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The Color of Heaven

Page 19

by E. V. Mitchell; Julianne MacLean


  The doctor smiled at us as we embraced, and I knew that everything was going to be okay. More than okay, because we had each other.

  o0o

  “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?” Kirk asked me that night as he lay beside me in bed.

  “It’s definitely going to be a boy,” I replied.

  “You’re that sure? Do you have a crystal ball or something?”

  “Sort of.” I rolled to face him. “Remember when I told you about seeing Megan at the bottom of the lake, and that she spoke to me?”

  “Yes. She told you there was something you needed to do.”

  “That’s right, but she said something else. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid I might jinx it, or maybe I just wasn’t sure I understood her correctly.”

  “What did she say?”

  I leaned up on an elbow. “She told me that I couldn’t follow her to heaven yet because I needed to take care of her brother.”

  Kirk sat up as well and regarded me with fascination. “No kidding.”

  “I told her, of course, that she didn’t have a brother, but she explained to me that he was waiting for his turn. So… I think we’re going to have a son.”

  Kirk stared at me in disbelief. Then he inched closer on the bed and kissed me on the mouth.

  Chapter Sixty-two

  If happiness comes in waves, my life was bobbing about in a thrilling and terrifying windstorm at sea.

  The day after the doctor confirmed that I was pregnant, the telephone rang. Kirk was at work, and I was home alone.

  According to the call display, it was a 212 area code, which meant it was coming from New York.

  Every nerve ending in my body tensed suddenly. What if it was one of the agents who had read Matt’s book? What if this person was calling to offer representation? They didn’t usually call to reject you.

  After the third ring, I braced myself for anything, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Is this Sophie Duncan?” It was a man’s voice.

  “Yes, may I help you?”

  There was a brief pause, then a click, which told me I had just been taken off speaker phone.

  “Well, hello there,” the caller cheerfully said. “This is Dennis Velcoff from Phoenix Literary. You submitted your father’s book to us a few weeks ago.”

  I sat down. “Yes, that’s right. It’s nice to hear from you, Mr. Velcoff. What can I do for you?”

  He paused again. “I think the more important question is what I can do for you, Ms. Duncan, because I really loved the book. It’s the best thing to come across my desk in a dog’s age. I’d like to talk to you about representation. Do you have a minute?”

  I began to quietly tap my feet on the floor, while I fought to keep my voice calm. “Of course.”

  He launched into a detailed speech about all the things he loved in the book – the tragic elements of the story, the strength of the characters, the lyrical quality of the prose. He felt that it was not only a literary masterpiece, but that it had commercial value as well, which was a rare combination, and he was certain the plot would do well in the hands of a good screenwriter. It was just the sort of thing Brad Pitt was looking for. (He told me they’d had lunch the previous week.)

  Mr. Velcoff wanted my permission to send it over to Mr. Pitt.

  In the meantime, while “Brad” was looking at it, Mr. Velcoff wanted to shop it around to the right people in New York, and get me a book deal. He was absolutely certain he could get at least six figures for it – possible seven if the stars aligned just right.

  Was I interested? he asked. I had to pick myself up off the floor in order to say yes.

  o0o

  Three weeks later, after a fierce bidding war between three large publishing houses, the deal closed at half a million dollars for the North American print rights, while Mr. Velcoff held onto the foreign rights. He intended to start selling those as soon as the offer for the film rights was nailed down.

  Brad Pitt did, indeed, want to adapt it to film, and at that point, he and Dennis were still negotiating the deal.

  The following day, I was offered a million dollars for the film option, and I happily took the check – which I donated, in equal amounts, to the oncology department at the children’s hospital where Megan was treated, and neurological cancer research.

  With great pleasure, I placed the donations in Megan’s and my father’s names.

  Chapter Sixty-three

  If you’re reading this book, you’ve probably already figured out that Dennis represented me on this project as well, which also went for a significant advance. You can hunt around for the exact dollar amount on the Internet if you’re curious.

  But let me remind you that it really doesn’t matter. I would have written this book for nothing, for it was a story I simply had to tell.

  Epilogue

  I am pleased to report that I gave birth to a healthy son and we named him Peter Matthew Duncan.

  A year and a half later, Kirk and I had a second child – a daughter we named Cora.

  These days, we live a happy, quiet life at our home in the New Hampshire countryside. Kirk still teaches music and occasionally plays a gig at a jazz club in the city.

  I’m a full-time mother and part-time writer, who has learned to appreciate the small, special moments which never fail to take my breath away.

  I still miss Megan. Sometimes I ache with a mother’s yearning to hold her in my arms, watch her sleep, smell the sweet scent of her skin. I wish she were still here so I could watch her grow into a beautiful young woman and seek out her destiny. She would be in middle school now if she had not departed this world, but that is not how things are, and I know I must accept it.

  So, I do. I look at her picture on my desk and feel the spirit of her presence. I savor the love she left behind.

  That will have to be enough, at least until we meet again.

  So we are done now, I believe. That is my story, but I have no intention of typing THE END, because I no longer believe in such a thing. Hope lives forever.

  Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

  I wish you happiness and joy.

  -o0o-

  For more information about this book and the author, you are invited to visit E.V. Mitchell’s website at www.evmitchell.com.

  Índice

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one
<
br />   Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

 

 

 


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