Pia Vorhees, a widow left with nothing but her husband's secret, unfinished manuscript, is confused. After Hugh's passing, Pia has faced a number of challenges to her ideas of what awaits people after death. The greatest challenge to her beliefs comes from the strange behavior of her granddaughter, Summer. Summer has always reminded Pia of Hugh. Throughout her young life, Summer has displayed idiosyncratic behaviors that are intimately similar to those of her late grandfather. These similarities become far too significant, however, when Summer wins the Nobel Prize in Literature for the book written by her grandfather-a book she should never have known about. Pia does not understand how Summer could have known about the manuscript that she had kept secret since Hugh passed two years before Summer was born. She becomes suspicious of Summer and questions her opinions on life, death, and identity. Could Summer be the reincarnation of Hugh, or could he be communicating with her from beyond the grave?

And When I Die

By Loni Friddle

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Loni Friddle
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-0598-4

Chapter One

Pia stared at the stage. The beautiful woman that she had been fixating on was changing. The image faded from a young blond girl to that of a middle-aged man. A man whom she was very familiar with and loved for most of her life. To Pia, it was like one of those clever drawings. When anybody first looked at it, they saw a young maiden. But if they concentrated hard enough, they saw an old woman. Or vice-versa. The drawings are ingenious and play with the brain. Perhaps, at first, they see the maiden. Then, knowing that they had been prompted to see something else, they focus. They lose sight of the silhouette of the maiden on the right side of the picture and see the silhouette of the old crone on the left side. But this was different. There was no left side and right side to this. Definitely, the young girl's face phased out and was replaced by Hugh's face. It was very surreal and yet so real. It couldn't be true. Pia leaned forward and kept her eyes riveted to the incarnation. No, it can't be. This is surely an apparition. Then, the image faded away slowly and once again Pia was focusing on Summer's face.

She became aware of Marla's frantic whispering, "Mom, are you all right? Mom, Mom, what are you staring at? Why did you grab my hand?"

Pia took another good look at the stage. Yes, it was indeed Summer sitting up there on the stage. Her beautiful Summer. Her beautiful and most talented granddaughter nominated for the Nobel prize. It was not Hugh up there. It was Summer here in Sweden. Pia slowly drew her eyes away from the stage and turned her head to look into Marla's eyes. She let up her grasp on Marla's hand and patted it instead.

"Yes, my dear. I'm alright. I guess I just got a little overwhelmed by all of this. Don't worry. I'll be fine. I wouldn't do anything to ruin this wonderful, spectacular evening."

Marla smiled and placed her other hand on top of Pia's. She leaned over to kiss her cheek. Settling back in her seat, she glanced over Pia's head to meet her husband's eyes. He, too, had seen what was going on and gave her a questioning look. She simply shrugged her shoulders.

Pia leaned back in her plush chair. She gazed around at all the important people surrounding her in the Stockholm Concert Hall. Men in tuxedos. Women in gowns. But Marla on her right side and Craig on her left were just as stunning as all these other people. Pia felt as if she were in a little cocoon and peering out at the world. She could not believe she was here. Here in Stockholm. She smiled as she smoothed down the noil silk on her leg. She had shopped forever to find the appropriate dress. A teal blue to match her eyes. Just a simple ankle length shift with a faux turtleneck. The dress was almost perfect because, although it was sleeveless, it came with a matching silk jacket. A jacket was necessary because Sweden's nights were a bit chilly – to say the least! And Pia didn't feel comfortable showing off the bit of flab on her arms that came with age. A double-strand pearl necklace with matching earrings completed her ensemble. Pia patted her hair very gently. It had been done by a local beautician. Usually, Pia combed her gray streaked tresses back into a ponytail. Occasionally, on special occasions, she braided it. But this beautician had done wondrous things. She had pulled back the fine, long hair into some kind of strange braid and piled it midway up Pia's head. Pia was very pleased with the results but she felt that any minute, the whole thing would come tumbling down.

Never in her life did she ever think she would be at this prestigious event. No, that was not true. It was another dream for another person a long time ago. She gazed at the stage again. The flowers that were banked on every possible free space of the platform were incredulous. They had been flown in from Italy. When Alfred Nobel was dying in Italy, he requested that the flowers for the awards ceremonies come from Italy. He must have been as fond of flowers as I am, thought Pia.

The royal family had already been seated while the orchestra played the Swedish national anthem. Pia found it amusing that, after they were seated, they whispered among themselves just as members of the audience were whispering among themselves. She wondered who was talking about whom. The orchestra switched to Mozart's March in D Minor when the laureates filed in and took their seats. They were arranged in the order in which they would receive their prizes. First was Physics, then Chemistry, then Physiology and Medicine, then Literature, then Economics. Summer appeared to Pia like a celestial star seated between the older men. She was a green nova in her sea green gown. The small diamond earrings that her parents had bestowed upon her after hearing about her nomination twinkled. Her soft blond hair that was piled on top of her head glittered under the shine of the lights. She was an angel, a heavenly body, a star and even a star, as in celebrity. Pia was so proud. Her heart was racing and that was when the image changed to Hugh's face. He, too, had been a star in her eyes- not only as a somewhat celebrity but also as a shining force in her life.

The audience hushed as the award ceremony was about to start. Pia couldn't help but fidget as she waited and waded through the speeches and the first three award presentations. They were interesting but..... Finally it was time for the literature award. Pia held her breath. Marla held her right hand and Craig held her left one.

"For her understanding of the world's reliance on myth, legend and religion, we grant the Nobel Prize in Literature to Summer Chura."

The whole audience stood up and applauded as Summer stepped up to receive her award from the king of Sweden. She bowed to the king and to the royal family and to the audience. Summer made the slightest eye contact with Pia and returned to her seat. Even though it was just a slight eye contact, it was the look. It was that same look that she had gotten from that child for as long as she could remember. It was a look that went deep into her soul.

Pia could definitely not contain her tears now. She huddled against her daughter's shoulder fumbling in her clutch bag for a Kleenex.

"Mom, you going to be all right?"

Pia straightened up and blew her nose.

You have one hell of a daughter there. Your father would be so proud. I just wish he was here."

"He is. You know that as well as I do."

"Yes, you know that I can't talk about it now. I'm too emotional with everything that is going on – both the ceremony and my own thoughts. Let's just sit through the rest of the ceremony, go get Summer, and then celebrate."

As they channeled out of the concert hall into the cool Stockholm evening, Pia looked around at the edifice. She had been so excited when she entered the building that she did not take time to gaze and gawk and enjoy the architecture. The columns were magnificent and the frieze work was grandiose. She wished that she had a camera with her. She had not brought one because, first of all, it would not fit into her tiny evening bag. And, Marla had reminded her that there would be plenty of photographers taking Summer's picture and taping the ceremony. They would be able to get all the pictures they wanted.

"Look at that statue, Marla! Who do you suppose it is?"

"That's a statue of Orpheus."

"Aha! The Greeks believed him to be one of the chief priests and musicians. He was said to have been the inventor of the lyre. How fitting that...