Mercer Street (American Journey Book 2)

by John A. Heldt

  Amanda tightened her hold on Kurt. She had enjoyed him most of all. She liked seeing him in a setting away from think tanks, guest speakers, and even relatives. She liked seeing him in a dark blue suit that fit well on his athletic frame.

  "What are you thinking about?" Kurt asked.

  Amanda smiled.

  "I'm thinking about a lot of things."

  Kurt laughed.

  "That's not very helpful."

  Amanda sighed.

  "I know."

  "Are you thinking about things you can't tell me?" Kurt asked.

  Amanda nodded.

  "I am."

  "Can I ask why you can't tell me these things?"

  "You can ask," Amanda said. "I just can't give you an answer."

  "Are you in trouble with the law?"

  "No. It's nothing like that."

  "Then what is it? Surely your situation can't be so terrible that you can't explain it to someone you love and trust," Kurt said. "Can it?"

  Amanda looked at Kurt.

  "My situation isn't terrible. It's complicated. It's more complicated than you can possibly imagine."

  "Is that your way of saying you won't ever tell me the truth?"

  "No," Amanda said. "It's my way of saying I need more time."

  Amanda frowned at the understatement. She needed more than time. She needed guidance. She would have to make the most important decisions of her life in the coming weeks and do so without an instruction manual.

  "I see," Kurt said.

  "Let me ask you a question," Amanda said.

  "OK."

  "What if I asked you to give up everything to follow me?"

  "What do you mean by 'everything'?" Kurt asked.

  "I mean your family, your friends, and your job. Would you do it?"

  Kurt relaxed his grip.

  "I don't know. I'd have to think about it. Are you asking me to do this?"

  "No," Amanda said.

  "Then why ask?"

  "I ask because I have to know what you would be willing to do before I can decide what I would be willing to do."

  "The plot thickens," Kurt said.

  "Don't joke. This is difficult."

  "I'm sorry. I just don't understand why you can't level with me. I mean it, Amanda. I would love you even if you told me you were a bank robber."

  Amanda laughed.

  "You probably would."

  Kurt kissed her head again.

  "I would."

  "You still didn't answer my question," Amanda said.

  "Then ask again."

  "Could you possibly give up everything for me?"

  Kurt sighed.

  "I suppose I could. It would depend on the circumstances."

  Amanda nodded. She could work with an answer like that. She pondered possible responses when she saw a woman in a white dress rush out of the Morris House. She smiled as the bride strode purposefully toward the gazebo.

  "Have you left the groom already?" Amanda asked in a playful voice.

  "No," Dot said. "Roy left me. He's drinking with his Princeton buddies and talking about the '37 Harvard game. I can't very well train a husband if all he thinks about is football."

  Amanda laughed.

  "I suppose you can't. Come sit with us."

  Dot stepped into the gazebo. She gave her fifth bridesmaid a hug and sat at her side.

  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Dot said.

  "No," Amanda replied. "We're just talking. We're saving the heavy petting for later."

  Dot looked at Kurt.

  "Do you always let her talk that way?"

  Kurt nodded.

  "She's a free spirit," Kurt said. "I can no more tame her than I can tame the wind."

  Dot looked at Amanda.

  "I see you've trained him. I see many happy years in your future."

  Amanda laughed.

  "I hope so."

  "I really came out here to see how you were doing," Dot said. "We haven't had a chance to talk much today. Are you having fun?"

  Amanda gazed at her friend.

  "I am having the time of my life."

  "That makes my day," Dot said. "I'm so glad you could be a part of this. I'm also glad your mom and grandma could attend the wedding. Thank them for me when you have the chance."

  "I will."

  "Are you coming to breakfast tomorrow?"

  "I wouldn't miss it. We wouldn't miss it," Amanda said. "It's at eight, right?"

  Dot laughed.

  "It's at eight. I doubt even a quarter of the people here now will make it to the farm. Most will be sleeping off their hangovers."

  "We'll be there. What more do you need?"

  Dot smiled and hugged Amanda.

  "Nothing."

  "So what's next for the newlyweds?" Amanda asked. "Are you taking a trip?"

  Dot nodded.

  "We're going to Montauk on Monday. We found a beach house there we can rent for a song. We'll stay on Long Island a few days, head back to New York, and then fly to Los Angeles."

  "So is this it?" Amanda asked. "Is this goodbye?"

  "No," Dot said. "It's not. At least I hope it's not."

  "What's going on?"

  "Roy gets another leave in September. We plan to fly back here, say goodbye one last time, and then have a second honeymoon on Route 66."

  "You're going to drive across the country?" Amanda asked.

  Dot beamed.

  "We're going to buy a car first. I've already picked one out."

  Amanda laughed.

  "You amaze me."

  "You have only yourself to blame, missy. When you told me all those stories about canyons, deserts, and cowboys, you made an impression on an impressionable young woman," Dot said. She held her nose up. "I have no choice but to see if the Old West is everything you say it is."

  Amanda laughed.

  "When do you expect to return?"

  "We'll fly back on the seventh or the eighth. Promise me you'll stay until at least the ninth."

  "I promise," Amanda said.

  "I'll hold you to that," Dot said.

  Dot slid off of the bench, straightened her lace wedding dress, and stepped in front of her friends. She grabbed one of Kurt's hands and then one of Amanda's.

  "What are you doing?" Amanda asked.

  "I'm motivating my guests."

  "You're what?"

  Dot stared at Amanda.

  "I'm providing encouragement where encouragement is needed," Dot said. She smiled. "Get off your duffs and start mingling. Enjoy my reception."

  CHAPTER 63: ELIZABETH

  Princeton, New Jersey – Friday, June 30, 1939

  Elizabeth pulled the envelopes from her mailbox and waved at the postman as he walked away from the residence. She liked getting mail in a time and a place where she did not officially exist – or at least not as more than a toddler in the house across the street.

  She entered the rental and walked through the living room to the dining area. She sat at the table, took a bite out of a ham sandwich, and examined what the postman had delivered.

  Elizabeth opened the envelopes and discarded the first three letters. She had no interest in buying life insurance, joining a service club, or giving generously to the New Jersey Wildlife Foundation. She could find plenty of wildlife in Princeton on a Saturday night.

  She did not dismiss the fourth letter. She couldn't. It was virtually impossible to dismiss a handwritten letter from someone who lived seventy-seven years in the future.

  Elizabeth thought at first that Professor Geoffrey Bell had written only to Susan, his faithful pen pal of the past nine months, but he hadn't. He had addressed his letter to the entire family.

  Elizabeth put on reading glasses she had purchased in May, pushed the other mail aside, and started reading the letter from Bell. It was short and to the point.

  Dear Elizabeth, Susan, and Amanda:

  I hope this letter finds you in good heath. I received your correspondence of May 2
3 and noted the progress you have made as friends, family members, and colleagues. I encourage each of you to make the most of the opportunities Princeton and 1939 have to offer, but I also advise you to be mindful of your special responsibilities as tourists of time.

  I am particularly concerned about Amanda's growing relationship with the son of Germany's military attaché. My research on the diplomat suggests that his family is about to undergo a serious transition – one in which allegiances and possibly friendships will be sorely tested.

  I recommend that all of you exercise caution when interacting with Heinrich, Johanna, Kurt, and Karl Schmidt in the days and weeks to come. I look forward to hearing more about your adventures and preparing your return to 2016.

  Elizabeth read the letter a second time and then a third. She leaned back in her chair as she tried to figure out what the professor was attempting to say.

  One thing was obvious. Bell wanted all three women to read the letter and abide by his advice. Even though he had corresponded exclusively with Susan for months, he did not want her to keep the contents of this letter to herself.

  Another thing was not so obvious. What did he mean by a "serious transition"? Was the Schmidt family moving? Was someone ill? Was someone's luck about to change?

  Elizabeth also wondered which allegiances and friendships would be "sorely tested." She pondered how the German family's fortunes could be related to her own.

  Then there was Bell's advice. Elizabeth understood the need to exercise caution when interacting with Germans in 1939. She didn't understand why the threat level with this particular family had been raised. What did Bell know that she didn't?

  Elizabeth got up from her chair, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the noisy four-legged refrigerator. She poured herself a glass, looked out a small window, and pondered all the possible ways she could handle the letter.

  She lifted the glass, sipped some juice, and returned to the dining area. She reclaimed her chair, picked up Bell's letter, and started to read it a fourth time when Susan entered the room.

  "Did the mailman bring us something good today?" Susan asked.

  Elizabeth forced a smile and pushed the opened letter across the table.

  "I'll let you decide."

  "What's this?"

  "Take a look," Elizabeth said.

  Susan pulled up a chair, grabbed the letter, and started reading. She put the letter back on the table a moment later and looked at her mother.

  "He knows something important," Susan said.

  "Of course he does."

  "Then why doesn't he share it with us?"

  "I don't know," Elizabeth said.

  "Has Amanda seen this letter?"

  "No. I'm not sure she should either."

  "Why not?" Susan asked.

  Elizabeth leaned forward.

  "I'll tell you why. It would only make her angry and irrational."

  "So?"

  "If she's angry and irrational, she can't do what Professor Bell wants her to do. She can't engage Kurt and his family with a clear head."

  "You're reaching, Mother."

  "Am I?" Elizabeth asked. "The professor didn't advise us to avoid the Schmidts. He advised us only to 'exercise caution' around them."

  "So?"

  "He has a purpose. I know he does. He wants us to act cautiously but independently."

  "You're speculating," Susan said.

  "Why else would he give us the freedom to associate?"

  "I don't know. I just know we can't keep this from Amanda."

  "We can and we will," Elizabeth said.

  "Mom!"

  "Trust me, Susan. Trust me on this."

  CHAPTER 64: SUSAN

  The Bronx, New York – Tuesday, July 4, 1939

  Susan looked at the humble man at home plate, wiped her eyes, and squeezed the hand of the retired admiral who stood at her left. She never cried at baseball games unless the Cubs blew a lead in the ninth, but she cried now. She couldn't help but get caught up in the moment as she watched a dying Hall of Famer declare himself the "luckiest man on the face of the earth."

  Susan gazed at Amanda, who stood at her right, and saw that she, too, was a weepy mess. She threw her free arm around her daughter and pulled her close.

  "Isn't this better than Coney Island?" Susan asked.

  Amanda nodded and wiped her eyes.

  "I'm curious about something though," Amanda said.

  "What?"

  "You bought these tickets two months ago, but the Yankees didn't schedule this event until two weeks ago," Amanda said. "How did you know today was the day?"

  "I remembered that he gave his speech on a Fourth of July. I confess I had forgotten the year, but I remembered the day," Susan said in a quiet voice. "When I read that he had benched himself in May, I knew this was the year. I bought tickets early to beat the rush."

  Susan glanced at Jack Hicks and then at Kurt Schmidt, who stood at Amanda's right, and checked to see if her comment had raised any brows. It hadn't. The men appeared to be too caught up in the spectacle to notice that a time traveler had made a subtle slip.

  She returned her attention to the infield and watched history unfold. New York Yankees first baseman Lou Gehrig stood before a bevy of microphones and elegantly delivered one of the most memorable speeches of the twentieth century. He dismissed his battle with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis as a "bad break" and praised team owners and relatives as officials, teammates, opponents, and sixty thousand sobbing fans looked on.

  Susan scanned the faces of those closest to the speaker and saw people she recognized: Mayor LaGuardia, Manager Joe McCarthy, and members of the 1927 Yankees. The dignitaries stood at the head of two lines that stretched from the pitcher's mound to home plate.

  Several had already taken their turns as orators and paid tribute to a man who seemed as unassuming in real life as he did in legend. Each had stoked an emotional fire that had burned slowly and steadily for more than thirty minutes.

  Susan reached for her handkerchief one last time when Babe Ruth stepped forward at the end of Gehrig's remarks. The burly legend hugged his former teammate and whispered something in his ear. The two friends had not spoken since a falling out six years earlier.

  "I wish I had a camera," Amanda said.

  "I wish I had a good camera," Susan replied.

  Susan didn't mean it. She could just imagine the buzz she would create by whipping out her Nikon D750 and snapping dozens of digital color images in the age of black-and-white photography. She would replace the Iron Horse as the main event in Yankee Stadium.

  Susan applauded as Gehrig walked off the infield with most of the others and then redirected her attention to the people in her own circle. Each represented a seemingly unsolvable problem.

  Jack needed no introduction. As her friend, colleague, and nominal boyfriend, he was never far from her person or her mind. He embodied all Susan wanted and all she could not have.

  Susan pondered her tearful conversation with her mother. She had hoped to find answers in June, but she had not. She was as undecided as ever about how to handle her growing affection for the admiral and how to find peace with a dead husband who still haunted her dreams.

  She also thought about Kurt, his family, and the letter she and Elizabeth had kept to themselves. For four days, she had obsessed over Professor Bell's warning, his ambiguity, and his intent. She didn't buy her mother's theory that Bell had something up his sleeve, but she couldn't dismiss it either.

  Susan knew only that Bell's warning had started to lose its punch. Johanna and Karl Schmidt had already left America for Berlin. Heinrich Schmidt remained at his post in Washington.

  "How is you mother doing, Kurt?" Susan asked. "Have you heard anything from Germany?"

  Kurt leaned forward, looked to his left, and nodded.

  "Karl sent a telegram yesterday. He said she's doing well despite the circumstances. He said she began her treatments on the tenth and that her
doctor remains optimistic."

  "Do you expect to see her soon?" Susan asked.

  "It depends," Kurt said. "If her condition improves, I'll visit in the fall. I've already requested time off. If her condition worsens, I'll leave immediately."

  "That's prudent."

  Susan forced a smile. She had hoped for a different answer. Though she wished the best for Kurt and his family, she wanted him on the first boat out.

  She knew a difficult goodbye might turn into an impossible goodbye if his relationship with Amanda lasted even another month. She knew because she faced a similar situation with Jack.

  "How about your father?" Jack asked. "Will he return to Berlin?"

  Kurt leaned further to his left.

  "He will," Kurt said. "He'll return in September unless summoned earlier."

  "I see," Jack said. "Well, please give your parents my best."

  "I'll do that. Thank you, Admiral."

  "You're welcome."

  Susan pondered Kurt's comment as the Yankees finished their pregame warm-up and took their positions. Two minutes later, starting pitcher Monte Pearson went into his windup and fired the game's first pitch past Washington Senators centerfielder Sam West.

  "Kurt?" Susan asked.

  "Yes?"

  "I'm curious about something."

  "What?"

  "Does your father plan to leave in September or arrive in September?"

  "He plans to leave in August and arrive in September," Kurt said.

  Amanda turned her head.

  "Did he tell you which day he planned to arrive?" Susan asked.

  Kurt nodded.

  "He did. He plans to arrive in Berlin on September 1."

  Susan looked at Amanda and saw her return a knowing frown. Both women had apparently drawn the same conclusion about two men and a looming date.

  Heinrich Schmidt planned to be in Berlin on the date Germany would invade Poland and start World War II. Kurt Schmidt did not. Life for both was about to get worse.

  CHAPTER 65: ELIZABETH

  Princeton, New Jersey – Wednesday, July 5, 1939

  "Thank you for spending the day with us yesterday," Ella Wagner said. "I so wanted Lizzie's first Independence Day to be spent with an American."