Gooseberry Island

Praise for Steven Manchester

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Stunning.

– Crystal Book Reviews

It is amazing that Steven Manchester can take the same alphabet most of us use, create the same words most of us use, and arrange them so skillfully that they reach in and stir profound emotions in a reader. His ability to connect the reader with the characters’ deepest feelings, fears, hopes, dreams, and love is incredible.

– Long and Short Reviews

Once again, with a style as unique as his fingerprints, Steven Manchester will steal your heart and soul in exchange for the beauty of his words.

– Tome Tender

"If you struggle with how war affects so many, read Gooseberry Island by Steven Manchester."

– Single Titles

Steven Manchester did a tremendous job at highlighting the emotional impact serving our country has on our soldiers; that sometimes the wounds aren’t physical but emotional.

– Literarily Illumined

I have read most of Steven Manchester’s novels and all have been wonderful. This is no exception and in my opinion, is his best.

– Book Bug

"Author Steven Manchester explores the difficult topic of war and its lingering effects in Gooseberry Island. Readers get to experience a full spectrum of emotions in this novel: beauty, love, and hope through the romance between David and Lindsey; as well as fear, anxiety, and despair through David’s struggle with PTSD."

– San Francisco Book Review

This is Steven Manchester’s genius, by touching on such sensitive subjects in a relatable way. He makes readers feel as if they’re going through what the characters go through. And he brings to light the importance of providing PTSD sufferers with the support they need through this story and its characters. This book is not just for those who have experienced PTSD, be it directly or indirectly, but also for everyone who enjoys a book of substance that speaks of a true life lesson.

– The Bookworm

Gooseberry

Island

Steven

Manchester

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

Studio Digital CT, LLC

P.O. Box 4331

Stamford, CT 06907

Copyright © 2014 by Steven Manchester

Jacket design by Barbara Aronica Buck

Story Plant paperback ISBN-13 978-1-61188-180-6

Fiction Studio Books e-book ISBN-13 978-1-936558-74-2

Visit our website at www.TheStoryPlant.com

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, except as provided by US Copyright Law. For information, address Studio Digital CT.

First Story Plant Printing: January 2015

Printed in The United States of America

Acknowledgments

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First and forever, Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. With Him, all things are possible.

To Paula, my beautiful wife, for loving me and being the amazing woman that she is.

To my children—Evan, Jacob, Isabella and Carissa—for inspiring me.

To Mom, Dad, Billy, Randy, Darlene, Jeremy, Jenn, Jason, Philip, Baker, the DeSousa’s—my beloved family and foundation on which I stand.

To the Dream Team of Operation Desert Storm.

And to Lou Aronica—my mentor and friend—whom I could never thank enough.

For Marc Susi—rest in peace, brother

Chapter 1

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It was late dusk, early spring. David was on his fourth date in two weeks with Allison. With the top down, they drove along a coastal highway in his beat-up Mustang convertible, while Allison applied the finishing touches of makeup in the rearview mirror. She smiled at her reflection, obviously pleased with what she saw. David shook his shaved head and readjusted his gaze to the stars above. What a perfect night to lie on the beach and count the stars, he said, revealing the depth of his thoughts.

Allison was still in the mirror. David, she blurted, you said you were taking me dancing.

He never paid her any mind. He was too distracted. Ever wonder if there’s other life out there, Alli, he asked, you know, maybe even making wishes on our sun?

Allison finally removed herself from the mirror and shot him a look that asked, Are you serious? He never noticed. Come to think of it, no, she said, cynically. No, I’ve never wondered that. She looked down at her nails. But I have wondered why this nail polish looked red in the store and now it doesn’t. She sighed. This putrid shade of purple doesn’t even match my shoes.

David returned to the present and looked at his shallow date. Shaking his head, he scanned the channels until reaching a station playing soft rock. He left it there and looked back toward the sky. Allison finished her makeup, pushed the rearview mirror back toward him and switched the radio to pulsating techno music. He looked at her. She smiled, oblivious to the rude gesture.

I was thinking it might be nice to spend a quiet night together, he said. We could talk until the sun came up and really get to know each other. He began daydreaming aloud. Share our pasts, our dreams…what we really want for the future.

I’d rather dance, she said.

David was taken aback. You’d what?

You heard me, she said, with equal amounts of vanity and crudeness. She looked at him and attempted compassion. Truth is, Davey, I hate talking with you. You’re too intense and it depresses me.

He was even more shocked. I’m what?

She looked the other way and breathed heavily. I hate this part, she mumbled under her breath, and then turned her body to face him. Maybe it’s good that we have this talk now, before you…

Before I what? he interrupted.

Before you get too attached. She took another deep breath, and the rest came out in one callous blurt. It’s only been a few dates, but it’s not working, Davey. I just want to have fun. I’m young.

He chuckled, cynically. Young? You’re almost thirty.

The comment made her snap. Fine! But I’m old enough to know that you’re worse than a girl.

Instinctively, he pulled the car off to the side of the road. The moon shone brightly on them both. "Worse than a girl?" he barked.

Her face was incredibly smug. Well, since I met you, all you ever do is babble about faith and dreams and finding a soul mate. She nodded. It’s true, you’re worse than a girl. The pitch of her voice could have turned a popsicle headache into a full brain freeze.

He felt like strangling the conceited wench. Instead, he threw the shifter into drive and sped off.

Allison looked sorry for the last comment, but not enough to remain quiet. I think we should both play the field and see other people, she suggested.

Alli, David said, I’m not sure there’s a whole lot of field left for you to play. He snickered. Besides, I’m leaving in a week and… He stopped.

She didn’t get it and looked at him blankly for an explanation.

David peered at her and, within seconds, his anger was replaced by a smile that took up most of his baby face. A minute later, he felt ready for laughter. She’s just done me the biggest favor ever, he realized.

Alli clearly didn’t know what to make of the change in facial expressions. I’m sorry, she whispered, nervously.

Don’t be, Alli, he said. Don’t be. You’re so right it’s actually hilarious. He nodded. I was hoping we might make a connection before I shipped out, but it didn’t happen. Trust me, it’s not a big deal.

Allison looked hurt. Look, I know I’m not the right one for you… She slid closer to him. But maybe I could be the right one for tonight? she whispered.

David pulled the car into her driveway and threw the shifter into park. He looked back toward the sky. "Tonight would never be enough for me, Alli. He shrugged. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Shocked by the sudden breakup, Alli got out of the car and shot him a longing look.

With a sense of relief, David pulled out of the driveway, leaving her to pout like the spoiled brat she was.

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David punched a few numbers into his cell phone. Coley, it’s Dave. Where are you? He grinned and rolled his eyes. Right. Where else would you be? I’ll be there in ten minutes. He listened to his friend and shook his head. No. Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk. He closed the cell phone and pressed down on the accelerator.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Ten minutes later, David reached the Eagle. As he walked into the busy nightclub, he spotted Coley standing at the bar. His handsome friend was talking to some unsuspecting female victim. David stepped up and yelled his drink order over the loud music, A Coors Light, please. Coley noticed his friend and whispered something into the girl’s ear. She giggled, nodded at David, and then walked away. David looked at Coley and shook his head. Coley smiled. With beers in hand, both men turned and placed their backs against the bar to face the action on the dance floor. David was completely out of his element, while Coley looked right at home.

What’d you just tell her? David asked over the thumping music.

Coley grinned. I said that you and I had business, but once I got rid of you… He smiled and took a swig of beer. "I’d be back for some serious business with her."

David shook his head and took a swig of his suds.

So what drags you into my dark world? Coley asked.

David took a look around, unsure whether he should go on. I don’t know, Coley. Maybe I came to the wrong place.

Coley gestured for his friend to follow him. Come on, he yelled, and started through the crowd toward a quieter corner. David was right behind him. Once there, Coley said, Trust me, you’ve come to the right place. Now, go ahead. I’m listening. His grin was contagious.

Reluctantly, David reported, Alli, that girl I just started dating…I just dropped her off at her house.

Already? Coley asked, surprise painting his face. What happened?

For starters, she told me we should both see other people.

Coley smirked. And that’s a problem?

David scowled at him and took a long draw of his beer. She implied that we could still hook up, but…

Coley nearly spit out a mouthful of beer. You passed? he asked, confused. I don’t understand.

David shook his head. Alli loves herself so much that there’d never be room for me…or anyone else, for that matter.

Well, I can relate to that, Coley muttered.

David glared at his friend. You’re pathetic.

No, just realistic. There was a pause. Dave, not everyone feels comfortable swimming at the deep end of the pool. Don’t be so judgmental. We each make different choices in life. That doesn’t make any of us any better or worse. He smirked. Maybe just a little less brave?

David pondered Coley’s words and chuckled. Whoa! he said. "For someone who can’t handle deep…"

I know, Coley interrupted, comically. It’s scaring me too. He smirked. I think maybe it’s you who’s the bad influence. Coley looked around the room and caught another pretty girl’s attention. Sad part is, he reported, they’re all the same. You can’t trust any of them.

Hello kettle, this is Coley, David joked. You’re black. After a long chuckle, he shook his head. I don’t know, buddy. I think you’re wrong there.

Coley pretended to be annoyed. Did you come here to tear me up?

I’m just messing with you. David laughed. Seriously, I appreciate your ear.

Coley nodded. Not a problem, partner, he said, and then searched his friend’s face. For real, are you okay?

David nodded, convincingly. I am.

Coley shrugged. Maybe it’s for the best, anyway…with you heading off next weekend?

Maybe, David admitted.

Coley looked back toward the dance floor and eyed up the pretty one he’d been talking to at the bar. They exchanged a playful smile. Coley sighed. In that case, my man, I’ve done all I can here. He finished his beer. Wish me luck, he said, grinning. If you need me, I’ll be at the shallow end of the pool. And with a wink, he headed back toward the dance floor.

Try not to drown yourself, David yelled.

To David’s surprise, Coley turned back and stopped. My point exactly! he said, smiling. Not a chance. At that very moment, the swaying crowd swallowed him whole.

David rolled his eyes, thinking, And this is the help I get? He finished his beer, scanned the room once and shook his head. This lifestyle is definitely not for me, he thought, and stepped out into the dark night.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Lindsey Wood sat on the edge of the couch, watching as her dad fought valiantly—like an old soldier sensing his end.

Denis Wood, the decorated Operation Desert Storm veteran, was nearly rolled into a ball in his worn recliner. Covered in a film of toxic sweat, the man’s extremities twitched and convulsed.

He must be replaying an old battle in his mind, she figured.

Denis’s breathing became heavy and labored as he shook his head from side-to-side. No, he moaned, Oh God, no!

Lindsey held her breath, hoping that he’d open his eyes soon.

Marc, Denis screamed. They’re everywhere. We’ve gotta get out now!

Please wake up, Dad, she thought, knowing that if she attempted to roust him from his nightmares, there was a very good possibility that he’d attack her—instantly, violently.

Three war cries later, he awoke panting, his chest heaving. His face soaked in tears and mucous, he slowly turned toward her. His squinted eyes were filled with a murderous rage.

Lindsey sat at a safe distance, holding her breath until his distant eyes traveled all the way back to the present. She’d learned when she was much younger—after her mother had finally left them for good—that there was a critical time period that needed to be respected, and it varied. Without even realizing it, her dad would lash out with a terrifying ferocity. On two separate occasions, she’d suffered a black eye and bloody nose, and felt blessed that she’d gotten away so easily each time.

It’s all right, Pop, she whispered. It was just another bad dream.

Yeah, he said, gasping for air. Right. Just a bad dream, he repeated, while his eyes were still making their way home. He shook his head, closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. Bad dreams when I’m sleeping and nightmares when I’m awake.

It’s getting bad again? she asked, the rhetorical question intended to make him share his thoughts and feelings with her.

Worse than it’s ever been, I suppose. He opened his eyes and looked at her. I’m not sure how much more I can take, Linds. The sorrow in his voice was deep and sincere.

Have you talked to Dr. Alonso about it? she asked.

All we do is talk, he answered. He shut his eyes tightly again, trying to block out some of the pain.

What about your medication? When’s the last time you…

There’s no middle ground there, Linds, he interrupted. I’m either tortured with old pictures that I can’t get out of my head…faces of dead men that keep screaming for me to help save them. He slowly opened his eyes again. Or I’m a drooling zombie who can’t remember to unzip my fly when it’s time to take a leak.

Maybe you should consider checking in to the hospital?

For what, another tune-up that won’t add up to a piss hole in a snowbank?

Anything’s better than sitting in that recliner, thinking about different ways of checking out.

His eyes opened wide at her frightened tone. You sure about that? he asked.

Her eyes filled, but she never left his gaze. I am, Dad, she said.

He closed his eyes again and took another deep breath. Okay then, he muttered, finally surrendering. Hopefully they’ve hired better mechanics at that butcher shop they call a hospital.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

On the ride to the VA Hospital, Lindsey stole several glances at her father, making her heart ache. Denis Wood was a quiet, heavyset man who lived in a state of emotional catastrophe since returning home from the first Persian Gulf War. For years, he relied on his bitter wife to take care of the smallest details. But by the time Lindsey was twelve years old, the woman had taken enough and packed her things—never to look back.

Without me, he’d be completely lost, Lindsey thought, stealing another sideways look at him. Together, over the years, they’d set up a mundane routine for him—safe and predictable. But he’d become a shell of the man he’d once been and they both knew it.

Before she’d left, Lindsey’s mom said that he’d lost his faith. Lindsey knew better. Mom took his soul with her when she abandoned us both, she thought. She’d carried enough magic for the both of them, so when she left, the rest of his light went out.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

The VA Hospital’s façade was clean and manicured. Old Glory snapped and popped in the wind out front, while white-painted rocks surrounded the shrine in meticulous military fashion.

Lindsey’s father opened his eyes and cringed. The Nut House, he murmured.

It’ll be fine, Lindsey said, and parked the car. But after dozens of similar trips, they both knew better. This was just part of the vicious cycle that no one knew how to break.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Inside the foyer, the sanitized smell of pine oil competed with the rank stench of urine. The residents—homeless-looking men, their fingers stained yellow and brown from smoking hand-rolled cigarettes down to the very end—loitered at the top of the front stairs. Unshaven and hygienically challenged, these were men who’d once passed inspections, stressing over a single smudge on spit-shined boots or brass insignia. Now half-dressed in clothing and pajamas, each pathetic package was wrapped up in a government-issued, striped cotton robe. Footwear included boots or slippers—with the occasional pair of wing tips thrown in—but anything seemed to work with the ensemble. And although each one of them looked miserable, they still appeared happier than the folks who worked there.

Moans and groans were broken by the occasional whimper. Lindsey dared a look into some of their eyes and, as usual, wished she hadn’t. They were filled with such pain, souls lost long ago in trenches and rice paddies and barren deserts.

Most of the patients were numbed by enough chemicals to silence their screams and paralyze their convulsions. Government-trained killing machines that have been broken and are now stored in red-bricked warehouses, Lindsey thought.

Three squares and a cot, and all the pills your liver can process, Lindsey’s dad said, breaking her hideous train of thought.

She shook her head but silently agreed. We’re back in the land of the living poltergeists, she thought, and turned to her father after he’d checked in. Okay, Pop, I’ll call you tomorrow to…

Just don’t leave me here, he begged, the terror in his eyes making him look like a young, desperate child.

I won’t, Pop.

Please, Linds, he repeated, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

I won’t, she promised, and watched as he dragged his feet down a long yellow corridor, only to disappear behind a cold, gray door that she’d never want to visit.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

It was David’s last Wednesday night on the island when he met Coley for their weekly game of billiards.

Whose break? David asked.

Let’s flip for it, Coley said. I’ve got heads. He watched his quarter spin end-over-end until it landed tails side up. Damn it! Every time.

Didn’t you wear that sweater to the eighth grade dance? David teased Coley, as he broke the rack of balls with one quick jerk of the wrist.

Coley laughed. Did you hear the story about the guy who got divorced and was court-ordered to pay off his wife with a boatload of money? he asked.

David shook his head and put the four ball into the corner pocket.

Coley went on. He used a dump truck to deliver her alimony…in pennies.

David’s brow wrinkled in disbelief.

It’s true, Coley said. She brought him back to court, but there was nothing the judge could do. It was legal tender, and the exact amount he owed her. Now how perfect is that?

It figures you’d like that story, David said, and shot the three ball into the side pocket.

Coley smirked. You’re too straight-laced. You were the same way when we were kids.

Sure, Coley. And if it means anything, you haven’t changed either.

Coley started to grin but stopped. You’re right. And I’m never going to change, he vowed. I can’t help that I’m addicted to romance.

You mean sex, right?

With a giant smile, Coley nodded.

David couldn’t get over it. Coley’s as shallow as a puddle and he still scores big with the ladies. His childhood friend was always tanned and his hair was perfect. But inside, his heart’s an echo chamber. Coley always used the same lines on women, and he always brought them on the same date: a walk down the beach, wine, poetry, candlelight. I want to wait, most would say when it was time to get intimate. Coley would smile. I like you a lot, he’d whisper, and I really want this to be something you’ll never forget…or regret. Pathetic, David thought, but it works every time. One woman even told him, This was the perfect date. Coley never batted an eye. It should be, he replied. It’s taken me years to perfect it. David just couldn’t understand. While women rejected scores of sweet-hearted guys, they loved his soul-less friend. At first, David supposed that sincerity just didn’t go over, that perhaps self-centeredness did. He finally decided, though, that women loved a challenge. Every one of them wanted to convert the player into a faithful man.

How can you beat it when everything is fresh and new and no matter what you do—it’s for the first time? Coley asked.

But it’s only a fleeting phase, David said, sinking his next shot, no more important or exciting than any other phase. From what I’ve seen, it’s a real relationship only if you have to really work at it.

You’re sad, Coley teased, didn’t I teach you anything? Variety is the spice of life!

David smiled, eyed up the eight ball and sank it right in the side to take the first win. Trust me, Coley, the fire that attracts you in the beginning is the same flame that’ll burn you in the end.

Through all the conquests, the excuses, and break-ups, the truth always caught up. In the end, Coley could never be what he wasn’t. Even his best lies could only buy him temporary joy.

Whatever, Coley said, racking another game.

Well said, David teased before smashing the rack of balls to all four corners of the pool table. I’m going for a long run on North Beach tomorrow. You want to join me?

Not a chance, Coley said. I’m sleeping in.

David missed his next shot and leaned his chin on the pool cue. Those days are over for me for a while.

Coley nodded solemnly. Your brother says your going-away party should be one to remember, he said.

Craig told me, David said. Hopefully, we can all stay out of jail.

Coley laughed. I told him to make sure there are plenty of women there.

That would be nice.

Coley shook his head. You wouldn’t have time for a girl now anyway.

Trust me, David said, smiling, I’d make the time.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

At the crack of dawn, David pulled up to the North Beach marina in his convertible and parked. Dressed in sweats, he jumped out—his running shoes still unlaced. On the water, a father and his young son were sailing toward the island. For no particular reason, David waved. They both waved back.

On land, with the exception of a few sweater-wearing stragglers strolling along the beach, Captain Eli was the only other person in the world. The old, black sea captain was mending tattered fishing nets aboard his run-down vessel, Serendipity. David stepped onto the dock and visited with his old friend at the bow of the boat. Mornin’, Captain.

Captain Eli looked toward the sky. The sun had just awoken, painting the horizon with a warm light. That it is, he confirmed with a grin.

David grinned and then scanned the vast ocean before them. Expecting a big catch today?

Captain Eli never looked up from the net. You never know what the day might bring. He took a breath. And you?

Three days ’til I ship out, David said, his tone melancholy.

Captain Eli searched his friend’s face. Looks like you’re not looking forward to it. He awaited an explanation.

"Actually, I’m proud