Age of Innocence: Book One of the On Higher Ground series

By Patricia Anne Harris

Its 1969 and the sexual revolution is in full swing while a war rages in Vietnam. America is transitioning into a liberation movement while ROTC buildings go up in flames and white crosses burn in Mississippi. The Age of Aquarius is dawning, and young people are caught up in the vision of a utopian world of peace, free love, and sexual explorati

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Anne Harris
• Release date: Feb 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9780990565314

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ON HIGHER GROUND

PATRICIA ANNE HARRIS

On Higher Ground: Age of Innocence

Copyright 2014 by Patricia Anne Harris

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Jeanine Henning

Book design by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, or events used in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, alive or deceased, events or locales is completely coincidental.

Print ISBN: 978-0-9905653-1-4

BOOKS BY PATRICIA ANNE HARRIS

On Higher Ground Series:

Book One: Age of Innocence

Book Two: Darkness Falls

Book Three: Jacob’s Ladder

We are stardust, we are golden, and we have to get ourselves back to the Garden...

—Joni Mitchell, Woodstock

To my beloved Mama and Daddy. To my husband, who is my best friend, and my children who complete me. To Lilliana, Madalyn and Elijah. To my Chicks. To Sidney High School’s class of ‘69. And to Andy and Norman who wait in the Garden. Probably smoking weed.

CONTENTS

Childhood

Graduation

Of War and Peace

1973

1974

CHILDHOOD

TEXAS, 1965

1

R ight this way, Mrs. Manichetti.

The beautiful young nurse escorted Carina Manichetti into a luxuriously appointed office that overlooked Corpus Christi Bay. She waited respectfully until Carina was seated on the camel-backed sofa, white-gloved hands folded neatly in her lap.

Dr. Thompson will be a few moments. May I offer you a refreshment?

Carina looked at her blankly.

Perhaps a cup of tea?

Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.

The young woman departed, softly closing the door.

Carina crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt. Nothing to be done, she thought. The sky was deepest blue, big puffy clouds reflected in the water of the bay. School would be out soon. Cari would be waiting for her at home. They were scheduled to leave this evening at six for a shopping trip to Dallas and then on to New York for the opening of the King and I.

She checked her diamond watch. Ten minutes late. She opened the decoupage purse that lay neatly on her lap, and removed a slim gold case. Capturing the silver lighter from the coffee table, she lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

The door opened quietly and the young woman reappeared with a silver tea service. She placed it delicately on the table in front of Carina.

One lump or two, Mrs. Manichetti?

None, thank you.

The young woman poured the steaming liquid into a delicate teacup and offered it to her.

The fine porcelain clinked softly.

Will Dr. Thompson be along soon? Carina asked, placing the teacup down in front of her.

There was the briefest of pause.

He is conferring with your oncologist, Mrs. Manichetti. Will Mr. Manichetti be joining you?

The older woman’s face remained impassive.

Dr. Thompson thought it might be best, she added awkwardly.

After the nurse left the room, Carina sat like a statue, staring out at the Bay. She steeled herself, pulling the silence around her.

She and Richard met at Dartmouth, soon after the war. He was dashing and debonair, and she was quite used to being pursued. She was a descendant of the Brown-Smythes’ of Boston, a very old and influential banking family who tragically lost everything in the depression except the family mansion in Newport, which was now held in trust for their only child, Carilynn. Richard’s money came from the steel mill he was left by his grandfather. Though considered a member of the nouveau riche by parents, and therefore, unacceptable as a match for their daughters, Richard was quite the cause celebre among the young debutantes. He was very rich, handsome, and well endowed; his prowess and appetites were legendary.

They married soon after graduation, and moved back to Corpus Christi where Richard took over the helm of his family’s business. Nine months later their beautiful little princess was born. Though Richard lacked even the most basic refinement, his money and influence provided grandly for their little girl. With Carina’s breeding and instincts and Richard’s money, their daughter was living a life of fairy tale proportions. Carilynn was the one crowned Princess of the Snow Fest, Beauty of the Bay, and any other honor her heart desired. Her sweet face had graced the cover of Texas Monthly and Corpus Christi Times before she reached the age of five, creating an aura of power and invincibility that was difficult for other children to compete with. Not that it bothered Cari. She was quite suited to her position among Corpus Christie’s social elite. Her little girl was destined for greatness, and with Carina’s deft hand, she had believed Carilynn would one day be the first woman governor of the great state of Texas.

Dr. Thompson entered the room, breaking her reverie. Carina,

He walked to where she was seated and pulled a chair up in front of her. Richard couldn’t make it? he asked, eyes kind as he crossed his legs.

Come now, Michael. Everyone knows what Richard does with his Tuesday afternoons,

The doctor’s face reddened slightly as he moved in his chair. It was the least the man could have done. He knew full well why his wife was called in today.

He gathered her hands into his soft ones.

The additional tests we took last week. The results are back. He looked into her luminous brown eyes. They show the breast cancer has spread- quite a bit I’m afraid.

Carina felt her face flush.

What about surgery?

When his eyes softened, she pressed.

I know it wasn’t what I wanted a year ago, but obviously things have changed. I can’t die, Michael. Not now. Cari is only thirteen. She needs me. There must be something we can do to fight this!

Silence filled the room. The clattering of a typewriter right outside the door was deafening.

I am so, so sorry Carina, Michael said softly, stroking her hand.

Her eyes slowly filled with tears. How long?

Its hard to say with any certainty. A few months...

Slowly she withdrew her hands and leaned back against the rich fabric of the sofa. She stared at the Bay’s rippled surface, grey now, a reflection of the rain clouds gathering overhead. Her fingers stroked the decoupage purse she held in her lap, gently caressing the picture of Cari captured there.

Get your affairs in order, Carina. For your daughter’s sake. I will do everything I can from this end. I promise you, we will see to it all your medical needs are met.

Gathering her purse, she stood up and leaned over the doctor, placing her hand over his as it rested on the arm of the chair. Patting his fingers gently, she walked out.

The shiny, red sports car traveled at a high rate of speed along Bayside Drive. Carina stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed and wide. She was running so late. Cari would be worried. Oh my God, she thought. What have I done to my baby? Anxiously checking the darkening sky, she pressed hard on the accelerator, her spiked heel rearing up from the thick, luxurious mat beneath her feet.

Crystal droplets exploded with violent splats against the windshield as the car raced past trees that were tossed about in the gusty wind. Carina negotiated the sharp curves, feeling her back tires slip on the wet street, as the rain became a driving storm. Leaves danced in front of her, the wind spinning them round and round across the soaked pavement until they were lifted high and tossed into the churning waters of the bay.

Carina entered the final bend in the road between herself and her child, thinking only of Cari. As the car negotiated the narrow turn, she felt the back end shudder as it strained into the curve. Too late, she realized she was going too fast. The tires hit a patch of wet leaves spinning the car in a graceful pirouette across the dark asphalt. For one aching, solitary moment it took flight, clearing a glorious path through the pounding rain, until it plunged headfirst into the dimpled surface of the bay and sank beneath the waters.

2

The Manichetti’s grand entry hall was filled with the rich and the powerful of Corpus Christi and the State of Texas. A guest list worth millions of dollars in campaign contributions and business connections.

Leave it to Carina to orchestrate from the grave, whispered an exquisitely dressed woman to her companion as they stood in the marble floored foyer and studied the other mourners, the most lavish and well-attended affair since Kennedy was assassinated. She looked over her friend’s shoulder at a couple being ushered in by the doorman. Waving gaily, she wore a self-satisfied look on her face. Guess who’s just arrived? The Governor.

The two women moved away, carrying their glasses of champagne high above their heads as they negotiated the crowded room to the receiving line in the library. The room was breath-taking in its scope. High ceilings with murals, temple columns guarding the entry. Richard Manichetti was dressed in an impeccable silk suit custom tailored in Paris, the deep blue nubby fabric adding character to the soft drape of the jacket.

He was a tall man, broad shouldered and powerfully built. His jet-black hair only enhanced the dark blue of his eyes. Next to his side was his young daughter, Carilynn. She was thirteen with the poise and style of a woman twice her age. She stood in silence as he greeted the mourners, quietly accepting their condolences and making golf dates.

Darling Richard,

Margot Mettzenbaum’s green eyes gazed deeply into his as she squeezed his hand. Her husband was with her, a man of small stature with a waspish pinched face in sharp contrast to her high cheekbones and blonde good looks.

We will all miss Carina very much, she said soothingly, carefully studying Richard’s face. She was a born and bred Texan, unlike her husband who was a transplant from New York, and she could charm the skin off of a rattlesnake. She'd been doing just that for quite some time now. She never let her friendship with Carina get in the way of her dalliances, as she affectionately called them. Her husband knew corporate law better then any one else in the state. His law firm represented Manichetti International. But if you wanted some hot sex or a driving game of tennis, call Margot.

Bad luck, old man, her husband added, moving quickly to accept a glass of champagne from the white-jacketed servant at his elbow. When you are ready, I would like to discuss Carina’s trust with you, he patted Carilynn’s arm, still looking at Richard. No reason to hang onto that old mansion now. He looked down at Cari. Your mother was a dear woman. Margot is devastated. You be sure to give her a call now, any time you feel the need for a mama, you hear? Anytime.

Cari felt dizzy. The room was hot and crowded. She had been standing for hours. She glanced down the long line of people waiting to speak to her father. Their faces animated; words heavy with orchestrated sorrow.

A woman in a stunning lime green sarong moved into position in front of Cari, staring coolly at the young girl dressed in black, face a pale shadow; lips white and drawn. Her daughter, Sybil, was Cari’s age and the two of them had vied for the position of the Sugar Plum Fairy in last season’s Nutcracker.

How terrible for ya’ll, Richard, the woman said, A true injustice. Life can be so unfair. And of course there’s our Cari, she added, patting the young girl’s arm. I am sorry for you too, dear. I know this came as a terrible shock. Especially considering your high and almighty mother will no longer be around to buy you every honor this fair city can bestow, she thought privately.

Cari nodded politely, her wide eyes dark and expressionless.

Sorry Richard, Judge Sanderson shook his hand. The only good thing about this tragedy is Carina was spared any further suffering. He looked down into Cari’s blank face- beautiful and fixed- and felt a faint distaste. Perhaps it’s better this way, he concluded, gratefully moving aside so the next mourner could replace him.

Cari picked at invisible lint on her black Channel jacket, humming softly. The beach house was closed for the winter but the stables were open. Perhaps they would go to the coast next weekend. She studied the Oriental rug that swept the marble floor with peacock blues and deep scarlet, determined to shut out the voices that invaded her thoughts, insidiously penetrating her defenses. A counter-balance drew her eyes until she was staring at the talking mouths.

God knows best, Dear,

Each moved into position, filing slowly past, unrelenting.

She’s in heaven now,

You will get over it in time,

You must accept, and let go,

Cari reached up to take her father’s arm, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Gently tugging, she sought his eyes.

That’s quite enough, Carilynn, His voice was low and private. He removed her hand and continued to greet his guests.

She remained stiffly at his side, her arms hanging straight from her shoulders. Everywhere she looked, the room turned in lazy revolutions. She closed her eyes, listening to her father acknowledge someone for their condolences, his cologne mingling with the smell of roses. Then she was touched again, her eyes forced to watch.

I know just how you feel, said the pencil thin lips, lined with age.

Everything is for the best, said the lips painted a blood red.

It’s best this way...with her cancer and all...

It’s all a dream, dear... just a dream...

It’s the mouths, she whispered to the old woman in front of her, her eyes pleading.

What dear?

What is it, Cari, Richard asked his daughter, sensing the old woman’s discomfort.

Cari stepped back, silent.

She said something about my mouth, the old woman confided to the man behind her.

Cari’s eyes shifted to her father. She cleared her throat. They are sucking all the air from the room.

All sound stopped. Glances were exchanged as they leaned forward to watch her.

Carilynn. Apologize to Mrs. Strawbridge immediately.

Her eyes moved from the old woman’ face to her father’s, her mouth dry. Puzzled, she heard a faint high-pitched sound fill the void. Others heard it to. Everyone was listening. Her chest aching, the sound drew closer and closer, the room spinning out of control.

The crowd gasped collectively at the sound of a high keening as it snaked its way forward and slipped from her mouth.

For God’s sake, Cari, stop that! her father commanded, outraged by her behavior.

Mercifully, she could no longer hear him. Drowning in a sea of emotion, Cari sank to the floor and blacked out.

3

Norman Lawson guided his dented bike past the stream of cars that crawled along Bayside Drive, sluggish in the noonday drizzle. He turned on Magnolia Hill Road, past old stately homes with lush green lawns surrounded by live oaks and magnolias, pedaling his way to the top, his eyes on the white columned mansion that overlooked the Bay.

He wheeled the three-speed into the Manichetti’s gated entrance, entering a hallowed hall of ancient oaks that lead to the main house. The bike coasted down the long lane, hand brakes squealing until crunching gravel gave way to smooth concrete and the bike rolled to a stop under the marble columned portico.

A beautifully manicured lawn stretched before him, a rich carpet dotted with formal gardens of roses and camellias, broken only by the gabled roof of a gazebo peeking out from a circle of magnolias. Kick stand down, his eyes followed the majestic stand of trees as they wound their way down the hill to the Bay. If he squinted his eyes, he could make out the ugly scar, marring the sparkling surface. The docks of Manichetti International and not much further, his house. Norm lived in a working class neighborhood adjacent to the steel mill. Most of the people who lived there worked for Manichetti International as laborers, including Norm’s dad.

He climbed the steps and stopped in front of the beveled glass doors. He and Cari Manichetti were friends since grammar school, yet this was only the second time he had come to her home on the hill. Nervously smoothing his hair with his fingers, he pressed the bell. Deep-throated chimes resounded in the cavernous hall, making the delicate glass tremble.

When Mr. Manichetti called this morning he was actually looking for their friend, Mikey. Unable to locate him, he reluctantly enlisted Norman’s help. Mikey Townsend was also a kid from the docks, but he was a star.

He tapped his Converse against the step, waiting.

The intercom crackled to life. May I inquire who is calling?

Fumbling with the buttons, Norman gave his name. I am here to see Carilynn.

He leaned his shoulder against the wall, whistling softly. The last time he stood at this front door was on Cari’s eighth birthday. It was the year her mom had a circus on the front lawn and invited Cari’s third grade class from Magnolia Hill. Even then, they were not invited inside. A port-a-potty was provided for the children’s convenience. The door opened, snapping Norman from his thoughts.

Come in, you are expected, the butler ushered him inside. Directing the young man down the long hallway, he indicated the top of the spiral staircase. It is the third door on the left.

Thanking him, Norm took the steps three at a time until he was standing at the top of the staircase looking down onto the entry below. The butler had disappeared, and there was no sign of Mr. Manichetti. Must have already left for Dallas. He told Norm on the phone he had an afternoon flight.

He walked down the darkened hall in search of Cari’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her and he sure didn’t want to sound stupid or hurt her in anyway. Outside her room, he knocked softly and waited. When there was no answer, he opened the door and gazed inside. Just like a girl. White satin curtains tied back with starched pink bows at the two bay windows-seats that overlooked the water. Cari? he called softly, entering the room and walking over to the foot of her canopied bed.

The stillness of the girl’s small frame hidden under the pile of blankets was disconcerting, and he was beginning to feel embarrassed. Unsure of himself, he put his hand on her blanketed back. Cari, He shook her slightly. Slowly, she rolled over, her black silken hair in sharp contrast to the whiteness of the fluffy pillow.

Mikey? she said, her voice sleepy.

Nah, it’s Norm. What a wimp, he thought. It wouldn’t have killed him to come today. Mikey was going steady with Cari, but found the current drama boring. He refused to leave a pick up game of flag football. Sitting down beside her, he tried again. Cari, come on now, he said, brushing her dark hair from her face. Your dad is worried about you. You can’t stay in your room forever. He needs you and so do Mikey and I.

Turning to face the wall, she pulled the covers tightly across her shoulders and buried her head in her pillow. The only thing her father needed was Mrs. Mettzenbaum. He didn’t give a damn about her or her mother for that matter. He didn’t care she was dead, in fact, he was probably happy about it. Now he could do whatever he wanted and no one would gossip.

She felt Norman’s hand on her shoulder, and stubbornly resisted. They could all go to hell.

Come on, Cari, I know you are probably scared and it’s alright, who wouldn’t be? Norman waited patiently for her to say something, anything that would leave an opening. Seeing no softening in her demeanor, he stood up and climbed onto her bed, stepping over her prone body and squeezing in between it and the wall. Grabbing one of the pillows she so stubbornly clutched, he propped himself up against the high back of her headboard, crossing his legs at the ankles.

Just what the hell do you think you are doing? she sputtered, pulling herself out of the tangle of covers.

Whoa. She speaks.

Not funny, Norman, she said, sliding up beside him to rest against the headboard. Turning her head she looked at her friend. God I hate him, she commented, thick black lashes encircling warm brown eyes.

Norm felt he should say something, but he had no idea what.

She sighed. I feel like crap. What am I going to do without my mom, she asked, her voice breaking.

He stroked her hand. Everything will be okay, I promise. Haven’t I always watched out for you? Cari nodded. Norm was always there for her, even when they were little. He had taken care of both her and Mikey many times.

Cari settled in. Norm was so sweet, and he was right. Her mom would be royally pissed to see her hiding in her darkened room like a common little mouse. She was the only child of Carina Brown-Smythe Manichetti. So what if all her girlfriends were talking about her, telling everyone she was having an emotional breakdown. Everyone tried to talk about her mom, too, but her mom refused to acknowledge it. They were royalty and royalty was above criticism or reproach. It is time to take my crown back, she thought, smiling. She was the only princess in this town and she had no intention of giving away any glass slippers.

Look at it this way, Norm reasoned. The worst thing that could ever happen to you has happened, and you are still here and so are your dad and your friends, and we all love you. Most people have to fear the worst for years before they discover whether they will live through it or not. You got to do it a little early, but look at the bright side. You don’t have anything left to be afraid of, the worst has already happened!

Cari giggled. God Norm, that’s uplifting!

That’s more like it, he said with relief, climbing over her to exit the bed. Why don’t you get up and get dressed and I’ll take you to Mel’s for some burgers and fries, better yet, we’ll invite Mikey and make him pay, he added, hoping the extra enticement would clinch the deal.

Cari gracefully slipped from her bed, planting two feet firmly on the floor. Speaking of Mikey, just where is he? I haven’t seen him since the funeral on Saturday. Standing up she stretched her arms over her beautiful head, hiking her gown up to her thighs.

Norm blushed, turning his back to her. Tell you what. You throw on some jeans and I will go find Mikey and he and I will meet you at the bottom of the hill in an hour.

Cari surprised him. Blocking his exit, she kissed his cheek. Thanks, Stormin Norman. I love you.

OHIO, 1965

1

Adelightful breeze laden with the scent of lilacs in bloom filled the night air in the quiet neighborhoods of Sidney, Ohio. Technology was running a neck-to-neck race with awakening senses in the springtime of ‘65, and the sounds of war were just beginning to thunder.

Ten four... ten four... you guys got your ears on? a decidedly feminine voice came over the air.

Two girls sat tightly packed in the front of an old green Chevy, one watching intently as Maddi Mahany talked into her Uncle’s new Citizen Band Radio.

Your Uncle’s CB is very cool!

Maddi smiled at her best friend Janna’s enthusiasm.

It’s a whole lot neater if there’s someone to talk to, Maddi said, depressing the button on the mike. Hey, is anyone out there who wants to talk? Come on in now we don’t have all night!

Just ten blocks away, two boys sat huddled over a radio, table mike gripped in the shorter one’s hand. Jesus, Andy, the taller one prodded his friend, talk to her!

Take it easy, Terry, I’m going to, he whispered. Nervously, he cleared his throat. Hey ladies, this is Peter Rabbit, come on back now...

The muffled sound of a hand covering the mike failed to block out their giggles.

Oh my God, Janna... we have a rabbit on the line! Maddi whispered.

If he says he’s looking for a hole, I’m going to puke, Janna intoned. She was still trying to get a handle on the boys in her class. One minute they were glued to the basketball court and the next they would eat dirt to get to second base.

Oh shit, whispered Terry, slapping his hand over the mike. Don’t say anymore, man, that sounds like Madeline Mahany!

Andy’s eyes grew wide. You really think so?

Right on. She’s in my Lit class and never shuts up. Terry changed his position, resting on the opposite foot. Just your luck. The very girl of your hot adolescent dreams, and Andy my man, he snorted back laughter, she thinks you’re a rabbit. T shook his head. You should have lied man...hell, dick head is better than a rabbit! He snorted again.

It’s a handle, jackass. Andy was embarrassed enough without his friend’s assist. He stared at the mike in his hand.

Are you gonna tell her who you are? Terry asked.

Andy looked at him like he’d lost his mind. No asshole, I am not. We are trying to meet girls not freak them out. Better to remain nameless in case this conversation self-destructs.

Terry grinned. Not bad reasoning for a rabbit.

Oh Peter... this is Janna Green... are you still there, or are you fraternizing with the Cheshire cat?

Seeing Andy’s inaction, Terry took charge. Give me that, you idiot, you’re missing your big chance. Taking the mike, he pressed the button. Janna! Hey girl, is that you?

It sure is and who are you? The Easter Bunny?

Terry gave a pained smile. Not quite, babe. The name...is...Curly, He acknowledged Andy’s smirk with a one-finger salute. More importantly... not that you’re not important, he backtracked. It’s just that Peter here, God, I hate that name, he whispered furiously at Andy, would like to talk to Maddi if she is still around. Terry quickly handed the mike to his friend. Thank God he didn’t use his real name.

Looks like the rabbit wants to talk to you, Mad, Janna said with a grin, handing her the mike.

"Hi. This is Maddi. Janna said you