In Another Life

By Dana Caldarone

Tommy Louis returns from World War II a hero, but only to find that the life he left behind is gone forever. While he is physically unscarred, he is emotionally broken and without a clue as to whom he might turn to for help. In the process of delivering his best friend's last words to his widowed wife, Tommy meets Jeanne. She's just a kid, at that point, but soon her life spirals into a place she never imagined possible. Both of them seem hopelessly broken, yet their lives keep circling them back to each other. Are their shared experiences and their shared heritage enough to help them find a way to save each other? Will the circles of life that began a hundred years earlier, finally come around to complete themselves? And will that happen in a way that most readers wouldn't anticipate?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dana Caldarone
• Release date: Jun 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310692246

Dana Caldarone

If you've read my first published novel, No Permission Needed, you know more about me than most everyone, except for the members of my immediate family and the closest of my friends. For those who like to compartmentalize people, I am a simple man. I teach. I ride. I love my family. And now, I suppose I have to add that I write... again. I do these things with passion. Some would say I am obsessive. Call it what you like, it's the only way I know how to do things. If there is more you'd like to know about me or about the writing process that resulted in The Green Mountain Dream Trilogy, just contact me through Facebook or through this website. I'd be happy to answer any of your questions and I'd be interested in any thoughts you have about the story or the ideas behind it.

Book preview

This book is dedicated to my grandchildren, both current and yet to be born. I’m not the best grandfather they could have had.

But, I love them dearly.

If I was ever looking for a reason to carry on, there would be no need for me to look beyond them. Or their Nana.

This fourth book finally completes the Green Mountain Dream series. For me, it was a labor of passion and love. For my wife, a test of her patience.

The four-book series itself, is dedicated to my grandchildren’s grandchildren, whom I hope to meet someday.

In another life.

Prologue - Tommy

When the knock came at the front door, I was pretty sure who it was. Not many people come to visit. My wife had told me that an author was coming to interview me for a book he was writing. But it was Simon who told me who was really coming. Otherwise, I probably would have said no.

Honestly, I have no interest in meeting new people. Not at my age. I’ve already met more people than I ever wanted to. I’m content with my quiet life, living with Jeanne in our cottage on Long Pond. We were lucky to have the chance to reclaim it when Jeanne decided to sell the coffee shop on the waterfront and retire. The cottage had been my sanctuary for such a long time. I don’t really need a sanctuary anymore, at least not like I did in the past. Still, it’s good to be living here again.

I’m not as quick as I used to be, now that I’m 90. So it took me a while to get to the door. Long enough so that whoever was out there was knocking a second time. When I opened the door, I saw an older couple standing there. The man said to me, I’m sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for Tommy Louis. Are you Tommy Louis?

I looked at them for a moment, looking back and forth between the two of them. They didn’t look like I thought they would. But then, I thought, how could they? I knew them in another life.

Simon told me that you’d find me, I said to them. Took you long enough.

Simon? the woman asked me. How’s that possible?

You knew Simon, I said to her. And you’re asking me how that’s possible? Really, Abrianna?

Abrianna? the man said to me. No, this Is Patti and I’m Dana.

Sure, Gus, I said to him. I suppose in a way you’re right. But all that matters is you’re finally here, just like Simon said you’d be. So, come on in. Have a seat.

"Then you are Tommy Louis?" he asked me.

Well of course I am! Who the hell else would I be? I looked at Abrianna and said, "I was hoping there was a chance Gus might remember me. I guess not. I know it’s been a while. But maybe you remember me?"

I don’t know… for sure, she said, shaking her head and making a face like she was struggling to put the pieces of a puzzle together.

Well, it doesn’t really matter if you do or you don’t, I said. At least you’re both finally here. Come and sit with me. I have a story to tell you that you might find interesting.

Just then my wife came into the room. Hi, I’m Jeanne. Can I get you anything? Something to drink?

No, thanks, they said together, as they both got up after just sitting down on the sofa.

I’m Dana and this is my wife, Patti, Gus said.

Nice to meet you, Jeanne said with a smile.

Abrianna was staring at my wife as if she was looking at some kind of ghost. But I could hardly blame her. Not after what Simon said had happened to her.

You’re Jeanne? Abrianna said to my wife. Little Jeanne Pastoni from Chelsea?

"Well, Jeanne Louis now, since Tommy and I got married and not so little anymore," Jeanne said.

But I would have bet anything you would have married Dom, Abrianna said.

Jeanne just turned and looked at me.

"Oh, I’m so sorry, Abrianna said. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that… as much as I do remember, I must have missed a lot because of… well, because of the way things worked out back then. That’s mostly why we’re here. To understand."

I can barely believe it, Jeanne said, "but I guess Simon was right. You do remember, don’t you?"

I can barely believe it myself, sometimes, Abrianna said, looking a little embarrassed.

With all that’s happened, Gus said, we’ve come to believe that almost anything is possible, even if it’s beyond our current understanding of the way things work.

When he said that, for a minute I thought I was back at Camp Pendleton, listening to the old Gus talk. I knew right then, for sure, it was him.

Well, I said, you’ve come to hear our story and we’ve got a story to tell. Although it may take a while. Are you ready?

I’d like to record our conversation, with your permission of course, Gus said. It will make my job of writing the story a whole lot easier.

Record away, Gus, I said to him. You know, Jeanne makes the best cup of coffee on the planet. God knows she’s had enough experience.

I looked at Jeanne and she smiled at me.

I think I’d enjoy a cup, I said to her, if you don’t mind making some while Gus sets that thing up.

Not at all, she said. Can’t I make you two a cup?

Actually, I’d love some, Abrianna said. And I’m sure Dana would, too. Thanks.

And beginning just that way, Jeanne and I told them our story, which in some parts, was actually their story, too. Simon will be happy, I thought, to know the circle is finally complete.

Chapter 1 - April 2016 - Tommy

Unlike most people, I lived two separate lives. I was, in the same lifetime, two distinctly different people. My first life was as a kid, growing up in Brattleboro, Vermont. That life ended early in 1945 when I was part of the Marine assault on Iwo Jima. Everything about my life before Iwo Jima was pretty unremarkable. I could tell you about my father, who worked in a factory and drank too much, or my mother who held our family together, or my exploits in high school as a baseball player. I was a good student in school, but I was a better baseball player. They said I was good enough to think about the pros. I could hit pretty well, but I could cover the outfield like nobody else. They used to say I had a cannon for an arm. I could throw out guys at home plate, guys who thought I’d have no chance of getting them. Those were the days…

Eventually, I came to look back on all of that with a different perspective, though. As important as it all seemed to me at the time, after Iwo Jima, it was pretty unimportant. Maybe the only important thing about my first life, which actually managed to carry over into my second life, was my heritage. My mother and father were both Abenaki. I am what you now call a Native-American, but back then, there were lots of people who considered us a little less than human. My ability to do well in school and to play baseball, shielded me from much of that prejudice. Although, I had a pretty good idea of what was being said behind my back. I remember my mother telling me that being the son of Abenaki parents was nothing to be ashamed of… or proud of, either. She said it was like someone who was tall being proud of that. Being tall was neither an accomplishment to be proud of, nor a characteristic to be ashamed of, she explained to me. It was just what it was, not something we could choose even if we wanted it.

She encouraged me to concentrate more on the things I did, because they defined me as a human being. My heritage, she told me, was my cross to bear. It seems odd that she put it just that way, all things considered. So I concentrated, in my life before Iwo Jima, on always doing the right thing. Doing good things. Believing those actions would define who I was. And they did.

In my second life, the things I did also defined me. Except much of what I did felt neither right nor good. And my cross to bear, being Abenaki, turned out to be a gateway into a world that I might otherwise have only imagined. Without access to that world, I probably wouldn’t be here today.

My second life began late in 1945 when I returned to The States after surviving the fight for Iwo Jima. What happened in between our landing on that island and our departure from it, I don’t really consider part of either of my lives. It was more like a crossing over, from one to the other. I can’t really tell you all that much about what I experienced on Iwo Jima because, to be honest with you, I can’t remember most of it. I won a Medal of Honor for what I did there. But most of what I did to earn that medal, I only know about because I was told about it by my fellow Marines.

They told me I did some crazy-stupid-brave things while I was there. Things I mostly don’t remember. But I do remember, more clearly than I would like to, the actual turning point. The moment when the door to my first life slammed shut behind me. Early in the fight for that island, my best friend and fellow Marine, Gus Amario, died right beside me. He wasn’t doing anything overly heroic. He was just doing what a Marine does, bravely fighting for his country and protecting his fellow Marines. And he was doing it the only way Gus knew how… all out. But he was killed in action, as many were on that island from hell. I remember that moment clearly and the scene plays over and over in my mind, still to this day. He was the finest Marine… no, the finest human being I’ve ever known.

But then, just like that, he was gone.

What happened after, is just a blur to me. They tell me I fought like a man possessed. I attacked the enemy without regard for my own life. I threw grenade after grenade with deadly accuracy, or so they told me. I didn’t toss the grenades like they taught us to throw them. I threw them like a baseball from the outfield. Like I was throwing out runners at home plate. And I did it, most times, with bullets flying all around me. At least that’s what they told me and I believed them. Why would they lie? But I don’t actually remember most of it. It was like a bad dream… that I eventually woke up from, finding myself back on a ship with the survivors of Iwo Jima and on our way back home. I guess my good arm kept me alive back there… throwing grenade after grenade. But beyond that, nothing from my first life seemed to matter while I was on that ship leaving that island… or any time after that.

Something broke inside me during that fight on Iwo Jima. I never got hit by enemy fire, but I came home as damaged as some of the guys who did get hit. My damage, though, was nearly invisible. Today, they would have called it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. But back then, it was just battle fatigue. It made it sound like if you just rested, you’d be better. Nobody really knew what it was or what to do about it.

So, to almost everyone who saw me afterward, I was a war hero. Nothing less. They didn’t want to see anything else. And I didn’t really want to show them anything else. So that’s what I was… a war hero. But while they were congratulating me and thanking me, mostly I was thinking that I wished I’d died with Gus over there. Or better still, instead of Gus. In the end, even my mother realized that being Abenaki was no longer my cross to bear. Not anymore.

Still being alive was.

I had left behind a nightmarish world where a decent night’s sleep was impossible. A world where you never had a decent meal. A world where the heat and the smells of sulfur, gunpowder, and death were overwhelming. A world where every word you said to the men around you might be the last word they would ever hear. Every breath you took might be your last breath ever. I left that all behind… at least physically. And then I returned to a world filled with people who were absorbed by the most trivial of things. Like what’s for dinner. Or what to wear that day. Or whether it might rain or not. Or who might win the World Series. I secretly despised all of them for their shallowness. For their obsessions with the inconsequential.

I withdrew. Pulled back into myself. Walled myself off from everyone. I avoided talking about the thing that dominated my thoughts, which was all that had happened when I fought in the war. In the frame of mind I was in, most people became as inconsequential to me as the insignificant things they cared about. The transformation everyone expected me to make was going to be harder than becoming a Marine was… to say the least.

And I was in no condition to make it.

Chapter 2 - September 1945 - Tommy

After the war was over, we were sent back to The States and given 30 days leave. It was September of 1945, when I found myself back in Brattleboro, Vermont. Back home to a hero’s welcome. All the guys I knew, and even some that I didn’t know, wanted to shake my hand. All the women wanted to hug me. Some of them actually kissed me. But my girlfriend, Katie, had picked up with another guy while I was gone. That was a little tough to take, in some ways. But in other ways, it was kind of a relief. I probably shouldn’t have stopped writing her.

My mother told me that Katie was going to come by the house to explain it all to me. I guess she felt like she had to, but I kept hoping she’d change her mind about coming by. I’d heard that Katie was pretty torn up about it. People think differently about you when they think you cheated on a decorated war hero. I’m sure that bothered her a lot. But not enough to dump the new guy she was with. I knew I should have been really upset about it. But, feeling as broken and fragile as I did, I just couldn’t let it touch me.

I couldn’t.

The day she came by, she found me sitting in the living room. I was staring out the window. The radio was on, but I wasn’t really listening to it. I shut it off when she walked in and I stood up. But I didn’t go over to hug her or anything. I just sat back down on the sofa. She sat in the overstuffed chair across from me. She seemed even prettier than I remembered she was. But I couldn’t let that make a difference. Still, a small part of me thought it should.

How’ve you been, Tommy? she asked me, after she sat down on the edge of the chair, leaning toward me slightly.

I’m good… I’m good, I said, with a hint of irritation in my voice. To me, that was a really stupid question for her to ask me. I knew she was just trying to be polite, but it bothered me more than it should have.

You must be glad to be back home, she said with a weak, nervous smile.

Of course.

There’s something I have to tell you… well, I’m sure you’ve already heard… but I wanted to tell you myself. While you were gone, I fell for someone else. It wasn’t like I tried to. It just happened. You understand. Right?

She stopped and just looked at me, maybe thinking that I was going to say something or at least show something on my face, but there was no chance of that.

"Heck, Tommy, I wasn’t even sure you’d be coming home. You stopped writing me! You just stopped writing! How could you do that to me?"

I just couldn’t write, I said, shrugging my shoulders.

You know, for a while, I actually thought you might have been killed.

I shrugged again and said nothing. I looked her in the eye the whole time, but I knew my face was showing nothing. I might as well have been looking at the wall.

Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry that…

It’s okay, Katie, I said, interrupting her.

"It’s okay? she said with a little anger in her voice. That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say? From the look on your face… I’m not sure you even care."

I just sighed. I wanted to make sure that my voice revealed how much I was annoyed by all of this. What do you want me to say, Katie? I’m sorry I was too busy to write you while I was killing Japs? Or maybe you want me to say that I’m sorry I made it back? Is that it?

She didn’t answer. I knew I had to try harder to get her to leave.

"Maybe all this would be easier for you if I had died over there? Believe me, most days I’m sorry I made it back. I wish I’d been killed back there with the other Marines who didn’t make it. Would that have made it easier for you? I know it would have for me."

She just looked at me and started welling up with tears. But there was no way I was going to let that get to me. It was time for me to end this pointless and dangerous conversation.

Look, Katie, I’m a little busy here. Lots of catching up to do… you know. And I’m sure you’ve got places you’d rather be… things you’d rather be doing. So, go ahead, I said gesturing toward the door. You can go now. It’s okay.

She stood up, with tears streaming down her face, and headed toward the door. I just sat there. Then she stopped, wiped away her tears, collected herself and said, What the hell happened to you over there? You’re not the Tommy I remember.

I hesitated for a moment. I was thinking about what she’d said. And I knew she was absolutely right. Yeah, I suppose that’s true. But you’re not the Katie I remember, either. The Katie I remember wouldn’t have cheated on me while I was off fighting a war. So, let’s just leave it at that. See you ‘round, Katie.

Yeah, she said. See you ‘round.

And then she left.

It seemed strange not to feel a sense of loss when she walked out that door. I actually winced when the door closed behind her. I had loved that girl… in another life. Now she was gone. But I just couldn’t let it touch me like it should have. I couldn’t let that happen. I thought for a moment about getting up and going after her. About fighting to get her back. But there was no way I could be with her. Not the way I was. I knew she’d be better off without me. I had to let her go.

For a while, I just sat there, looking out the window. I was thinking that I couldn’t ignore my dreams of Gus anymore. Yes… the dreams. I dreamed about Gus all the time. It wasn’t enough that he told me a few days before he died, that I had to go find his wife, Abrianna, to give her the message he made me promise I would give her. But even after he was dead, after we left Iwo Jima, he visited me in my dreams regularly. In those dreams he told me over and over that I had to find his wife and give her the message. It was a crazy message, about finding her in the next life. I tried to put it out of my mind. I tried to forget about what he asked me to do. But my dreams wouldn’t let me forget.

As much as I dreaded the thought of it, I knew I needed to head north, to Chelsea, to find Abrianna and give her his message.

* * *

The Amario house was nothing like what I expected it would be. Gus had always spoke humbly of where he came from. He never mentioned anything about how big his home was, except to say that they had more room than they needed. I guess I expected that a house in the rural town of Chelsea would be modest. But when I got there and saw it for myself, I was surprised. The front of the house was broad and looked to have two high-ceiling stories plus what was probably a full-height attic. But it also had depth. The house went a considerable ways back toward the huge barn that was behind it. All in all, it looked to me like it was big enough to be a small inn. That was probably a good thing, when Gus had half the town over his house for Sunday dinners. Well, at least that’s what it sounded like he did, when he told me the stories of how a lot of them in the town got through The Depression together. Seeing it also made me wonder what Gus’ father had been thinking when he bought the house in the first place… and then having only one child.

I parked the car right in front of the house and took a moment to collect my thoughts. Actually, I was making sure my defenses were intact. This will be okay, I told myself. You can just do this. Get it done. And then get the hell out of there. I got out of the car and walked up to the house.

I took in a deep breath and let it out before I knocked on the door. Part of me was hoping that no one was home. But then the door opened and there she was. Abrianna seemed even more beautiful to me than Gus had described her. He’d had a little picture of her that he looked at all the time. Seeing her in person made me realize that the picture didn’t do her justice.

What can I do for you? she asked me with a friendly smile.

I removed my hat and tucked it under my arm. Are you Abrianna Amario? I asked her. It was a stupid question that I knew the answer to.

Yes, I am, she said, nodding slightly.

My name is Tommy Louis. I served with your husband, Gus.

She just looked at me… a look filled with both wonder and dread.

If this is a bad time, ma’am, I can come back another time, I said, wishing I had never come. I was actually hoping she would say it was a bad time.

No, no, not at all, she said. Come in, please, come in.

When I walked in, I saw that directly in front of me was a stairway going up. To my left was a very long dining room. To the right was a big living room. She led me through the living room and into the kitchen. When we walked in, I saw a man and a woman sitting at the kitchen table. Abrianna introduced me to Simon and Mary Ann.

Just looking at Simon, I knew who he was before Abrianna introduced us. I knew from all the stories Gus had told me about him. I knew because of the way he looked at me. Or maybe I knew because I’m Abenaki. I could somehow sense that I was in the presence of a Shaman, even though I had never met one before. I had always thought that a Shaman was part of the stuff that myths were made of… until Gus told me all his stories.

Simon, Abrianna asked him, how did you know Tommy was coming?

You knew I was coming? I asked him.

Simon just shrugged. Looking into his eyes, any doubt I might have had, about who he was and what he was capable of, just evaporated.

I sat down with them and let my hands trace over the marks and small dents in the dark wood of their well-used kitchen table. Looking at Mary Ann, it was easy for me to picture a younger Gus sitting at that table with her daughter, Margaret, whom he called his adopted daughter. I pictured him teaching her to read and write, while under my fingers, I felt the impressions made by their pencils through the paper they wrote on. The kitchen felt like home, with the smells of coffee and fresh-baked pie. And just then I wished I had known Gus all my life. I felt cheated for not having had that chance. But then I thought that maybe I would have been better off if I had never known him at all. The coffee being poured into a cup in front of me brought me back from my thoughts.

The four of us sat and drank coffee and ate peach cobbler made from peaches picked from Gus’ precious orchard. We talked for hours. I told stories about Gus and what a great guy he was and how much he loved his wife and his son and his friends. I was even able to tell them the story about his death… although much of it was a lie. I had convinced myself that the truth would do no one any good. I had begun to feel almost comfortable telling those stories… like they were just stories and I wasn’t really there when they happened. As if I was separate from them. Or like they weren’t really part of my life. I was comfortable enough to have let my guard down a bit. At least, I was until they asked me about the medal on my chest.

For a moment, I thought I was going to have another episode like the ones I’d been having. It didn’t seem to take much to get me to that point. If that happened, I’d have only two options. I could leave abruptly, before they’d witness me breaking down right in front of them. An exit like that would be difficult for them to understand or even accept. Somebody might even come after me, to make sure I was all right. That wouldn’t be good at all.

Or I could stay and hope it passed quietly. But if it didn’t… once I was in that condition, I felt like I was no longer in control of what I might say or do. Afterward, I’d have to try to explain what was wrong with me to these people whom I’d just met. What was wrong with me? That was something I didn’t even know myself. Still, I would need to convince them that I was all right, when it would be obvious that I wasn’t. Either way, it was going to be a disaster.

I was on the verge of total panic, when Simon somehow managed to say just the right things to me. He pulled me back from over the edge and made it possible for me to continue without falling apart in front of them. I didn’t know if they saw the flash of terror that must have crossed my face. Or if they did see it, what they thought it was. But then Abrianna asked me a question about Gus and I answered her. And I was back to telling stories, with my nearly expressionless face, about my friend and the time I spent with him.

On the way out the door, I handed Abrianna the painting of the peach blossom she had mailed to Gus. I was so nervous about just getting through the ordeal that I almost forgot to give it to her. Regrettably, it was a little tattered. But luckily it had somehow survived the war, and in better shape than I had. I had just about made it to my car and was ready to make my escape when I saw Simon walking around from the back of the house.

There is someplace I must show you, he said to me, as if I had not just said goodbye to all of them.

Where, I asked him with my hand still on the car door handle.

Just up the road. We can walk there, if you don’t mind a little walk.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to convince myself that if it was just Simon, it might be okay. Then I let go of the door handle and said, Let’s go.

We walked for a ways in silence, until I finally asked him, Where are we going, Simon?

To the cabin near the top of The Mountain, he answered.

The cabin that Gus told me he built? The one up on the field? I asked, turning to look at him as we walked.

Simon just nodded. Somehow I had a feeling that this was going to be more than just a chance to see my friend’s handiwork or the beautiful views Gus had always talked about. We turned off the town road and onto an old logging road. We continued to walk at a brisk pace. The rough road went up and up for what seemed like a mile or two. I was in really good shape, but I was still a little winded before we got to the field. Simon, on the other hand, clearly wasn’t.

When we got to the field and started to walk through the peach orchard, I immediately saw that Gus was right. This place was special… surrounded by mountains in the distance and with the cabin placed perfectly on the highpoint of the field. I could see why he felt he belonged in this place. When we got to the cabin, we sat down on the home-made Adirondack chairs that were on the back porch.

This Mountain that we are on, Simon said, looking out into the distance, watched over Gus and Anna for years. If only Gus had not left the protection of The Mountain, he would still be alive today. But nothing could be done. He had to go. Now his spirit lives here, kept company only by the spirit of The Mountain, waiting for his wife to be with him… for a chance to find her again in the next life.

Why are you telling me this, Simon?