The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time by Julianne MacLean Page B

had been alive and well. I had believed that I’d suffered through the death of my son eight years prior when he had a bad fall off a set of monkey bars. Had I dreamed all of that?
    Suddenly I was being presented with another reality altogether—that they were both long dead and I hadn’t spoken to my ex-husband last night at all.
    “How old was Tyler when the accident happened?” I asked, trying to get a grip on the particulars as I wiped away a tear.
    “He was six.” She stared at me with concern, no doubt wondering how I could forget something like that.
    This was all too difficult to process. It couldn’t be real, nor could I bring myself to simply accept it. What I’d accepted, was the death of my son from a fall off the monkey bars. It had taken me a long time to get over that, but I’d made peace with it. For the most part. As much as any mother can make peace with the loss of a child.
    “What have I been doing since then?” I asked.
    Gram spoke gently. “Trying to pick up the pieces. But it’s been tough on you. No doubt about it.”
    “How old am I?”
    That point needed clarification. Everything needed clarification.
    “You’re thirty-three,” Gram replied.
    “Do I have a job?”
    “You work at the pub.”
    “Which pub? What’s it called?”
    “The Old Stone Keep. You’ve been there for a few years. It’s a good thing. It gets you out of the house, meeting people.”
    “What house? Where do I live?”
    She frowned. “Really Sylvie… Are you serious? Do you honestly not remember any of this?”
    “Please, just tell me.”
    “You live in the house you inherited from Ethan’s mother after she died.”
    I covered my eyes with my hand. “Was it a plane crash? Is that how she died?”
    “Yes! So you do remember…”
    “Some things, at least.” I looked up, grasping for what I really knew. “Does Cassie work at the pub? Is there a Malcolm in the kitchen?”
    “Yes, they both work there and Cassie is your best friend. Thank God everything’s coming back to you.”
    I nodded, for at least some of this was familiar terrain.
    “Am I dating anyone?” I asked.
    “Not that I’m aware of,” Gram replied. “Though you don’t tell me everything. You tried to keep it a secret that you put your picture up on one of those Internet dating sites. That worries me, Sylvie. You need to be careful.”
    “I’m still single, then,” I said. “Somehow…not surprising. Have I ever mentioned a man named Derek?”
    Although the memory of a man by that name was fading fast—in the way dreams do when you wake up. Whereas they’re vivid for a few seconds, they quickly retreat into the realm of a lost memory and you can’t access them.
    A thick, rolling fog was passing in front of Derek’s face. Soon all I could remember was that he had dark hair.
    Even my conversation with Ethan the night before was fading.
    Gram shook her head. “That name doesn’t ring a bell.”
    I sat back and looked away, toward the window. I stared in a daze at the white clouds floating across the pale blue sky, then I returned my attention to my grandmother.
    “This is bizarre,” I said. “I feel very disconnected from everything you’re telling me. I don’t know what’s real.” My eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “What’s wrong with me? Do I have amnesia or something?”
    “I don’t know,” she replied. “But this is worrisome. Do you remember what happened to Jenn last year?”
    I searched my mind for memories of my younger sister. At least I knew who she was. I recalled us growing up together in Montana and the fact that we always spent our summers here in Maine with Gram and Grampy. I could picture her face, hear her voice from my childhood, clear as a bell.
    Tennis lessons, swimming camp, Gram’s house with the white hanging swing on the veranda where we sat and ate orange popsicles on hot summer days…
    More recent events, however, from adulthood, were less accessible. The shifting fog was