The Color of Destiny (The Color of Heaven Series Book 2) (15 page)

“I know,” I said. “I won’t ever begrudge her for this, and neither will Ryan. We understand what’s happening to her. I’m more worried for
her
happiness. Won’t she feel confused and alone if no one is familiar to her?”

“I won’t lie to you, Marissa. There will be times when she’ll be frightened. We’ll just do our best to treat her with kindness and compassion. She’ll feel it from us. Everything will be lived in the moment. There will be no past to count as a reference for her. Though she will likely continue to remember things from a very long time ago.”

I took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly in my hands. “I don’t feel right leaving Ryan alone to deal with this.”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll be here too.”

I turned my eyes to her. “Thank you. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

A short while later I pulled into the driveway of her apartment, which was on the second floor of a converted house. “I’m going to miss you,” I said.

“I’ll miss you, too.” We got out of the car. “But Thanksgiving will be here before you know it,” she said. “Now come on up, and I’ll dig that fridge out of my closet.”

I followed her up the stairs and through the front door. “This is nice,” I said, looking around at the cozy living room with Dijon-colored walls and soft upholstered chairs covered in pillows and fleece throw blankets.

A cat appeared out of nowhere and rubbed up against my legs. “Hello there.” I bent down to scoop her into my arms. “What’s your name?”

“That’s Marie Curie.” Elizabeth pulled her purse off over her head and set it on a chair at the table. “But I just call her Marie.”

“Reincarnated, no doubt.” I scratched behind Marie’s ears. She purred and threw her head back in ecstasy. “She’s adorable.”

“And she knows it,” Elizabeth informed me with a grin.

I set Ms. Curie down on the braided rug and followed Elizabeth into her bedroom to look for the fridge. She opened the closet door.

“There; what do you think? Is it too small?”

“No, it’s perfect. You’re sure you don’t mind me borrowing it?”

“Not at all. It’s just taking up space here. Let me help you carry it down to the Jeep.”

I bent to pick it up, but abruptly straightened. “Actually, can I use your washroom first? I don’t think I’ll be able to make it home without a pit stop.” I had sipped too much iced tea at supper.

“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “It’s right through there.”

I found my way into her bathroom and used the facilities, then washed my hands, looked in the mirror, and noticed my mascara had smudged under my eyes.

I tugged a tissue out of the dispenser, wrapped it around my finger, and wet it under the faucet. I wiped away the dark shadow and leaned over the side of the sink to toss the crumpled tissue into the wastebasket.

Something caught my eye, and I frowned.

It was wrong of me, I openly admit that, but I simply couldn’t help myself. I squatted down low and picked up the wastebasket to get a better look.

Chapter Forty-eight

By the time I arrived home, Gram was in bed and Ryan was sitting up at the computer reading some news items from the day.

“Did you get the fridge?” he asked absently, without looking up.

I laid my hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but I came home with something else. Something just as interesting. More so in fact. It’s in my purse. Want to see?”

He swiveled in his chair to face me. “First of all, let me be clear that I have never considered a mini fridge to be ‘interesting,’ but you have my attention.”

I squinted mischievously at him and pulled five little squares of cream-colored paper out of the side compartment of my purse.

His eyebrows pulled together in a studious frown as he leaned forward in the chair. “I don’t get it. What are these?”

“Temporary tattoos,” I told him. “I found them in Elizabeth’s trash can, along with a whole box of unused ones in the medicine cabinet.”

He took hold of the one I held out. “It’s the butterfly.”

“Yes. She must put these on like blush or eyeliner every morning before she leaves her apartment. Who
does
that?”

He stood up and took one of the butterfly papers to examine it more closely. “So she doesn’t actually have a tattoo?”

I shook my head. “She probably bought these at Claire’s, in the teenybopper section.”

“But why?” he asked. “I mean... why not get a real one if you’re going to wash it off and stick a new one on every day?”

“Good question,” I said. “Maybe you should ask her.”

He handed it back to me. “No. This is her business and her private property. You shouldn’t have taken it. Let’s not mention it again.”

“But aren’t you curious?” I asked.

He turned away from me and pressed the button on the computer screen to shut it off for the night.

“Aren’t you wondering why she would bother with something like this?” I continued when he didn’t answer my first question.

He faced me and shook his head. “It’s none of our business, Marissa.”

“It is when we’re trusting her with Gram’s welfare.”

He considered that for a moment. “Elizabeth is a good worker,” he firmly said, “and Gladys loves her. That’s all that matters.”

With more than a little frustration—for now there was so much more I wanted to know about Elizabeth Jackson—I watched Ryan walk out on me and go upstairs to bed.

Curiosity

Chapter Forty-nine

Ryan

It wasn’t easy to say good-bye to Marissa that September. I never found it easy, especially after losing Abigail, but this time, watching her hug Gladys in the driveway was more than I could bear.

As I shifted the Jeep into reverse, and backed out, Marissa waved out the car window at Gladys and Elizabeth, then cried a steady flow of tears until we reached the highway junction.

She tried to convince me that she should take the year off, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I assured her that Gladys would be appalled at the notion. Marissa’s success at school was a great source of pleasure and pride for Gladys, and it was important that we honor that.

And so, the first few days without my stepdaughter at home passed with a discernible, gloomy silence in the house—for Marissa always brought such joy and laughter wherever she went.

On the fourth day, Elizabeth mentioned how quiet it was without Marissa. She looked at me curiously as we cleared the dishes from the table and asked how I was doing. I told her I was fine.

Then she offered to stay a bit and help load the dishwasher.

I didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity, so I insisted that she go home and relax.

She asked if I was sure.

I said yes, so she left.

Thirty seconds later, she came back inside, pulled her purse off over her head, tossed it onto the computer chair, and said, “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to help with the dishes.”

I stared at her for a long moment. “That would be great.”

Without a word, she began to fill the sink while I loaded the dishwasher.

o0o

Elizabeth and I fell into a comfortable routine after that first week. Though she had been cooking for us and eating with us all summer, she always went home as soon as the table was cleared. Now she stayed until about 9:00 each night. She played cards or watched television with Gladys and me, then helped Gladys downstairs to bed.

Gladys adored her.

“Sometimes I wonder if Abigail sent you to me,” Gladys said to Elizabeth one evening. “Like a guardian angel.”

“Maybe she did,” Elizabeth replied with fondness.

I appreciated Elizabeth just as ardently, though I kept my feelings to myself, for she was under my employ and I didn’t want to jeopardize the precious household dynamic we had all come to enjoy.

Sometimes I pondered the situation on and off, for hours on end. I wasn’t sure what I had ever done to deserve the blessing that had come to us in the form of Elizabeth Jackson. God knows I’d made my share of mistakes. So I figured I was just a fortunate beneficiary of a reward that was directed at Gladys.

Chapter Fifty

I did not forget about the temporary tattoos Marissa had found in Elizabeth’s apartment the night before she left for school.

When she showed them to me I had responded with indifference, and was careful to remind her that the contents of Elizabeth’s trash can was none of our business.

In all honesty, however, I was equally curious. I often found myself staring at that butterfly on the inside of Elizabeth’s slender wrist, wondering how she managed to apply it in the exact same position each day, for I knew the precise location of every charming blue vein within the angle of the butterfly’s wing span.

Many times I came close to asking her about it, but I always refrained, because I didn’t want to catch her in a lie if she tried to hide the fact that it wasn’t real.

On the other hand, if she told me the truth... Well, that would change things. It would mean she was sharing something private and personal with me, and I just didn’t want to go there. I wasn’t ready for that.

Looking back on it now, however, I suspect there was a part of me that suspected that, in time, I would be. It felt inevitable, like a giant ocean wave, a half mile out, visible from the beach, slowly making its way to shore.

Chapter Fifty-one

Marissa planned to come home for Thanksgiving in mid-October. We talked the week before, and I asked what she wanted to do, besides eat turkey. She said she wanted me to take her, Gladys, and Elizabeth out on the water.

That was the moment she dropped the bomb. She would be bringing a friend home for the weekend. By ‘friend,’ she meant boyfriend. His name was Sean, and he was an engineering student at Dal.

It was never easy for me to meet one of my stepdaughter’s gentleman callers, not that there had been that many of them. By definition, she was a brainy high achiever, and for the most part, didn’t have time for boys. When she did bring someone home, I couldn’t help but judge everything about him in the first ten seconds. Thankfully her previous boyfriends had all been good kids who cared about school. They were nothing like me when I was that age, or like any of the crowd I hung out with.

“How did you meet him?” I asked, shifting my cell phone from one ear to the other as I walked out of the clinic.

“On the dance floor at a bar on Argyle Street,” she confessed.

My fatherly hackles immediately rose up.

“But he’s really smart,” she quickly added. “He has a giant scholarship.”

I unlocked the Jeep and climbed in. “That’s impressive.” It was a sincere effort on my part to remain positive and open minded.

“He switched from the University of British Columbia, so this is his first time east.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting him,” I said, wondering why he had switched. Did he flunk out? No, she mentioned he had a scholarship. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, Sean has a car. We’ll be there Friday afternoon. Can we take the boat out to watch the sunset?”

“Sure,” I said. “We’re closing the clinic at noon that day, so that’ll work out fine.”

“Make sure Gram and Elizabeth come, too,” she said. “I can’t wait to see them. How is Gram, by the way?”

“She’s great, honey, but...” I paused. “There have been some developments since you left. I didn’t want to mention that before.”

“Like what?”

I inserted the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start the Jeep. I leaned my head back on the seat. “More frequent incidents of memory loss,” I explained. “And some mood swings.”

“Oh.” I heard the disappointment in her voice and wished there was a better way to prepare her. It was going to be tough, no matter what.

“But she can’t wait to see you,” I said, “and I’m looking forward to meeting Sean.”

“He’s looking forward to meeting you, too,” she replied, still sounding subdued.

We hung up, and I had a strange, uncertain feeling in my stomach.

Sean.

With a scholarship.

Engineering.

As I started the Jeep and backed out of the parking lot, I wondered how serious they were, and what kind of impression this young man would make on us.

Chapter Fifty-two

Instead of coming straight home, Marissa and Sean went to eat a late lunch at The Rope Loft, a waterside pub in town. We arranged to meet up at the marina where I kept my boat, and by the time they arrived, I had already buckled Gladys and Elizabeth into their life vests and was growing impatient.

“Hello!” Marissa called out, running along the dock.

“Hey!” I stepped out of the boat and jogged to greet her. She squeezed me in a tight hug and introduced me to her friend. “Ryan, this is Sean. Sean... Ryan.”

We shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

We made small talk for a few minutes. ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Have you ever been boating before?’ ‘Marissa tells me you’re a doctor.’ That sort of thing.