The Color of a Promise (The Color of Heaven Series Book 11) (6 page)

I then clicked on a recent link that showed my doctor outside this very hospital, letting the reporters know that I was conscious and no longer in critical condition. He answered questions about my injuries and asked that our privacy, as a family, be respected. He thanked everyone for their interest and their prayers…

An hour later, the phone rang next to my bed, and it turned out to be a very surprising call.

Chapter Ten

I don’t remember much about the conversation outside of the main points. I wish I had been a bit more coherent, but the morphine was still powerful in my system.

When I hung up, I blinked a few times and let my head fall back on the pillows, wondering if I had just dreamed that.

“Who was it?” Mom asked, recognizing that it was something significant.

I lifted my head off the pillow. “It was the president of CNN. He wanted to tell me personally how sorry he was about what happened.”

“Isn’t that nice,” Mom said, reaching for Dad’s hand and squeezing it.

“What else did he say?” Dad asked, knowing there was more.

I cleared my throat and let out a breath of disbelief. “He just offered me my own show. A full hour during prime time. He wants me to cover the hottest news stories of the day and go on location for the big stuff.”

“No kidding!” Dad said. “Jack, that’s incredible.”

“He said I’ve been on their radar for a while, and that my interviewing skills were top notch, but with all the publicity I’ve been getting, he thinks now’s the time to launch me. He also asked if I’d be interested in being part of a documentary about what happened to me in Afghanistan—the bomb and my recovery.”

“What would that involve?” Mom asked.

I was still thinking about whether or not I wanted to do it. I wasn’t sure.

“A camera crew would come to the hospital and start right away, to interview me and stay with me over the next few weeks. I’m not sure about that part, because who would want to see me groaning? But he said the world wants to know me. And he wants me to start the show as soon as I’m able. But they’re willing to wait, however long I need.”

Mom got up, approached the bed and kissed me on the cheek. “No matter what you decide, it’s a wonderful compliment. I’m proud of you.”

“Will you do it, Jack?” Dad asked. “Will you take the job?”

“I told them that I’d think about it, but what’s there to think about? The last thing he told me was the salary.”

Mom’s eyebrows lifted. “Will you get a raise?”

I laughed and realized it was the first time I’d cracked a smile since I woke up. “He said there’s room for negotiation, but that it won’t be less than seven figures annually, plus perks, including an apartment in New York until I find my own place. He said I’ll be impressed with the view. Oh…and a full time driver.”

Dad began to nod his head with a smile. “That all sounds pretty awesome.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yes. It makes me want to get out of this bed right now and get back on my feet.”

My dad stood up from his chair, approached the bed, and squeezed my hand. “You always were a fighter, Jack. I’ve never been more proud.”

Aaron stood up as well and said with a nod, “Congratulations, Jack. Well deserved.”

It was probably the first time in my life that I actually felt the past slip away and disappear completely. In that moment, Aaron was just my brother. Nothing more.

o0o

That night, after my parents left the hospital to check in at their hotel, I went to sleep thinking about what my mother had said when she first arrived—that my guardian angel must have been watching over me.

I couldn’t help but float backwards in my mind to when I was just a boy of thirteen. I thought of Millicent Davenport and the year we spent together, and how my life was forever altered by our friendship.

We were never able to watch that movie,
Audrey Rose
, because when we returned to her house after building the first wall of our clubhouse, Millicent learned terrible news—that her grandmother in Arizona had just passed away.

I stood in the Davenport’s kitchen, feeling like an intruder as they all wept and held each other. But then Millicent turned to me, strode across the floor, and threw her arms around my neck. She cried on my shoulder, and I held her tight.

The next day, I rode my bike to her house to say good-bye before they left for the airport.

“Remember your promise,” she said to me in her bedroom, as she zipped up her suitcase. “You won’t finish the clubhouse without me. You’ll wait for me to come back.”

“I will.”

I couldn’t believe she was going to be gone for two whole weeks. How would I live?

A short while later, I walked with her out the front door, carrying her suitcase for her. She paused on the sidewalk next to their minivan, put her hands on my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “Remember yesterday, when you said that you thought everyone was reincarnated?”

I nodded.

“Does that mean you think that I am, too?”

“Probably,” I replied as I set her suitcase down on the curb.

She glanced over her shoulder at her younger sister, who was already buckled into the back seat. Millicent leaned closer and whispered in my ear again: “Did we know each other in a past life?”

I drew back and frowned at her for a moment, straining to remember. “I don’t know,” I replied. “I only remember little snippets of things every once in a while, but I kind of feel like this is the first time we’ve met. I don’t feel that ‘familiar’ thing with you.”

“Oh.” Looking disappointed, she lowered her gaze. “I thought maybe we were soul mates or something.”

I felt a rush of exhilaration at the suggestion, followed by the same flutter of nervous butterflies I had felt with Jeannie Morrison the previous fall. Suddenly, I found myself admiring Millicent’s wavy, golden hair and thinking of how much I loved the dimples on both sides of her mouth when she smiled. Although she was not smiling now.

Not wanting her to leave town feeling disappointed, I said, “Maybe we are. Or maybe it’s just new, and we’ve only just met for the first time.”

Her sad eyes lifted, and she smiled at last. My heart pounded faster, and I wished she weren’t leaving. All I wanted to do was go back to the clubhouse and talk to her about things I never talked about with other people.

“Yes,” she said, “it must be new.” Then she kissed me quickly on the cheek and turned away, picking up her suitcase to throw into the back of the van.

She moved past me to get into her seat and then slid the door closed.

“Bye, Jack,” she said, stretching her arm out the open window.

Her face was dazzling to me in that moment as I reveled in the sensation of her soft lips on my cheek. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was back away from the curb and wave as she buckled her seat belt.

Her parents came out of the house and got into the van. They started up the engine, and again, I wished desperately that they weren’t leaving. I could already feel a hole in my heart, because I was going to miss Millicent terribly, and her family, too.

“We’ll see you soon, Jack,” Dr. Davenport said, leaning across the seat to speak to me out the passenger side window. “Take care of yourself.”

Then they drove off.

o0o

That night in the hospital in Germany, I fell asleep remembering that special good-bye, followed by horror ten hours later when my mother hung up the telephone in our kitchen and turned to me. Her face was white as a sheet.

“What is it?” I asked, dread exploding like fire in my belly. “What’s wrong?”

My mother moved slowly toward me and pulled a chair out to sit down at the kitchen table. She took both my hands in hers. “I have very bad news, Jack. There was a plane crash in Arizona.”

My whole body went numb as I stared at her, not quite able to understand what she was trying to tell me.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice trembled, and her cheeks turned red. “Millicent won’t be coming home.”

“Why not?”

“Because her family was on that plane. They all died.”

My heart beat like a hammer in my chest, and my blood churned thunderously in my ears. No, that wasn’t possible.

“What do you mean? Why did the plane crash?”

She shook her head and pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. “I don’t know. They’re looking into it, but they think it was something mechanical. The plane caught fire and there was an explosion as they were landing. I’m sure we’ll know more soon. We’ll have to watch the news. I’m so sorry.”

She reached forward to pull me into her arms. I shut my eyes, willing the words to be false. It wasn’t true, I told myself. Millicent couldn’t have been on that plane. She couldn’t be dead. She was supposed to come home in two weeks. We’d promised each other that we would finish the clubhouse together.

“She was such a good girl,” my mother said, rubbing her hand up and down my back. “They were a wonderful family. It’s very tragic. I’m so sorry, Jack.”

They were a perfect family, and I loved everything about them.

Tears spilled out of my eyes, and I clutched at my mother’s shirt. “No!” I cried. “She was my best friend. I loved her.”

My mother wept, too. “She was very special. And wherever she is right now, I’m sure she’s watching over you, like a guardian angel. She’ll always be with you, Jack.”

I cried even harder.

As I lay in the hospital bed staring up at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder if my childhood friend had somehow been with me on that road in Afghanistan. Maybe she was responsible for the miracle that saved me.

Squeezing my eyes shut against the relentless pain, I told myself that if I ever met Millicent again in Heaven, I would be sure to thank her, and tell her how much I’d missed her.

PART II

Chapter Eleven

Meg Andrews

2007

Growing up, I never had much luck in the romance department and looking back on it, I don’t know why I was in such a hurry to figure it all out. If only I had known that matters of the heart usually resolve themselves when the time is right. It just requires patience and the ability to follow your gut and listen to your intuition.

That was something I didn’t know in my younger days, however, which is a bit surprising, considering I had an off-the-charts IQ. But nothing was easy back then when I was struggling to navigate my way through adolescence and the complicated politics of high school. Add to that my struggles with anxiety—a feeling of always needing to rush through things to get them done—and maybe because of that, it makes sense that I didn’t have it all together.

Without a doubt, I was one of the nerdy girls—with braces, acne, straight A’s and glasses. But the summer after graduation, just before I moved into residence at Princeton with a full academic scholarship, I decided I’d had enough of the life I was living, being reined in, and it was time for a fresh start. I went a little wild and got highlights in my hair. I watched
What Not To Wear
on TLC and figured out how to dress better. The braces finally came off, and I got contact lenses.

Being blond and pretty, for the first time in my life, boosted my confidence as I moved in at Princeton, but it wasn’t easy to live up to the way I looked, because deep down, I was still a nerd at heart, anxious a lot of the time and definitely not one of the cool, laid-back girls.

I was brainy and uptight about my studies. Loud music in the dorm made me cranky and confrontational on a Friday night, and I often found myself storming out of my room to ask the offender to lower the volume. As a result, I spent most Friday nights in the library, because I could never be content with any grade less than an A.

That’s not to say that the idea of going out wasn’t a constant temptation. The girls on my floor were always trying to convince me to ditch the books and go out with them to parties or clubs. Occasionally I did, because I knew the importance of life experience outside of the classroom. I didn’t want to be one of those “book-smart” people who had no idea how to survive in the real world.

And that’s how I met Kyle—in the “real world” of college parties. He was impossibly handsome and popular, and didn’t give a fig about his grades. A grade of C- was just fine with him.

Basically, he was the kind of guy I never imagined I would ever date.

As it turned out, I learned more from Kyle that year than I’d learned in any other year in my life, up to that point, so I can’t regret it, no matter how disastrous it turned out to be.

o0o

I’d never had a boyfriend in high school, and maybe that’s why I was so easily seduced by Kyle—although that sounds like something out of a steamy romance novel. Maybe “insecure” more accurately describes the kind of person I was when I met Kyle at a dorm party during my third year.

I’ll be honest and confess that I’d had too many beers that night. When he flirted with me, I was flattered, reckless, and uncharacteristically wild—and having been such a good girl all my life, I wanted to let loose, forget the worries for once, and have an adventure.