  “Thirteen months,” I replied. “How old is yours?”

  “Wendy turned three a couple of weeks ago.”

  I swallowed hard. “Your daughter’s name is Wendy?” I asked. “What a great name.”

  “Thank you. I loved Peter Pan when I was a kid. I always wanted to have a daughter and name her Wendy. Do you live near here?”

  “No,” I replied. “We live in Waltham. We’re just passing through.”

  By now Ellen was trying to keep up with the climbing skills of Audrey’s daughter, but she needed some help so I followed her to the big slide.

  “Do you want to go down this one?” I asked. She hugged my leg. “Come on, we’ll do it together.” I sat down at the top. “Sit here on my lap.”

  Ellen climbed onto my lap and we slid down the twisty red slide. She laughed and said, “Again!” when we reached the bottom.

  I took her hand and together we circled around the structure and climbed back up the steps.

  “I confess,” Audrey said when I returned to stand beside her, “that we only came out here because we saw the two of you from our front window. There aren’t many kids on this street—at least none that are Wendy’s age. She’s an only child.”

  “My Ellen’s an only, too,” I told her.

  “Oh. Are you married?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Just recently, but my husband’s working today.” I paused. “You?”

  She looked down and kicked the grass with the toe of her sneaker. “I was, but my husband passed away about a year ago. He was a firefighter. Died on the job.”

  I shifted uneasily. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. It’s been a rough year but we’re doing okay. Each day gets easier. It just makes me sad to think that Wendy won’t remember her dad at all. She was so young when he died.”

  I watched the girls try to climb up the baby slide. “You’d be surprised what they remember. Even if it’s just a subconscious memory.”

  “I hope so,” she replied, “because he was a really good man. He had a good heart, you know?”

  I swallowed over a lump in my throat. “I’m sure he did.”

  A strong breeze blew across the treetops and whispered through the leaves.

  “Does Wendy like peach yogurt?” I asked. “I have a few tubs in my lunch bag and some juice boxes. Would you like to join us?”

  “That sounds lovely,” she replied. “Wendy! Want a snack?”

  The two girls came running, and we all sat down on the blanket to enjoy ourselves in the sun.

  Epilogue

  On the day I met Audrey Fitzgerald, I understood that coincidences like this make our world a remarkable place to live in.

  If that’s all they are…coincidences.

  Personally, I believe certain things are meant to be and “coincidence” is far too casual a word for what happens to many of us.

  For a full hour, Ellen and I played in the park with Audrey and her daughter. Then we said our good-byes and I drove home to Waltham where Jesse was waiting for me with supper on the table.

  I told him about my afternoon with the wife of my organ donor. When he asked if I told her who I was, I said no. I chose to respect her privacy, and it was unlikely I would ever see her again.

  But oh, how lovely and kind she was. I resolved to say a daily prayer for her future happiness. I hoped and prayed that one day she would rediscover joy—as I had discovered it upon the blessing of a second chance at life, thanks to her husband.

  I came a long way. I faced death and fought my way back to a level of health where I will never cease to appreciate the miracles of life and the goodness of humanity around me.

  What a gift we are given each day when we rise. The world is beautiful, and isn’t it wonderful to think that dreams can take us to the most incredible places?

  Never stop believing that. Always look to the future. And keep dreaming.

  * * *

  Available June 2014

  The Color of a Memory

  Audrey Fitzgerald’s Story

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for reading THE COLOR OF A DREAM and I hope you are enjoying this series so far. If you started with this book, you might want to go back to the beginning where I tell the story of Sophie Duncan, the author who makes an appearance in this novel when she speaks to Nadia about near-death experiences and cellular memory. That book is called THE COLOR OF HEAVEN, and it provided me with inspiration for further stories in this series.

  Read on for information about the other books, and if you would like to be notified when a new title is released, please sign up for my mailing list at my website:

  http://www.juliannemaclean.com

  There you will find information about all my other books, a blog where I share latest news and personal photos, a monthly autographed book giveaway, and “Behind the Book” tidbits about my novels.

  And please keep an eye out for the next book in this series—THE COLOR OF A MEMORY—where Nadia will continue to wonder about her donor and Audrey will be forced to deal with information about her late husband. What she learns would seem unthinkable to her at the end of this story when she first meets Nadia in the playground.

  Thanks for reading and have a great year!

  Julianne

  P.S. In case you’re wondering what happened to Bentley, Jesse’s dog, I didn’t forget about him, but I couldn’t seem to find the right spot in the book to mention him again as the story was moving fairly quickly. Even during the revision stage, I didn’t know where to insert an update. Just so you know, in my mind, Bentley lived a long and happy life with Jesse and passed away at the age of 15. I also expect Nadia and Jesse will get a dog of their own eventually. Maybe in the next book!

  Questions for Discussion

  1. How do the actions of Jesse and Rick reveal their true characters in the first twenty-one chapters of the novel?

  2. Though Rick is a villain in Jesse’s eyes, is there any sign of goodness in Rick? If so, where? Do you believe he is portrayed fairly in this novel? If you read the previous book, The Color of Hope, what are your thoughts about Rick? Is he really as bad as some of these characters make him out to be?

  3. Nadia’s section begins with a reference to her recurring dream of flying. Have you ever dreamed you were flying? Do you believe in astral projection?

  4. Is there another recurring dream you have that has some meaning in your life? If so, what is it?

  5. Why do you think Jesse was attracted to Nadia at first sight, and not Diana, given they are identical twins?

  6. Jesse couldn’t help Angela and that part of his past haunts him. How do you feel this plays into his actions and decisions throughout the rest of the novel? Do you believe he lets go of this guilt in the end?

  7. Nadia falls for Jesse quickly. Do you feel she was desperate to have a loving partner and father for her child? Or was she truly meant to be with Jesse?

  8. Toward the end of the novel, Nadia is still asking questions about the meaning of her dreams. She remains skeptical. Do you believe there is an answer to her experience? If so, what do you believe it is?

  9. When Nadia meets Audrey in the playground, should she have told her who she was? How do you think Audrey would have reacted?

  10. The word “dream” has many meanings. What connotations are present in this novel?

  Other Books in the Color of Heaven Series

  THE COLOR OF HEAVEN<
br />
  A deeply emotional tale about Sophie Duncan, a successful columnist whose world falls apart after her daughter’s unexpected illness and her husband’s shocking affair. When it seems nothing else could possibly go wrong, her car skids off an icy road and plunges into a frozen lake. There, in the cold dark depths of the water, a profound and extraordinary experience unlocks the surprising secrets from Sophie’s past, and teaches her what it means to truly live…and love.

  Full of surprising twists and turns and a near-death experience that will leave you breathless, this story is not to be missed.

  “A gripping, emotional tale you’ll want to read in one sitting.”

  —New York Times bestselling author, Julia London

  “Brilliantly poignant mainstream tale.”

  —4 ½ starred review, Romantic Times

  Includes Bonus Content: A Bookclub Discussion Guide

  Purchase THE COLOR OF HEAVEN at your favourite retailer.

  THE COLOR OF DESTINY

  Eighteen years ago a teenage pregnancy changed Kate Worthington’s life forever. Faced with many difficult decisions, she chose to follow her heart and embrace an uncertain future with the father of her baby—her devoted first love.

  At the same time, in another part of the world, sixteen-year-old Ryan Hamilton makes his own share of mistakes, but learns important lessons along the way. Twenty years later, Kate’s and Ryan’s paths cross in a way they could never expect, which makes them question the possibility of destiny. Even when all seems hopeless, could it be that everything happens for a reason, and we end up exactly where we are meant to be?