The Color of Heaven (24 page)

For a long while I stood on the sidewalk, watching the world go by, then marched two doors down to the pharmacy, where I hunted up and down the

aisles.

Five minutes later, I walked out of there with a pregnancy test and a very powerful urge to pee.

“Congratulations,” the doctor said, folding his hands on his desk and glancing back and forth between Kirk and me. “You’re going to have a baby.”

Kirk covered my hand with his and gently squeezed it, while I waded through the confusing tidal wave of my emotions.

My first thought, of course, was for Megan. A part of me didn’t want to have another child – a child who would fil up the empty space in my heart that stil belonged only to her.

Another part of me was terrified. What if something went wrong? What if this baby got sick, or had some sort of accident? I wasn’t sure I could

survive the loss of another child.

Those thoughts and feelings, however, were surprisingly fleeting. Kirk’s hand was warm upon mine, and the love I felt for him – and the love I felt

from him in return – eclipsed al the old fears that had been lingering quietly on the outer fringes of my world.

A child…

A child with Kirk, who would be there for us both. Forever. In good times, and in bad.

I thought of my mother and al that she had suffered when she lost the man she loved – yet she’d gone on to live a happy life, to raise Jen and me, to love and respect the man who was at her side so devotedly. The old photo albums were proof of it, as was my rekindled relationship with my father,

who I now cherished more than ever before.

It was indeed possible to start again, to find joy, even after it seemed lost forever.

Happy tears fil ed my eyes and spil ed onto my cheeks as I turned toward Kirk. “A baby,” I said, laughing. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His face split into a wide grin, which completely dazzled me. I felt as if I were floating.

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’l 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 bal or something?”

“Sort of.” I rol ed 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 tel 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 fol ow her to heaven yet because I needed to take care of her brother.”

Kirk sat up as wel 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.

If happiness comes in waves, my life was bobbing about in a thril ing 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 cal 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 cal ing to offer

representation? They didn’t usual y cal to reject you.

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

“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.

“Wel , hel o there,” the cal er cheerful y 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 real y 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 al 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 wel , which was a rare combination, and he was certain the plot would do wel 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 mil ion dol ars for the North American print rights, while Mr. Velcoff held onto the foreign rights. He intended to start sel ing 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 stil negotiating the deal.

The fol owing day, I was offered a mil ion dol ars 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.

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

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

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 stil teaches music and occasional y plays a gig at a

jazz club in the city.

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

I stil miss Megan. Sometimes I ache with a mother’s yearning to hold her in my arms, watch her sleep, smel the sweet scent of her skin. I wish she

were stil 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 wil 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. Mitchel ’s website at www.evmitchel .com.