Pandora's Hope

PANDORA’S HOPE

A Novel

Camille Mariani

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

Pandora’s Hope

Copyright © 2007 by Carmelia M. Mariani

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any

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taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written

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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: 978-0-595-45787-8 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-90089-3 (ebk)

Contents

PROLOGUE

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 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

Dedicated to Albert J. Mariani Jr., Alexis Stowe,

Karen Spechler, and their families:

My husband’s family; my heart’s bonus.

Our life is March weather, savage and serene in one hour.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

PROLOGUE

The newspaper clippings were almost too delicate to handle, decaying like his videotapes. Nothing stayed untouched by time, not even his body. Sixty years crisscrossed his face, dragged at his eyelids, stretched his neck skin. But though his flesh lost its youthful glow, he found satisfaction in knowing that age mellowed his charm.

When he had a beard, the birthmark was barely noticeable. Since it might identify him more quickly than the hairline birthmark, the beard had to go. He ran his hand along the side of his face, pressing the red mark like he used to as a child, hoping to push it out of sight. It never changed.

Some things never would change. Life. Death. And lonely older women. His experience taught him that they were most gullible, predictable, desperate for love. As a young lad, he learned about women and their desires. That insight paid handsomely when he matured.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he unfolded the last of his favorite clippings, careful not to tear it more. He laughed when he finished reading it, once again feeling the triumph of escape from justice. That was the one time it appeared that his destiny was to live out his virile days in prison. He was that close. But then the dear girl took his advice and reneged. She dropped the charges, said she had fallen. The reason she gave for accusing him was that she was angry with him for leaving her. So, she said, it was all a mistake. A mistake! What a joke. She didn’t fool anyone, not with those bruises. Nevertheless, he made sure that she couldn’t repeat her mistake. And still they couldn’t charge him in connection with the auto accident, which was due to excessive speed on the mountainous road, they said. She missed the curve and went over the precipice, thus eliminating his lovely betrayer and making a prime example of what happened to those who betrayed him. It was a useful and effective message to other women.

He put the clipping back in the shoe box with the others and thought about his present situation. He wanted to move on, but he needed money. He found that women here were more wary than he expected. Only one allowed him to get close and she was too old and weak, without real wealth. The pleasure of her company definitely was not worth the effort. He gave up on her, and she became one of the lucky ones, virtually untouched by him. She was so dotty that she probably never knew he’d taken a few hundred dollars from her.

He came to this Florida town because it sounded like the ideal place to find a pool of women, eager to take the hook. He needed just one before leaving. A rich one. He still believed he could find her here in Hope Haven.

CHAPTER 1

She drove onto Dorsette College campus humming Swanee River. Dora Piper had reason to feel giddy. My last day! She shouted the words since no one could hear. Tomorrow she would be in an airplane flying south to Florida.

Frost embossed the archway, its clustered facets sparkling in morning sunlight. The weather of January, 1987, couldn’t be a better incentive to move south. Blustery, cold, icy. She told herself to remember it. Soon she would bask in sunshine, and if the weather should become very hot in summer, she would remember these freezing northern days.

Parking at the side of the administration building, she opened the car door, and reached for her pocketbook. At the same time, President Adam Ralston opened his car door next to hers.

Good morning, Adam, she called. When one foot touched the ground, she felt it slip. Hoping to stabilize her balance, she quickly pulled the other out, but it also slid on the black ice.

Good morning Dora. He did a double-take. Dora?

The president’s expression turned to one of surprise as Dora slowly disappeared under her car and her purse flew across the icy lot.

She grabbed for the seat belt, missed, and couldn’t regain balance. Steadying herself along the cold metal, she let herself slide ever so easily. Flat on her back looking at the underside of her car, she now had another memory to savor … it takes only a few seconds to feel wet as well as cold in this position on ice. Especially when wearing skirt and pantyhose.

She hitched herself backward until she could sit up and get a grip on various front seat parts and, hand-over-hand, pull herself upright. She smiled like she always did in this sort of situation, well aware that practice made perfect when it came to bluffing her way out of an embarrassing moment.

I can hear everyone now, she said to the president. ‘There’s Dora, drunk again’.

Looking over at his poker face, she felt like yelling, It was a joke.

In his bland manner, the president said, Are you all right? neither smiling nor offering a hand to help her up. When she assured him she was okay, he walked to the front door of the administration building, ramrod straight, starched to the chin. All he needed, Dora often thought, were cane and derby to complete the illusion that he was ready to walk into the House of Lords.

Don’t smile. You wouldn’t want it to freeze on your face and leave a wrinkle. Go file your fingernails or something.

She was muttering to herself again. Bad habit. How many more years would it have taken for her to be screaming obscenities instead of just mumbling to herself in this academic hellorama? A shame that she and Dr. Ralston had fallen into mutual disrespect. It wasn’t always that way.

Well, after 10 years she had enough and now she was at early retirement age. This was it. My last day! she shouted into the air. Then, looking around and seeing no one, she shouted it again. It sounded so good.

But she didn’t feel so jovial that she didn’t ask herself just how bright her future might be. Without kith or kin here since her mother died last year, and not a hope in Hades of survival if she didn’t find a job real soon in Florida, finances could get tight. Mustn’t worry about that now, however. Savor the moment. For once in her life, Dora could envision life with serenity, one that embraced hope.

Thank God for cousin Mavis in Sarasota who promised to help her get settled. Until she had her own place, she would have a roof over her head. Thirty years had passed so fast. Surely since they saw each other those many years ago, Mavis had matured. Her marriage provided all that she wanted, and she did want much as a teenager. Dora shook off her unease about their reunion. Mavis left Dorsette for a social life at college, while Dora worked her way through the local community college, followed by years of working and studying nights for her four-year degree. But she was glad for Mavis, who found what she wanted, a man with a promising future. And now that he was retired, they apparently lived the good life in Florida.

Entering the administration building, Dora noticed that if anyone had seen her less-than-graceful disappearance under the car, there was no sign of it. They all concentrated on paper work and other tasks at their desks.

The plate on her door identified the office as Public Affairs. An English professor once read the sign and asked, What kind of affairs are those? Ever since, Dora thought of his words when she entered. Sometimes she would say to herself, They’re not very exciting affairs, I can assure you.

At her desk she looked at her list of things to do before the end of this day. My last day! Another mutter. No matter. It was possibly her happiest day since about five years ago.

Things were pleasant the first five years here. The president talked with her often, seemingly pleased with her performance, supporting her initiatives in publicizing the college. Though he continued to give her good performance evaluations, change came over him in the sixth year. He began to show indifference to her suggestions and after a while, his remarks smacked of sarcasm.

It was well known that the college leader was a fickle friend and easily influenced, especially by those who were intent on climbing the ladder using backs of others as rungs to success. She presumed she became one of those rungs and had a fairly good idea who helped put her there. Nevertheless, she continued to do her best.

If only he had talked with her and given her some guidance. But that wasn’t Dr. Ralston’s style. He left his staff to do as they would. If something displeased him, then he was not beyond finding the crack in the system that would allow for either eliminating the position, or creating an untenable atmosphere so that the staffer left. The latter was where Dora found herself. The job became unbearable. She decided anything would be better than this.

Early retirement had its compensations, even if it didn’t assure much of a pension and meant a seven-year wait for Social Security payments to begin. There could be no regrets now. She would even go to Dr.Ralston’s office at the end of the day and bid him farewell.

By afternoon, her last-minute jobs were all checked off the list. Now she only needed to pack up her personal items and be ready for four o’clock to come.

Dora? Are you busy?

She looked up. Standing in the doorway, Sheldon Durant glowed with anticipation. They had met once when they both spoke at a high school Career Day in Westburgh, and now Sheldon would replace Dora starting Monday.

No, not at all. Come in, Sheldon. Dr. Ralston said you would drop by for a briefing. I’ve prepared a folder for you. Just about everything is covered in this material. Here’s a handbook of rules and regulations, which you need to master. I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty figuring it out. You know how it is. Things have a way of falling into place on a new job. You’ll initiate much of your own routine.

She motioned for Sheldon to sit down and said, This is your first go at PR?

Yes. I’m a bit nervous about it.

Don’t be. You’ll do well. Dora knew Sheldon’s work as a reporter and columnist when she worked at the Westburgh Press. Her writing skills were outstanding.

Do you think you’ll like public relations better than journalism?

"I hope so, but I must say I loved being a reporter. You probably know that we have just moved back to Westburgh. My husband is the new editor of the West-burgh Press."

I had heard that. Congratulations.

I never really expected to be chosen for this position. I applied late, after we found out George got the job. I believe this will be a good upward move for me.

"Journalism was my major in college. You may recall that until ten years ago, I was a columnist and feature writer for the Dorsette Crier."

Sheldon said she remembered it. I thought it was a really good publication for this area. You had more local news than any of the newspapers around. Too bad it folded.

Yes it was. Then I saw the ad for a public relations director here, and like you, I doubted I’d be chosen, but I applied. I thought of the state benefits and higher income. I had done a bit of work in a PR office over at State. That helped, I think. It surprised me, too, when they called and said I was hired. I’m lucky that I signed up for the early retirement option when I came aboard. Now, hopefully, I can enjoy the Florida sunshine. I’m moving to a retirement community there.

How nice. On the coast?

No. But only about ten miles from the Gulf.

Dora was about to say the name of the community when the telephone rang.

It was one of the few people she would miss here, Henrietta Maxim.

When she hung up, she said to Sheldon, The librarian wants me to see her. Come with me. I’ll introduce you. She’s one person you will find very helpful. I consider her my best friend on campus.

Crossing the campus green, Dora gave Sheldon a quick explanation of the routine she followed each morning, calling various areas of the campus for newsworthy activities.

The first place to call is Security. If there have been any problems overnight, it’s best to get a statement very early before the media start calling you. Of course, no faculty member or administrator is to speak directly to news people. Nor will Security speak with them. Nor does the president. It all has to come from you. If a reporter calls and you don’t know the answer to a question, you say you’ll call back when you have the answer.

Sheldon smiled. I seem to remember trying to reach someone for a statement once, and I ended up talking with you.

Dora nodded. No doubt. Well here we are.

It’s a beautiful library. But then, the whole campus is lovely.

Dora had to agree. It was the first thing that impressed her when she was interviewed for the position. Not ivy league, but a charming blend of contemporary with brick and mortar architecture, maintaining the integrity of the original buildings as the campus expanded.

As they walked through the double front doors, a resounding Surprise! went up. Dora hadn’t expected a going-away party, and she covered her mouth with both hands. She looked around at library staff, as well as friends from the Educational Communications Center. But not one from administration. And not the president.

Henrietta came to her for a hug. I’ll miss you, Dora. We’ve had some good times together.

I’ll miss you, too. Then, so no one else would hear, Dora whispered, But I won’t miss the PR office.

Don’t blame you one bit, my friend.

They stood apart, and Dora introduced Sheldon to everyone before festivities with cake, champagne, and gifts started.

Despite the warm farewells of those few friends and the gift of a locket, Dora left the campus after four o’clock feeling no sorrow. She was already packed, ready for an early flight in the morning. She had moved into a motel four days ago, after the closing on her house sale. She had shipped several boxes of necessities and favorite keepsakes to her cousin’s address. Since she sold the house furnished, there was little left to dispose of. Everything had fallen into place quite neatly. A man had agreed to buy the car and would pay for it in the morning and drive her to the airport.

So now for the big move. She never did tell Sheldon Durant the name of the retirement community. She had picked it carefully from the many she inquired about. Not only did it have all the amenities she desired, but it was located within an easy driving distance from her cousin. And the name intrigued her.

When she was a child, she heard the story of Pandora, her namesake, and how the mythological first woman could not resist temptation though she was warned not to open the gods’ beautiful gift box. When she did open it and plagues poured out, she closed the box, not knowing that she had trapped what the world needed most … hope. When her mother read the story to Dora, she would say, So you see, Pandora, being too inquisitive is bad, but acting too hastily can be even worse.

She thought then, as a child, that she could one day find Pandora’s box, her own box, and let out hope which would be with her the rest of her life.

Now, at age 55, Dora still nurtured the vision of a life brightened by hope, the quality she had never unlocked for herself.

She felt certain she had found the perfect place for a promising future when she chose as her new home Hope Haven, Florida.

SWANTON, VT., OCT. 3, 1970

A decomposed body, believed to be that of a woman, was found last week by two youths as they dug for worms in a wooded area near Lake Champlain. According to police, dental records are being checked in an attempt to identify the person. Officials said no cause of death has yet been determined.

CHAPTER 2

Dora’s resolution to remain calm on this, her first flight, dissolved as the airplane moved forward on the runway. When it lifted off, she nearly called out for the pilot to stop the plane and let her out. Only by gripping the seat arms and closing her eyes was she able to steady her breathing. As the plane climbed higher, she swallowed twice to clear sudden altitude deafness.

Finally she opened her eyes and looked at the woman next to her, reading a book as unconcerned as if she were in her favorite armchair by the fire. Dora turned to the window and studied the landscape below. Buildings shrank and disappeared. Ribbons of rivers, and roads dotted with Matchbox cars, all seemed to end nowhere. The plane climbed still higher, until all she could see were clouds and patches of blue. It looked like they were in giant cotton balls floating all around them, changing shapes. If she studied them hard enough, she could make out caricatures, reminding her of days as a child, lying on the lawn with Mavis, looking up at the clouds and each declaring she could see an old woman in a rocking chair or an elephant or Popeye smoking his pipe.

She breathed deeply and told herself to act calm even if she wasn’t. People flew every day. Planes came and went without crashing. Hundreds of them. Even though the plane shook, twitched, and creaked, it wouldn’t fall apart. She was sure of it.

I’ll get there. I know I will, she said. The woman next to her looked over and smiled. What a nice, smug traveler. Probably been flying since she was a baby.

Just a little nervous, Dora explained. She must stop that habit of mumbling.

She needed to focus on her goal. She would settle in Hope Haven and find a job. Hope Haven. Golly, it sounded like a nursing home, now that she thought about it. Or worse, a cemetery. Oh dear. She hoped she had made the right choice.

Of course she had. Cousin Mavis said it was a very nice place. If only she had money and didn’t need to work. She might have had more than the $20,000 bank check in her pocketbook if there hadn’t been so many debts to pay off. Her mother’s illness had been terribly long and costly. Damned Alzheimer’s. Dora loved her mother, but when she no longer remembered anything or anyone, including her one and only daughter, it was too painful. Her death was a relief. Dora would never admit that to anyone, but it was true. Death, she decided, was preferable over living in a state of nothingness. If only people could understand that. So many had said what a tragedy it was. But Dora looked at it as liberating, both for her mother and for herself.

Now she was faced with working again, despite being totally burned out from the college. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she could just sunbathe, swim, and write novels like she had always dreamed of doing. Even in so-called retirement, leisure time would be limited.

What options did she have? That was a question worth exploring. Although the world was full of options for everyone, what were hers? As if in answer to that question, she looked across the aisle and the couple she saw made her think. Maybe there was an option after all. At that very moment she was asked if she would like something to drink. She ordered a Bloody Mary.

Yes. That was it. She could finally define a real hope.

Reaching for the drink, the inevitable and predictable happened. The airplane dropped sharply following the pilot’s warning that there was mild turbulence ahead. Dora grabbed for something to hold onto, fully expecting the plane to nosedive and crash. In doing so, she dropped the drink. It splashed over the reader next to her. The placid woman. The seasoned traveler. The woman in the white suit. Now that snow-white suit had a red spot on the jacket sleeve.

I’m so terribly sorry, Dora said. Here, I’ll give you money to have the jacket cleaned.

The look of horror came and went quickly and the woman smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

It’s okay. No need to do that, she said. The plane hit turbulence. Couldn’t be helped. The napkin she used to wipe the spot did little more than spread it.

Dora accepted a replacement drink, and she pushed herself as far as she could into the seat, thinking that the summer white suit was probably new. Of course it was new. The woman likely bought it special for this visit to Florida, or to be stylish and impressive at a big convention. And now look at it. And such a gracious woman.

Spilling, splashing, tripping, toppling. Dora was an expert on all of them. Any resulting damage was always to new clothes or favorite antiques. She began to feel miserable.

The spill happened just when