The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time (21 page)

“I’m so sorry, Sylvie,” Chris said. “I know we talked about you coming out here and I really wanted that, but I can’t think of myself right now, or you, or anyone else except for Logan. I have to be here for him and make sure he’s okay. I can’t just abandon Katelyn. She’d never be able to take care of Logan alone. She’s going to need help so I’m going to move back in with them.”

I closed my eyes and buried my face in a hand. “I understand,” I whispered. “You don’t have to explain. I know you care about both of them. I’d do the same thing in your position. It’s why I love you—because you’re such a good man.”

Tears filled my eyes and my throat closed up. I felt like I was choking. “I’m so sorry this happened,” I said. “I wish there was something I could do to make it better. No one deserves something like that to happen.”

But there was no way to save Katelyn. Life wasn’t that simple. Sometimes, bad things happened. All any of us can ever do is find a way to survive, and accept the things that cannot be changed.

Chapter Forty-two

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was depressed, but “disappointed” seemed far too weightless a word to describe my feelings over the next two weeks. I went from moments of sympathy and grief for Katelyn’s tragic situation to feelings of pure selfishness, where I wondered if she had caused the biking accident on purpose just to get her husband back.

It was foolish and ridiculous of me to imagine such a thing, but there were days when I was utterly and completely out of my mind with heartache and disillusionment. I had to remind myself constantly that at least I was alive and well. I was able to stroll outside onto my veranda and look at the incredible sunset. I hadn’t fallen down a ravine and broken my neck. I wasn’t in physical pain. For those things, at least, I was grateful.

And maybe tomorrow, there would be another miracle. Another unexpected arrival of something blissful.

I decided that was something to cling to—a sense of hope and a belief in second chances.

* * *

Cassie, bless her heart, made a concerted effort to keep me busy and distracted at the end of August and into September. She scheduled me for every extra waitressing shift I was willing to accept, and she invited me over for dinner with her family many times.

I did my best not to allow myself to fall into a dark pit of despair and start weeping in her presence. But for the most part I was faking my cheerful disposition when she asked how I was doing, or when I waited on customers.

When I went home at night, I watched television for hours, just to distract myself from how badly I missed Chris. Then I would go to bed and lie there, doing what I always did—fantasizing about what my life might have been like if Katelyn hadn’t gone biking that fateful morning.

When I arrived at work one day and walked into the kitchen where Cassie was placing clean beer glasses on a tray, she looked at me with concern.

“You doing okay today?”

“As good as can be expected,” I replied as I removed my jacket and headed for the staff room. “I stayed up a little late last night, that’s all. Otherwise, I’m just taking it one day at a time, hoping each day will be better than the last.”

She followed me to my locker. “So is today better than yesterday?”

I paused to think about it. “It’s been two weeks and I still miss Chris like crazy. It’s hard not to dream about him. But mostly I feel really sad for Katelyn and what she must be going through, and how Chris and Logan are handling it. It must be so hard for them. I wish there was something I could do to take away that pain, but there isn’t. I have to stay away. I don’t want to make it harder for him. He needs to forget me.”

The back door opened and we both heard Malcolm call out, “Sorry I’m late!” He hurried into the staff room to get his white chef’s jacket from the hook on the wall. “Have you been listening to the news? They say there’s a hurricane headed this way.”

“Really?” Struggling to push thoughts of Chris and Katelyn from my mind, I tied the black apron around my waist. “When?”

“They’re tracking it to hit Maine tomorrow night,” he said. “They’re calling it a tropical cyclone and saying we could get winds up to 100 miles an hour. That’s a Category 2.”

“Great,” I replied. “Just what we need.” I sat down to pull on my sneakers and tie them.

“Maybe it’ll weaken by the time it gets here,” Cassie suggested. “That happens sometimes and then all the weather people look foolish for making such a big deal out of it.”

“Maybe,” Malcolm replied, “but I’m not going to bank on that. It looks like it’s gunnin’ for us, and don’t hurricanes usually gain strength over the water?”

Gabe, drying his hands on a towel, appeared in the doorway to join us. “They’re talking about storm surges and that means really big waves on the coastline.” He pointed a finger at me. “You live right on the water, Sylvie, so you might want to stay in town tomorrow night.”

“You can stay at my place,” Cassie offered.

“Thank you,” I replied, “but I’ll probably stay with my grandmother. She lives alone. She’ll need help.”

Later, when we got busy, customers talked of nothing else. They checked their phones constantly for updates and passed on the information to each other. They advised Cassie and me to go to the store as soon as we got off work to stock up on flashlights and batteries and drinking water in case there were power outages.

“Don’t wait,” one man warned. “The shelves at Walmart will be cleaned out by tomorrow.”

“This sounds pretty serious,” Cassie said to me later when we finished our shifts together. “Steve’s already at home taking apart the trampoline so it doesn’t blow into the neighbor’s yard and damage their greenhouse. Are you going to be okay at your place?”

I untied my apron and hung it up in my locker. “I’ll be fine. I’ll store the lawn chairs under the veranda. Otherwise, there’s not much else I can do except lock up the house and hope for the best. At least it’s up on the hill, so it should be safe from the waves and flooding.” I grabbed my purse and closed my locker to face Cassie. “It won’t be the first hurricane that house has been through. It’s been standing strong in that spot since 1840. It’s built like a tank.”

“You’re lucky,” she said. “I feel bad for all the people who built their houses at sea level.”

“And all the people with boats,” I added as I slung my purse over my shoulder. “It must be pure chaos at the yacht clubs right now.”

Chapter Forty-three

September 7, 2015

The severe weather warnings continued over the next twenty-four hours while the storm gained intensity on a direct path toward Cape Elizabeth. By sunset, the authorities reported that it had reached peak wind speeds of 110 mph not far off the coast, and was expected to make landfall by midnight, September 8. Populations in low-lying coastal areas were ordered to evacuate, and emergency workers prepared for a potential disaster.

The waves throughout the day were monstrous, and as I secured the house and moved things away from the windows, I could hear the violent roar of the ocean as ten-foot foaming waves exploded onto the rocks.

Later, when it was time to drive away from my seaside home with nothing but my suitcase, my laptop, Mrs. Foster’s valuable crystal stemware collection, and a box of photo albums in the back seat, I took one last look at the house in the rearview mirror and said, “Good luck, old house. Stand strong.”

* * *

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Gram said as we sat in front of the television watching the news coverage and Gordon hid under a chair. It was past 10:00 and the winds were gusting hard outside, but the worst of the storm wasn’t due to hit until after midnight. “I would have been worried sick about you all alone in that big house on the Cape. It’s much safer inland.”

My cell phone rang just then. When I picked it up, my heart seized in my chest. “It’s Chris,” I said, rising from the sofa. “I’m going to take it.”

I reached the kitchen and swept the screen with my finger. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said in that hauntingly familiar voice, close in my ear, which caused my body to tingle all over with goosebumps. “I’ve been watching CNN. How are you doing out there?”

I sank onto a chair. “We’re okay. It’s really nice to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to hear yours too,” he replied.

We were both quiet for a moment and I had to work hard to keep control of my emotions and composure.

“I tried calling your house but there was no answer there,” he said. “Are you at your grandmother’s?”

“Yes. They evacuated all the coastal areas so I came here. We shouldn’t get any flooding this far inland, but I’m worried about trees falling and stuff like that.”

A siren wailed from somewhere in the distance.

“Just make sure you stay inside,” Chris said, “away from windows and glass doors. If it’s really bad, the best place to be is in a closet or a bathroom on the lower level.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “Have you been talking to Jared? Is he okay?”

“He got his boat out of the water,” Chris told me, “and took his family to one of the shelters. The kids are having a great time. It’s all a big adventure to them.”

I chuckled softly. “As long as they’re in a safe place.” I waited a moment, then carefully asked, “How are you and Logan doing? Holding up okay?”

Chris exhaled heavily. “We’re doing our best. Katelyn is still in the hospital so I’ve had to take a lot of time off work. My partners and patients have been really supportive, though. They’ve been sending lots of cards and well wishes.”

“That’s nice to hear.” I swallowed uneasily and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. I didn’t want to make things difficult for you, but I hope you know that I think about you all the time. I say prayers for all three of you every night.”

“I appreciate that,” he softly replied. “And I think about you, too. I really miss you, Sylvie. I’m so sorry we couldn’t have…” He stopped himself at that.

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “It’s fine, and I understand. Truly. I know it sounds cliché, but if there’s ever anything I can do…”

Neither of us spoke for a long time, and a painful lump filled my throat like a jagged stone.

“Listen,” Chris said, “stay safe tonight, okay? And will you send me a text in the morning when it’s over, just to let me know that you and your grandmother are all right?”

“I will. Thanks for calling, Chris. Give Logan a hug for me, will you? Goodnight.”

With that, I ended the call and sat for a moment waiting for my heartbeat to slow down.

When I felt confident that I wasn’t going to burst into tears, I rose from my chair and returned to the living room where the meteorologists on TV were still tracking the storm with wild, ratings-seeking abandon.

Gram stared at me with curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” I replied, “but after hearing his voice just now, I feel like I’ll have to pick myself up and dust myself off all over again.”

She patted the couch cushion beside her. “Come sit down. I’ll give you a hug.”

Just then the power went out with a loud
pop
!

Chapter Forty-four

I switched on a flashlight and went to peer briefly out the front window. I lifted the curtain aside with one finger. “The whole neighborhood’s out.”

It was impossible, now, to see the strength of the wind in the trees, for it was pitch black outside as well. But heaven knew we could hear it. Eighty-mile-per-hour winds howled over the rooftop and through the eaves like a ferocious beast. The window panes shook violently, and something was knocking repeatedly up against the side of the house. A loose shutter perhaps.

Letting the curtain fall closed, I turned to face Gram and knew that neither of us would be able to go to sleep, even if we tried.

“Interested in a game of cards?” I suggested.

“Always.” She switched on another flashlight and the beam of light swung across the ceiling as she rose to her feet.

We went into the dark kitchen, dragged the small table away from the window and into the interior hall, where I lit a couple of candles while she shuffled the deck.

* * *

We finally decided, at midnight, to go to bed and try to get some sleep. The wind was gusting even harder by then and the sound was terrifying—like a roaring monster raging around Gram’s house.

We had set up sleeping bags on the two sofas in the basement rec room just to be safe, so we carried our flashlights down—along with Gordon—and finally got into our sleeping bags. The wind continued to moan and shake the house, and we could hear the frightening sounds of things crashing around outside. We had no idea what was causing the clamor because it was too dark to see out, and we knew better than to go near a window. It sounded like chairs and tables being dropped across the deck, but I’d brought everything into the garage that morning.

Suddenly, outside in the backyard, there was a loud, echoing
crack!—
like a small cannon going off.

“What the devil was that?” Gram asked, sitting up on her sofa.

“I don’t know.” My heart raced and I wished we could see out. The racket outside was unsettling to say the least—especially because we didn’t know what was causing it.