The Owl: A Novel of Extraordinary Fantasy

By Allan Sussman

In 400 BC while SOCRATES the Greek philosopher who shaped Western philosophy and his student PLATO stroll through an enchanted fortress they encounter an extraordinary Being who possesses the key to immortality. Over 2000 years later SOCRATO SCHAPIRELLI a direct descendant of Socrates uncovers a secret competition in Boston whereby 3 courageous contestants, psychiatrist LUKE TALBOT, ophthalmologist MARNI RIVERS and performance artist JAMIE DAWNE vie to be chosen as The One. The victor will achieve the gift of immortality. To the ruthless scientist MARGOT PAYNE, head of the most powerful dynasty in America, her son JONATHAN and her daughter TARA, conquerors who will stop at nothing, the key in securing eternity for themselves and acquiring the secret to immortality lies with the capture of THE OWL, the extraordinary Being who has survived despite thousands of years of pursuit. A nefarious plan is launched to capture this wondrous Being and acquire the secret to its power; a force if unleashed threatens to change the course of the modern world. A deadly race begins in the sinister, threatening fortress known as The Tomb where nightmares come alive. Through trials by astonishing disasters and unimaginable battles, their inventive genius and relentless drive to survive bring them to a final, spine-chilling confrontation in the very heart of their domain - The Tomb with the clock ticking against devastating odds a confrontation in which Luke, Marni and Jamie gain triumph only at the last seconds as a shocking secret is finally revealed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 16, 2009
• ISBN: 9781425148591

Allan Sussman

Allan is the author of THE OWL, a novel of extraordinary fantasy which is based on a true story. He is also writing THE OWL screenplay which will soon be a major film. Allan is the writer, composer and lyricist of ‘THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO –THE MUSICAL.” Allan studied drama and creative writing in college and is a graduate of the Commercial Institute in New York – regarded as one of the finest programs for Broadway theatre. Allan’s first work was a dramatic play, ‘Staff’ about a group of dysfunctional elementary school teachers. Allan is the ultimate story-teller who has worked and lived in Thailand for 3 years where he worked as a writer/producer on several films and television series. THE OWL is Allan’s first novel. THE BRAZILIAN is Allan’s next project, one he is passionate about because it is the exciting story of Brazil’s independence and freedom from slavery. The screenplay of THE BRAZILIAN was written by Monica de Albuquerque and Allan and is based on Monica’s autobiography. Monica and Allan are the film’s producers as well. Allan is the father of three beautiful daughters and lives and works in New York, Los Angeles and Europe. Allan is the writer/producer of the following works: THE BRAZILIAN (by Monica de Albuquerque & Allan Sussman) THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO – THE MUSICAL DOC JOCKS EVIL CONDUCT FINAL COMBAT THE GOTH LIGHT OF THE ECLIPSE PRINCE OF THE GAME SEX, BLOOD & MADNESS THUNDERLIGHT TO KILL THE GREEN YOU BELONG TO ME

Book preview

THE OWL

A NOVEL OF EXTRAORDINARY FANTASY

BY

ALLAN SUSSMAN

THIS IS A THUNDERLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT BOOK

PUBLISHED BY THUNDERLIGHT PUBLISHING

www.thunderlightent.com

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© Copyright 2009 by Allan Sussman

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by ThunderLight Publishing, a division of ThunderLight Entertainment Inc., New York and simultaneously in Canada by ThunderLight Publishing of Canada Inc. Toronto. Distributed by ThunderLight Entertainment Inc., New York

Note for Librarians: A cataloguing record for this book is available from Library

and Archives Canada at www.collectionscanada.ca/amicus/index-e.html

Printed in Victoria, BC, Canada.

ISBN: 978-1-4251-4858-4 (soft)

ISBN: 978-1-4251-4859-1 (ebook)

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Contents

THE LEGEND

THE STORY

AUTHOR’S NOTE

HIGH PRAISE FOR THE OWL

ALSO BY ALLAN SUSSMAN

TO THOSE SPECIAL PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

I AM THE OWL

PROLOGUE

Book I

The Owl

Book II

Eyes

Book III

The Club

Book IV

Tara

Book V

Space

Book VI

The Tormentor

Book VII

The Bond

Book VIII

The Historian

THE BIBLE

Book IX

The Eye Voice

Book X

Dynasty

Book XI

The Coming

Book XII

The Tomb

Book XIII

The New World

Book XIV

The Flying Dragon

Book XV

Escape

Book XVI

The One

EPILOGUE

THE LEGEND

THE OWL is a fantasy adventure - mystery thriller about a Wise, Wondrous Being who guards the most breathtaking historical secret on earth; a coming-of-age story set amidst a gothic dynasty with three memorable heroes who embark as children, on a death-defying journey and frenetic hunt into the depths, into the shadows of sealed crypts and perilous catacombs, into the most secretive and evil world - The Tomb - a dangerous labyrinth where nightmares come alive in a series of spine-tingling events. THE OWL is filled with high voltage action accelerating a tempest of secrecy and deceit previewing the darkness of the past and the secrets of the present. THE OWL at once tears at a furious pace and flows with languid grace, blending the magical quest of Harry Potter with the adventure fantasy of The Chronicles of Narnia while retaining the thrilling mystery of The Da Vinci Code.

THE STORY

In 400 BC while SOCRATES the Greek philosopher who shaped Western philosophy and his student PLATO stroll through an enchanted fortress they encounter an extraordinary Being who possesses the key to immortality. Over 2000 years later SOCRATO SCHAPIRELLI a direct descendant of Socrates uncovers a secret competition in New York whereby 3 courageous contestants, psychiatrist LUKE TALBOT, ophthalmologist MARNI RIVERS and performance artist JAMIE DAWNE vie to be chosen as The One. The victor will achieve the gift of immortality. To the ruthless scientist MARGOT PAYNE, head of the most powerful dynasty in America, her son JONATHAN and her daughter TARA, conquerors who will stop at nothing, the key in securing eternity for themselves and acquiring the secret to immortality lies with the capture of THE OWL, the extraordinary Being who has survived despite thousands of years of pursuit. A nefarious plan is launched to capture this wondrous Being and acquire the secret to its power; a force if unleashed threatens to change the course of the modern world. A deadly race begins in the sinister, threatening fortress known as Castle Payne where deep in its bowels exists The Tomb with secrets so unimaginable only Luke, Marni and Jamie have the power to solve the mystery that has existed since the beginning of time. Through trials by astonishing disasters and unimaginable battles, their inventive genius and relentless drive to survive bring them to a final, spine-chilling confrontation with Margot and her progeny Jonathan and Tara in the very heart of their domain - The Tomb with the clock ticking against devastating odds – a confrontation in which Luke, Marni and Jamie gain triumph only at the last seconds as a shocking secret is finally revealed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

THE OWL is to some extent a magical reality and not a fantasy. It is based on the courage of four generations of real women who lived heroic lives and touched not only my life but the lives of everyone with whom they came into contact. I am deeply indebted to them because they are with me every day of my life. There was Mary, Ruth and Lola. The lives of these noble women cannot be adequately covered here but certain acts stand out in memory; the self-sacrifice, the unconditional love, their tremendous support. They were Champions in Life and they created Champions in Fern who created Champions in Marni, Carly, Jamie and Jordyn. Their legacy of valor will live forever.

For Fernie, Marni, Carly, Jamie & Jordyn - You are my Sunlight

For Ma - You sacrificed so much.

For Daddy - You are my soul, my spirit.

For Monica - My Friend and My Love Forever.

HIGH PRAISE FOR THE OWL

ALLAN IS A GROWN-UP KID’S WRITER…[he] is to thrilling fantasy fiction what Alexandre Dumas is to the historical novel: possessed of simple elegance and delivering high octane adventure to a devoted critical audience. – Lorne Yacyshyn

AN UPLIFTING…ENGAGING, READING EXPERIENCE. There’s some incisive and fascinating writing here about wisdom and immortality. – Carole Newhouse

"AN EVENT TO CELEBRATE…A TRIUMPH…A nitro-charged novel, written in a supple and elegant prose and displaying exceptional insight into the mind of wisdom…Allan’s depiction of three remarkable heroes’ discovery of their past and the awakening of their sensibilities is brilliant…The book as a whole is harmoniously orchestrated and wonderfully witnessed." – Jamie Dawne

IMPRESSIVE…THE APPEARANCE OF AN EXPLOSIVE WRITER WHO HAS KEPT A LOW PROFILE FOR TOO LONG. – Terence Robinson

A COMPELLING FORCE THAT CARRIED ME ALONG IN A HEART-STOPPING DRIVE WITHOUT A BREATH UNTIL THE VERY LAST PAGE. – Marco Girgenti

FULL OF RICH CHARACTERS AND FIERY TWISTS…That is the heart and soul of this thrilling novel. - Monica de Albuquerque

SIZZLING STORY Sol’s quest for THE OWL is splendidly and rivetingly described…A masterful coming-of-ager set in the terrifying world of THE TOMB."- Carly Robyn

[A] STRIKING, SPECTACULAR, SIZZLING STORY…This book yields undeniable thrills." – Marni Michelle

ALSO BY ALLAN SUSSMAN

THE BRAZILIAN

(by Monica de Albuquerque & Allan Sussman)

THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO – THE MUSICAL

FINAL COMBAT

THE GOTH

LIGHT OF THE ECLIPSE

PRINCE OF THE GAME

SEX, BLOOD & MADNESS

THUNDERLIGHT

TO KILL THE GREEN

YOU BELONG TO ME

TO THOSE SPECIAL PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

To Fernie and the dynasty of women who came before her; Ruth her mother and Mary her grandmother for loving me unconditionally.

To my four extraordinary princesses Marni, Carly, Jamie and Jordyn.

To my parents who will be with me always.

To Monica an incredible woman and artist and my best friend. Thank you for your love.

To Lorne, for your everlasting friendship and compassion.

I AM THE OWL

I am The Owl and I was there when all historical events passed through my life. The Aztec and Mayan calendars as they foretold of my coming; in the annals of the Romanesque bell towers; in the sun dials of the Chinese dynasties as they echoed their synchronized ticking in anticipation of my arrival. I was there during the rituals of the coming when the philosopher Aristotle and his student Plato discovered evidence of my immortality.

As the sands of time continue their surge 2000 years later, 3 world finalists now compete courageously with honor and inventive genius but only one can emerge to achieve eternal life and I alone must choose ‘The One,’ the victor, even at the risk of my own life. Even as evil stalks me, I prepare to bestow upon ‘The One’ the world’s greatest prize, a gift so precious it holds the secret to unleash the most wondrous power the world has ever seen, ‘immortality.’

And what of Good vs. Evil. Medical Ethicist Sol Goldman in a relentless drive to protect me, he must battle the empire of the ruthless conqueror, billionaire industrialist Jonathan Payne as these two titans clash in a deadly race against time. Evil will stop at nothing in order to capture me and bring my quest to a final spine-chilling confrontation in the very bowels of its domain, ‘The Tomb,’ with the clock ticking towards devastating catastrophe – a confrontation in which only if I prevail will the truth of my ancient mystery finally be revealed. And for those of you who believe in the triumph of the human spirit, I, The Owl will soar.

Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward; for there you have been, and there you will long to return.

— Leonardo da Vinci

PROLOGUE

Espera was trying to remain alert but a total of 20 flights in 7 days were exhausting her to the point where she was unable to chart the statistics from the raw data. Pensively, she looked out through the window of the airliner out into the darkness, unaware that soon her destiny would embrace her in the most extraordinary way. She watched the significant white lines being shaped in the wake of the jet. Very pretty she thought but a deadly contributor to global warming. She illustrated her observations in her note book. The contrails, steams of water vapor and ice particles that clustered to shape icy cirrus clouds that trapped heat, could be avoided if the plane flew at a lower altitude. The airlines argued that this would lead to a greater density and less efficient jet engine, causing the need for more fuel and therefore fewer profits. As she entered the data of the flight in her notebook she noticed another contrail but it was a different color this time and it was moving rapidly. Funny, she thought, these weren’t the ordinary cirrus clouds that usually produced contrails, these were different, the kind she had read about but had never seen. Spellbound, she watched the rhythmic strokes of the multi-colored lines. Impossibly, whatever was causing this phenomenon was ahead of the jet. She dropped her pen. This was not a contrail she realized. Whatever it was, it took the art of flight into a new realm, a soaring leap into the sun. Its shape and wingspan were several times larger than any bird. She dared not breathe, dared not shift her eyes from this winged wonder. With her fingernail only, she began tracing a likeness of the unidentified object on the notebook page. Not an eagle or a hawk she reasoned. It’s simply too fast. A fighter jet, she thought. No, it couldn’t be for it was weightless, its trajectory effortless in the morning firmament. This new stream she was witnessing was being formed not by any jet but by…her thoughts froze, her childhood rushing forward, a solemn desire, a yearning and ache she held all her life, reawakened now, somehow, at this moment out there. Ahhhhhhh, something so swift, so angelic, like a god of the air, hovering for a moment, hypnotic in its gaze, looking straight into her eyes, penetrating her soul. And then it was gone. Breathless, momentarily dazed, Espera exhaled. She looked down at her notebook to see what she had drawn. She gasped!

Book I

The Owl

Chapter 1

Her eyes flew open in the dark as the night began to make its move, her heart imprisoned in a vice, hope defeated by the oncoming terror spreading like a lethal venom throughout her body. She was being transported into a thousand nights of overwhelming childhood fear, enduring unimaginable disquiet as terror and panic overwhelmed her. The hazy, frozen mist in the distance spreading across the forest, like long fingers of shadows gathering energy and moving towards her. The terrified child really didn’t have time for self-indulgent dreams. It was a waste of imagination to her. But this was no dream. In a terrorizing world the thing that chased her was the most terrorizing of creatures. She held a single white candle tightly in her hand as she ran for her life. A swift runner, faster than the others, watching the others being gathered in knots, stumbling and falling, hearing their cries and quickly outpacing them but gasping as she realized a shiver of panic. She reconstructed all of it, every painful step, time and time again as she came to an abrupt stop, listening, as the earth creaked, feeling the torment of its presence as it permitted her the short voyage, her heart jumping in her chest not daring to look back, afraid that if she did a talon would close around her throat. Maybe this time she would have enough time to evade it. No, not quick enough. Her terror denied her a voice but she fought to concentrate so she could speak, clenching the hand holding the candle, until her nails pierced her palm. She remembered she had been happily arranging candles on the cake when sleep overtook her and the horror began as it had always begun. But this time something was different, very different. Maybe this time the encounter wouldn’t be so bad, she reasoned. Maybe this time resignation would change to resolve. She held her breath but didn’t want to think any more. She choked back a cry, frightened, fraught. She swallowed with difficulty but finally found her voice. Try to keep your heart cold and still, she reasoned, not so her heart whispered back, not so, realizing that the creature’s evil had the power to alter her world forever. Her chest felt as if it would burst and her pulse began to beat erratically at the threatening in the red hot breath of the fiend. Desperately she searched the forest, seeking to erect a wall of defense against it, hoping magically a barrier would appear just because she believed as all children believe, in their resolve. The intensity between predator and prey increased as it drew closer. She was assailed by a terrible sense of bitterness as her anguish peaked to shatter the last shreds of her control. Her mind was languid, without hope. Grief and despair tore at her heart. As she slowed, she was silent and defeated and no longer able to continue the struggle. The full measure of her defeat overwhelmed her and her sense of loss became greater than her feral fear. Why had her father left her bereft and desolate, why? Darkness, complete and final. She had struggled fiercely but ultimately, the icy talons of the creature seeped into every pore. She stopped right there. She was at the precipice now, where the forest ended and the end of the world began. She looked up facing it finally, confronting eyes, enormous, malevolent. Conquered, she momentarily faltered but quickly gained her composure. Very quietly, in a whisper she asked, "please,’ she had candles to light, her mother was depending on her and that maybe he should let her awaken but it was not the fiend who answered. It was the tormented voice of another child.

I can’t save you said the voice behind her. It’s alright, she said protectively. Always her nightmare had been interrupted by the fragmented voice with the same words, over and over, ‘I can’t save you, I can’t save you, I can’t save you.’ This was not one of those isolated recurring nightmares that make you fight your demons. It was much, much more.

The red beam of the laser light flashed on the ceiling and worked its way down the wall slowly, searching. It found the computer monitor’s eye cam and whirred gently as it searched for the face of a sleeping Dr. Marni Rivers. It found her and zoomed in. Marni was in a weightless sleep when at 4 am she would be convening her weekly Telementoring Surgical Encoding (TSE) session. As a developmental ophthalmologist and chief of surgery it was an innovative program Marni had designed to help train other ophthalmologists with their surgical procedures in remote areas around the world especially those which were lacking in teaching hospitals. It was a simple enough strategy, Marni would guide them as they learned complex optical surgical procedures which they had never performed. Impossible, said Corky Larsen, Marni’s rival who was challenging her to become Chancellor of Harvard’s Medical School. Maybe telementoring was workable in other surgical disciplines but not with eyes he argued. It was too dangerous. But Marni’s preparation with the surgeons, her patience and leadership proved Corky’s claims unwarranted. Her syllabus was not only groundbreaking but proved to be a smashing success globally. So too was her research in trachoma, an infection of the eyes that could cause blindness. In work she found a mindless solidity that helped camouflage the deep despair she felt from her childhood. This week a surgical team would be performing a never-before carried out operation. They were in the northern region of China near the border with Taiwan.

I got my eyeball on you said an Asian voice in fragmented English. Marni peered at the gyrating computer eye cam. Good morning Dr. Rivers. It was the voice of Dr. Sammy Song Fu, head of the Chinese surgical team.

Good morning, she said drowsily. His call was early. Give me 60 minutes then you can come back to eye ball me she said.

So sorry Doctor, Sammy apologized, miscalculation of time. I suppose call in 60 minutes, not now, so sorry, please, so sorry.

That’s alright Doctor, 1 hour. She felt exhausted and the hour would be invaluable. She drifted back into wisps of sleep, into a dream where she was with her mother and candles, blue and red and white. And then the phone rang again. It couldn’t be China, not this soon. It had to be a call for emergency surgery, a call she had received many times before. It wasn’t. There was no voice just the crackling of the phone. Marni Rivers she said. She waited.

Doctor, you know how to heal everyone’s eyes. She became instantly wide awake. It was the voice of a young child. The fear in his voice was unmistakable. Her nerves tensed immediately. Tell me the young trembling voice continued, is there no cure for mine? Through the dark, fear, stark and vivid, glittered in Marni’s eyes. It was impossible to steady her erratic pulse.

Hello, but the voice was gone. She sat bolt upright and turned on the nightlight by her bed. She tried to source the call but it disclosed only that the number was private. Worried images began building in her thoughts. She searched her mind anxiously for the meaning behind the words but exhaustion overtook her and she couldn’t think. She dreaded returning to an hour of sleep filled with terror and so she lay in bed, her eyes open, now fully awake as she waited for the call. Her first memory was not of an image but a sound, a key to the past she knew she would have to revisit one day. A sound in the dark followed by a brilliant, intense flash of light and then a pair of eyes. The sound was imperceptible at first almost silent but distinct. It was the fluttering of wings. The calm, soft sound was more of a wave – of a flickering than that of a flap stirred. It was familiar yet impossible to place. She awoke the same way, heard the fluttering the same way every day since she could remember. Yes, one day but not today, please not today. Not now. Now, she just wanted to lay there in the comfort, no, not comfort, solitude, the isolation and seclusion of her bed. Not move, not think, not feel. Please, not feel, not today. Today, her head would be in the clouds, literally. It would be a special day. A fantasy day but first, her patients. She could not deny them. Get them out of harm’s way. Take care of them, look after them. They trusted her and they were right to do so. So, get up, get out of bed. Deal with reality until 3 pm. Only until 3, then you will have time with your daughter she calculated. One minute more. In a minute, yes! One last time. After the flutter comes the eyes. Let me see the eyes. No, no! Yes! Dare she? She must but just for a second. So dangerous at times like this. Let me remember. Please! Ahhhhhhh! There they are. Just the way she remembered them. Like yesterday. The eyes! Large, beautiful, calming, peaceful. And as her own eyes opened she invariably faced the picture that was the face of her mother, held in the soft silver frame. It was her first memory. She lay there studying the picture, hearing the fluttering, seeing the flash of light. Her mother’s face, soft, billowy, smiling, always smiling. She couldn’t remember where she was on that day and it had always troubled her. But Marni knew who she was and why she was loved. She knew she was special. It was important to her then and it was important to every child who came to her. It was the first step to understanding. Do you know who you are? Do you know why you are loved? Do you know how special you are? Marni’s feet touched the cool hardwood floor. She reached for her mother’s picture. She remembered her mother’s face as a child and as she took an imaginary journey with her delicate but strong hands moving over the smooth, soft skin a warmth and calm spread over her. What a blissful journey. A journey that would end in laughter and in kisses and burying her face in her mother’s hair. Inhaling, deeply, ahhhhhhh, intoxicating. This is what sustained Marni through those terrible years. The scent of her mother. Marni slipped from her bed and unfolded her exercise mat. She lay down and breathed deeply. She began her sit-ups. For thirty minutes she counted out one thousand of them. It was grueling work and her muscles screamed from the strain but she always felt refreshed and rested afterwards. As her glistening body entered the shower she thought she heard the fluttering. She sensed and experienced it more than heard it as if she was undergoing its texture and touch. The hot water sprayed her body and she closed her eyes. She didn’t question these sensations. She just accepted. Yes! Marni Rivers knew herself. She knew who she was. When Dr. Sammy Song Fu called, Marni was in her communications center in her home in front of her monitor. She had donned her surgical gown, mask and gloves. She wanted her telecast group to feel she was right there with them and a part of the surgical team. It was one of the important features of her telementoring program and a chief reason for its global success.

Following the successful session Marni left her home at 6 am as she did every morning six days a week to treat her first patient who arrived at 6:05. As Marni negotiated the effortless short trip to the office she thought about her daughter and their first scheduled flight together that very afternoon aboard the balloon, about the ballast, the height, the weight, the weather. She measured, counted, configured. In a moment she would be at the office. No time to think about the day ahead when she was with her patients. They required every scrap of her concentration. No, she would never let them down – not like…Suddenly the car stopped but not in front of her office building. She had absentmindedly, without thought driven not to her office but to the home where she had grown up as a child. She admonished herself as she had on numerous occasions over the last several months whenever she repeated this odd, rather peculiar act of driving to her childhood home. Don’t sit in the car. You know what happens when you sit in the car. You begin to reflect, to think back. Remembering! And you know what that leads to - it begins again, the eyes appear. She looked up. Inside the house a light shone. Strange she thought. No one has lived in the house for years. She reached for the car door handle but stopped herself when she saw a man emerge from the house. Bing Aikens, real estate agent was carrying something. Marni crouched down in her seat and watched as Bing walked towards her. He was whistling a familiar refrain she recognized from her childhood. It was Louis Armstrong’s ‘It’s A Wonderful World.’ Bing walked to the middle of the manicured lawn and slapped a ’SOLD’ sticker over the ‘FOR SALE’ sign. He looked directly at Marni before slipping back to the front door. One last glimpse at the house and she thrust the car into drive and sped away as Bing watched her from the living room window.

‘Maybe if you focused on your inner child. She was working her way through her self-help healing bible, A-Z. She had started with A for Anxiety or Angst, she couldn’t remember if they were separate topics or one in the same. Nevertheless it was several years ago and she was now on ‘I for Inner.’ ‘Talk to the being inside of you’ the tome had said. ‘It needs love and comfort and through this loving being, you will become whole.’ Coward,’ she admonished herself! Terrified of what she would experience, she would get back to it. ‘Sorry my darling’ she said to herself, patting her stomach. Her continued search was an important step in her development. Development, ha, that was a laugh. Did she really believe her self-therapy would alter the way she relived the past? She certainly believed it was worth a try. Drastic, yes. But hadn’t what happened to her been drastic? Wasn’t she fighting fire with fire? Fighting! What an odd thing to attribute to her childhood. It did not sound like much of a therapeutic measure. Her mobile phone jarred her.

Hi Wilbur. Charlie Wright had introduced Marni to flight. She called him Wilbur Wright, half of the famed Wright Brothers.

From anyone else I would consider that insufferable.

Not charming? Marni purred.

Quite charming actually. He took a deep, caring breath. To my best pilot, happy 10th anniversary, Charlie enthused. She had forgotten. It was ten years since she had received her hot air balloon license. Since that time her experience had covered every aspect of flight, from leisure to excursions and expeditions to aerial photography. I bet you’ve got a big goofy grin on your face, she laughed."

"Slightly.

Thanks Wilbur. How’s Harriet?

"Wife and kids haven’t left so I must be doing something right. Forgive the pun."

"Good guys always do the right thing Charlie."

Weather’s gonna’ be great today so no restricted air space. You’ve got absolute control over altitude. It’s your call. You can fly at between 50 and 300 meters.

Up to 1000? She asked.

The sky’s all yours.

Speed?

Depends entirely on the strength of the wind. Ideally, you’re looking at 10 to 15 miles an hour. I’ll tether her in Jonathan Park. It’ll take me 15 minutes to prepare and inflate and get ready for lift-off and 20 for the reverse procedure, okay?

That’s a roger.

I can have a ground crew in 4X4’s following you to meet you when you land.

Do I need it?

Not according to the weather.

That’s a negative then.

Thanks he breathed. You know I have other balloons up with less experienced pilots. I need the crews for them. Marni smiled.

I’ll call you before my descent. Marni disconnected.

Marni was in front of her office building and reached for the radio dial. Louis Armstrong was just beginning ‘It’s A Wonderful World.’ Marni shut off the radio and was about to climb out of the car when her phone rang. Who would be calling her this time of the morning? The voice was unfamiliar. Doctor Rivers?

Yes.

Bing Aikens, I’m a real estate agent. He spoke in an odd, yet gentle voice.

I’m sorry I’m really not interested and I’ve never heard of a real estate agent calling this early.

I just watched you drive off. His tone was apologetic but lacked a ring of finality.

How did you…

I’m calling in regards to a house that was registered to a Dr. Frank Rivers, your father. A few moments later Marni sat in her car looking through the window at her parents’ large expensive home. Bing emerged from the house and approached Marni’s car. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she rolled down the window. He leaned down, smiled pleasantly and studied her quite openly. She noticed his eyes were a startling blue, as blue as the summer sky.

Thanks for coming. He had a quiet oval face, dark and rather delicate.

I haven’t been here in…it’s been a long time. She looked at the unchanged house.

"Yeah, it’s a nice house. Closed her last night but don’t despair ‘cause with Bing you sing ‘cause I got that thing and that thing is finding your dream home, unless this was your dream home. Look - if you’re determined I can go to the new owners and - well nothing is impossible when you swing with Bing." His mouth curved into an unconscious smile. She pressed her lips together to stifle a grin.

You called me, you said there was something. Nervously she moistened her dry lips.

Oh, okay, yeah, sorry, A B C, Always Be Closing, a salesman’s first commandment.

What exactly…

Yeah, want to come in?

I… Marni hesitated, fear gripped her.

Sure…I understand. A smile remained on his extremely gentle face.

Bing started to sing. "And I say to myself…sorry, I used to be in a band. Look why don’t you just wait here. I’ll be right back." Bing Aikens walked back into the house whistling the song ‘It’s A Wonderful World.’ As Marni waited for Bing to reappear she sat back and closed her eyes. She remembered the song, vaguely as she observed the house which suddenly plunged into complete darkness followed by a brilliant flash of light.

Young Marni was 7 years old as she left the house and made her way to the Mount Sinai hospital in New York. Once inside the busy building she remembered approaching the nurse’s station.

Hi Marni. Your dad is kinda’ busy honey. How did you get here? Young Marni turned and walked away. Marni, don’t go in there, Marni! Footsteps racing after her, calling her name. Young Marni approached a door reading: DR. FRANK RIVERS. She listened at the door. It was her father’s voice, a tear-smothered voice whispering behind the closed door.

What have I done? What have I done?

A distant voice calling to her repeating in the same cool tone. Doctor Rivers, are you alright? Doctor Rivers! There was complete darkness again followed by the same brilliant flash of light. It was Bing. He was smiling, repeating her name. Doctor Rivers. He had returned to the car carrying a blue box. Are you alright? Can I get you a glass of water? His voice had an infinitely compassionate tone.

I’m fine. I have to go she blurted, scarcely aware of her own voice.

I have something for you. Bing produced the box. It was in one of the bedrooms.

My room, when I was a child she clarified.

I want you to know I didn’t open it.

Marni took the box he handed her and placed it beside her.

Thank you.

Here’s my card, if you ever…you know want to look at another house he said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off.

Thanks again she answered. Bing returned to the house and went inside. Marni sat unmoving. Finally, she reached inside the box and pulled out several folded pieces of construction paper. She opened them to reveal drawings of beautiful, haunting eyes. Her hand reached deep into the box to the bottom, pulling out birthday candles, fingering the white ones and reaching down again, yes, there it was. She pulled it out, her mother’s diary. She felt an immediate, acute sense of loss. Terrible regrets assailed her as she clutched the diary to her and began to weep. Inside the house as Bing watched her, the faint strains of ‘It’s A Wonderful World’ wafted out into the street as Marni’s car pulled away. Bing picked up the phone and made his call.

Chapter 2

Molly’s agent, Dannyela emerged from the limousine ahead of Molly. Molly’s Driver, Jack opened the trunk and removed an ornate picnic basket containing an exotic picnic lunch. He handed the basket to Dannyela.

Nice touch Dannyela said appreciatively and the driver beamed.

Jack Simpson’s Kraft Services. I can do dim sum, tapis. Hors… he spoke without a hint of boastfulness. But Dannyela was preoccupied with far more important matters.

I got it her tone hardened. I want you back here at eighteen hundred sharp.

Got it Jack answered dutifully. Dannyela lit up a cigarette.

The door Dannyela barked impatiently. Jack opened the passenger door and stood motionless. Molly Rise peered out of the window, her real name was Risofsky but it was a hard sell to Hollywood who could more easily project the name Rise on a marquee. The twelve-year old child emerged from the limousine. Her golden tresses were impeccably ironed and her dress was vintage Shirley Temple. Dannyela had once made the mistake of telling Molly she was prettier and far more talented than Shirley ever was. The car, behind the wheel, waits, Dannyela woofed in a staccato clip to the driver-caterer. Jack did as he was ordered and sat behind the wheel. Wolfgang Puck the world famous gourmand endured far worse before his time came, thought Jack. Dannyela watched the road and spied Marni’s car approaching. Here comes your mother. Dannyela said with quiet emphasis.

Molly seized the cigarette from Dannyela and put it to her lips. She inhaled deeply.

How old am I supposed to be again Molly asked in a cool tone, hissing exhaled cigarette smoke from her child-like face?

Hey, this is an important gig Dannyela answered in a grudging tone.

Right. And I’m Shirley Temple. Look, I’m not doing a little girl who’s always needing her mommy.

You’re an actress Dannyela remarked with staid calmness.

Relax, a piece of cake. What about you Dannyela, you know, your age I mean. Aren’t you kinda’ pressured to get on to that kid thing yourself? Dannyela studied Molly for a moment looking for a sign of scorn in her beautifully sculpted face but there wasn’t a hint of cynicism.

"I’m touched that you care. You want to work in this town you play your part. You have to know your subject so you can have an intelligent conversation - show her you’re interested in her work. You’re supposed to be her daughter. Capiche?"

Capiche, capiche, Molly muttered hastily. Dannyela opened her brief case and removed a thick file. She began leafing through it, reading silently. Without looking up, Dannyela removed the cigarette from Molly’s lips and took a puff. She coughed bitterly.

So much to read here. Here it is Dannyela began. Pediatric Ophthalmologist. Specialist in neuro-optometric vision therapy, orthoptic treatment…

What’s that mean? Asked Molly.

That’s what I want to hear, a sign of interest, it says here it’s the treatment of defective visual habits…

Like when people get blind drunk? Asked Molly.

I’ll ignore that, she also does rehabilitation work with individuals who have visual disturbances with neurological causes i.e. birth trauma, head trauma and… Dannyela stopped reading and stared hard at Molly and added cynically, brain damage.

Very funny Molly said insipidly with a light edge of bitterness.

Marni stopped the car several hundred feet from where Molly was standing. She stepped out and walked diffidently towards Molly. Dannyela placed her hand on Molly’s shoulder, holding her back.

Wait for it Dannyela whispered in Molly’s ear. It’s her first time. Be sensitive to her needs. Be a good daughter.

That’s me, the good daughter Molly ignited with a cold edge of irony in her voice. Marni stopped and waited, unsure of the acceptable distance. Dannyela removed her hands from Molly’s shoulder. Okay, Dannyela’s voice faded to a hushed stillness. Molly rushed to Marni and hugged her affectionately. Dannyela held her breath as she watched Marni. Marni was tentative and wavered before embracing Molly. Dannyela heaved a sigh of relief.

Are you ready? Marni asked as she stepped beside the Hot Air Balloon.

Wow! Molly shrieked excitedly. Jack the limousine driver was waiting as Molly ran to the balloon and he lifted her and deposited her into the cab. Molly looked up into the balloon’s expanse. Awesome she announced.

Ready to set sail, First Mate? Marni petitioned.

"I’m the pilot and the captain!" Molly snapped back.

Captain it is Marni conceded. I’ll be the first mate.

Set sail or is it take off? Molly wanted to know.

It’s whatever you want it to be Captain Marni answered.

Huston, we have lift off Molly instructed commandingly. Marni smiled as she played make-believe mommy amongst the clouds.

Chapter 3

Marni surveyed the sky judiciously, one last time. All clear she certified. Molly watched as Marni pulled levers expertly. Sandbags were raised and lowered by pulleys. A gentle hiss accompanied the blue flame that emerged from the balloon’s engine and the balloon was aloft and rising smoothly. Marni felt the air blowing through her hair and skin. It was always a thrilling experience for her and now she watched as Molly delighted in her own first encounter with flight. Neither spoke as they continued to watch the hot air balloon rise majestically while enjoying the exhilaration of aerial freedom during flight.

Not bad first mate, I think I’ll keep you. Molly smiled genuinely for the first time.

You’re such a wise Captain Marni cracked. They both laughed easily. Marni casually checked Molly’s harness to ensure its firmness.

Can this baby do any tricks?

It’s a very delicate aircraft. I think for our first trip we shouldn’t…

I want it to do some flips Molly insisted. Marni looked up at the cloud formation. They were white, billowy. Clear and safe she reckoned. Wilbur Wright knew climate.

Aye aye Captain, here we go Marni reported.

The Hot Air Balloon was delightfully responsive, arcing in a turn, diving and leveling out, all in response to the movement of Marni’s expert hand. At every turn Molly squealed in delight. Suddenly, Molly placed her hand on the lever. Marni gently placed her hand on Molly’s and removed it. It’s really not safe, said Marni firmly.

Please Molly pleaded.

I don’t think so, maybe next time Marni declared.

I’ll be careful. I promise.

Sorry, too dangerous Marni ruled.

You’re not a good mother Molly toned icily. Marni remained silent at the child’s rebuke. Finally, she said. This…it’s new for me.

I understand. You need a mentor. Someone to show you the ropes. Molly’s tone was supportive almost, trusting.

For the mother-daughter tension thing? Marni explored.

Right Molly confirmed. Kids, if they don’t ask they don’t get.

Is that assertiveness or entitlement?

You’re pretty clued in Molly acknowledged. I was raised in how to negotiate. It comes with confidence.

I see Marni said.

First rule of rotten child syndrome, Molly turned her head in a nod. Thou shalt always spoil your child. Marni winced from the remark but she capitulated. Marni took Molly’s hand and positioned it gently on the joystick. It’s amazing. Molly’s features became more animated as Marni guided Molly’s hand on the joystick. Suddenly, Molly looked down over the balloon. The young child’s eyes widened in fear.

Don’t look down! Marni cautioned.

Okay. Marni’s balloon mobile phone rang. Not a good sign.