Mercer Street (American Journey Book 2) Read online

  MERCER STREET

  A novel by

  John A. Heldt

  Copyright © 2015 by John A. Heldt

  Edited by Aaron Yost

  Cover art by LLPix Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, with the exception of brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  NOVELS BY JOHN A. HELDT

  American Journey Series

  September Sky

  Mercer Street

  Indiana Belle

  Class of '59

  Northwest Passage Series

  The Mine

  The Journey

  The Show

  The Fire

  The Mirror

  Audiobooks

  The Mine

  The Journey

  The Show

  The Fire

  September Sky

  Follow John A. Heldt online at:

  johnheldt.blogspot.com

  In memory of Grandma, Everett, and Albert

  We need to remember across generations that there is as much to learn as there is to teach. – Gloria Steinem

  As is the mother, so is her daughter. – Ezekiel 16:44

  You can't go home again. – Thomas Wolfe

  To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. – Lewis B. Smedes

  Appearances are often deceiving. – Aesop

  Time moves in one direction, memory in another. – William Gibson

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Novels by John A. Heldt

  Dedication

  Quotations

  Chapter 1: Susan

  Chapter 2: Susan

  Chapter 3: Amanda

  Chapter 4: Elizabeth

  Chapter 5: Susan

  Chapter 6: Susan

  Chapter 7: Susan

  Chapter 8: Amanda

  Chapter 9: Susan

  Chapter 10: Susan

  Chapter 11: Susan

  Chapter 12: Amanda

  Chapter 13: Susan

  Chapter 14: Elizabeth

  Chapter 15: Susan

  Chapter 16: Susan

  Chapter 17: Amanda

  Chapter 18: Elizabeth

  Chapter 19: Susan

  Chapter 20: Amanda

  Chapter 21: Amanda

  Chapter 22: Elizabeth

  Chapter 23: Amanda

  Chapter 24: Susan

  Chapter 25: Susan

  Chapter 26: Susan

  Chapter 27: Amanda

  Chapter 28: Elizabeth

  Chapter 29: Susan

  Chapter 30: Elizabeth

  Chapter 31: Amanda

  Chapter 32: Elizabeth

  Chapter 33: Amanda

  Chapter 34: Amanda

  Chapter 35: Susan

  Chapter 36: Elizabeth

  Chapter 37: Amanda

  Chapter 38: Susan

  Chapter 39: Amanda

  Chapter 40: Susan

  Chapter 41: Elizabeth

  Chapter 42: Amanda

  Chapter 43: Susan

  Chapter 44: Susan

  Chapter 45: Amanda

  Chapter 46: Elizabeth

  Chapter 47: Amanda

  Chapter 48: Amanda

  Chapter 49: Elizabeth

  Chapter 50: Susan

  Chapter 51: Amanda

  Chapter 52: Elizabeth

  Chapter 53: Susan

  Chapter 54: Amanda

  Chapter 55: Amanda

  Chapter 56: Elizabeth

  Chapter 57: Susan

  Chapter 58: Amanda

  Chapter 59: Amanda

  Chapter 60: Elizabeth

  Chapter 61: Susan

  Chapter 62: Amanda

  Chapter 63: Elizabeth

  Chapter 64: Susan

  Chapter 65: Elizabeth

  Chapter 66: Amanda

  Chapter 67: Elizabeth

  Chapter 68: Amanda

  Chapter 69: Amanda

  Chapter 70: Susan

  Chapter 71: Amanda

  Chapter 72: Elizabeth

  Chapter 73: Amanda

  Chapter 74: Susan

  Chapter 75: Amanda

  Chapter 76: Susan

  Chapter 77: Elizabeth

  Chapter 78: Amanda

  Chapter 79: Susan

  Chapter 80: Amanda

  Chapter 81: Susan

  Chapter 82: Elizabeth

  Chapter 83: Amanda

  Chapter 84: Amanda

  Chapter 85: Amanda

  Chapter 86: Susan

  Chapter 87: Susan

  Chapter 88: Amanda

  Chapter 89: Susan

  Chapter 90: Susan

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1: SUSAN

  River Run, Wisconsin – Tuesday, June 7, 2016

  Susan looked at the lying, cheating bastard in the hospital bed and forgot for a moment she still had a loving husband. It was easy to forget such things after being called to an emergency room and learning that your perfect marriage was not so perfect.

  "How do you feel?" Susan asked.

  Bruce paused before answering. He turned his head slightly and gazed at his wife with eyes that betrayed more guilt than pain.

  "Like you do," Bruce said.

  Susan leaned forward in her chair, put a hand on the bed, and smiled at her spouse of twenty-five years. She didn't know what she would do with him after they left the hospital, but she knew any decision on their future could wait.

  "We don't need to talk about that now," Susan said. "Get some rest."

  Bruce took a breath.

  "I'm sorry," he said in a barely audible voice.

  Susan fortified her smile, took Bruce's hand, and squeezed it lightly.

  "Let's talk about something else."

  Susan started to ask Bruce if he needed an extra blanket or something to drink when their twenty-one-year-old daughter beat her to the punch.

  "Can I get you anything, Dad?" Amanda Peterson asked.

  "No, thank you, honey."

  "Then at least let me brighten this place up. A little sunshine would do you good."

  "I agree," Bruce said.

  Amanda got out of her bedside chair, walked to the window, and adjusted the blinds. Just that quickly, warm, bright, comforting light flooded the private room, which took up a quiet corner of River Run Community Hospital.

  "Is that better?" Amanda asked.

  "Much," Bruce said.

  Susan smiled sadly as Amanda fluffed Bruce's pillows and adjusted his blanket on the way back to her chair. She envied the ease with which her only child could set aside her anger and focus on providing comfort to a man who had betrayed his entire family.

  Susan then turned to the older woman sitting in the corner of the room and saw more judgment than forgiveness. She had expected as much from her mother.

  Elizabeth Campbell had never warmed to Bruce Peterson, a Chicago developer who seemingly spent more time with female business associates than with his own wife and daughter. She had often warned Susan that powerful men and infidelity went hand in hand and was therefore not surprised to learn that Bruce had conducted an eight-week affair with a buxom staffer he had set up in a high-rise apartment.

  Susan thought about the mistress as Bruce again looked at her with repentant eyes. She bore no malice toward the woman who,
according to police, had walked away from Saturday night's rollover accident with scratches and a red face. The receptionist was merely a person, a foolish girl who would probably think twice about entering into another adulterous relationship.

  What troubled Susan was the nagging suspicion that this mistress had not been the first. Though she had no reason to believe that Bruce was a serial philanderer, she did not know for a fact that he wasn't. A husband who could cheat on his wife for weeks could probably do so for months or years. In fact, he could do just about anything.

  The question was not moot. Susan could probably forgive a tryst in the woods that was supposed to be a fishing trip with the boys. She might even be able to forgive a long-term affair. But she could never forgive a lifetime of lies.

  Susan thought about the consequences of Bruce's deceit a bit more and then, like Amanda, focused on his recovery. As much as she wanted to scream at this man and put him through a wringer, she wanted to nurse him to health first.

  Susan didn't doubt that her husband would return to his feet soon. Despite some internal bleeding and massive trauma to his chest, Bruce was stable, strong, and lucid. Sixty hours after driving his Lincoln Navigator off a winding rural road in southern Wisconsin, he was expected to make a full recovery.

  Bruce gazed at Susan for what seemed like an eternity, frowned, and then looked away. He stared at the ceiling, sighed, and turned to face Amanda.

  "Did you ever hear back from the think tank?" Bruce asked.

  "I did," Amanda said. "The director himself called Friday. He offered me a position in the research department. He said I could start October 3."

  "What did you tell him?"

  Amanda beamed.

  "I told him I could start October 3."

  Bruce laughed, or tried to laugh, through obvious pain. He took a deep breath, smiled softly, and placed his hand on his daughter's.

  "I'm proud of you, sweetheart. I'm so very proud."

  "I am too," Susan said to the recent college graduate.

  Susan studied Bruce's face. When she saw more fatigue and weakness in his eyes, she withdrew her hand, checked her watch, and then turned to Amanda.

  "Your father looks tired. We should let him rest."

  "I'm fine," Bruce said. "You don't have to go."

  "We do though. You need sleep," Susan said. "We'll come back. We'll grab some lunch, buy a few groceries, and return this afternoon."

  "You don't …"

  "Listen to me for once, Bruce. Get some sleep."

  "She's right," Amanda said. "You do look tired."

  Bruce sighed.

  "All right. I won't argue. Just be sure to …"

  Bruce didn't finish his sentence. He didn't finish anything. He clutched his rising chest, stared at his wife with wide eyes, and then slumped in the bed as he drifted into unconsciousness.

  Susan knew something was seriously wrong even before she felt Bruce's hand become cold and clammy. The same heart monitor that had almost put her to sleep with its monotonous, rhythmic pings and wavy lines now had her sitting on the edge of her seat. Noises and numbers broadcasted not health and stability but suffering and chaos.

  Susan jumped to her feet and leaned over her husband. She called his name and gave him a gentle shake. When that failed to rouse him, she turned to her daughter.

  "Get a nurse, Amanda! Get a nurse!"

  Amanda raced toward a door that led to a hallway and a nursing station. She didn't take more than six or seven steps before knocking over a twentyish nurse carrying Bruce's lunch on a tray.

  The nurse slowly picked herself up. She surveyed the mess on the floor, gave Amanda a withering stare, and then looked at Susan, who tried to revive the patient.

  "What's going on?" the nurse asked.

  "Everything," Susan said in a panicky voice. "My husband is failing."

  The nurse glanced at the heart monitor. When it became obvious that she had more than a messy floor on her hands, she returned to the open door, stuck her head in the hallway, and barked an order to people Susan could not see.

  The nurse moved quickly to the bed, nudged Susan aside, and began to work on Bruce as the monitor flashed more troubling numbers. She checked the patient's vital signs and shook her head as a doctor and an older nurse rushed into the room.

  "Please leave the room," the doctor said.

  Susan did not react. She instead stared at the man with the lifeless eyes and pale face, a man she had not yet had the chance to berate, forgive, and perhaps love again.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you have to leave," the older nurse said to Susan. "You all have to leave now."

  Susan looked at Elizabeth, who stood by the door, and then at Amanda, who stood behind the doctor and tried to catch a glimpse of her father. Even from several feet away, she could see the terror in her daughter's eyes.

  Paralyzed by fear, doubt, and guilt, Susan looked on as the medical staff attended to Bruce and prepared a trip to the operating room. She could tell from the grim faces, clipped tones, and frantic pace that the situation was beyond serious. She began to think about her last words to Bruce when the doctor more forcefully repeated his order.

  "Please leave the room!"

  Susan looked at Amanda. When she saw that she had no intention of obeying the order, she stepped around the bed, put an arm around her daughter, and began to escort her from the room.

  "No!" Amanda cried. "I can't leave."

  "You have to," Susan said.

  "No!"

  "Amanda, we have to go."

  Susan tightened her hold on her daughter when she felt increased resistance. When she realized that she would not get Amanda out of the room by herself, she appealed to the younger nurse with her eyes. Within seconds, the nurse moved toward the Peterson women and helped Susan literally drag Amanda away from the bed.

  "Get your hands off me!" Amanda said. "Let me stay!"

  Susan ignored the protests and redoubled her efforts as yet another nurse entered the room to assist with Amanda. She fought the urge to throw up as Amanda began to wail.

  When the four women finally reached the door, Susan looked back at the bed. The doctor and the older nurse had begun to rush Bruce toward a place where miracles might happen.

  She didn't need to look again, however, to know they rushed in vain. There would be no miracles on this or any other morning. Susan Peterson was already a widow.

  CHAPTER 2: SUSAN

  Lake Forest, Illinois – Sunday, August 21, 2016

  Susan gazed at the headstone and smiled sadly as she noted the Cubs insignia in one corner and the image of a 1957 Chevy in another. The three-foot-high marker was as impressive as any in the leafy cemetery on the shore of Lake Michigan, but it was not without a blemish.

  The man who had engraved the granite slab in a Skokie workshop had botched Bruce Peterson's middle name, spelling Allan with one "l" instead of two.

  Susan didn't mind. In fact, she refused the horrified craftsman's offer to correct the mistake. She considered the stone a fitting memorial to a man who was at once beautiful, polished, and deeply flawed.

  In the eleven weeks that followed the sudden death of her husband from a ruptured aorta, Susan had had ample opportunity to think about the man, their marriage, and a future she would now have to face alone. She didn't like the idea of navigating midlife without the person who had been her rock, but she wasn't terrified by the prospect either.