The Color of Heaven (22 page)

told me what happened.

But what if he asked how I knew about Mom and Matt? Part of me wanted desperately to tel him the truth. I wanted to ask him more questions

about that time in his life, and I wanted to tel someone about my experiences at the bottom of the lake, when I watched my body convulse and go

stil , just before I took part in a conversation with my daughter, who had been dead for a year.

And what about the ride in the ambulance? I had every intention of seeking out the paramedic whose dog had died and was brought back to life. I

wanted to ask her questions and cross-check my own memories and observations with what she remembered about the drive to the hospital.

I wanted answers. Proof.

Then I realized there was a much easier way to determine whether or not I had actual y visited my dead mother in some alternate, heavenly

dimension.

“Dad,” I said. “Tel me something.”

“Okay.”

I managed to lean up on one elbow. “The first time you kissed Mom… Where were you?”

His expression softened, and he looked toward the window as he remembered it. “We were at the lake near our old house in Camden. It was the

first warm day of spring, and we had just gone for a swim. I was fifteen years old.”

A shiver of happiness rippled up my spine, and goose bumps covered my body. “Yes, that’s right,” I said with a smile, nodding my head at him.

He looked at me strangely and I knew in that moment that I was going to tel him everything.

Because we were no longer disconnected.

Dad had no choice but to believe me after I was able to describe the most intimate details about his courtship with Mom, including their break-up

and what happened in the hospital when Matt went in for surgery. There was no way I could have known these things unless Mom had told me, and

he knew she hadn’t, at least not when she was alive.

(Later, when I was ful y recovered, I was interviewed by an endless parade of doctors and experts on the subject of near-death experiences,

including a scholar from Germany who was writing a book and wanted to include my story in his research. I also made appearances on a few

network talk shows. But I’m getting ahead of myself.)

When I finished tel ing Dad about my experiences “on the other side,” he cal ed Jen right away and asked her to come to the hospital.

She arrived a short while later and burst into tears when she saw me sitting up, eating lunch.

Dad left us alone and went home to her place to take a shower.

I decided to wait before I told her the whole story and divulged the fact that we were only half-sisters because our mother had once loved another

man. I just wanted to visit with her for a while.

Turns out I’m glad I waited, because Jen had something equal y important to tel me, and she could barely contain herself.

o0o

“There’s something you should know,” she said as she rol ed the lunch table away from my bed.

“Sounds like juicy gossip.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Wel , spit it out then.”

She continued to keep me waiting, as if she wasn’t sure how to explain whatever it was she needed to tel me.

“Hey,” I said. “I died last week, remember? Whatever it is, it can’t possibly be any more shocking than that. Seriously, at this point, I can take

anything you throw at me, so give it your best.”

She chuckled. “It’s not a
bad
thing. In fact, I think it’s real y sweet, but you might be creeped out, that’s al .”

“Jen, I promise you, after what I’ve been through, nothing is going to creep me out.”

She sat down in the chair by the bed and her cheeks flushed with color. “You know how Dad told you that he and I took turns sitting by your side

since the night of the accident?”

I nodded.

“Wel , it wasn’t just the two of us. You had another visitor, too. Someone who was very devoted to coming here every evening after supper.”

My attention floated to al the flower arrangements on the windowsil and the far table. I hadn’t looked at any of the cards yet.

“Was it Michael?” But I found that difficult to imagine. He hated hospitals, and his cheery, bouncy fiancée was due to give birth fairly soon.

“No, it wasn’t Michael. It was Kirk Duncan.”

She might as wel have tossed a glass of water in my face. I was, indeed, that shocked.

I sat straight up. “Real y?”

I hadn’t seen Kirk since the year after he left for col ege. We’d exchanged emails a few times, of course, but that was it.

“Kirk was here? In this room?”

“Yes. Every night for a week. I suspect he’l be here again tonight, unless I cal him and tel him you’re awake. Then he might come sooner. Or not at al . Who knows?”

I was flattered and touched, and slightly giddy at the notion that my high school sweetheart had come to my so-cal ed deathbed.

“Wow,” I said. “I guess I was wrong about not being surprised. I’m speechless.”

“I can see that,” Jen replied. “I knew you would be.”

Tipping my head back on the pil ow, I wondered what he looked like now. Did he stil have al his hair? Had his smile changed?

“I’m going to need to brush my teeth,” I said, in a bit of a dazed stupor. “And take a shower.” I looked around for the cal button. “Can we get a nurse in here? I’l need some help.”

Jen stood up. “I’ve got it covered. Nurse!” she shouted. “We need some help in here!”

An older, heavy-set nurse came running into the room. “What is it?” Her eyes darted to the heart monitor, then back at me.

“Don’t worry,” Jen said. “She’s stil alive, but she needs to get cleaned up and get her hair washed. Maybe put on some makeup.”

The nurse folded her arms. “This isn’t a beauty spa, ladies. It’s a hospital, and we’re short-staffed today. We’l get around to you eventual y.”

Jen boldly approached her. “I don’t think you understand.” She pointed at me. “That woman’s high school sweetheart could be here at any moment,

and she hasn’t seen him in years. And she was
dead
a week ago!”

The nurse peered around Jen’s shoulder to take a look at me. “Does she mean the guy who was here last week? The one with the guitar?”

I felt a tingling heat spread to my cheeks. “He brought his guitar?”

Jen spoke over her shoulder. “Yes, and he played for you.”

“That’s just so Kirk.”

The nurse moved around Jen and stood at the foot of my bed. “How many years has it been since you’ve seen this man?”

“About twenty.”

Her shoulders rose and fel with a deep sigh of defeat, then she marched around the bed and folded back the covers. “Wel get up then, princess.

We can’t have you smel ing like a coma patient when Romeo arrives.” She glanced at Jen. “Do you have some lipstick? Maybe a little blush? She’s

stil a bit pale.”

“Oh yes,” Jen replied, pul ing an enormous cosmetic bag out of her purse. “I have
everything
.”

Jen cal ed Kirk that afternoon to tel him the good news – that I was out of the coma and doing just fine.

He was pleased to hear it and promised to come by after work.

Sure enough, shortly after I finished my supper on a tray, a knock rapped lightly at the door.

Jen gave me a look, then cal ed out, “Come in!”

Suddenly there he was – Kirk, my first love, wearing a soft brown leather jacket and jeans, his guitar case slung across his back.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He stil looked exactly the same. He hadn’t aged a day, except for a few strands of grey in his wavy

brown hair.

My whole body warmed with affection, and his eyes lit up with joy.

“Oh, wow.” He shook his head in disbelief and gestured toward me with a hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see somebody awake.”

I smiled. “Hi Kirk.”

He set his guitar case on the floor and approached the bed. He sat down on the edge of it. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“I’m fine now.” I held out my arms. “But I could use a hug.” He leaned closer, and we embraced.

“It’s so good to see you,” I whispered. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I prayed every day.”

I was vaguely aware of Jen discreetly tiptoeing out of the room.

Sitting back, Kirk continued to hold my hand. “You look terrific.”

“So do you. Jen told me you were here this week, and that you played your guitar for me. I wish I could remember. I hate the fact that I missed it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can play for you anytime, and I suspect you’l be a much better audience now.”

We were both quiet for a moment.

“It’s been a rough year for you, hasn’t it?” he said.

I glanced down at our joined hands. “It certainly has.”

“Wel … the way I see it, things can only get better from here.”

I thought of what Matt had said to me on the other side, and smiled. “I’m sure you’re right about that.”

Suddenly I felt a wave of emotion rise up inside me, and my heart beat fast with anticipation. I was so grateful to be alive. To have been given a

second chance at finding happiness again.

“At least I’m stil here,” I said. “Though I’m not sure what I did to deserve such a miracle.”

“It must have been one heck of a miracle,” he replied. “Forty minutes, Sophie. You came back after forty minutes. There’s gotta be a prize for that.”

I laughed. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“It’s insane. But you always were a fighter.”

“I guess so.”

“So what was it like?” he asked. “Do you remember anything? Did you see a white light? Or maybe you’d prefer not to talk about it.”

Looking into his familiar green eyes, I realized that the passing of time meant very little in relation to the soul. I had not seen this man for almost twenty years, but it felt as if we had been together the entire time, and had not spent a single day apart. I was as comfortable with him now as I had been when we were a couple, intimately in love. I trusted him wholeheartedly and knew that he would never let me down.

“I
would
like to talk about it with you,” I said. “But maybe another time, if that’s okay. After I get out of here. Right now, I just want to hear about
you
.”

Feeling tired al of a sudden, I rested my head on the pil ow. “Tel me about your life. Are you stil teaching music? I want to know everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

He stared into my eyes for the longest time, then leaned close and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ve real y missed you, Sophie. I’m glad you came

back.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered into his ear. “Me, too.”

That one special moment, al on its own, was worth coming back for.

Then I remembered what Matt had said to me on the beach, and I was confident there would be more moments like this in my future. The good and

the bad – it would al come in waves.

I spent another week in the hospital, recovering from the accident and slowly regaining my strength.

Kirk visited me each night, and almost immediately there was an unspoken understanding between us – that we were entering into another long-

term, committed relationship that would probably last forever this time.

As I said before, it felt like not a single day had passed since high school, when we were head over heels in love with each other, and shared the

same values and desires. This time we were going to leap in with both feet. I had no doubts or fears. It simply felt right on every level, and when I was final y able to go home, he was the one who picked me up and drove me to Jen’s house.

Very quickly, however, we decided that life was too short, so I moved in with him a week later.

My story doesn’t end here, however. There’s so much more to tel .

I mentioned that people were curious about my death and out-of-body experience, and for a while I was wil ing to participate in interviews and

medical studies. But it soon grew exhausting, and I just wanted to live my life. I was a writer, and if you’ve ever known a writer intimately – or if you
are
one – you wil understand that we are a different breed. Writing is a solitary occupation, and we like it that way.

Al I wanted to do after I recovered was tel my story, but not in front of cameras or live audiences. I needed peace and quiet if I was going to find the right words.

So here we are. As you can see, by the evidence before you, I returned to writing and remembered how to put words, even difficult ones, down on

paper.

But again, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Before I wrote this story, I worked on something else – something very different, which garnered great critical acclaim.

That story wil always hold a special place in my heart, for it was the compass that pointed me back to the true essence of my life.

Spring came early that year. When the snow and ice melted and a scented breeze blew across the front veranda of Kirk’s country house one warm

Sunday afternoon, we decided to take a trip to the Cape and book ourselves into a quaint little B&B, drink lots of wine, and strol along the beach for three glorious days.

It was just what I needed to mark the end of my recovery. Time alone with Kirk, my first love, who had never left my heart.

Time to appreciate the splendor of the life I had not squandered, and to comprehend the magic of the sea, the earth, and sky.

Each night, while the surf thundered wondrously outside our window, we made love with great tenderness and passion.

This was it –
real love
– a lifetime of it, exploding out of my soul. At last we were together, home in each other’s arms after too many years apart.

But this time we were grown-ups, and nothing was going to tear us apart.

o0o

On our last night at the inn, Kirk took my hand and led me onto the beach for a last midnight strol . The moon was ful and bright, reflecting off the dark water, and the waves spread across the sand with smooth, glistening freedom.