The Color of a Dream (9 page)

I felt silly suggesting it, which was silly
in itself because the person I was speaking to claimed publicly to
have traveled to heaven and back. She even wrote a book about
it.

“Tell me,” she said, handing the autographed
book to me.

I hugged it to my chest and spoke quietly.
“I wonder if it’s the person whose heart I have inside of me. Maybe
it’s his soul flying around and we’re connected somehow. Or maybe
he had some unfinished business and he can’t leave to go wherever
it is we’re supposed to go after we die.”

Sophie stared at me for a long moment, then
reached down to pick up her purse. She dug into it for a small
notepad and jotted something down.

“This is a book you should read,” she said.
“It’s about cellular memory and there are some references to organ
transplants. I met the author at a convention once. He’s a smart
guy and has done a ton of research. He has a website so you can
contact him if you want to. He might be able to answer some of your
questions, but more likely, he’ll want to pick
your
brain.
You should also look into astral projection. That’s something
different, but maybe in your case it’s some sort of combination of
the two.”

She handed me the piece of paper and I
realized I was holding up the line. There was still a large crowd
of readers and fans behind me.

“Thank you,” I said. “This has been really
helpful.” Mostly, I was grateful to talk to someone who didn’t
think I was completely delusional.

“Good luck,” she replied, “and
congratulations on getting that new heart.”

I smiled at her. “I appreciate that. I feel
very blessed.”

* * *

Over the next few days, in between Ellen’s
bottle feedings and walks to the park with the stroller, I
researched the subject of cellular memory and read a few memoirs
written by people who had undergone organ transplants.

I also investigated astral projection, which
is another form of out-of-body experience, but does not always
accompany death. It can happen during sleep or other altered states
like meditation or surgeries. There were even some websites that
provided instructions on how to do it and control it.

While I learned a great deal about different
alternative theories—and took the skepticism into consideration as
well—none of it answered the burning question in my mind about what
my dreams truly meant. I had nothing tangible to offer as evidence
of a spiritual or cellular connection to my donor because I had no
idea who he was, where he’d lived, or whether or not he liked
onions…or anything else.

Nor was I making an effort to take my spirit
on a joy ride each night. It was beyond my control, and in all
honesty, it just felt like I was dreaming.

I suppose that made me as much of a skeptic
as the next person.

Two weeks went by, and because I stayed up
late reading each night, I slept like a log. There were no
thrilling expeditions out the window and over treetops and
telephone poles. There were no dazzling aerial views of the city at
night.

Eventually I began to let go of the desire
to know more about the man whose heart now beat inside my chest. I
was too busy with motherhood and the requirements of my recovery to
dwell on much else outside my daily routines. I was focused on
Ellen’s laughter in the park, the way she slept soundly in her crib
and the miracle of her first baby steps.

She was only eleven months old when she
walked from Diana’s arms to mine in the kitchen one evening. A
prodigy, surely. A future gymnast or perhaps a long distance
runner. I suppose dreams come in many forms.

Nevertheless, the memories of my nighttime
escapades were ever-present in my mind, hovering there like curious
hummingbirds. Each night when I slipped into bed I gazed out the
window and wondered if I would go flying.

Each morning I woke up feeling
disappointed.

Then the letter arrived.

* * *

“It can’t be possible,” I said to Diana when
I finished reading it. “Full custody… Can he even do this? Why
would he want to? There’s got to be something else going on here
because you know what he’s like. He can’t actually want to be a
father to Ellen.”

Diana read the letter a second time, then
set it down on the table. “As a parent, he does have legal rights.
I just never thought he—of all people—would want to exercise
them.”

It was a long and complicated story, but
Diana knew my baby’s father, Rick, better than most people because
she’d almost married him two years ago. I saved her from that
certain peril, however, when I fell for his charms myself and was
the cause of their breakup. Less than a year later, I was alone and
pregnant with Rick’s child, waiting for a heart transplant.

Now this.

“Didn’t he say good-bye to those rights,” I
asked, “when he told me he wanted no part in Ellen’s upbringing and
paid me to stay away? I signed a legal document promising not to
ask him for child support or anything else if I accepted the
money.”

“That protected him, not you,” Diana said.
“The Family Code is written to assure that children have frequent
and continued contact with both parents after they separate, and it
encourages parents to share rights and responsibilities. So if he’s
asking for full custody, he must have something up his sleeve.”

“But what if it’s not in the child’s best
interests?” I asked. “Rick doesn’t even know Ellen. He’s never seen
her or held her. He doesn’t know her sleep schedule or what she
likes to eat.”

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought
that I could lose any of my rights as a mother. That my child would
be separated from all that was familiar and full of love. Her life
would be drastically changed. I couldn’t bear to think of handing
Ellen over to a man who thought only of himself. Rick had never
wanted a child. He didn’t love her.

“When it comes to proving what’s best for
the child,” Diana explained, “you’d have to show that Rick would be
an unfit parent and I can tell you right now that would be
virtually impossible. Rick is charming, successful, wealthy,
law-abiding and brilliant. He could sell snow to Santa Clause. I
just don’t understand why he’s asking for full custody or how he
thinks he can get it. It surprises me.”

I rested my elbows on the table and bowed my
head. “Doesn’t he know I named
you
as Ellen’s legal guardian
in my will? You’re the best person to take over because she knows
you and loves you. And you’ve supported us both through all the
hard times recently. Was Rick there? No. Did he offer any help? Of
course not.”

“He does know I’m named as her guardian in
the will,” Diana explained. “The last time I spoke to him, he
seemed relieved to hear it. But obviously, he’s changed his
mind.”

“But
why
?” I asked. “This isn’t like
him at all. Something must have happened, because the last time I
checked his Facebook page, he was enjoying the single life quite a
bit.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “How long ago was
that?”

I rolled my eyes. “It was a long time ago.
And you can be darn sure that I haven’t given that jerk a single
thought since the day I took all his money.”

“You didn’t take
all
his money,”
Diana reminded me. “He has plenty left over to hire a hot shot
lawyer, so we need to take this seriously. We need to decide what
we’re going to do.”

The baby monitor lights flickered and Ellen
began to cry.

“I’ll get her,” I said, rising to my feet,
“because I don’t want to waste a single moment with her.”

As I climbed the stairs to our room, I
thought about Rick living on the other side of the country. How,
exactly, did he expect to work out any sort of custody arrangement?
Did he really think I would put Ellen on a plane and wave good-bye
forever?

No. That was not going to happen.

I’d fight him to the death if I had to.

That night, shortly after I fell asleep, the
dream came to me again. It had been more than two weeks since I’d
gone flying and after the dream, when I woke and sat up in the
darkness, I felt surprisingly calm.

Was this dream some sort of defense
mechanism? I wondered. Was it my body’s way of escaping the stress
in my life? A way to protect my new heart?

When I rose the next morning, the day was
hazy and humid. I changed Ellen’s diaper, then tiptoed to Diana’s
room to see if she was awake yet. Her bed had not been slept in
which was not unusual since she became engaged to Jacob.

I carried Ellen downstairs to the kitchen
and warmed up a bottle, then settled myself comfortably on the sofa
to watch an early morning re-run of Gilligan’s Island.

After Ellen gulped down the entire contents
of her bottle I shifted her in my arms, held her over my shoulder
and patted her on the back. She let out an unladylike burp.

“Wow.
That
was something,” I said in
her ear. “But hey, I’m not judging.”

The Gilligan’s Island end credits played and
Ellen fell back to sleep. I carried her to the kitchen and gently
laid her down in the carrier, then plugged in the kettle to make a
cup of tea while I cooked some oatmeal.

As my breakfast boiled on the stove I
re-read the letter from Rick’s lawyer and tried to figure out how I
was going to deal with this mountain in front of me.

“My client wishes to know his daughter and
wants to establish a parental relationship as soon as
possible.”

That was the part that stumped me. The
wording made it sound almost urgent—as if Rick couldn’t bear to be
away from his daughter for another minute of his life.

I supposed that was how these divorce
lawyers operated. They charged ahead aggressively. It could have
nothing to do with Rick’s true wants or desires. The lawyer just
wanted to win.

Feeling a sudden stroke of genius, I stood
up from the table and padded into the den to turn on the computer.
As far as I knew, Rick and I were still Facebook friends and I was
curious about what was going on in his life recently. Was he in a
relationship? Maybe his new girlfriend wanted a cute baby to cuddle
and he wanted to get one for her.

When I logged on and searched for Rick,
however, I discovered that he had deleted his Facebook account
which seemed odd, considering he represented athletes and sports
celebrities and was in the business of networking with people.

I could just call him, I thought, but wanted
to check with Diana first, because I didn’t want to jeopardize my
position. My relationship with Rick hadn’t exactly been mature. I
had lost my temper with him more than once and I didn’t want to
give him any new ammunition to use against me in court.

If it even came to that.

I hoped it wouldn’t, because I wasn’t sure
my new heart could weather that much stress.

“I was thinking,” Diana said to me that
night after I settled Ellen in her crib, “that the gloves need to
come off and we need to fight hard and convince the court that Rick
is not a fit parent for Ellen. It’s unlikely we can prevent him
from seeing her if he wants to, but we can at least try to keep any
custody rights to a minimum and keep me listed as her legal
guardian in the event of your death.”

“How would we do that?”

“By focusing on his single lifestyle and the
parade of women who come and go from his condo. But even with that,
I still think a judge will rule in his favor—at least with partial
custody—because he
is
the father.”

“What if he’s with someone?” I asked.
“Engaged or something. That plan could totally backfire if he’s in
a stable relationship and I’m… Well, nothing about my life has been
stable since I got sick. I’m also a single mother. We have to find
out his status.”

I sat down on the sofa and Diana joined
me.

“I checked for Rick’s Facebook page this
morning,” I told her, “but he took it down so there’s no way of
knowing if he’s still single.”

“I noticed that.” Diana rested her head on
her hand. “And his phone number was disconnected. I tried calling
directory assistance but there was no number listed for him in LA.
I also called the agency but they said he was on vacation. He may
very well have moved in with someone for all we know.”

“It’s strange, don’t you think,” I said,
“that he’s suddenly so inaccessible?”

“Yes,” Diana replied, “and we need to know
what’s going on with him before we formulate a plan. Who knows,
maybe he really has turned over a new leaf and wants to be a good
dad. Maybe it
would
be in Ellen’s best interests to invite
him back into your life. If nothing else, he could offer financial
support.”

I scoffed. “Call me jaded, but I can’t
imagine how he would be good for Ellen in any way. He broke your
heart, then he broke mine and countless others, no doubt. I don’t
want him to break Ellen’s heart as soon as he starts to feel boxed
in, because that seems to be a pattern with him.”

“Believe me, I know,” Diana said. “But he’s
Ellen’s biological father and you might not have any choice in the
matter.”

I stood and walked to the window, stared out
at the darkness. “It feels as if all my life I’ve been fighting one
battle after another. Nothing’s ever easy, is it?”

“Life should come with a warning label,”
Diana replied. “Caution. Ups and downs ahead. Proceed with extreme
care.”

A thought came to me suddenly, and I swung
around to face Diana. “Did Rick ever mention his brother to
you?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “No.
Rick has a
brother?
I lived with him for over a year and he never told me
that. He said he was an only child.”

“The brother’s name is Jesse,” I told her.
“And he probably didn’t mention it to you because he wasn’t proud
of the fact that they haven’t spoken to each other in over ten
years. Rick never told me why but I’m pretty sure there’s some dark
and dirty skeleton in the closet between the two of them. Rick said
he thought Jesse lived here on the east coast but he wasn’t
sure.”