Forthcoming Dawn: A Novel

By Sylvia C. Stowers

It is 1980 and David Hearst is a white-collar thief who lives a double life as a bank president, only embezzles from the wealthy, and thoroughly revels in every personal financial victory. Intertwined with his professional life is Carol Wilmore, a San Diego district attorney with lucrative offshore accounts and a deep-seated need to erect barriers for all who cross her.

Susan Baker is a beautiful attorney struggling with her marriage to Carl, a pitcher for the San Diego Padres who is a master of secretsespecially about his homosexuality. As she contemplates a new beginning, Carl must attempt to reconcile his former relationship with Alan Rogers, director of a gay mens counseling center and trusted keeper of confidences. Meanwhile, Eileen Emerson is a rising star psychic who relies on her trusted friends, Cori Styles and John Putnam, to help navigate her through all that comes with her giftgood and bad. Now as each face both tragedies and triumphs, fate catches up to David as he realizes that no one can save him but himself.

In this provocative tale set during the 1980s, several individuals shrouded in mystery become ensnared in a web of money and power that leaves hope as elusive as ever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781480858534

Sylvia C. Stowers

Sylvia Stowers was once employed in the investment banking and building industry. Now retired from a second career in education, she resides in San Diego County. This is the second book in an intended trilogy.

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Copyright © 2018 Sylvia C. Stowers.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-5854-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-5852-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-5853-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018936490

Archway Publishing rev. date: 3/8/2018

CONTENTS

About The Author

About The Book

Characters

Book Two

Prologue

David: March 1980

Susan: March 1980

Alan: July 1980

Carl: August 1980

Eileen: September 1980

Carol: October 1980

Susan: January 1981

California Geological Department Of Conservation

Alan: April 1981

Underneath The Pacific Coast: April 1981

Eileen: Georgia

Eileen: Two Weeks After The Earthquake

Centers For Disease Control: July 1981

David: October 1981

Carol: November 1981

David: November 1981

Carol: Mid-November

Carl: November 1981

Susan

David: January 1982

Carl: June 1982

Alan: July 1982

Susan: July 1982

Carl And Alan: August 1982

Eileen: September 1982

Carl And Susan: October 1982

Alan: November 1982

Carl: November 1982

David: January 1983

Alan: Spring 1983

Eileen: Summer 1983

Carl: Summer 1983

David: Fall 1983

Carl: December 1983

Switzerland: December 1983

The Back Room: February 1984

Susan: August 1984

David: September 1984

Epilogue

Songs In Order Of Appearance

For Lucy

Abandoned as a small child after her mother’s death and her father’s desertion, plagued with a lifetime of heart issues and hearing loss, married for more than thirty years to an emotionally crippled man, she rose above it all through faith and positive thinking. She was an accomplished violinist and a talented artist and loved dearly by friends—a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother with children who depended on her.

My mother, Lucy. May you rest in peace.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sylvia Stowers is the author of Shadows of Us, the first in a trilogy about money and power, involving corporate raiders of the investment banking and building industries during the late 1960s to the beginning of the twenty-first century. Once employed in this industry and surrounded by those playing million-dollar games, she is now retired from a second career in education. She resides in San Diego County.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Forthcoming Dawn is the second of three projected works of fiction regarding a group of people caught up in the cultural changes of America from the sixties to the present.

Book 2 opens in the early 1980s, with its signature of opulence from the immoral and illegal sides of Wall Street so resonating with American society; it led more than one idolizer to enter the world of finance and real estate. The story revisits the inner workings of a hunger-driven population that eventually led to enormous corporate greed in the sense of chasing returns. Even Ronald Reagan, the first president to visit Wall Street, publicly boasted, "We’re bullish for Wall Street, and any American should be able to make money. During that period, the draw on Wall Street was the smell of money. Yuppies claimed their celebrity by becoming rich, and the vibe of that culture was We’re cool."

This story also focuses on the ever-changing metamorphosis in our society that causes us to reflect on what’s good and what’s bad. Who can be empowered to help society move in positive ways?

The main characters, carried over from the first novel, are caught up in money and power and secrets. These secrets include significant milestones in LGBT history, when the gay genie emerged from his pink bottle and into the streets, the media, music, and politics.

But this book is more than all that. Adversity, whether it is financial, emotional, or mental, continues to rip through our communities today. The hope of a spirit of unity rallies to transcend the borders of discrimination, diversity, corruption, and evil. It’s a tale of feeling a connection with our history.

During the 1980s, America was a rich tapestry, and I hope that my second work of this trilogy conveys that fact. It’s not just about remembering the good times and bad times; it’s also about recognizing what ills society has been combating and how it continues to struggle through the issues of today.

A few of my characters develop the inner knowledge of learning how not to be invisible; some of them choose to stay in the shadows, resisting significant emotional growth. Both of their ideals figure in this story, and not in a small way. They all play their part in bringing society to where it is now.

As with my first book, I’ve chosen lyrics of various music genres to offer a deeper understanding of each person in this story. I hope you will listen to the songs to truly appreciate each character.

I guess we’re all two people. One daylight, and the one we keep in shadow.

—Bruce Wayne / Batman, Batman Forever

CHARACTERS

Susan Baker —

The beautiful lawyer struggling with her marriage seeks a clean start.

Carl Baker —

Pitcher for the San Diego Padres; he is classy and good-looking, a master of secrets.

Eileen Emerson —

The ambitious clairvoyant on the verge of American stardom.

Cori Styles —

Eileen’s trusted friend.

John Putnam —

Former coworker and friend of Eileen.

David Hearst —

The new proprietor of a large and successful San Diego bank, he works secretly with a powerful partner, laundering money.

Carol Wilmore —

A district attorney for San Diego, she erects twisted barriers for those who cross her.

Alan Rogers —

Director of the Gay Men’s Counseling Center in West Palm Beach, Florida. He’s Carl’s former lover and a keeper of all secrets of others.

BOOK TWO

PROLOGUE

IT WAS NEW YEAR’S Eve. As Eileen Emerson sat on a comfortable leather couch in the painted yellow hospitality room sipping Perrier water, she listened intently to the television presenter. She was preparing to be escorted onstage to face the cameras and an excited audience. Her dark eyes were sharp and quick. From her earliest memories, she could look at someone and understand him or her, even though her mother discouraged her from speaking of such things. Reverence and fear battled her confusion and desire to see as others could not. She grew up believing that her love for everyone was a gift.

Totally content, she wore a light green blouse with cream-colored linen pants and a topaz diamond around her neck, which matched her earrings. Her hair, light and brown, was cut to the level of her jawbone, just below her ears. Relaxed, she crossed her legs to adjust her brown Joan & David leather loafers, which were new and a little uncomfortable.

Eileen was timeless and elegant, with an air of sophistication. Her keen mind, accompanied with an unfailing sense of what was right for her, had led to an unending supply of money and astounding success. Her face had appeared on the cover of the latest Time magazine, and she enjoyed her own monthly astrology column in the New York Times. She was special, and everyone knew it without reasoning, accepting its truth. Eileen the Medium, as she was known, knew it too. She felt different from those around her. She wasn’t conceited or vying for fame, as some might have believed. Her elegance was natural. A lovely person from within, Eileen simply held tantalizing thoughts with real substance. She cared about people.

The station assistant popped his head into the room. Are you comfortable? he asked.

Yes, I am. Thank you, Eileen answered.

Good. I’m your backstage escort today. Are you ready?

Eileen’s eyes flashed on him, and for one moment, he remained locked to her. She was staring at him with a gentleness. He was sure of it.

Yes. She stood, placed her drink on the oak coffee table, turned, and walked with him down the long corridor of the studio, waving at one of the producers just as the elevator doors closed. Checking her watch, it was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon, and after the taping of the show, she was going to enjoy an early dinner with a friend at the Boat House in Central Park, New York City. Her anxiety suddenly expanded, reaching out beyond a controlled moment. Breathing deeply, Eileen regained her composure. Every interview was different, and somewhere down deep in her soul, tonight’s held a troubling thought, as if she were going to walk through a carnival of horrors. A chill clutched her heart. Will someone in the audience laugh at me? In a startling human fashion, she shook her head and tried to concentrate on the moment. Her escort noticed that her face tightened somewhat. She seemed distant for a moment. Recovering, Eileen’s lips parted into a friendly smile as she prepared to be on television.

Eileen was a people watcher. An observer. It was easy for her to peek through the curtain into another person’s life. She took great delight in noticing the mannerisms of others and storing that information in her mind for later retrieval. She often saw colors around individuals that allowed her to understand their psyches. Light colors meant that a person was emotionally and physically healthy. Dark colors were a prominent sign of ill mental or physical health. Because of her rise to fame, Eileen was on everyone who was anyone’s list for talk radio or television. Today was no exception. Her host, Simon Rider of The Simon Rider Show, was a fan of hers, as well as a friend. She stood backstage with her arms crossed, scrutinizing the audience as she waited to be introduced. She could see them all.

As Eileen hung back, she found herself recalling previous interviews. She found those ongoing conversations exciting. One difficulty in judging the accuracy of psychics was the vagueness of their readings; on occasion, they were so general they were worthless. Not so with her. She had correctly predicted the previous California earthquake by revealing her visions to her coworker, John, a geological scientist, years before over a dinner date. He, in turn, became her confidant as he witnessed her predictions of smaller situations and people prove true. Like the time I told him that his estranged wife, Karen, would call him in the middle of the night, drunk, asking him back. After that, he believed me.

Her relentless comments about that upcoming event propelled him to inform the California Geological Department of Conservation of a possible earthquake sometime during 1981. The people in charge of that agency laughed at her and him, but then the earthquake occurred. Afterward, Eileen immediately became a scientific celebrity of sorts, trusted by many parapsychologists nationwide. Her details of the earthquake were later verified through recorded conversations with a variety of sources employed at that agency. As media outlets got wind of her predictions, her public following grew exponentially.

It was time. She heard Simon introduce her.

The backstage assistant adjusted his headset, looked at her again, and pointed her to the stage opening. Flinging back the drapes, Eileen stepped onto the stage to a roar of applause.

Simon began, Tonight, best-selling psychic Eileen Emerson is here for the hour. She’s best known for her prediction of the California earthquake in 1981 but also known for her abilities to see colors on people and to sometimes sense their futures—or even communicate with the dead. Do you believe? His eyebrows rose quizzically.

He continued, We’ll take questions from the audience, and we’ll find out!

His grin was so wide she thought his face might break. The audience began to clap and continued rhythmically.

The camera shifted to her, and Eileen took her seat as the small orchestra played a lively ditty. Looking at the audience, she listened as Simon ticked off many of her accomplishments.

He flashed an engaging smile. It’s always good to welcome you to this program.

She looked up and replied, Thank you. I’m always glad to be here.

Eileen liked Simon because he had helped her overcome the treachery of failure in interviews. Once, she had been a novice. Now, she had refined her answers to familiar questions. Simon was disciplined in his field and wasn’t afraid to call someone out if he thought he or she was a fake. For Eileen, being on his show was always an effective way to express her beliefs and experiences.

"I understand you have a new book out, titled Book of Knowledge, which is number four right now on the New York Times list of best-selling self-help books. He held a copy of the book up to the camera. There—you see its cover."

Eileen’s shoulders straightened, and her grin widened. She loved the rush of interviews. Her current goal was to delight the audience with her positive outlook on life, based on her personal journey. Simon was only too happy to raise his television ratings.

Let me start with your book, Eileen. In it, I learned something new about you. I didn’t realize that sometimes you see things happening in your dreams.

Eileen turned to take a good look at her host. Sometimes I have dreams, yes. My critics will say, ‘Well, your dreams are just meanderings of your own unbridled mind when it’s not under control.’

She paused and continued, But the reality is this: it’s a direct revelation about some specific conduct that either I am experiencing or someone else is having.

His face was a mixture of delight and determination as he prodded her.

Basic question, Eileen: Why do you see colors around people and I don’t? He leaned into her.

Simon was a handsome African American. She loved his dignified face, its high cheekbones emphasizing deep brown eyes behind long eyelashes.

I don’t know. You possibly could see them if you really wanted to. You have a lovely hue of light blue surrounding you.

The crowd clapped again, and she gave a wide, broad grin. As much as she loved flattery, she could feel a bit foolish too.

Eileen, Eileen, come on. Seriously?

The audience loved the prod, and she found Simon delightfully wicked.

His voice was determined. You communicate with dead people, right?

Not always, but sometimes. Yes, I do. Sure, I do.

You do psychic readings.

Yes.

What is this gift? And why do you have it? He pressed again. The audience became quiet. That question was not beyond her reach.

I honestly don’t know. When I was younger, I would have said to you that I was just unlucky.

He gasped and asked, You mean to tell me that you don’t like your gifts? Faces peered back at her.

No, no. Not at all. It’s just that when I was younger, my gifts were big contradictions to me. I mean, it wasn’t something I could just talk to anyone about. From what I know, what I’ve discovered, my great-grandmother from my mother’s side worked as a psychic in the small town she lived in. But she too had to hide her gifts somewhat, for fear of being labeled weird or eccentric. Even my own mother was afraid for me when she discovered I could see colors around people.

But this is the 1980s now.

She paused. Yes, it is. But history has demonstrated that people like me weren’t always treated fairly. I believe the Salem witch trials is a very good example of how stupid and ignorant society can be.

The audience loved that comment. People began whistling and clapping again.

She continued, It’s a sad but true fact; many historians make light of supernatural beliefs. And some scientists have dismissed them as superstition.

But I’ve known you now for a few years, and I can testify that you see inner lights as clear and lucid as the morning light of a new day. So I say to you—it’s all right!

Simon spoke with conviction. Applause came immediately.

Psychic impressions are hard to verify and essentially impossible to establish scientific controls for, so it’s one of those things you can either take or leave, she acknowledged.

Do doubters say you provide trickery or illusions?

Oh yes. I have been called a fake and worse names. Not all people are kind.

He nodded his head in agreement and then said, For those people who aren’t familiar with the Salem witch trials, can you give us a brief summary?

She laughed. "Oh, for sure. Those who were targeted in the witch hunts were generally misfits. Meaning, they either kept to themselves, were socially awkward, or poor. In fact, the ‘witches’ were innocent people who were made into scapegoats by horrible citizens, parading as noble, religious people.

And, she continued, in Salem Village, rumors spread by a group of spoiled girls, led to the trials and convictions of innocent people. Twenty people were executed either by hanging or being pressed to death by large rocks.

The audience showed their displeasure by groaning and shaking their heads.

After a moment’s pause, Simon stated, So you haven’t always told people what you thought or saw.

Eileen considered his comment for a moment. No. No, I haven’t. I have seen agitation and even anger in the faces of those who think I’m a joke. But in these last few years, I’ve been more open to having conversations with others regarding my gifts. I guess you could say that I broke out, out of my shadow. She leaned into him and folded her arms over her chest. She laughed. I know you like mystery.

He shifted in his seat. Yes, I do. And you, my dear, can sometimes be a mysterious person. Tell me this: Was there one prophetic moment in your childhood, one that pointed to the empowered woman you have become?

She thought for a moment and then replied, I don’t remember this, but my mother told me that when I was about three years old, my grandfather was sitting on our front porch with us, and I looked up at him and asked him why there was a dark color around his head. I understand he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. I believe he died of a heart attack the next month.

The audience groaned, and Simon commented, I’m just betting the audience would love to ask you some questions. There were whoops from the gallery.

He rose, grabbed the microphone with his hand, walked to the aisle, and headed to the noisy crowd. His perfectly tailored suit was taut across the muscles of his back.

Eileen frowned just for a moment. She felt a sudden chill over her shoulder. It was as if someone in the audience, behind the stage, or at the back door was wanting more from her than she could give. God only knows what these people really think, she thought.

Quick to appreciate the potential for great ratings, Eileen caught Simon’s eye and gave him the nod to proceed. Simon stopped for a moment, folded his arms across his chest, microphone in hand, and looked the audience over. Eileen knew him well enough to believe he loved the question-and-answer portion of the show. His eyes widened again, and his mouth lengthened into a grin. It was an unmistakable look of triumph.

She waited as Simon asked a studio guest to stand and ask the first question.

Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back,

Even while we sleep,

we will find you acting on your best behavior.

Turn your back on Mother Nature.

Everybody wants to rule the world.

—Tears for Fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World

DAVID: MARCH 1980

DAVID HEARST ARRIVED ON the late-night flight originating from the Cayman Islands into San Diego around three in the morning. Living a double life and being a white-collar thief was a most rewarding and exciting time in his career. As a teenager, he had loved the movie How to Steal a Million, with Audrey Hepburn. He often congratulated himself now that he had stolen more than a few million dollars of other people’s money.

He was corrupted, and he owned it. But he only embezzled from the wealthy. He scoffed at those whose greed gave them all the comforts that people in need didn’t have. It wasn’t clear to him whether Wall Street’s cheating of the common man or his betrayal was more galling. What he did know was that it was easier on his conscience. He swiped from the wealthy to convince himself that individual effort counted, not perverse bureaucratic bullshit from those in power who robbed little old ladies.

Sitting in first class, he had gotten drunk during the long flight and slept through his steak dinner. None of the flight attendants seemed to mind that he had gotten bombed because he kept tipping them with twenty-dollar bills. He was celebrating another personal financial victory, and everything was normal for him now that he was going home. The various trips to the Cayman Islands always gave him some anxiety because he didn’t totally trust his partner in crime, Carol Wilmore. Depositing their stolen monies from wealthy bank investors in various accounts gave him pause. He was always on the alert to the possibility of her undermining him somehow. He couldn’t prove it, but more than once he had felt her eyes burrow into his. He watched as her fingers would tighten visibly if he disagreed with her. He often wondered what ends would justify her means.

His descent into stealing other people’s money started in September 1969, when he met Livingston Shaw, the proprietor of a large and successful San Diego bank. With time, Livingston mentored David, treated him like a son, and mechanically introduced him to the world of banking fraud. David’s moral compass, originally stainless, became perverted and was very little part of him now.

He had spent the last eleven years of his life polishing and skillfully perfecting the art of stealing without even a blink of an eye. He had become very good at dodging all obstacles that stood in the way of