The Reincarnation of Clara. Kevin J Todeschi

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       The Reincarnation of Clara

       Selected Books by Kevin J. Todeschi

      Non-Fiction:

      Dream Images and Symbols

      Edgar Cayce’s ESP

      Edgar Cayce on the Akashic Records

      Edgar Cayce on Reincarnation and Family Karma

      Edgar Cayce on Soul Mates

      Edgar Cayce on the Book of Revelation

      Edgar Cayce’s Twelve Lessons in Personal Spirituality

      God in Real Life

      Fiction:

      A Persian Tale

      The Reincarnation of Clara

      The Rest of the Noah Story

       The Reincarnation of Clara

      By Kevin J. Todeschi

      Yazdan Publishing

      Virginia Beach • Virginia

      Copyright 2011

      By Kevin J. Todeschi

      Printed in the U.S.A.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles of reviews.

      Yazdan Publishing

      P.O. Box 4604

      Virginia Beach, VA 23454

      ISBN 13: 978-0-9845672-4-9

      Cover design by Richard Boyle

      Text and design layout by Cathy Merchand

       “I want very much to tell my story. I think many people could learn something from my life . . . you see, there are ‘patterns’ that have become so clear to me. Patterns that go back way before I was ever even born. There may not be another story like this in all the world.”

      Clara Cabot, in the summer of her 85th year

      Contents

       One: Huntsville, Utah—Summer Morning, 2006

       Two: Huntsville, Utah—Main Street, Summer Afternoon, 1946

       Three: Samaria City, Idaho—Stuart Family Home, Spring, 1932

       Four: Huntsville, Utah—Huntsville Air Force Base, Main Entrance, 1955

       Five: Huntsville, Utah—Clara’s Victorian Home, September, 1952

       Six: Huntsville, Utah—Doctor’s Office, 1954

       Seven: Huntsville, Utah—Summer Afternoon, 2006

       Eight: Huntsville, Utah—Summer, Late Afternoon, 2006

       Nine: Huntsville, Utah—Summer, Late Afternoon, 2006

       Ten: Huntsville, Utah—Summer, Late Afternoon, 2006

      One

       HUNTSVILLE, UTAH—SUMMER MORNING, 2006

      A slight breeze circulated the air around the porch but it was hot and dry, and in spite of the proximity of the Great Salt Lake, there was no moisture anywhere to be found. The few tomato plants Clara Cabot had found time to plant that year appeared straggly and neglected but instead of rising to address the situation, Clara simply shook her head, turned toward the driveway, and continued rocking. At 85, it was sometimes hard to find the energy to do much of anything. Besides, she wanted to save her strength for the interview. At long last, it was time to tell the story.

      She rocked back and forth on her big, white Victorian porch and waited. The porch table had been laid out with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, and a small plate of those chocolate mint covered Oreos that Clara saved for special occasions. A very worn map of the state of Idaho had also been set on the table. On the porch next to her rocker, Clara had placed a very large hatbox.

      There wasn’t any need to look at her watch—Clara knew how soon the woman was coming. She had known when the interview would take place a very long time before even the paper or the reporter had known. That’s just the way it was with Clara—she seemed to know things way ahead of everybody else. Her late husband, Joe, had loved that about her. He had loved the fact that she could look back on the past with considerable skill, as well.

      From where she sat, she could see the large signs “Huntsville Air Force Base” and “Government Property: No Trespassing” on the enormous chain-link fence that stood just beyond her property line. The base was nearly abandoned now as a result of U.S. military base shutdowns. There had been a time, however, when the noise of jet engines had been as common as the rustling of tree branches that now came to her ears.

      “That damn noise nearly drove me crazy!” Clara reflected aloud.

      Just then the Toyota pulled into her driveway; Clara rose and stood, waiting for the reporter, her niece, to come to her.

      “At long last, it’s time,” the old woman whispered to herself.

      As Joan got out of the car, it was obvious that the thirty-something woman was at least eight months pregnant. Clara had known that Joan was expecting, but hadn’t considered the possibility that the birth might take place right in the middle of her interview. She thought about it for a moment and then shook her head to the contrary, “Eleven days to go,” Clara spoke with certainty, although it was well before her niece was within earshot.

      With some measure of difficulty, Joan lugged a large bag with the logo and header of the “Salt Lake Tribune” emblazoned on one side. The woman’s name: Joan E. Stuart, appeared as script lettering in the lower right. When Clara saw the script, she was reminded that she had seen her niece’s name in the paper many more times than she had actually seen the woman herself. “These are regrets,” Clara whispered, as she pushed the thought from her mind. She stood until her niece climbed to the top of the porch.

      “I’m glad you could come, Joanie,” Clara extended a hand, and Joan shook it dutifully before Clara sat back in her rocker.

      Joan pulled out a small digital tape recorder, a pen, and a writing tablet, and responded just as she placed the bag on the floor. “To tell you the truth, Clara, this is not really my kind of assignment but Martin, my editor, thought he was doing me a favor because of my condition.”

      “You’re also my niece, Joanie.”

      Joan simply nodded,