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Xlibris US - Larry Goldsmith

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124 pages

English

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Bestselling author Larry Goldsmith has created a story of a morally strong-willed woman much like the biblical character Joseph in that she survives her fateful situation to become a heroine. Hanna is a coming-of-age college student who must face a life-threatening situation.
Treachery and deceit become the recipe for a good romance mystery. Mama’s husband enters a Chicago area hospital for routine medical tests and is allegedly killed by Hanna’s father due to medical malpractice.
Stricken with grief, the widow plans revenge against the doctor who killed her husband. While murder is not on the menu, Mama devises a plan to cause the doctor to feel the pain of losing a loved one. She plans to take her revenge on an unsuspecting Hanna.
Like Joseph in the Bible, Hanna not only survives being in a strange and foreign environment but because of her integrity is elevated to a position of a trusted confidant. In the end, Hanna finds the life that she desires and becomes the master of her own fate.
The reader will discover that there is more than one payback in the story. There are the planned paybacks and ones created by fate. There is a lesson to be learned as the characters forgive those who wronged them, and in doing so, begin to move forward living their lives again.
Author’s previous novels: Bashert and Marc Marci

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Fiction

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Publié par	Xlibris US
Date de parution	10 avril 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669860921
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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PAYBACK

The cruelest form of revenge

Larry Goldsmith

Copyright © 2023 by Larry Goldsmith.

Library of Congress Control Number:
2022923927
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-6093-8

Softcover
978-1-6698-6094-5

eBook
978-1-6698-6092-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 12/23/2022

Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com

849413
Contents
Preamble
High School Graduation
My Summer
My College Roommates
The Summer Job
A Patient’s Story
Another Day
The Search
The Journey Continued
The Mouse
In Chicago
The Investigation Continues
They Didn’t Forget
Living on the Farm
Fishing
It Was Expected
The Tide Changes
Kelli and Chris
The Start of the Winter
Celebrating the Holidays
The Addition
The Bris
Life Changed
The Next Day
An Apology
The Child
Burying Chris
After the Funeral
Back to Illinois
Back Home
Ice Melted
Sunday
Monday
Wake and Funeral
New Beginning

To my soulmate, whose love and support shine upon me all my living days, and to my loving parents
Preamble
This is my life story. I came from humble beginnings, growing up in a normal, happy Northshore family and survived the nightmare that women fear most. It was nothing that I could have prevented.
High School Graduation
I remember Mom yelling, “Roger [my dad], if we don’t get a move on it, we aren’t going to find good seats.” I eyed my brother Rob who was still playing video games and hadn’t yet dressed. My stress level peaked as the commencement time drew near, and I made up my mind to leave all of them behind if they couldn’t move faster.
“I’m not going to be late,” I screamed. “I’ll meet you guys at the school.” My sweaty fingers grabbed the car keys as my feet moved toward the front door. A tender embrace from my father vanquished my exasperation.
Dad placed his arm around me and said, “This is a big day for all of us. Relax. You will do simply fine. I have faith that you’ll deliver a memorable class valedictorian speech. I can’t wait until I hear your name, Hanna Bloom, announced and watch you walk to the podium to deliver your speech. We are all so proud of you. If we leave in twenty minutes, we will arrive in sufficient time to find parking and our assigned seats.”
It was a sunny, cloudless Sunday morning. The festivities were to begin at eleven. The student chairs were artfully arranged in rows on the football field. The graduating students were to sit in reserved seats organized by their last names. In the front, facing the student seating, a stage was erected. The principal would hand out the diplomas from this perch. Parents and guests of the graduates were relegated to the football bleachers facing the field. To my chagrin, a number of my classmates made a mockery of the day. Some smoked pot. Others tossed Frisbees during the graduation ceremony speeches.
I attentively listened to the names as the students sauntered to the stage to collect their diplomas. Most of them were strangers to me. To achieve my scholastic goal of becoming a doctor someday, I chose the lonely pursuit of studying over dating and maintained a limited social life. I remained within my circle of overachiever friends. There weren’t many of us.
During the hour or so of speeches, I kicked off my sandals so my feet could sink into the green grass on the field. A beachball flew over my head as students became painfully bored as the typical speeches were delivered. I closed my eyes and imagined myself on a sailboat, cooled by the ocean breeze.
Beneath the hot summer sun, my graduation gown felt unbearable as perspiration dripped from my neck and underarms down my back and sides. Savvy students prepared for the heat by bringing handheld battery-operated fans. When, at last, my name was called to deliver my speech, I walked like a proud trooper to the podium, took a sip of water, and mustered my courage. My eyes glanced first at the students and then to the stands. I thanked the honored guest and dignitaries and then delivered the speech that I had practiced a hundred times.
I asked my peers, “What road will you take? Will the path you pursue be your own or the one that someone has chosen for you? Is the purpose of your life to serve others, or will you serve your own materialistic greed? I challenge you. We are here on this planet to repair the world so there will be less death and misery. You can’t leave this task to others because everyone must contribute to the best of their ability if we hope to succeed. We can make a difference if we put forth an honest effort. If we don’t act, society’s destructive behavior will destroy our planet. The consequences are too dire to ignore.”
I spoke for twenty minutes, which culminated in polite applause from the onlookers and guests. The students were still smoking dope and didn’t process my message. The headmaster of my school approached me and announced that I had been awarded this year’s scholastic achievement medallion. After the honor was awarded to me, the ceremony ended along with my moment of fame.
The students tossed their graduation caps in the air. Students exchanged yearbooks to be signed and made promises that they would remain friends. Those promises would likely be forgotten over the years. Surrounded by family, members of the graduating class posed for pictures to memorialize the day. At the end of the event, we drove to Stefani’s for a tasty brunch. Since it was a special day, my parents and our guests ordered extra helpings of onion rings and dessert for our table. I splurged and ate a chocolate-covered spumoni ice cream ball the size of my dad’s fist.
On the following morning, Cinderella returned to earth, and I was no longer queen for the day. I was told to drive my brother to a bus parked at the local shopping center where a fleet of transports was lined in rows waiting for the hundreds of campers that they would transport to northern Wisconsin. “Hurry up, you little twirp, I have things to do too,” I called out to him.
I lovingly rubbed his curly fire-engine red hair as he brushed past me carrying his duffel bag. He responded by saying “I love you too, bitch.”
Once upon a time, Rob was an annoying brat. I’d tease him that the hospital made a mistake, and Mom brought home the wrong child. He believed me because no one else in the family had fire-engine red hair. Mom would have to assuage his doubts about being adopted to stop his crying. Then she sternly admonished me for being so cruel and demanded that I apologize.
On this particular morning, Mom called out, “Rob, I have my new yoga class and I’m late, so I can’t drive you. Hurry, come here and let me give you a hug before you leave for camp one last time. You know Dad and I will miss you.” Two smooches later, Mom walked into the garage wearing a Lululemon bright pink outfit, carrying her pink yoga mat and started her car. Dad had left for work hours earlier to examine patients.
I helped Rob stow his clothes and luggage in the back seat. It would be the last chance to chat before he left for the summer. In the car, Rob commented, “You are so lucky that Grandma gave you her new Lexus before she went into that senior citizen living center. I hope Mom and Dad will give me one when I get my license.”
Getting that car was a bittersweet gift. Yes, I had a beautiful sedan with less than ten thousand miles on the odometer and all the gadgets one would want, but my grandmother was sentenced to a home because she was losing her faculties. Shortly after entering the home, my grandmother passed away. I would have preferred to have spent more time with her than receiving this gift.
Arriving at the staging area within the mall’s parking lot, I was directed to Rob’s bus. I unloaded his bags and said our goodbyes. Then I walked to the roped-off section where the parents waved to their children as the camper-filled blue commercial transportation bus pulled away.
Standing beside me was one of Mom’s friends, named Jen. She engaged me in a conversation. She is one of Mom’s pickleball friends who also happens to have an obnoxious daughter in my graduating class. With an attitude she asked, “You heard that my darling Suzy was accepted to Brown, an Ivy League college? Have you received the college program acceptance for which you applied?” Jen gushed with pride about her daughter’s acceptance to Brown. She paused for a moment, permitting me to respond.
“Thank you for asking, I have been accepted to Northwestern’s seven-year program that combines undergraduate studies and medical school. It is a privileg