Charlie's Song: The Year of Jubilee II

By David Rice

With the relentless guilt of his mother's passing and the impending doom of financial ruin looming, the thought of being worth more dead than alive is tempting. An extraordinary event allows Charlie Dillon to pass into the shadows of time and space reliving his life through flashback. Will anything bring

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Oct 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781684862610

David Rice

DR. DAVID RICE is the founder of the nation's largest student and new dentist community, IgniteDDS. He travels the world speaking, writing, and connecting today's top young dentists with tomorrow's most successful dental practices. In addition to IgniteDDS, Dr. Rice maintains a team-centered, restorative, and implant practice in East Amherst, New York.

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Charlie’s Song

The Year of Jubilee II

A Novel by

David Rice

Charlie’s Song

Copyright © 2022 by David Rice. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of URLink Print and Media.

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Published in the United States of America

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022917427

ISBN 978-1-68486-260-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68486-262-7 (Hardback)

ISBN 978-1-68486-261-0 (Digital)

22.08.22

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

CHAPTER

1

What’s it gonna be, Charlie?

I don’t know… I have to think.

We need an answer right now. What’s it gonna be?

We’d have to sell the house to come up with that amount.

Do you want us to turn the machines off?

NO!

Then, WHAT’S IT GONNA BE? the irate young hospital executive stared coldly at Charlie from across the consultation table. Two men in white lab coats waited for their instructions.

I can’t think… Charlie Dillon stared at three men in suits sitting across the table demanding his answer.

Shut ‘em off.

She’s my mother!

Do you have the money?

It’s life support – she’ll die.

Do you have the money?

This is a hospital. How can you just let her die?

Do you have the money?

I…

DO YOU HAVE THE MONEY?

NO!

Charlie Dillon sat straight up in his hotel bed. Was it just a dream? No, unfortunately the nightmare was real enough. One year earlier, Charlie watched his mother slowly slip away after the life support system keeping her alive in St. Peters Hospital was turned off. Administrators of the hospital had hauled him into a cold conference room and pressed him for money.

Both of his parents had suffered debilitating illnesses that zapped the Dillons of all their resources. Charlie knew he should have taken out the long-term disability insurance on his parents, but he didn’t have the funds when the agent made the suggestion. His dad passed away a year, almost to the day, before his mother. The guilt was overwhelming; the nightmares unending.

The digital clock on the nightstand read 5:32. Charlie shot a quick glance over at Terry, his business associate and best friend. They were in New York City for a medical supplies sales conference. It was a crazy week. All of the hotels were full because the National Democratic Convention was in town this same week to select their candidate for the 2028 election. Terry and Charlie were in one of the overflow hotels which made things a little hectic every morning as they had to round up breakfast and then make their way six blocks to the conference host hotel. It was Friday, the final day of the conference and they had decided to skip the closing sessions and catch a few extra winks of sleep.

Sleep, Charlie thought to himself, something Terry seemed to do with ease. He was still sawing logs in the next bed. Charlie rolled his eyes and decided to get up. Terry was just waking up when Charlie got out of the shower.

I’m gonna head on down to the coffee shop across the street. Charlie stuck his head around the corner as he dried his hair. I’ll wait for you down there. I want to check in with Laura and the kids before we fly today.

Okay. Terry eased over to the edge of the bed and slowly touched his feet to the floor. I’ll be down in a bit.

As soon as he dressed, Charlie made his way to a coffee shop on Wall Street. He got in the long line to order and watched the news on the television above the counter.

Michael Hamilton, Democratic Presidential hopeful who has taken the nation by storm this past week, will be ringing the opening bell at the Stock Exchange this morning, the text scrolled across the bottom of the screen. There was too much noise in the coffee shop to hear the reporter. The nation was staggering under an epidemic of debt. Twenty million were homeless after losing their houses when hybrid loans and a crashing home market intersected with runaway consumer debt. Michael Hamilton was proposing a Year of Jubilee – a national forgiving of debt. Charlie, along with millions of Americans, was praying for Hamilton to win the Democratic nomination, but the odds were not in his favor.

Charlie and his wife Laura had managed to hang on to their house, but it was only a matter of time before the cycle of debt would take that last bastion of their dignity and hope. The creditors called daily. Please call Discover Card at 1-800… The pressure was overwhelming.

Terry thought Hamilton was crazy. How can we just forgive the debt? he’d asked. His wife was a bank executive so he tended to see things from a completely different angle than Charlie. Terry and his wife Linda had not dealt with the medical issues the Dillons had faced – not to mention the fact that their income was significantly higher. Charlie and Laura looked okay on paper – medical supplies salesman and school teacher, but their bills were simply overwhelming.

I’m worth more dead than alive, Charlie often quipped about his life insurance policy that would pay off all the bills once he was gone. In the face of debt, pain, and guilt, the life insurance option almost looked plausible at times.

Just as Charlie reached the counter to order, he realized his wallet was not in his back pocket. Great, twenty minutes in this stupid line and now I don’t have my wallet. He stepped out of line and called Terry with his cell phone. Terry found Charlie’s wallet and agreed to bring it down in a few minutes. Charlie decided to call home while he waited. He stepped outside where he could hear better and dialed the number.

Hello, a groggy Laura answered the phone.

Hey there, sunshine. Charlie walked up the street a little ways.

What time is it? Laura did not seem too happy – or awake.

I’m sorry, did I wake you?

It’s okay, I wasn’t really sleeping anyway. The phone’s already ringing this morning. Isn’t there some kind of law about calling this early?

The collector’s are calling already? Charlie’s blood pressure rose as he waited for Laura’s response, but the phone was silent. Are you there?

Yes, she finally whispered, obviously crying. I can’t take it, Charlie. What are we going to do? They’re going to take the house.

I don’t know… Charlie had wracked his brain for months trying to find a solution, but the debt was too big and no matter what they did, it just seemed to grow. He spent a few more minutes asking her about the kids – Elizabeth was 15 and Shana 12." They were awesome kids, both Daddy’s girls. Liz was his little tomboy into sports, and Shana was his musician. They spent countless hours shooting hoop in the driveway followed by all night weekend jam sessions in the basement. Dad held down the rhythm guitar while Shana bled a little blues from Grandpa’s old Strat. There were times Charlie considered hocking his dad’s old guitar to buy groceries, but somehow they managed.

He hung up the phone and looked across the street at the Stock Exchange. Remembering the news that Michael Hamilton would be ringing the opening bell, he let a silent prayer drift on the New York breeze, Please God, let Hamilton win. He leaned back against the building and waited for Terry.

After a few more minutes he noticed Terry walking toward him a block or so away. As he pushed himself away from the building, a huge explosion engulfed Terry with fire and smoke.

TERRY! Charlie ran as fast as he could toward the smoke. Debris was falling everywhere. Running blindly, Charlie tripped, fell, and cut his hand on the pavement. Where was Terry? The next few moments were horrific. Terry’s body was shredded by the blast and Charlie’s mind, already swimming from the events of the morning, was in shock. He just kept thinking – Terry was bringing my wallet… Terry was bringing my wallet. It was not so much a concern for his money, as it was shock replaying his last thoughts about his best friend. Almost unwittingly he located Terry’s lower torso and pulled a wallet from the back pocket. It was Terry’s. Whether lucent or not he took the money and returned the wallet to the pocket. Noticing another wallet in the other pocket he did the same thing. Just as he put the money in his pocket, a policeman from across the street screamed at him.

HEY! What are you doing?

Charlie threw the wallet and ran. He was in shock. There were sirens sounding from all directions with countless numbers of police cars and fire trucks screaming to the scene. Charlie ran in and out of several buildings with three policemen close on his tail. He crossed Broadway, ducked into Trinity Church grounds and eventually made his way into the church. From the cover of a dark recess in the sanctuary architecture he watched two policemen enter the church. He saw them split up, each one taking a side of the sanctuary to search.

Charlie wasn’t sure if the officer would spot him in the shadows, but he was fairly certain he would hear his pounding heart. Three pews away… two… one…

Can I help you gentlemen? A man dressed in clergy regalia addressed the officers from the alter area.

Both officers broke off their search and came together in the center aisle to meet the rector. They talked for a few moments, but Charlie could only hear their muffled tones. After a few more moments, the officers turned and left the sanctuary. Charlie remained in the shadows, pressed against the wall. As the echoes of footsteps and voices slowly eroded, he allowed himself to slide down the wall, coming to rest on the floor. His eyes filled with tears and he sobbed uncontrollably.

Is someone there? The rector’s voice rang out once again. Charlie had not noticed his return. Before he knew it, a man in robes was standing at the end of the pew facing him. Are you alright, man?

I’m sorry, sir. Charlie rose to his feet and walked out of the shadows.

Are you the one the officers were looking for?

Yes, sir. Charlie slid into the pew and the rector came over and sat down next to him.

What happened, son?

Charlie recanted the story of the bombing and of finding Terry’s body. Altering the story, he told of a second body. I grabbed this phone at the scene to call the police. Charlie handed his cell to the rector. I panicked when the officer yelled at me. I guess I was in shock and I just ran.

I think we should call the police so you can tell them what you saw. The rector examined the phone.

I don’t really know anything. Charlie’s heart was pounding. I need to go – will you give the phone to the police for me? Charlie stood to leave.

I think you should talk to them. The rector put his hand on Charlie’s arm, not so much to stop him, but more out of concern for this obviously distraught man.

I will, Charlie put his hand on the rector’s, but I just need to clear my head first. He thanked the rector and began walking toward the door, praying that the officers were not still waiting outside. He quickened his pace as he heard the rector open the cell and begin to dial.

The sunlight blinded him as he stepped through the heavy bronze doors. Looking down Wall Street, he could see several emergency vehicles at the scene of the bombing. Oh Terry, his knees buckled and he almost fell to the ground. What have I done?

He wandered aimlessly up Broadway for hours. His heart stopped each time he saw a policeman or heard a siren. His mind was wracked with guilt, shame, and horror. After a few hours, he stumbled into a coffee shop, ordered a latte that he did not drink, and huddled in a corner booth for a long time. His mind was too numb to notice the news and police description of a suspect from the morning’s bombing fitting his physical appearance. He did notice Michael Hamilton’s picture when it ran across the screen. Charlie followed Hamilton’s story, feeling drawn to this man of hope. Unsure if the attraction was sinner drawn to savior or bug drawn to light, Charlie decided to seek out Michael Hamilton. He’d heard of Hamiltonia where thousands of homeless had gone for solace from their broken lives. Maybe Hamilton could direct him to this sanctuary. At the very least it gave him something to focus on other than the horrors of the day.

It was dark by the time he left the coffee shop and headed north toward Times Square where the Hamilton’s were staying. Tired of walking, he made his way to the subway. Frustrated with the train schedules and maps, he just boarded the first train that stopped and rode through the night. At some point, he got off the train, made his way above ground, found a dark corner of an empty alley and slept for a few hours.

After two more days of aimless wandering through the city, he walked into Central Park and witnessed firsthand what thousands of homeless look like spread out across the park in tents. He bought a hot dog from a street vendor, found a piece of grass next to a family of seven, laid his head on the ground, stared up at the stars until they blurred into oblivion and then… he slept.

CHAPTER

2

The sun was warm on his face and he smiled in the comfort of his slumber. A little more sleep would be perfect.

Charlie, are you awake? His mother’s voice drifted down the hall and into his bedroom. Come on sleepyhead, today is the day.

Oh, man! Charlie shot out of his bed. Today was the day he’d waited for all summer; the day his family was leaving on vacation – and not just any vacation. Today, the Dillons, along with five other families, would put their boats into the Mississippi River in St. Louis and head south toward Kentucky Lake. Everything they needed for the two week trip would be stored in their 14-foot runabout. They planned to navigate the river by day and camp on sandbars by night. Their trip would take them south past Cape Girardeau, up the Ohio River into Kentucky where they would camp at Kentucky Lake for a few days before returning to St. Louis.

Come on, Charlie, his mother’s face appeared in his doorway.

Charlie was already pulling a shirt over his head. Ready, he declared, running out of his bedroom and down the hall to see how the packing was coming. He found his dad in the driveway with the boat hitched behind the station wagon.

Hey there, sleepyhead, his dad looked down from the boat at his beaming 5-year old. Can you throw that rope up?

Charlie grabbed the ski rope lying on the ground at his feet and tossed it up to his dad. When they finished loading, they went inside to have their last home cooked breakfast for a couple weeks. From now on it would be Coleman stove and camp fire cooking. The small boat was packed to the gills and Charlie wondered where they would all sit. Two seats for mom and dad in the front, and two seats for his younger sister Sue and himself in the back, he took inventory of the boat.

Grandma Dillon, who lived next door, came over to bid the crew farewell and get her final house-watching instructions. Grandma D wasn’t a big fan of water or boats, not to mention that she was a card-carrying member of the worrier’s hall of fame. You kids be careful. That river is mighty dangerous. She gave everybody a big sloppy kiss before bidding them good-bye. Charlie waved to her as she stood in the driveway and watched them drive away for what she just knew would be the last time.

Living next door to grandma had its perks. When Charlie was still in the nap-taking stages of life, he would watch from his top bunk for Grandma D to come home from her job as a cook down the street at the grade school. She would come cutting through the large back yard around two o’clock, usually not long enough after he had laid down for Hannah to okay the end of naptime, but he could usually convince her to let him finish his nap with Grandma. He would run next door to the delight of Grandma D. She would have him pick out a few books from the third drawer down in her dresser where they were stored, and then she would read a few while they lay on the bed drifting into their nap. The Dinosaur Who Came to Town was Charlie’s favorite.

Grandma D was usually the babysitter when Gabe and Hannah went out. She played countless games of Old Maid and Rummy with her grandkids. When it was time to sleep, she would stretch out between Sue and Charlie on the fold-out sofa bed in the living room and read to them from the Bible while they fell asleep before going off to her own bed. She was a worrier, but she loved her grandkids dearly.

By mid-morning, all six boats were in the water and ready to head south. Gabe Dillon shoved the throttle down and the Mercury engine pushed the Crownline out into the Mississippi current. One long blast on the air horn as they passed under the Eades Bridge and the family vacation was officially underway. Two miles downriver, they met up with the American tug pushing six loaded barges creating titanic size waves for the small runabouts to maneuver. Charlie and Sue grinned with every bounce and bob.

By late afternoon, the six boats turned their bows into a sandbar and unloaded their precious human cargo onto the sand. Tents, tarps, and kitchens were setup; boats were augured, and kids ran amuck all over the sandy paradise. A kid with a camping shovel can create some amazing structures – like six-foot deep holes that they have to climb out of, or huge sand castles by the water’s edge. By early evening a campfire fueled by scrub wood gathered from the beach popped and crackled. Charlie filled his tiny belly with hotdogs and s’mores.

When it was time to sleep, all of the men headed to the boats. With the bow augured out to bob in the waves, the boat rocked Charlie right to sleep. He counted two barges passing in the night giving his rocking bed a little extra stir. Sue and Hannah slept in a small tent with the softness of the sand beneath its floor as their posturepedic. Water, wind, and sun make for tired campers and good slumber.

Overnight, waves from the large barges passing by washed into the miniature canyons dug by the kids the day before, leaving behind several small swimming holes. On this particular morning little Donny Johnson, a bubbly 3-year old was happily puttering around in one such water whole, when much to his mother’s surprise, he began to hop around and scream bloody-murder. The scene soon turned into a Keystone Cop adventure with Momma Johnson running after Donny, followed closely by Barny the nippy dog and countless other kids all chasing the raging little boy around the sandbar. As the mystery climaxed, one little perch popped out of Donny’s trunks and onto the sand. The legend of Donny’s first catch is still alive and well.

The trip was filled with water sports and visits to riverside ice cream shops. One family hit a log in the river with their motor and ended up following along by car, but all-in-all the trip was going smoothly. They passed through Cape Girardeau and Cairo, and headed toward Kentucky Lake where they experienced the huge lock and dam system leading into the lake.

Charlie envied the grownup fisherman and their catch of a large carp that fed half the camp, so he decided to go fishing himself. Not to be outdone by Donny, he tied a string on a branch, gathered his fishing hat, bucket and favorite little chair, and headed down to the water’s edge for some serious fishing. Ten minutes… no fish. Twenty minutes… Thirty… Puzzled by his lack of success, he examined his pole and line – everything seemed to be in order – other than the fact he had no hook and no bait. Back to fishing – serious fishing… A FISH! A little sunfish swam up in the six inches of water into which Charlie dangled his ever tantalizing string. Not able to get the fish to bite and frustrated with his long wait, Charlie pulled the string out of the water, flipped his pole around, and with one swing – knocked the little fish senseless. Reaching down, he scooped the little creature into his bucket and headed back to camp with his prize catch. Charlie had joined the legendary fishing ranks with Donny and he could not have been more proud.

Later that night as the men were sleeping in the boats as usual, and the ladies in the tents, a tornado touched down just across the lake. The men were roused by the seven-foot high waves that tossed the boats about. All of the kids and ladies were hustled into the station wagon that was only present because of the boat mishap a few days earlier. While the event was scary, no serious damage was sustained and no one was hurt.

On the last day of the trip back toward St. Louis, Charlie drifted in and out of sleep as the wind and the waves, coupled with the gentle hum of the Mercury engine invited his eyes to close and his mind to float. What an incredible trip… What happy memories… The spray in his face…

WHAT… What was going on? Charlie awoke on the ground in Central Park with a little boy standing over him. The spray in face was little Hugo, youngest from the family of seven next door, relieving himself.

OH, I’m so sorry, Hugo’s mother scooped her young son up and away from Charlie.

It’s okay, Charlie sputtered and wiped himself off. Sunny days on the river melted into the reality of homelessness in Central Park.

CHAPTER

3

It was late afternoon on Monday before Charlie awoke with the help of little Hugo. He leaned against the tree contemplating his next move when Charte, Hugo’s mother returned to apologize again.

Won’t you please join us for supper? she motioned toward their little camp which consisted of a car and a tarp that provided a roof over a makeshift kitchen.

Coleman cooking, Charlie thought. Unable to think of any reason why he shouldn’t, Charlie agreed to supper. Thank you, that’s very kind, Charte led him over and introduced her family.

"This is my husband, Renne; my daughters, Simone and Cherie, and my sons Seve, Stephen, and… Hugo.

Hi, he shook their hands. I’m Charlie.

The cooking was indeed Coleman, but coupled with kindness, conversation, and company, it made for a great meal.

Are you from New York? Renne looked at his dinner guest.

No. I… I’m just here on business.

Do you have any kids? the innocent voice of a child cut Charlie’s heart in two.

He looked at Simone’s sweet smile and thought of Liz and Shana – No, it’s just me.

How long have you been married? Charte was looking at Charlie’s wedding ring.

A long time, Charlie was a bad liar. Thank you very much for supper. I better get going, he shook their hands and bid them farewell. Tears filled his eyes as he turned his face from the kind family and walked away.

By now, Charlie’s days and nights were upside down, so despite the