The Dream

By Gene Ligotti

This story is about two college graduates who are very much in love and set out one day to be married. Being in love can have its ups and downs, but neither lover expected this shocking separation. A horrific deadly accident, hurtful lies and shattering misunderstandings separated the two lovers and their severance was complete and final. The accident was only the beginning. The lies did the most damage and the dreadful misunderstanding was the final nail for the separation of the two lovers. After almost three years, factors come into play that possibly might correct the problem, but after all this time is love still evident and viable? Has either or both of the pair of lovers moved on? Can the lies and misunderstandings be reversed? For him, he believes the worst scenario is true. He withdraws from life and throws himself into his work. For her, her life has been hurled into a tailspin. Through a quirk of fate, she is arrested for grand larceny, identity theft and embezzlement. The trial, and the spell binding ending, are exciting, poignant and up lifting. You will love the characters as they will become quite real to you. This tale is another of Ligotti’s page turning novels; one you will not be able to put down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796033649

Gene Ligotti

Gene Ligotti was educated at Adelphi University on Long Island and received his doctorate from New York University. After coming down with Rheumatoid Arthritis, he had to give up his successful thirty year practice of dentistry in Huntington, New York. After he retired, Ligotti began writing as just something to do, but it soon became a driving force. He is an American Revolutionary history buff, has given lectures about the impact the Revolution had on Long Island and he has written three novels of interesting characters of the American Revolution. Ligotti is also the author of the much acclaimed, Time Never Heals; the biography of the first battalion surgeon in Vietnam. He soon began writing suspense thrillers which has become his special passion. Each suspense thriller has a love story as a sub-plot, but Twisted Deception, the sequel to the much applauded, Incredible Deception, continues as a love story with the suspense thriller element as the sub-plot. As a freelance writer he wrote a monthly column for the Guide Magazine about the history of villages in the Catskill Mountains and of the romantic Hudson River. His widely praised articles on dentistry have been printed in various Dental Journals. Gene Ligotti lives in Smithtown, New York with his wife Corbina, where they can be near their family, Gina, Lisa, Nick, and their grandchildren: grandson, Gino and twin granddaughters, Gabrielle and Juliette.

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Copyright © 2019 by Gene Ligotti.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/30/2023

Xlibris

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www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Epilogue

DEDICATION

First and foremost this novel is dedicated to my lovely, talented and beautiful granddaughters, Juliette and Gabrielle Liberatoscioli, who created the cover art for this book. Fraternal twins and only sixteen years old, their gift in many fields is quite evident. Their outstanding ability and talent to capture and record the dream sequence and use it as the dramatic cover art for this novel was a blessing for me. I am thrilled and I repeat, more than grateful to my granddaughters for their artistic abilities.

No man is complete, especially me, without his family. They have granted me the time and given me the encouragement to write and at times I write for hours on end. I have been blessed with a wonderful family who mean the world to me. So with great pride I must add in the dedication of this, my fourteenth novel: Gina, Gino, Lisa, Nick, Juliette and Gabrielle. All are special; I hold them in my heart and they will always have my love.

Also, this endeavor could not have been accomplished without my wife, Corbina, who is the basis of my strength and love. Corby is my biggest fan and greatest critic and so … she shares this dedication.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It is said that the basis of a novel comes from the author’s knowledge, experiences and past memories. Most assuredly, this is true in my case, but an author cannot have acumen in all fields. Therefore, in this novel as in my previous endeavors, I have reached out to others for their assistance, advice and, of course, their expertise. I am immensely grateful to the following individuals. I have long held them in high esteem and now welcome the opportunity to tell them how much they are appreciated. If there are any mistakes in this novel, they are all mine.

The use of the name, Marie, of the heroine in this novel was to honor a dear friend, Marie Vaccaro. It was to be a surprise for her, but unfortunately she passed away before the book was published. Marie is a fitting beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Marie and her husband, Andy, were dear and special life-long friends I will miss all the days of my life.

Once again I would like to honor the memory of my old friend William Frederick Lauro, His expertise in law added much to my novels and he is portrayed, as he is in this one, as the model for the lawyer, William Frederick. He was a dear friend and he is sorely missed.

I am grateful to John P. Bracken, now retired from the prestigious law firm of Bracken, Margolin and Besunder LLP and he is a member of the American College of Trial Lawyers. On countless occasions, he has given me insight and knowledge into his expertise, the law. His wisdom, along with his friendship, is respected and valued.

Just when I needed knowledge on police procedures, a new friend and neighbor came forth. Retired Nassau County Detective Paul Daniell immediately responded to my questions and provided the much needed quality information. His assistance was very much appreciated; his friendship is valued.

Last, but never least, are words of praise for my dear wife, Corbina, who is my best fan and most critical and sincere critic. Her copyediting, advice and suggestions are of value and quite pertinent in making the novel more enjoyable. I have always said that she has the ability to understand what is good writing and what is not, the wisdom to see where changes can be made and the courage to tell me about it.

A man can live with any number of women,

but there is only one woman he cannot live without.

…. Gene Ligotti Accomplice 2013

PROLOGUE

A ll love stories do not have happy endings. We all hope that they do, but sometimes there are powers that work against that most desirable state. Malicious factors raise their jealous heads and tend to tear down all that the lovers have built up and planned for themselves. At times those with seemingly unselfish desires, who think they mean well, don’t understand love at all and perhaps those who live loveless lives are the most destructive. Those troubling influences in a position of some authority think they know best and believe they are altruistic, but it is their own selfish ideas, plans and desires they want fulfilled and brought to fruition. At times it is pure fear and or jealousy that drive these uncaring, hard-headed and hard-hearted individuals. They care little for, or even understand, the plans and desires of the lovers. Living egotistical, loveless lives, they don’t comprehend love and perhaps have never experienced the glorious phenomenon of being in love.

Every now and then fate takes a hand and initiates the destructive process thereby enabling the ultimate devastation, but can true love really ever die? After the ultimate demise of the loving union, doesn’t the love live on … perhaps as a driving force and separate from the participants or maintained deep within the very soul of each lover? If so, then that love, with all its memories and heartfelt hopes, will indeed live on. If a lover dies, the love that was felt for them does not disappear … at times it may even get stronger as it can and does with mere separation.

This is such a story. The lovers in this tale would have and could have fought against the powers that wished and wanted to separate them, but fate did indeed step in and initiated a forced and, seemingly, a final separation. That is when the abilities of negativity marched in and did their worst. Misunderstandings and outright lies enabled the process of ultimate destruction. They, the enablers, then created an irrevocable situation of permanent separation for the lovers.

But … love is all-powerful and this story will prove it once again.

That Love is all there is, is all we know of Love.

…. Emily Dickinson

No man can know the particulars of his own end, save that he will have one.

…. Diana Gabaldon Outlander

CHAPTER ONE

T he emergency room at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston was extremely active on this blistering hot Thursday morning in June. Ambulances were packed tight near the entrance, their screaming sirens quiet and totally squelched once any ambulance approached the hospital and the emergency room entrance. EMS personnel, nurses, orderlies and police moved with quiet but hurried efficiency. The screech of still another ambulance that had sped over Longfellow Bridge, its lights flashing and sirens screaming for the right of way, was subdued as it too pulled up at the entrance. This was a police ambulance and a number of police officers, moving with haste, lifted the gurney from the back, the stretcher’s legs dropping automatically and they rolled it rapidly through the doors and into the Emergency Room. A police emergency medical officer was relaying, to nurses and doctors, all the patient’s significant vitals that he knew. On the gurney and near death, was an unconscious man, a blanket as an attempt against shock covered him partially and it was soaked with the victim’s blood. One police officer held up an intravenous tube which fed precious liquids into the man’s body, while another tried to staunch the flow of blood from several major wounds.

Clinging to the gurney with bone-white knuckles and running along with it was a young woman. Her clothes were disheveled and she too was covered with blood. She was calling out desperately to the man lying on the stretcher. With her face awash with terror, her hair wild, her mouth agape and breathing hard, she was in a hysterical panic and nearly in shock herself. One shoe missing, she stumbled along not realizing its loss. Once in the ER, she was forcibly separated from the gurney by a police officer and she fought to get back to the unconscious man.

Nooooo, she screamed in protest to the officer. He needs me! I must help him!

I’m sorry, Miss. Let the doctors do what they can for him. Please, Miss, you can’t help him, but they can … and you must let them. Trust me, they know what they’re doing, said a strong voice with authority.

Firm but gently, the officer was too strong for her and finally she gave up and collapsed in his arms in a state of hysteria. She screamed again as her body shook uncontrollably with her sobs. The officer moved her to a chair and, keeping a hand on her shoulder to keep her from bolting, summoned over a nurse as the woman continued to mutter incoherently. The nurse directed the officer to take the distraught woman to an enclosure where she would be examined by a doctor. The young woman continued her attempts to get to the man who had been brought in on the gurney, but as her eyes frantically searched for him she realized that the gurney and her man were nowhere in sight. Finally resigned and shivering with fear, she took a deep breath and tried, unsuccessfully, to calm herself and relax. She waited for the doctor with the police officer as tears streaked her face and sobs wracked her body. She pushed her auburn hair off her ashen face and ran both hands through the mess it had become. Pale as a white sheet, her eyes, the color of warm milk chocolate flecked with gold, had a startled, fearful look as they darted seemingly everywhere. Her demeanor was brittle, wrought with emotional fear. Again she took a deep breath, but she could not find any ease of tension and once again a shudder raced through her body nearly knocking her from her tenuous perch on the edge of the chair.

With all the commotion in the ER, during which the young woman tried several times to leave the cubicle, it was a good fifteen minutes before a doctor came to examine her. Speaking calmly to the distraught woman, the emergency room doctor attempted to soothe her. The police officer stepped out of the cubicle after mentioning to the doctor that he would wait just outside since he had questions of his own.

Now, now, Miss, if you will just give me a few minutes of your time … please try to relax. My name is Dr. Vomer. I’ll examine you and then you can move on to where you want to be. But first, let me make sure that you are not injured.

The young woman stared with white-faced horror. Her eyes were wild with fear and it appeared as if she was desperately trying to understand the words he was speaking.

Dr. Vomer was in his late thirties, tall, slim and had a mild and kindly face, but he had a firm strength of character that would not put up with any difference of opinion that would stop him from examining his patient. With simple and gentle persuasion, he calmed her … at least temporarily.

But you don’t understand, I’m fine … it’s Penn who’s hurt and I must go to him. You must help him … not me! she shrieked as her body shuddered yet again.

Right now he’s in the best of hands and is being cared for as we speak. The trauma team here at Mass General is with him and he’s getting the finest care possible. Now, young lady, please calm down. You will be of no help to him or yourself if you don’t relax. Let me examine you and then I promise we’ll find out how he’s doing. Okay? First … tell me … what is your name?

My name is Marie and I’m fine I tell you, said the woman as a nurse stepped into the cubicle and began taking the woman’s vital signs and recording the numbers on a chart. The doctor spoke briefly to the nurse and then turned to his patient who was now first gaining some modicum of restraint. She took a few deep breaths and resigned herself to the process of the medical examination.

What’s your full name, Miss?

Marie … Marie Fayette. I know I must look a mess, but, I’ll tell you again, I’m not hurt.

Okay, Marie, but let’s just make sure. You’re upset and you’ve been through quite a shock, you have adrenalin pumping through your system and therefore you may be hurt and not realize it. Your clothes are blood stained and I want to make sure that all that blood is not yours.

For the first time, Marie looked down at her clothing and again shuddered and sobbed knowing that all the blood was Penn’s.

*   *   *

On the other side of the Emergency Room, the trauma team was working feverishly on the accident victim. They had cut away his bloody clothing and checked the vital signs on the unconscious man. His breathing and ventilation were determined to be impaired and airway maintenance was monitored and oxygen fed to him nasally. A blood transfusion was given and several more were made available. It was determined that the entire left side of his body was damaged. His left leg’s femur bone was broken in two places and his left upper arm had a compound fracture of the humerus bone as well. The main problem, as the team saw it, was the trauma to the head. While doctors worked to stop the bleeding in the arm and leg, a mobile X-ray machine was brought in and X-rays were taken to show the extent of the fractures. The X-rays also determined that two ribs were fractured and he had a pneumothorax where a broken rib had punctured his left lung which was the cause of his impaired breathing. An MRI was taken of the head and the young man was rushed into an available Operating Room. The trauma team moved into advanced trauma life support and several surgeons began their delicate and difficult life-saving effort. Still, they all knew that the trauma to the brain was the most significant and all other endeavors would be naught if the brain was damaged. A hematoma was developing under the skull and steps were taken to alleviate the pressure that would continue to develop. Under severe tension they they worked, all with a prayer in their hearts.

*   *   *

Well, Marie, said the doctor, I’m happy to tell you that you are not injured. You do have a few bumps, scrapes and bruises … that’s to be expected after an accident such as the one you were involved in and you’ll probably be sore for a while, but you’re okay.

Can I go to Penn? I must see how he is.

Well … you can’t simply wander around the ER, so suppose I check on him for you. I can move around in the ER and you would be stopped before you could find your husband. In the meantime, the nurse will have a few questions regarding you and the man … I believe he’s your husband and you called him Penn. Give the nurse all the information you can. I’ll be right back with the information you want.

The doctor left and the nurse, a woman in her fifties with steel gray hair under her nurse’s cap, a stern countenance and a no-nonsense attitude, turned to Marie. The nurse made no attempt to smile, but Marie was too upset to notice.

I just have a few questions. You stated your name as Marie Fayette. I’ll need your address and telephone number along with some other info and then If you can give me information about the other victim in the accident. You called him Penn. Is that his name or just a nick-name?

Marie answered all the questions regarding herself and then answered the nurses questions regarding Penn.

His name is actually Walter ... Walter T. Pennington, but everyone calls him Penn. His address and telephone number are the same as mine. We’re engaged and were to be married … this morning … actually right now, said Marie as she glanced at her watch and her tears began to flow once again. Her speech was rushed and she exhibited an apprehension … an anxiousness to be over and done with the annoying interrogation.

Is he any relation to the society Penningtons?

Yes ... yes, Penn is their son.

Have his parents been notified?

There hasn’t been any time, but … they should be told … perhaps if you--

Certainly! said the nurse who was now smiling for the first time, I’ll get right on it, but before we release you, the police will need a statement regarding the accident. I’ll get the police officer who has been waiting to question you … he’s just outside this cubicle.

The police officer entered the cubicle as the nurse left. He smiled at Marie, sat on the only available stool, took out a pad and began asking questions regarding the accident. Marie’s mind was elsewhere and she couldn’t have described the police officer in any detail. All she really saw was the authority of the uniform. She was annoyed that she still had to answer more questions when all she wanted was answers.

*   *   *

We assume that your husband … Mr. Pennington was driving. Is that correct?

Marie looked up at the police officer and spoke rapidly as she relived the trauma of the collision.

Yes, and I was in the passenger seat. It all happened so fast. We were driving to City Hall, and I believe we were on Broadway, when an old van-type truck that we noticed had apparently been behind us, raced up alongside our car and deliberately rammed us pushing our car into the extreme left lane. That van was old, beat-up and rusted with blacked-out windows. There was some writing on the side. Most of it was rusted or scraped off, but it did say Acadam…. Construct… That all I remember but it had to be from some construction company."

Suddenly Marie’s face lit up with a memory … a recall … and she exclaimed, Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

What Miss … did you think of something that might be important?

Yes, about two weeks ago I was crossing the street by Harvard University and I was almost run down. It was that same truck I just described … it came racing toward me. If it weren’t for some stranger who grabbed me and pulled me out of the way just in time … I would have been killed. It was the same van … I’m sure of it … I’m positive.

By any chance did you get the license plate number?

Marie looked at the cop as if he had asked, ‘Was the driver eating ice-cream?’ Her mind wandering, Marie simply shook her head.

Color?

What?

What color was the van?

It was sort of reddish or maroon, I think. Anyway, said Marie as she continued her description of the accident to the police officer. The truck hit us again and you could tell it was deliberate and he didn’t care what damage he did to his truck since it was already smashed up. The driver’s window was open and I saw the face of the driver and I’ll never forget it; a face with so much anger and malice. I thought at the time that it was road-rage, but we hadn’t done anything to upset him, but the man was in some sort of frenzied anger, perhaps because we weren’t going fast enough for him. Penn tried to avoid the collision, but that horrid truck hit us again forcing our car toward the oncoming traffic. A car in the opposing lane … he …I guess … I don’t really know if the driver was male or female, but whoever … the driver lost control or something. I don’t know how it happened, but that car must’ve hit something in the road because it rose up in the air and came hurtling toward our car. I saw it coming and I guess I screamed. The car hit us and the sound was unbelievably loud ... metal tearing, ripping, glass breaking … two cars crushed together with such force. Penn tried to move out of the way, but there was nowhere to go. We were hit on the driver’s side and shoved over into other cars. I was slammed against the passenger door. I remember banging my head on the window. When the car came to rest, I recall unhooking my seat belt and reaching over and shutting off the ignition … don’t know why, but I guess I was afraid the car might catch fire. I could see Penn was trapped. I tried to help him … there was so much blood … I tried to stop it … the bleeding, but ... but …

Suddenly a vivid memory came to her … Penn, crushed by the collision; his breath sobbed in his lungs and he inhaled sharply between clenched teeth. He turned his blue eyes to her and with a slightly painful smile, simply said … Marie. Just her name, but it was filled with such pain and longing and sorrow … and then those eyes closed and he passed out. The sight of his wounds made her soul cry. Would those eyes ever open again?

Marie shuddered and shook uncontrollably. The police officer patted her hand and she steadied herself.

I was so afraid. I felt so useless because I couldn’t help him, but I tried. I really tried-- sobbed Marie through the painful memory.

Yes, Miss, I’m sure you did all you could.

You … the police … they came quickly but they couldn’t open any of the doors. They use some big machine to cut--

Yes, it’s called the ‘Jaws of Life.’ We got your husband out of the wreckage and we rushed him here to the hospital. Thank you, Mrs. Pennington; I do hope your husband recovers fully.

Thank you, officer.

That’s now several times that someone called Penn my husband. Why not? We would be married today in less than an hour and I always felt he was my husband. We’ve been living as husband and wife for the last five months.

After relating all the facts about the accident that she could remember, the officer left and only moments later, Dr. Vomer returned. Marie’s questioning eyes bore into his face looking for any sign of what he might tell her about Penn.

He’s still in surgery and I’m told he will be for quite a while. I’ll take you to the waiting room and as soon as there is any word, any word at all, someone will come and tell you how your husband is doing.

Again, that’s someone who thinks Penn is my husband. I might as well cling to that.

Thank you, doctor, they must save him. He’s my husband … my best friend … he’s all I have in the world … the love of my life. They must save him, said Marie with a worried smile laced with fear. She stood and glanced down at her shoeless foot. She removed her other shoe, which had been white but now had smears of dark bloody spots, and tossed it into an available garbage pail. The doctor walked her to the waiting room in her stockinged feet.

*   *   *

She had just seated herself in the waiting room and watched as the doctor walked away when her cell phone rang. She rummaged in her pocket book, found the cell phone and answered quickly.

Yes … yes … hello?

Marie, it’s Louise. Mike and I are here at Town Hall. Where the Hell are you and Penn? said the woman; her voice a bit frantic.

Oh, Louise, gasped Marie as her voice caught in her throat. We’ve been in an accident ... a terrible accident. I’m at Mass General. I’m--

Are you alright?

I’m fine, but Penn … my Penn … he’s hurt so badly … he’s so bad ... so hurt. He’s in surgery. They won’t tell me anything and I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared.

We’ll be right there. You hang in there. Mike and I are on the way, said Louise, her voice fraught with concern and anxiety.

Marie settled into what she hoped would not be a long wait and unexpectedly became aware of the distinct smell of the hospital. It was an odd combination of alcohol, medications, pungent cleaning materials and sometimes the unmistakable stench of blood and vomit singed her nostrils. The smell wafted upwards, as pungent as garbage left to rot in the sun. Above it all, the strong odor of bleach and other disinfectants lingered in the air like a miasma over a swamp.

She looked around at the others in the room. After triage, several with minor injuries appeared to be waiting their turn to get into the ER while others sat in quiet contemplation; their eyes and demeanor filled with apprehension and outright fear of that as yet undetermined. Marie, sitting as still as stone and occasionally shivering as if cold, realized that she was one of them and in the same state. Uncontrollable fear hoovered over Marie and the others who were waiting for the results of the surgery on their loved ones.

As time crept slowly by, the peculiar sounds and pungent odors of the hospital got to her and her mind wandered to another time and another hospital’s waiting room where, approximately four years ago, she had sat alone and quiet as she did now. Panic and worry filled her heart then as it did at this moment. At that time she remembered it was another accident … another car accident that had taken both her mother and father from her. Her mind strayed and, all too quickly, she was lost in that terrible memory.

*   *   *

She was sitting within the dull pale green walls of a hospital waiting room; frightened and chilled to the bone by her fears. Eighteen-year-old Marie sat silently as tears streaked her pretty face. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jean-Paul Fayette had attended a party celebrating Marie’s graduation from High School. As the party was winding down, Marie’s parents left, but allowed Marie to stay a little longer to celebrate with her friends. Only moments later a drunken driver careened his car into the Fayette vehicle. An ambulance rushed the victims to the local hospital and Marie had been summoned from the party. Only knowing that her parents were in an accident and taken to the hospital, anxiously she sat alone as fear wrapped its tentacles about her heart, mind and soul. The sudden change, from the happiness of the party to the shocking truth of a deadly accident, tormented her. The worst scenarios rambled through her mind and Marie tried desperately to push them away. Since Marie was an only child with no other relatives other than her parents, there was no one to call and she was truly alone. The knowledge of her aloneness and isolated seclusion hit her in a hurtful and callous manner. She was forlorn and felt abandoned.

Marie could not sit still and she made numerous trips to the nurse’s station, but was only able to find out that her parents were still in surgery. Two dreadful hours later a kindly gray-haired doctor came into the waiting room and approached her. He looked, and indeed was, very tired.

Are you Marie Fayette?

Yes … yes, I am. My parents …? said Marie, her soft dark eyes and body language expressing the frightening question that she desperately wanted to be answered, but was too terrified to ask the question or hear the reply.

The doctor looked at her for several moments as if weighing his answer. After taking a deep breath, the doctor sat down beside her and took her hand in his and held it firmly before speaking. Shuddering with fear of the unknown, Marie waited for the mild-mannered doctor to speak.

"Your father is being moved into the Intensive Care Unit