The Color of a Promise (The Color of Heaven Series Book 11)

by Julianne MacLean

  At long last, everyone’s scrupulous dedication finally paid off. Not long after they brought the tail up from the deep, I received a phone call about another shocking discovery.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Meg

  “You’re not going to believe what else they found down there,” Gary said. He had called me from his car and on his way to the hangar where I had been working since 7:00 a.m. “They were lucky to have stumbled on it, about 200 yards from where the tail landed on the ocean floor. They’re bringing it up now.”

  I strode into the office at the hangar and closed the door to block out the sound of a noisy hammer pounding against metal. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Gary. What is it?”

  “They found an oxygen tank with a broken seal—the kind they use for medical purposes. I’m sure it won’t surprise you to hear what logo was printed on the side.”

  “Oxy-GeoTech,” I replied. I sank into a chair and pinched the bridge of my nose. “But maybe it was an empty canister? Do we know?”

  “It looks to be empty right now, but based on what I’m seeing, it was probably full when it was placed on board because there was plastic packing tape over the seal.”

  “Packing tape!” I replied with horror. “An oxygen tank in a cargo hold, sealed with packing tape… That airline knows no bounds.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Did they only find the one?”

  “So far, but they’re still searching. There could be more, and we’re talking to all the employees.”

  “Good. Keep me posted. I gotta go.”

  We hung up and I awaited the arrival of the tank, which I knew was going to be an important puzzle piece.

  o0o

  Over the next week, the full picture became clear. Three more tanks were discovered on the ocean floor and they were searching for more.

  With my painstaking reconstruction of the blast area in the cargo hold, the careful analysis of the materials by explosive experts, and the honest testimonies of workers at the airport, we were able to confirm that an initial fire had been caused by the illegally stored lithium batteries, which had spontaneously ignited. Under normal circumstances, the fire might have blown itself out, but with the presence of the loose oxygen tanks in the cargo hold—which hadn’t been stowed properly and leaked after being knocked around—a massive explosion had occurred and blown the aircraft to pieces.

  I was so infuriated by the discovery—and the fact that history had indeed repeated itself—that I asked for permission to accompany the FBI agents when they entered Reginald Harrison’s corporate office in Washington. He was to be arrested under multiple charges of criminal negligence related to his airline. On top of that, he was being nailed for tax evasion.

  It was by far the most satisfying moment of my career when I watched the FBI agents slap cuffs on him in his luxurious corner office on the twenty-first floor of his glass tower, and drag him out of the building while photographers snapped pictures.

  In that moment, the decade-worth of stress and anxiety I had suffered was completely worth it. I had not one single regret.

  o0o

  That evening, Jack reported Reg Harrison’s arrest with class, accuracy and precision. I was glued to the television screen like never before, and Jack seemed a hero to me as he spoke about the 1984 disaster as well as the details of Flight 555, along with mention of Reg Harrison’s numerous other breaches of ethics as a business man.

  Of course, I was head over heels in love with Jack at that point, but when I found myself weeping tears of joy and satisfaction at his commentary, I knew there would never be any man in the world more special to me. I believed in my heart that he was destined to be the great love of my life, and even after a mere few weeks of knowing him, I would have married him that day if he had asked. That’s how certain I was that he was the one for me. The only one.

  When his show ended, I texted him.

  Great job tonight. You’re my hero.

  He replied immediately. I was just reporting the facts. If anyone is a hero today, it’s you. Congratulations on a job well done.

  As soon as I read his words, I burst into tears. When my phone rang a few minutes later and I saw that it was him, I wiped my eyes and answered.

  “I just realized something,” Jack said, without preamble.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve never met your parents, and you’ve never met mine.”

  I chuckled softly. “That’s an interesting observation. Is there a reason you’re telling me this now?”

  He paused, and I imagined him sitting down on a chair in his dressing room, loosening his tie. “Yes. Tomorrow’s Sunday and I have the day off. My parents are back in Chicago and my mother is on my case about meeting you. So I was wondering if you might like to join me and my family in the windy city for lunch.”

  “That’s a bit of a commute,” I replied, “considering you’re in New York, I’m still in Portland, and lunch will be served halfway across the country.”

  “You are correct,” he said, “but where there’s a will there’s a way. I could pick you, Katelyn, Aaron and the kids up in my private jet first thing in the morning, and we’d be there by ten. Then I could send the jet to pick up your parents in Boise and bring them to Chicago in time for a late lunch. How does that sound?”

  I felt my eyebrows fly up. “That sounds lovely. I’ll have to check with my parents first to make sure they’re available. But I don’t think you ever mentioned this to me before, Jack. You have your own jet?”

  He paused. “Is that going to be a problem? Because I know you’re not crazy about flying.”

  I laughed. “I’ll be fine.”

  “All right then,” he replied. “I’ll pick you up at nine, and I’m looking forward to spending the day together.”

  “Me, too,” I said affectionately. “I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”

  Neither of us said anything for a moment, and I felt positively blissful.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Jack said.

  I smiled. “I can hardly wait.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Jack

  She was at the airport, waiting for me when I landed. Dressed in a blue floral sundress and flat sparkly sandals, with her blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail, she took my breath away as she crossed the tarmac.

  “It’s good to see you,” I said to her as she climbed the gangway steps and came on board. I pulled her into my arms and held her. She smelled like lavender, and I wanted to devour her whole. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” she replied, burying her face in my neck. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She stepped back. “But I haven’t seen Aaron and Katelyn yet.”

  “They’re on their way.” I took hold of her hand and led her into the main cabin.

  “Wow,” she said, taking in the white leather seats and polished wood paneling. “You like to travel in style.”

  Grace, my regular flight attendant, appeared out of the rear galley with a silver tray, carrying two glasses of champagne and orange juice and a bowl of fresh strawberries.

  “This is Grace,” I said. “She’s been with me for six years. She just happens to be married to the captain, so they’re a great team.”

  “How nice.” Meg peered toward the cockpit where the pilot and co-pilot were going over their final instrument checks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace.”

  Grace set the strawberries down on the low table in front of us. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” she said. “Please make yourself comfortable. We’re just waiting for the others to arrive, and then we’ll be underway.”

  “Thank you,” Meg replied, giving me a look. “I feel like Cinderella,” she whispered when Grace returned to the galley.

  I laughed. “I don’t mind as long I get to be the prince.”

  Meg raised her glass and clinked it with mine. “Deal.”

  A few minutes later, Aaron, Katelyn and the children climbe
d the gangway steps in a flurry of laughter and excitement.

  Aaron was the last person to step on board. He paused just inside the door, looking around. “Wow. This is the first time I’ve been on your jet, Jack. Pretty impressive. Well done.”

  “It comes in handy on occasion,” I replied. “We’ll have to start putting it to better use. Take some trips. All of us. Together.”

  He and I exchanged a look that could only be described as a shared contentment. “That sounds like a plan I can get behind.”

  Aaron smiled at Meg. “Hey, Meg. It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” she replied with warmth.

  Then Aaron strode forward and gave my shoulder a squeeze as he moved to help Katelyn settle the children in their seats.

  o0o

  An hour later, I arranged for two separate cars to pick us up at the Chicago airport and drive us to my parents’ home.

  As Meg and I entered the suburban neighborhood where I grew up, I asked our driver to take a left instead of following Aaron’s car to the right. We would still end up at the same place because the street formed a loop, but I wanted to drive past Millicent’s house.

  “That’s where my friend Gordon used to live,” I told Meg as we drove past his old house.

  Meg leaned forward to take a look. “It’s pretty.” She commented on the lush green ivy that covered the trellis at the front gate. Then she turned to me. “So where was the infamous party at Mark Hennigar’s, where your first love ended up in the closet with Aaron? Was that near here?”

  “Mark’s house is just around the corner,” I said with a chuckle. “We’ll drive past it in a second or two.”

  I pointed it out, and Meg was quiet as we drove by, simply gazing out the window, taking it all in.

  A moment later, I leaned across the seat and pointed. “That was the Davenport house, where my friend Millicent lived.” We drove by slowly. Meg took a long look at the brick colonial architecture, the wide green lawn, and the colorful garden.

  I watched her intently, wishing I could see her face, but all I could see was the back of her head.

  She turned to me. “It’s exactly how I pictured it. And it’s a shame…what happened to them. But I’m glad we finally nailed Harrison, and that he’s behind bars where he belongs. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

  “It certainly does,” I replied.

  Meg sat back in her seat and faced forward. She folded her hands on her lap and said nothing more.

  Well, then…

  Obviously, Katelyn had been right when she spoke to me weeks ago in the hotel ballroom, just before one of the press briefings. She had pushed me to stop trying to find meaning, connections and relevance in the past, and simply live this life.

  It was clear to me now that Meg had no memory of any past lives, and it didn’t matter anyway. Maybe she was Millicent; maybe she wasn’t. Either way, I loved her. She was the most incredible woman I’d ever met.

  A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of my parents’ modest home and got out of the car. She studied the front of it and smiled at me.

  God, she was dazzling. Those blue eyes knocked the wind right out of me, because I saw the future in them.

  I wanted to marry her—right then and there.

  o0o

  Meg’s parents arrived shortly after noon.

  Meg hadn’t seen her parents in over three months, and we all enjoyed meeting each other and hugging in my parents’ small entrance hall. There was much laughter and gushing. Mrs. Andrews brought wine and a box of homemade brownies. My mother was delighted.

  They served braised ham, potato salad, and steamed asparagus for lunch in our formal dining room.

  It was the perfect environment to get better acquainted. Our parents discovered they had a great deal in common. Like my own father, Meg’s father enjoyed fishing, as did Aaron, so they all had plenty to talk about. In addition, Meg’s mother was an avid cook, and so our moms compared recipes and discussed all their favorite cooking shows on television, while Meg and Katelyn helped serve dessert and coffee.

  Eventually, the conversation turned to the latest developments with the crash investigation, and Meg explained that it would be awhile before they could publish their official accident report, and Harrison’s trial would take time in court as well.

  Meg laid her hand on my knee under the table. “It was satisfying to discover the cause of the crash, no doubt about it,” she said, “but at the same time, I never feel much like celebrating, because nothing can bring back all those poor people who died, and nothing can take away the pain of the families—not even a lifetime sentence for Reg Harrison.” She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “On that note…” She regarded her parents, directly across the table. “You’re probably going to shoot me for this, but I think…I might want to make a career change.”

  Her father frowned.

  “What kind of change?” her mother asked, setting down her dessert fork and looking surprised.

  I glanced at my father, who sat at the head of the table, and shrugged, because I had no idea what she was about to say.

  Meg set down her cup. “Of course I’m going to finish this accident case and file the report, but after that…” She paused and cleared her throat. “I think I might want to leave my job at the NTSB.”

  A hush fell over the room. Even I was dumbfounded because this was the first I’d heard of it. Meg had told me about her desire to take more vacation time, and I’d seen firsthand the stress and anxiety she suffered because of her work, but she had never talked about leaving her job.

  Yet, I was not surprised.

  “But you’ve worked so hard to get where you are,” her father said. “And college wasn’t cheap. What are you thinking about doing, baby? Something in the engineering field, I hope?”

  Meg looked down at her dessert plate and poked at her apple crisp where the ice cream was melting. “I don’t know,” she said. “You’ll probably think I’m nuts, but I might like to go back to school. Maybe study architecture. I’ve always wanted to build houses. I think I’d be really good at it.”

  Something in me lurched at her confession, and I leaned back, staring at her profile with fascination as I rested my arm along the back of her chair.

  Her father sat back as well and nodded at her. “I’m sure you would be very good at it, dear. You’re always good at whatever you set your mind to. So if that’s what you want to do, then you should go for it. Life’s too short. Do what makes you happy. We’ll support you any way we can.”

  She smiled at him. “I haven’t made my mind up for sure yet,” she said. “It’s a big decision. But thanks for understanding.”

  Mr. Andrews raised his glass. “To new beginnings.”

  We all toasted to that, and talked about the Chicago Bears while we finished our desserts.

  Later, after Meg and Katelyn helped my mother tidy up in the kitchen, I found Meg in the hallway, pulled her close, and whispered in her ear. “Would you like to steal a few minutes to be alone? Take a walk with me?”

  “I’d love that,” she replied.

  A few minutes later, we left our families on the back deck while the children played in the yard, and snuck out the front door.

  “It’s the weirdest thing,” Meg said as we walked hand in hand up the street. “I’ve been having these intense feelings of déjà vu all day long, ever since we got here.”

  I felt a strange buzzing in my ears, maybe because of my sudden pounding pulse. “Does that happen to you often?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean, sometimes… But not like this.”

  I squeezed her hand. “What feels familiar? Anything specific?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t really put my finger on it. But there’s something about this neighborhood. I feel like I’ve been here before, or maybe I dreamed about it.”

  We walked leisurely, and she stopped to smell some fall roses at a neighbor’s gate.

  “I always k
ind of enjoy being hit with a spell of déjà vu,” I told her. “It makes me curious.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “It’s one of those mysteries in life. It feels kind of magical.”

  We continued walking until we arrived at a groomed path that led to the wooded area behind Millicent’s old house. I turned onto it.

  “We used to play here,” I said, “when we were kids. We built a stone bridge across the creek and started to build a fort. Or a ‘clubhouse,’ as Millicent preferred to call it. We earned the supplies by doing chores for her father.”

  “You started a clubhouse… Did you ever finish it?” Meg asked as we walked deeper into the shady forest.

  “No, we didn’t have the chance. We only got the first wall constructed before Millicent left for Arizona and never came back.”

  A mourning dove cooed in the trees, somewhere in the distance, and I heard the familiar sound of rushing water in the creek.

  When we came to it, Meg was first to make her way gingerly across the stone bridge, leaping from one moss-covered rock to another to avoid getting splashed by the rushing water.

  “It still works,” she said happily, spreading her arms wide as she reached the other side. “Come on!”

  Mesmerized by how joyful she was, I followed. When I reached her—not having regained my balance yet—she pulled me close and kissed me hard.

  “I think you’re my dream girl,” I said.

  She smiled, grabbed hold of my hand and led me deeper into the woods, in the direction of the clubhouse we had begun a lifetime ago.

  We?

  Stop it, Jack.

  Working to stay grounded in the present, I paused and looked around. Suddenly I grew concerned that I wouldn’t remember where we’d begun construction, because nothing looked familiar. On top of that, I had no idea if there would be anything left of it. All we’d managed to build all those years ago was one wall, with planks nailed horizontally to a couple of tree trunks. Someone might have come along and scavenged the wood in the past thirty years, or completed the structure, for all I knew.