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.
Mercer Street (American Journey Book 2) Page 1
