The Color of the Season

Book 7: The Color of Heaven Series

by Julianne MacLean

Genres: Holiday books; Holiday Romance; Fall & winter reads; Ghost; Family Life; Literary Fiction; Magical Realism; Sagas; Visionary & Metaphysical; Clean & Wholesome Romance

Synopsis

From USA Today bestselling author Julianne MacLean comes the next instalment in her popular Color of Heaven series - a gripping, emotional tale about real life magic that touches us all during the holiday season…

Boston cop, Josh Wallace, is having the worst day of his life. First, he’s dumped by the woman he was about to propose to, then everything goes downhill from there when he is shot in the line of duty. While recovering in the hospital, he can’t seem to forget the woman he wanted to marry, nor can he make sense of the vivid images that flashed before his eyes when he was wounded on the job. As the holiday season approaches, everything he once believed about his life begins to shift when he meets Leah James, an enigmatic resident doctor who somehow holds the key to both his past and his future. Through his connection with Leah—and the unbelievable journey she takes him on--Josh soon learns that miracles can happen to anyone—especially at Christmastime…

Release date: November 11, 2014

Publisher: Julianne MacLean Publishing Inc.

Print pages: 280

Sample

The Color of the Season

By Julianne MacLean

  

Prologue

 

Josh Wallace

This past holiday season, I received the greatest gift imaginable—the gift of love. Or maybe it was the gift of life, or wisdom, or a combination of all those things. I’m still not entirely sure. All I know is that I am transformed.

Sometimes I look back on what happened and wonder if it was some kind of stress-induced hallucination. The doctor I told tried to convince me of that, but others were open-minded about my experience and admitted freely that they didn’t have all the answers. That what happened to me was outside their realm of experience.

What I am referring to is my unexpected encounter with the afterlife.

Who would have guessed that such remarkable things would happen to a man like me? A cop who carried a gun, never went to church, and considered any type of spiritualism to be silly new age stuff. That was for people who were weak and afraid of the real world, people who needed something else to believe in. Something to help them cope. Or so I thought.

I’ll be the first to admit I was naive in that area, and I viewed the world, and my place in it, very superficially.

“What you see is what you get,” I used to say.

Who knew there was so much more beneath, and above, the surface of absolutely everything?

 

Chapter One

A heavy rain was falling when I got out of bed that fateful morning, which seemed fitting, considering I was about to get dumped. I’d felt it in my gut all through the night, churning inside me like a rancid meal. I’d hardly slept a wink.

I rose from bed and stood at the paned window of my Boston flat, watching violent gusts of wind sweep raindrops across the asphalt in the street. Mist rose up from the ground, while leaves on the maple trees along the sidewalk fluttered and the branches swayed.

My body tensed and my head throbbed as I imagined Carla out there somewhere, ignoring my calls.

Because she was with him.

What were they doing right now? I wondered irritably. At this very moment?

I bowed my head and leaned forward over the white windowsill, bracing my weight on my knuckles and clenched fists, breathing deep and slow.

Hell. I needed a cup of coffee.

Turning away from the window, I moved into the kitchen to brew a pot, then poured myself a bowl of cereal, which I ate on the sofa while watching the sports channel on television.

I checked my phone again for a text from Carla. Still…nothing. 

A part of me wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, because I knew I wasn’t the most rational guy in the world when it came to cheating girlfriends. I’d been burned once before, so I had a small problem with jealousy.

But what if she’d been in a car accident on her way home yesterday and was in a coma at the hospital and couldn’t get in touch? If that was the case, I was going to feel pretty guilty.

But it wasn’t the case, and I knew it. I’d have heard something.

No, she hadn’t texted or called because she didn’t know how to tell me it was over. She felt badly about standing me up for dinner the other night and probably wasn’t ready to face me and explain herself.

I felt a muscle twitch at my jaw.

Setting my empty cereal bowl down, I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the blue velvet ring box on the coffee table.

Thirty-five hundred bucks. That’s how much that gigantic sucker had cost, and I’d had no choice but to set up a financing plan with monthly payments because I didn’t have that kind of cash just sitting around. I probably should have chosen something smaller, but I wanted to make an impression.

Looking back on it, I suppose I thought—with my limited view of the world at the time—that the bigger and flashier the ring, the more tempting my offer would be.

I reached forward to open the box.

Yep, it was one blindingly gorgeous ring. If she could just see it and give me a chance to pop the question… Surely there was still hope. She barely knew the other guy.

In that moment, my phone vibrated with an incoming text. I quickly picked it up. 

 

Chapter Two

A half hour later, I opened my front door to find Carla standing on my veranda, shivering in the wind and rain. Her long blond hair was pulled up in a clip at the back, and she looked as classy as ever.

It was astounding, how physically attracted I was to her. Even now.

Especially now.

“Hey,” I coolly said. “Come in.”

I lived on the second-floor apartment of a century home that had been converted into a rental property, so there wasn’t much room in the narrow entrance hall. It certainly wasn’t an ideal location to hold a conversation about the rest of our lives together, so I started up the stairs.

“Want a cup of coffee?” I asked, more than a little aware of the chill in my tone, but I couldn’t mask it. I was pissed.

“Sure,” she replied, unbuttoning her belted trench coat as she followed.

We reached the second level and I went to pour her a cup while she hung her coat and purse on a hook in the hall. By the time she joined me in the kitchen, I was stirring in the cream and sugar.

“Here.” I held out the mug.

She accepted it without meeting my gaze and glanced around the apartment. “Thank you.” 

An ominous silence ensued. The tension was thick as mud.

“Should we go and sit down?” she suggested.

I nodded and gestured toward the sofa in the living room, where we’d spent many evenings wrapped in each other’s arms, watching late night movies.

She chose the leather chair by the window, however, which I considered a bad sign.

I sank onto the sofa and watched her sip her coffee. Still she hadn’t looked me in the eye. Then, at last, she set the cup down on the table. Naturally, after she called, I’d moved the ring box and placed it in a drawer in my bedroom. At least for now.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” Carla said at last. “I hope you were able to cancel the reservations without any trouble.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not like they bill you for it.”

She nodded and looked down at the floor. “No, of course not.”

Another awkward silence rolled through the room, then she cupped her forehead with her hand and shook her head. “God, I’m really sorry, Josh. You’re angry with me and you have every right to be. I know things have been…strained between us lately.”

“Have they?” I asked, needing her to elaborate, because honestly, I’d thought everything was fine. Well, mostly fine. Maybe there was a part of me that knew she didn’t belong to me completely, and that’s why I’d bought the ring.

Carla let out a sigh. “Yes. I think maybe, we moved a little too fast, right from the beginning. We’d both been through some rough times with relationships that didn’t end well, and that’s why we wanted so badly for this to work.”

“I thought it was working,” I replied. “And I’m still not convinced it isn’t. We’ve been together almost a year, Carla, and we’re good together. You know that. We have great chemistry and we both want the same things—to get married someday and raise a family. Everything was fine until…”

I stopped myself, because I needed to hear her say it.

“Until I flew to Canada to be with Seth in the hospital,” she replied.

The muscles in my shoulders clenched.

A few months ago, Carla had received a phone call about her late husband, Seth, who had died in a plane crash the year before. But apparently they’d found him alive—or so they thought. In the end, it turned out that the man floating on an iceberg in the middle of the North Atlantic wasn’t Carla’s husband after all, but some other passenger on the plane who had claimed Seth’s belongings.

The man’s name was Aaron Cameron—and I wanted to wring his scrawny neck.

Carla sat forward. “I don’t know how to explain it, but something happened to me when I was in Newfoundland, and I’m as confused by it as you must be. All I know is that I need to figure this out, and in order to do that, I have to be with Aaron.”

My gut squeezed with nausea. I shut my eyes, clenched both hands into fists. “You barely know him. You spent a couple of days with him in the hospital, and now you think he’s the great love of your life.”      

“I’m sorry,” she continued in a gentle tone. “I wish you knew how hard this has been for me. I hate doing this, but I don’t want to lead you on, or heaven forbid, cheat on you while I figure out what I want.”

My eyes flew open. “Figure it out? So you’re not even sure?”

She sat back and stared at me. “Like you said, I barely know him, but there’s something between us that…” She paused. “I don’t know how to explain it, Josh, but it just feels right. It’s as if we were meant to find each other and I need to explore that.”

Meant to find each other? Seriously?

Reeling with frustration, I rose to my feet and went into the kitchen to pace around for a minute or two. After I cooled the anger in my blood, I returned to the living room and stood on the carpet, facing her.

“We have a good thing here,” I said, “but you want to throw it all away for a guy you’ve only spent a few days with? I thought you were the rational type with both feet on the ground, but maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. Maybe the so-called ‘magic of the universe’ is doing me a favor here, because I sure as hell wouldn’t walk away from what we have to go on some ridiculous quest for my soul mate. You know I don’t believe in that crap, and I sure as hell hope you don’t expect me to wait around for you while you go and do that.”

She stared at me with something that resembled pity. It only served to piss me off even more.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, “but you’re right, I suppose. The universe is doing you a favor, because this isn’t meant to be. If it was, everything would be clear. All the pieces would have fallen into place.”

“It was clear,” I reminded her. “At least, it was for me. And you don’t really believe that, do you? That the universe will take care of everything? We have to take control of our lives, Carla, and make things happen the way we want them to happen.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t take control,” she argued. “I’m just saying that sometimes you have to follow your gut.”

“And your gut is telling you that you should run off with a guy you barely know,” I reiterated. “That sounds really intelligent.” I tapped my forefinger on my temple. “Good to see you’re using the old noggin for these major life decisions.”

“I’m sorry, Josh. I never meant to hurt you.”

Well, you did.

My stomach lurched.

“You can show yourself out,” I eventually said.

All the color drained from her face. Then she stood up.

I stepped out of the way to let her pass. Slowly, she collected her coat and purse from the hook on the wall while I stood watching with a tight jaw that made my entire skull throb.

Don’t go, I wanted to say. Please stay. You’re making a mistake. We can work this out. I have a ring for you in the other room. Would that change your mind if I offered it to you now?

But I didn’t say any of that, because I had my pride to consider.

Instead I stood in anger, glaring at her while my head pounded with tension.

“I’m very sorry,” she said again. “I hope one of these days you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“Don’t bet on it,” I replied, and felt an instantaneous regret for lashing out at her that way—at this woman I loved. Still loved.

But this was the second time I’d been cheated on, and I was bitter.

I was terribly, terribly bitter.

 

Chapter Three

A few years back, I fell in love with a beautiful woman named Brooke, who I intended to marry. We met in an upscale restaurant downtown not long after I entered the police force. She was fresh out of college, working an entry-level position with a large marketing firm.

I still remember what she wore that night—a skinny black pencil skirt, glossy white blouse, red, patent leather heels. Her black hair was sleek and shiny and hung to a sharp point at her waist. She had an ivory complexion and her smile electrified the whole room. The physical attraction between us was off the charts and we immediately entered into a relationship that lasted well over a year.

All I’d wanted was to be with her forever and maybe that was my problem. I lost sight of everything else in my life. When things eventually settled into a slower pace between us, I wasn’t prepared for the possibility that she might get bored.

Which she did.

That became obvious when I invited Kevin, an old college buddy of mine to come and stay with me for the weekend. Brooke soon decided he was far more exciting than I was.

I’ve since come to realize that she’d always been attracted to men she didn’t know very well. I suppose I was in that category when we first met in the restaurant. But when the excitement faded, so did her level of interest.

I walked in on Brooke and Kevin in my apartment, in bed together—which was a double betrayal because Kevin had been one of my best friends since freshman year. I took it pretty hard when he did that to me.

Last I’d heard, he and Brooke dated for about six months, then went their separate ways. I haven’t spoken to either of them since, and it was a long time before I felt ready to date again, let alone to enter into another serious relationship. For a while there, I thought I would never be ready.

Until I met Carla.

*   *   *

I was scheduled to work the graveyard shift on the day Carla dumped me, which at least spared me the agony of going to bed alone, tossing and turning, and over-analyzing what went wrong between us.

I’d done enough of that over the past few days when she stopped answering my calls.

But really… What had I done wrong? I was a good guy with a decent job with the Boston Police Department. Sure, I was only an officer in the traffic division, but I was young, educated and ambitious, and I had my eye on the next level. I was confident that eventually I’d slide over to the routine patrol division, learn the ropes there, and sooner or later get promoted to lieutenant. Or I could apply for advanced training for the SWAT unit anytime.

As far as my personal life was concerned, I was as loyal and family-oriented as any man could be. I loved my mom and treated her like a queen. I enjoyed cooking and didn’t mind doing dishes and laundry. I’d always loved kids––I certainly had plenty of experience with my nieces and nephews. I adored Carla’s teenage daughter Kaleigh and had tried my best to get to know her.

When all was said and done, I had been more than ready to walk down the aisle and become a husband and stepdad. I’d thought Carla wanted that too. I believe she did want it.

At least until she flew up to Canada to meet Robinson Crusoe.

 

Chapter Four

 

As soon as I got into the squad car shortly after midnight and started up the engine, my partner Scott set his coffee in the cup holder and cocked his head.

“So what happened between you and Carla?” he asked. “Did she ever get back to you?”

I shifted into reverse, backed up, and drove out of the station parking lot toward the turnpike.

“Yeah,” I replied. “She came over this morning and finally said what needed to be said, so at least now I know.”

“All, hell,” Scott said. “How are you holding up?”

I tugged down on the brim of my hat. “Let’s just say I’ve had better days.”

“What about the ring?” Scott asked. “Did you have a chance to give it to her, or at least tell her about it?”

I scoffed. “Are you kidding? After she stood me up and spent the weekend with another guy, I didn’t think it was an opportune time.”

Scott picked up his coffee and sipped it. “Sorry to hear that. You guys seemed good together. You sure as hell looked good, like some Hollywood power couple or something.” He paused and glanced out the window while the vehicle tires hissed through puddles on the wet pavement. “But listen—maybe if you tell her about the ring, it might change her mind and make her realize what she’s walking away from. You know how girls are about diamonds. The sparkles make them all weepy. My wife practically fainted in my arms when I proposed to her.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “She seems pretty into the other guy—like she thinks they’re soul mates or something, which I really don’t get, and I just can’t forgive. We’ve been together for a year. How could she just flick a switch and do an about-face like that?” I waved a hand over the steering wheel. “I really need to let this go. I’m starting to sound like a broken record—a pathetic, heartbroken sap. Somebody, please, just shoot me now.”

Scott chuckled. “Hey, I understand. She delivered a blow. Seemed like it came out of nowhere, too.” He patted my shoulder. “You’ll get through it, buddy. We just need to find you a new girl. A really hot girl.”

I nodded because that was the “guy” thing to do, even though I had no interest in hot new girls. All I wanted was Carla.

“Do you see that?” Scott asked, pointing at the silver minivan in front of us, weaving back and forth over the center line.

Scott called in the license plate number to the dispatcher while I activated the siren and flashing blues.

Chapter Five

“I’ll get this,” Scott said, raising the hood of his slicker and opening the car door at the shoulder of the road. “But you could order the rain to stop, if you get a minute.”

“Sure thing.” I leaned forward slightly to squint up at the dark, overcast sky while water sluiced down over the windshield.

While I kept the wipers moving at full speed and let the car idle to prevent the windows from fogging up, Scott got out and approached the vehicle.

Attentively, I watched him tap a knuckle on the window of the van and begin to converse with the driver. I noted another passenger in front—a woman leaning across the console to speak to Scott, though it was difficult to make her out through the blinking rear tail lights and heavy rain.

Scott eventually moved a few feet back and gestured for the driver to step out of the vehicle.

Must be a DUI, I thought. Not surprising, given how the van was weaving about.

Just as I reached to unfasten my seatbelt, however, I heard a gunshot. I looked up to see Scott stumbling backwards onto the road.

Shit!

Within seconds, I had radioed for backup and was out of the squad car, going for my gun.

“Freeze! Drop your weapon!” I shouted, darting a quick glance at Scott. He was conscious and clutching his shoulder.

By now the perp had scrambled back into the minivan. The passenger door opened and the woman fell onto the road, screaming hysterically. “Help me!”

“Stay down!” I shouted at her.

Just as I reached the driver’s side door, the tires skidded over the wet pavement, spitting up loose gravel. The van fishtailed out of there.

The next thing I knew, I was aiming my .38 and considering firing off a couple of rounds at the left rear tire, but I didn’t have to. The driver hit the brakes for some reason and the minivan did a 180 on the slick pavement. It skidded into the guard rail about a hundred yards away.

“You okay?” I asked Scott, who was rising unsteadily to his feet. I reached out to give him a hand.

“Yeah. The little bastard got me in the arm. I think it just grazed me.”

“Get the woman,” I said, hearing the sound of the minivan engine sputter. The suspect was attempting to make another escape. “Backup is on the way.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. The front door of the van swung open. The suspect hopped out and sprinted down the off-ramp.

“I’m going after him,” I said to Scott, and broke into a run.

 

Chapter Six

I barely registered Scott’s voice calling after me, telling me to wait for backup. I probably should have listened to him, but I couldn’t let the suspect get away. Not after he’d shot my partner at close range.

Running at a fast clip down the off ramp, I radioed in my location and followed the perp into an auto body repair shop parking lot.

I was breathing heavily by then, aware of the sound of my rapid footfalls across the pavement, splashing through puddles.

The suspect disappeared around the back of the building. I followed briskly, pausing at the corner to check my weapon and peer out to make sure he wasn’t positioned there, waiting for me.

He had gained some distance and was scrambling up and over a chain-link fence. I immediately resumed my pursuit and climbed the fence to propel myself over.

Inside the repair shop, a dog barked viciously. An outdoor light flicked on, illuminating the rear lot. I was almost over the fence when a door opened and a large German shepherd was released from within. He came bounding toward me, barking and growling.

I dropped to the ground on the other side of the fence.

“Police officer in pursuit of a suspect!” I shouted at the man who followed his dog across the lot.

“He’s heading that way!” the man helpfully replied, pointing, but I didn’t stop to acknowledge his assistance because the suspect was escaping toward a residential area across the street.

“Stop! Police!” I shouted.

To my surprise, just as the shooter reached a low hedge in front of a small bungalow…instead of jumping over it, he halted on the spot and whirled around.

I trained my gun on him. “Drop your weapon!”

He raised both arms out to the side.

“I said drop your weapon!”

I blinked a few times to clear my vision in the blur of the rain. Then… 

Crack!

A searing pain shot through my stomach, just below the bottom of my vest. Then another crack! I felt my thigh explode.

Somehow I managed to fire off a few rounds before sinking to the ground. The suspect did the same.

In that instant, two squad cars came skidding around the corner, sirens wailing and lights flashing.     

Slowly, wearily, finding it difficult to breathe, I lay down on my back in the middle of the street and removed my hat as I stared up at the gray night sky. A cold, hard rain washed over my face. I began to shiver.

Vaguely, I was aware of the other two units pulling to a halt nearby. I turned my head to watch two officers in raincoats approach the suspect, who was face down in the ditch in front of the hedge.

Then rapid footsteps, growing closer…

“Josh, are you okay?”

I looked up at Gary, a rookie who had offered me a stick of gum in the break room before I’d headed out that night. I nodded my head, but felt woozy. “I think I’m hit.”

“Yeah,” he replied, glancing uneasily at my abdomen. “Help’s on the way. Hang in there, buddy. You’re going to be fine.”

Feeling chilled to the bone, I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

By now Gary was applying pressure to my stomach, which hurt like hell. He shouted over his shoulder, “Need some help over here!”

I clenched my jaw against the burning agony in my guts and leg, and heard more sirens.

“Will they be here soon?” I asked with a sickening mixture of panic and dread.

“Yeah,” Gary replied. “Any second now. Just hang on.”

“It’s cold,” I whispered. “I should have worn the raincoat.”

More footsteps. I felt no pain, only relief but was drifting off. It was hard to focus.

Another cop knelt down beside me.

I labored to focus on his face.

“MacIntosh,” I said. “Can you call Carla for me? Tell her I’m sorry about this morning. Tell her I love her. I didn’t mean what I said. I should have walked her to the door.”

“You can tell her yourself,” MacIntosh replied.

His patronizing response roused a wave of anger in me.

“No.” I grabbed his wrist and spoke through clenched teeth. “I need you to promise me… Promise me you’ll tell her, or I swear I’ll knock your head off.”

“All right, all right,” he replied. “I’ll tell her.”

That was the last thing I remembered from that day.

What happened next was strange and incredible. From that moment on, my life became divided into two halves—everything that happened before the shooting, and everything that happened after.