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Norah was engrossed in writing when her home phone jangled. She answered quickly.
“It’s Antonio DeLucia from your self-authoring seminar on Cape Cod. Is this a good time to speak with you?”
“Sure.” Norah’s interest was piqued.
“I’d like to make an appointment with you.”
“How do you think I can be of assistance?” asked Norah.
“Do you remember that I brought up issues during the seminar about memories that seemed to be coming from somewhere outside myself? I would like to talk about these things in person.”
When Antonio arrived for his appointment, he launched directly into the subject with Norah. “I felt odd talking about this during the workshop. But, my girlfriend, Alicia, encouraged me...well, more like insisted...that I work this out. I believe you’re the person to help me. Will you?”
Norah was spellbound at this turn of events. She replied softly, “I can try, but I can’t guarantee.”
Antonio’s voice sounded strained as he announced, “I have this overwhelming feeling that I have lived a previous life. For as long as I can recall, I’ve remembered parts of another life. As soon as I began to speak, I told my mother that she was not really my mother. My real family lived in a warm tropical land with waving palm trees and a beautiful blue sea. I described my family and my house. I begged her to bring me to my real family. She became pissed as hell, slapped me around, and forbid me to even mention these ideas with anybody.
“When I first recalled memories of events and people from my past life, the events were hazy, and the people seemed like strangers. I thought they must be from another world. But gradually, deep in my heart and soul, I knew that I belonged to them. And I yearned to return to my former family who had loved me deeply. I’ve always felt very detached from my current family. As I matured, I thought that my feelings of distance and my wanting to get away from them was because my mom was uncaring and even abusive. But still a part of me kept thinking I really was in the wrong family.”
“And you say it has been this way since you can remember?” queried Norah.
Absolutely. But my mom was probably scared that I was crazy and wanted to beat it out of me. Our life was tough enough. I became terrified to open up and let others know what I was feeling. So, I shut up. But it’s different now. I have money and that gives me power. I don’t care what other people think about me. I do not need to shove my memories to the back of my mind. I can go further into myself now. Can you help me do that?”
“Again, what is it you want me to do for you?”
“I want to understand why I have these memories and what they mean. Am I going crazy? I’ve read about multiple personality disorder. Could that be it? My past life is now filtering into my present life so I gotta break my silence. I need to talk with someone who’s a wise professional. I want the truth to come out so I can deal with reality.”
Norah was trying to size up the situation. Where would this bring her? She wanted to speak with Cassie. Plagued by uncertainty, she stumbled as she spoke to Antonio.
“Let me think about this. I’d like to consult with Dr. Hunter. To be honest, I don’t doubt that you believe completely in what you are saying, but I’m unconvinced. I need to consider your request to investigate your situation and explore whether there is any scientific reality to this claim of a previous life. Cassie and I have impeccable academic reputations. We can’t afford to be shunned by the academic community because we investigate an unacceptable topic. I can’t research a topic that is unprofessional and unbefitting professional scrutiny.”
Antonio’s eyes were fastened on Norah’s face, and she felt his gaze penetrate to her soul.
“Listen, I know this sounds dubious and even crazy. I understand you have a scientific standing to protect. I get it. But if this is real, you and Dr. Hunter might be the scientists who break through to other dimensions. Or it could lead to nothing. Maybe I have a brain tumor. All I ask is that you search for the truth. I have the resources to support you in the full-time study of this matter for the rest of your career. Not to sing my praises, but my company is worth billions, and I’m devoted to this cause now. What would it take to persuade you to take advantage of my offer and pursue this at full speed? I’ll pay for a leave, a lifetime income. Whatever it takes.”
Norah was startled. Antonio was dead serious. Even more astounding was his claim that he had unlimited resources to back up his offer. Her academic career was one of struggling to find funding for her research projects. If Antonio paid for a replacement—an emergency appointment—at the university, she could take a leave without pay. Bam! A rare opportunity just fell into her lap. A very rich computer geek was asking her to research the after-life just as she was stuck on the topic of what happens when the whole thing is over. The prospect titillated her.
Wasn’t there truth to be found? Ironically, self-authoring theory was based on the value of creating alternate life scripts. But a reincarnation script? She chuckled to herself. She wondered how she could make this fly with Cassie. Maybe Bill’s death would be incentive for Cassie to explore the supernatural. Norah knew Larry would have told her she was out of her head, but he was dead. She thought to herself, I wonder if he’s coming back. She also wondered if she were over the deep end.
“I don’t think I can help directly,” Norah told Antonio, “But I can refer you to someone who might.”
Antonio persisted. “Money is not an issue. I will take care of both you and Dr. Hunter. Please let me talk with the administration officials at your institution. I’ll donate to your university. They’ll allow you free rein to study what you want when they see the amount. Let’s ask them for a research leave for you for starters. I promise you unlimited support and no pressure to find anything except the truth. We can write up an air-tight contract. You can walk away at any time with no consequences.”
“I’ll let you know after I speak with Dr. Hunter,” Norah said. “I would want her to play a part in this.”
“And tell her on top of this, I will take you out for the best lobster dinner in the world at Cape Cod.” Antonio handed her his card and left the office with a smile. “I hope to hear from you soon.”
Anxiety shot through Norah’s body as she phoned Cassie. The recent deaths of their husbands opened the way for both of them to take their careers in a different direction. The after-life was a charged subject, but it needed academic study. When Cassie answered the call, Norah explained, “I really need to speak with you in person, Cassie. I’ll drive out this weekend.”
Norah organized her thoughts so she could approach Cassie with this offer. In processing this question, she began to wonder why she felt anxious. If this offer were real, what would hold her back from accepting it? It was the deal of a lifetime, so why was she having doubts? She wondered if familiarity and habit were driving her life. Maybe she was more of a conformist than she imagined herself. She admitted she was uncomfortable giving up the familiar. Perhaps this was what was scary about death—taking the leap into the unknown. Norah found herself clutching the steering wheel and clenching her teeth as she drove the ever so familiar roads that led her to Cassie’s house.
The Decision
Norah sat drinking a cup of tea with Cassie as she presented Antonio’s proposal to study what he believed was a past life. She had decided to wait until later to break open the bottle of Mumm’s she had brought since she needed complete concentration in order to convince Cassie to take the leap with her.
Cassie was more cantankerous than usual. She argued vehemently against working with Antonio. “My chief concern is my academic reputation. Do you know what my colleagues would say if they discovered that I was pursuing such a non-sensible topic? I may as well be writing science fiction. I know we are the best of buddies, but you’re overstepping your bounds now. I am a linguist, and I research how language shapes personality. Now that my husband is gone, I have no one to rely on. I can’t afford to be shunned at my age.”
Norah saw the conflict in Cassie’s desperate and angry expression. She recognized Cassie’s fears in herself. “So, I guess we’ll be paralyzed with fear and not make any changes,” Norah said. “Like the monkey with his hand in the coconut, trapped by his own greed. We’re trapped by our own conventions. We don’t want to let go of what we see as our sacred beliefs.”
Cassie was quiet for a few minutes. “I have thought about this—deeply. The study of reincarnation borders on the bizarre, let alone the unscientific. However, I do pride myself on being open minded. I don’t want to close myself off to any possibility. I’m a little nervous, but my gut level feeling is to pursue this opportunity because it’s insanely interesting. My inner voice says DO IT.”
Norah looked at the horizon. “Me, too! I can’t help thinking about Galileo. His theories were thought stupid, baseless, and lacking in any value.” She turned to Cassie. “And remember the times we’ve stood on the Cape where Guglielmo Marconi sent the first wireless message. Many people thought he was eccentric when he showed them his two wooden boxes containing an invention that he claimed would transmit messages through the ‘ether.’ That sounded weird; but, damn, he was right. He only invented the radio—duh! His waves traveled all the way from Cape Cod—right where we’ve held our self-authoring seminars over the years—to England. These ‘invisible’ forces were transmitted in the form of a message from President Teddy Roosevelt to the King of England. That was 1896. And, of course, later he won the Nobel Prize for his work.”
“You made your point. But now let’s get pragmatic. Where do we get the money to do this? Who would be crazy enough to finance this type of research today? How can we convince any legitimate sources of funding? Politicians are cutting support for research. Grants are getting tougher and tougher to get. Washington, DC is dominated by nonscientific minds that won’t even acknowledge that humans have a role in climate change. Research funding is on a very fast downward spiral and federal spending on research has dropped over the past years. Yikes, we have to get real, Norah; we’ll never get support for this kind of project.”
“Just about time to open the champagne,” said Norah. “I’ve got some news worth celebrating.” She slipped into Cassie’s kitchen for a few minutes and came out carrying two large glasses of Mumm’s.
“Antonio says he’ll provide comprehensive, even generous, compensation for our work,” said an enthused Norah. “But first things first. Let’s see if this project is even doable.” She raised her glass to Cassie and took a sip of the wine.
“How much money does he really have?” asked Cassie.
“I did a little investigating. I suspected Antonio was wealthy but we needed to know indisputably. He lives in a gorgeous townhouse in New York City across from the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Central Park. He flies first-class only. He eats out almost every day at very expensive restaurants.”
“How did you learn all this in a few days, Norah? What kind of research did you do?”
“I had to be sure of Antonio before I committed or asked you to get involved. So, I hired a private detective to check him out,” said Norah.
Cassie recoiled. “You what? How intrusive!”
“Listen, if I’m going to invest my time and energy into this, I am not going to be taken for a ride.”
“Okay. Let’s have it. What did you learn?” Cassie didn’t try to hide her mounting interest.
Norah was pleased to see Cassie attending to details. “He’s the real thing. He keeps a low profile. He ranks in the top ten on the Forbes list of American billionaires. He started working in construction during his high school years, then built a small fortune in real estate. A few years later, he headed a startup company in computer software called NetWorks, and, get this, with a net worth of over one trillion. He transformed a small business into an enormous and profitable concern. Your university uses some of his Blue Point software, as do half the public schools. So, he’s got the bucks to do anything he wants. He wasn’t fooling us.”
Cassie’s face changed from showing curiosity to expressing disapproval. “I’m uncomfortable taking money from a source outside of grant foundations. It most likely means we have to do things his way.”
Norah countered with, “He’s guaranteed us that won’t be the case and says he’ll put it in writing, but you never know. This is a new experience for us. Why not find out what might lie ahead? We can talk about it after my meeting with the dean.”
Within a week, Norah found herself in her dean’s office. Dean Mashako—a dark haired, Iranian man of fifty—was kind, pleasant, and compassionate. He had much experience working with varied faculty in Arts and Sciences. He looked at Norah as if sizing up her situation. His fatherly attitude told her he was being protective and trying to test the waters. After all, there would be something for him in this.
“Norah, it seems you have found an extraordinarily generous donor who will finance a full-time replacement faculty member and pay your salary and research costs for the entire academic year.”
“Yes, that’s what he tells me.”
“Where did you find this rare altruist?”
Norah smiled coyly. “And he’s also offering support for my research partner, Cassie Hunter, from St. Andrews. It should be an interesting year. I’m excited about this project.”
“Yes, this project you will be working on is far away from your usual research. I am not certain what you will accomplish. Will it advance your academic prestige?” the Dean queried with an inquisitive expression on his face.
“Oh, it’s quite novel. Not my usual line of research. The project revolves around cultural and social attitudes toward death, dying, and an afterlife.”
Puzzled, he said, “That’s not you, Norah. Look at all your publications on neuropsychology and cognition. Are you sure you want to pursue this line of research?”
“It’s different, but what harm can it do? I’m at the end of my career. Why not make some changes? It’s a good deal.”
“Well, good luck. I look forward to seeing your results. I must say, your relationship with the founder of NetWorks is interesting. All of the university’s academic software is this man’s product. Did you meet him at a computing conference?”
Norah smiled wryly. “I met him at a workshop.”
“Okay. Please do check in from time to time to let me know how you are doing,” he said as he stood to shake Norah’s hand.
“Thanks for your support. I’ll keep in contact.”
Dean Mashako watched Norah as she left the office. He was not quite sure what to make of the project and felt a bit suspicious. He looked at the paperwork. The donor’s check had cleared. The funds were real. But he still wondered if this man did not have some scam in mind. He did not want Norah hurt in any way. He was fond of her. He remembered they had bordered on having an affair, but both quelled their carnal desire and remained friends on a nonromantic basis. He had concerns about what these interesting circumstances would bring. He vowed to keep a close watch on the activities of the project. He was both curious and concerned. Norah’s reputation reflected on the university.
As soon as Norah left the meeting, she phoned Cassie. “The dean’s concerns are like yours and mine, but I have a green light!”