The Color of a Memory (The Color of Heaven Series) by MacLean Julianne

Author:MacLean, Julianne [MacLean, Julianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-one

“It’s beautiful.” I ran my hand over the shiny black hood of the car. “He did all this work himself?”

“That’s right,” Jean replied. “After his father died, I put it in storage for a number of years and eventually, when he got older, Alex started asking about it. He said he had fond memories of his father taking him to the race track. I’m amazed he’d remember that. He would have been very young.”

“How old was he when your husband died?” I asked.

“He was nine.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, and Jean nodded.

Jesse followed me deeper into the garage while keeping a close eye on Ellen.

“Are these his tools?” I asked, moving toward the work bench. I picked up a heavy wrench and held it in my hand, imagining Alex’s hand gripping the same handle. Then I turned to face the car and could just see him lying on his back, his jean-clad legs sticking out from the undercarriage as he adjusted something.

Sometimes it felt like time passed in layers…that if I could hop down to another level in my mind, I could see him and talk to him.

What would I say?

I’d say thank you, of course.

“Do you come out here very often?” I asked Jean.

She shook her head. “Not so much lately. I used to, though. In the early weeks after he passed, I’d come just to sit in the car and cry.” She paused. “He was such a good son.”

Together we walked out of the garage to where the sun was shining brightly.

“How is your daughter doing?” I asked. “Marg mentioned her name was Sarah?”

“She’s doing well. She works for a marketing firm in Boston and designs websites.”

“That sounds like a fun job.” I then treaded carefully around the next question. “And what about your daughter-in-law, Alex’s widow? How is she holding up?”

Jean’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. She looked away toward a tall row of cedars blowing in the wind. “Audrey took it pretty hard when we lost Alex, and she’s still struggling. It’s not easy at the best of times to be a single mom, and on top of that she’s a nurse and has to do shiftwork. We take care of Wendy as much as we can, but sometimes I worry that Audrey will never be ready to move on.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

Jean met my gaze. “I hope she’ll let herself love again someday. I sincerely want that for her. The last time she was here—it was three weeks ago, the two-year anniversary of Alex’s death—she went out to the garage and sat in that bloody car for over an hour. Then she left abruptly, barely saying good-bye to us. I just don’t want to see her waste all the years of her life by not letting go of the past.”

We began walking around the back of the house to the patio where Garry had lit the barbeque. The smell of steaks cooking on the grill caused my mouth to water. “Maybe she just needs a bit more time,” I gently suggested.

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