Mercer Street (American Journey Book 2)

by John A. Heldt

  "OK."

  "Let me first say that I want you to enjoy your trip," Bell said. "I want you to see the sights, make friends, and participate in activities. What I don't want you to do is bring back a living souvenir or alter the past in any significant way. You will all be traveling to a very dangerous time, a time when the world is on the edge of war. Please don't say or do anything that might result in German textbooks or the loss of freedoms that millions today take for granted."

  "I won't," Susan said.

  "Elizabeth? Amanda?"

  "I'll behave myself, Professor," Elizabeth said.

  "I will too," Amanda added.

  Bell visibly relaxed.

  "I'm glad to hear that. I want to know that I've done the right thing by honoring your request to visit a very perilous year."

  "You have," Susan said.

  "Before I continue, do you have any questions?"

  "I do," Amanda said.

  "What's that?" Bell asked.

  "You mentioned last week that you recently sent a reporter and his son to 1900."

  "I did."

  "Have they returned?"

  "No. They have not."

  "Do you expect them to?" Amanda asked.

  Bell smiled.

  "I do. The men violated some of the rules I set down for them, but they managed to avoid serious trouble. I expect them to return as early as tomorrow."

  "I see."

  "Are there other questions?" Bell asked.

  "I have one," Susan said. "I sort of asked it earlier. It's been on my mind all week."

  "What's your concern?"

  Susan sighed.

  "Why are you investing so much in three people you still don't know very well?" Susan asked. "You took a big risk in telling us your secret before we even committed to taking a trip."

  The professor nodded.

  "You're right. I did," Bell said. "I took a huge risk when I told you about Percival Bell, this house, and a secret you could have easily shared with others, but I felt I had to take that risk. I knew you would soon return to Chicago and didn't want you to slip away. I meant it when I said you ladies had the skills, knowledge, and attitude I was looking for. You are perfect candidates for time travel in almost every way."

  Susan looked at Bell closely.

  "I see the trace of a grin, Professor. That tells me you have more to say."

  "I do," Bell said. He laughed. "Do you remember the 1980s adage, 'Trust, but verify'?"

  "I remember it well," Susan said. "Ronald Reagan used it frequently when discussing arms agreements with the Soviet Union. He trusted the Russians only as far as he could verify their words and deeds."

  Bell smiled.

  "You're correct. The president hedged his bets with a party he did not know or fully understand … and I did the same with you."

  "You did what?"

  "I had a private investigator check you out. He confirmed what I suspected all along. He said you are all stand-up individuals who are worthy of my trust."

  "You checked us out?" Susan asked.

  "I checked you out. I hope that doesn't offend you."

  "No. Oddly enough, it doesn't. If anything, it makes me respect you more. It makes all of this seem a little more real and legitimate."

  "That's good to hear," Bell said. "I felt I had no choice. It's one thing to tell strangers you have a vehicle that could take them to the past. It's another to give them the keys to that vehicle."

  "What keys?" Susan asked.

  Bell smiled.

  "The keys I brought to this gathering."

  The professor reached into his left jacket pocket and retrieved two transparent stones. One was white, the other blue. Both were three inches long. Bell then reached into his right pocket and pulled out an old-fashioned skeleton key. He placed all three items on the coffee table for all to see.

  "That's quite a collection," Susan said.

  "Thank you."

  "What's the metal key for?"

  "It unlocks the door between the time tunnel and the outside world," Bell said. "You will need it when you return. The lock on the door is the same one Percival Bell installed in 1900."

  "I see," Susan said. "I assume the rocks are the infamous gypsum crystals."

  "You assume correctly."

  "They're beautiful."

  Bell handed the skeleton key and the white stone to Susan.

  "I'm entrusting you with the more powerful of the two crystals," Bell said. "This stone will allow you to access the portal at any time and return to September 15, 2016, as if you had never been gone. Guard it carefully."

  "I will," Susan said.

  Susan gazed at the crystal for a few seconds. She couldn't believe something so small and simple could trigger something like time travel, but she could tell from its cut and its shine that it was no ordinary rock.

  Bell watched Susan put the white crystal and the key in her purse and then turned to the youngest person in the room. He picked up the blue crystal and offered it to Amanda.

  "This is for you," Bell said. He placed the crystal in Amanda's open hand. "It's the backup, the spare, the stone I hope you will never have to use. Please take care of it and keep it separate from the white crystal at all times."

  "I will," Amanda said. She put the stone in her purse. "Thank you."

  "What about me?" Elizabeth asked. "Do I get a pretty rock too?"

  Bell laughed.

  "I'm afraid not. I can spare only two," Bell said. "What I can give you is a job. I want you to keep an eye on Susan and Amanda and make sure they act wisely."

  "I accept!" Elizabeth said.

  Everyone in the room laughed.

  The professor looked at Elizabeth with adoring eyes.

  "As it turns out, dear, I do have something for you."

  Bell grabbed the small book that sat on the table and handed it to Elizabeth.

  "What's this?" Elizabeth asked.

  "It's a journal, a blank journal I want you to fill," Bell said. "Susan told me that you picked 1938 because you wanted to see your parents and your infant self. I can't say I like the idea, but I understand why you do. So rather than advise you against doing something you'll do anyway, I want to encourage you to make the most of it. I want you to record your experiences in this journal and share them with me upon your return."

  Tears filled the old woman's eyes.

  "I can do that, Professor," Elizabeth said. "I will do that."

  "I know you will, dear. I know you will," Bell said. "I believe it's only fitting that we close on that sentimental note. It is time, ladies, for me to show you the door."

  "What door?" Susan asked. "I see only four white walls."

  "Look again."

  The professor turned around and pointed to a faint outline on the far side of the room. The outline framed a white, nondescript door that almost blended into the wall.

  "That's the door to the tunnel?"

  "That's the door to the tunnel and – for you three – September 15, 1938," Bell said. "Please grab your purses and suitcases and follow Jeanette and me."

  Susan, Elizabeth, and Amanda did as requested. They followed the Bells from the sofas to a door that looked like it belonged to a broom closet. They exchanged nervous glances when the professor opened the door, turned to face them, and smiled.

  "This is your portal to the past," Bell said. "It is the chamber that Percival Bell built more than 116 years ago and one I want you to know well. Please step inside."

  When Bell moved away from the door, Susan motioned Elizabeth and Amanda to enter the tunnel. A moment later, she followed them into the space – a narrow, brick-lined passage about fifteen feet long, eight feet high, and five feet wide. A plain, windowless door at the other end presumably led to the backyard and the outside world.

  Susan looked up just in time to see a streak of light race across the ceiling. A strip of glowing white and blue stones, embedded in the bricks, provided welcome illumination.

  "I like the l
ights," Susan said to Bell, who stood next to Jeanette in the doorway. "They give the place a festive feel."

  The professor laughed.

  "They do. What's more, they match the ones in your purses."

  Susan and Amanda reached into their handbags and retrieved their stones. The rocks emitted a soft, steady light like the ones overhead.

  "Oh, my," Susan said. "This might start a few conversations."

  "Don't worry," Bell said. "The portable crystals and the ones in the tunnel light up only when they have been synchronized and placed in close proximity to each other."

  "I must say I'm impressed," Susan said. She looked around and gave the tunnel a cursory inspection. "Is this all there is to it? I don't see any bells or whistles or instructions on the wall. Do we need to do more to complete the process?"

  "No," Bell said. "All you need to do is pass through the outer door. When you reach the backyard, take a moment to inspect your surroundings. Look first and foremost for nosy neighbors, people who may wonder why three women carrying suitcases are exiting the basement of an unoccupied house. If the coast is clear, walk as quickly as you can to the street in front of the house. This house is clearly marked on the map in the envelope, as are two car dealerships, a bank, and a nearby grocery store with payphones."

  "What if the coast is not clear? What if neighbors see us and ask us questions?"

  "Use your judgment. If you can talk your way out of the situation, then do so. If you can't, then turn around. Return to the house. The key and the crystals will allow you to reenter the tunnel and the basement."

  "What if the nosy neighbors follow us?" Susan asked.

  "Don't give them the chance. Enter the tunnel as quickly as you can and shut the door. By the time you dig out your crystals, you'll be back in the present day."

  Susan smiled at Bell.

  "Thank you, Professor. Thank you again."

  "You're welcome," Bell said. "Now do us all a favor and have the trip of a lifetime."

  "We will."

  Bell stepped into the chamber and shook Susan's hand.

  "Remember, Mrs. Peterson, the world you know is only a letter away."

  "I won't forget," Susan said.

  Bell retreated to the doorway and smiled at the intrepid time travelers one last time. He then stepped into the white room, grabbed the door, and closed it slowly.

  Susan felt her stomach drop the second she heard the inner door shut. She didn't know what lay beyond the outer door, but she knew she was about to find out.

  "What should we do, Mom?" Amanda asked.

  Susan smiled at her daughter through the gloom.

  "We should do what the professor told us to do. We should walk through that door and have the trip of a lifetime," Susan said. "Do you want me to go first?"

  Amanda nodded nervously.

  "Yes."

  "OK then," Susan said. "Make way."

  When Amanda and Elizabeth stepped aside, Susan walked to the far side of the tunnel that a not-so-mad scientist had built. She put her hand on a sturdy knob, turned it to the right, and opened a door that seemed as old and heavy as the gate to a castle.

  Susan stepped outside and quickly shielded her eyes from the sun, which loomed higher in the sky than it had just forty minutes earlier. She took that as a sign that the hour had changed, if not the day, the month, and the year.

  Then she looked at a series of rising brick steps and noticed another change. Weeds shot up from nearly every crack in what was once a flawless stairway. If new owners had assumed control of the property, they hadn't kept it up.

  Susan ascended the stairs, lowered her suitcase to a weedy lawn, and surveyed her surroundings. She did not see nosy neighbors or neighbors of any kind, but she did see a neighborhood that looked much older than the one she had driven to.

  No matter where she looked, Susan saw differences. Victorian mansions stood next to newer Craftsman bungalows. Utility poles lined wider streets and towered over roadsters with rumble seats and white wire-spoke wheels. Even the Painted Lady looked different. With weathered siding and cracked windows, it looked more like a house in need of a wrecking ball than an architectural treasure in need of restoration.

  This is real.

  Susan glanced at Amanda and Elizabeth, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled and summoned them with a hand.

  "Come on up," Susan said. "It's safe."

  "Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked.

  "I'm positive. Come on."

  Susan watched with fascination as Amanda led Elizabeth up the steps. She could tell just by looking at their faces that they were apprehensive and excited. When they reached the top of the stairs, she stepped back to give them some room.

  Amanda didn't wait to ask questions. She dropped her suitcase and walked rapidly to the middle of the yard, where she held out her hands and spun around.

  "This is real," Amanda said. "This is freaking real!"

  "It sure looks like it," Susan said.

  "I can't believe it. I was sure this was a scam. I thought the professor was putting us on, but he wasn't. He wasn't at all. We really did it. We really traveled through time!"

  Susan smiled, sighed, and then stepped toward Amanda. She hadn't seen her cynical daughter this excited since she was a young girl and wanted to bask in her joy. She laughed when the college graduate squealed like a first-grader.

  "Does this beat a day at the beach?" Susan asked.

  Amanda beamed.

  "Oh, Mom, this beats everything!"

  Susan threw an arm over Amanda's shoulders and walked her back to the stairway. She needed only a second to see that Elizabeth had processed the situation differently.

  "Mother? Are you OK? You're crying."

  Susan released Amanda and moved quickly to comfort Elizabeth. She put her hands on her mother's shoulders and turned her so that she could see her face.

  "Mom? I asked you a question. Are you all right?"

  Elizabeth turned away to hide her tears. When she gazed again at Susan, she did so with eyes that revealed happiness, sadness, and understanding.

  "I'm fine, dear. I'm fine," Elizabeth said. "I'm just coming to grips with the truth."

  "What do you mean? What truth?"

  Elizabeth sighed.

  "I'm really going to see my parents again. I'm going to see myself."

  In that instant, Susan realized that the trip was far more than a vacation to an exotic destination or a spin through a funhouse of time. It was a sentimental journey of the highest order. She smiled, pulled her mother close, and kissed her on the head.

  "Yes, you are, Mom. Yes, you are," Susan said. "Now let's go buy a car and get this show on the road. I think we're all going to see a lot of things."

  CHAPTER 11: SUSAN

  Hollywood, California – Friday, September 16, 1938

  Susan watched with amusement as four smiling, uniformed men swarmed around her car and fussed over her like servants attending to a queen. Of all the sights she had seen since emerging from the time tunnel, few brought a smile to her face faster than full-service gas stations.

  She waved at the attendant wiping the windows of the 1938 Cadillac Sixty Special and then glanced at the ones filling the tank, checking the oil, and checking the pressure of the vehicle's whitewall tires. She turned to the history major in the front passenger seat.

  "I think they like us," Susan said.

  Amanda smiled.

  "I think they like you. Even Mr. Squeegee is checking you out."

  "He must like my dress."

  "He likes something," Elizabeth said from the back seat.

  Susan laughed.

  "Keep it clean, Mom. You don't want your granddaughter to think you're a dirty old woman, do you?"

  "Of course I do."

  Susan laughed again. She was happy to see her mother in good spirits. Elizabeth had pretty much kept to herself since arriving in 1938, speaking only about the trip ahead, Princeton, and meeting her parents, who had undoubted
ly begun the long process of leaving Europe in the wake of Nazi Germany's annexation of Austria.

  Susan stuck her nose out her open window and inhaled the strong but strangely refreshing aroma of oil, grease, and leaded gasoline. She didn't even bother asking the attendants for an unleaded alternative. Alternatives wouldn't appear for another thirty-four years.

  Getting used to new smells was just one of many things the women had done since walking out of Geoffrey Bell's mansion. They had also purchased a car, obtained two driver's licenses, and stayed overnight in a Hollywood motor court that looked like the setting for a postcard.

  Buying the car, of course, had been the first order of business. After spending an hour walking around Bell's neighborhood and soaking up the sights, the time travelers had walked to a grocery store, called a cab, and asked the driver to take them to Figueroa Street, where more than a dozen auto dealerships awaited their attention.

  The women had considered a Plymouth Touring Sedan and a Chrysler Imperial before buying the Sixty Special, a plush, 130-horsepower, eight-cylinder extravagance, from a man with a firm handshake and a warm smile. By five thirty Thursday afternoon, Susan and Amanda had tested their new toy on more than a hundred miles of streets and highways. Elizabeth had wanted no part of driving something bigger than her bedroom.

  Susan and Amanda had waited until Friday morning to wander into the Department of Motor Vehicles office on Santa Monica Boulevard and were surprised and pleased to find short lines, pleasant staff, and minimal scrutiny. Getting driver's licenses had been almost as easy as navigating the area's congestion-free roads. The women had needed only one day in Southern California to know that life in 1938 would be different.

  Susan glanced at her daughter and watched with interest as she straightened her dress and then checked her face in the rear-view mirror. She laughed.

  "Are you primping for our boys in blue?"

  Amanda lifted her nose.

  "We have a long drive ahead of us," Amanda said in a condescending but playful voice. "You never know who we'll meet."

  "She's right," Elizabeth said. "This town is crawling with movie stars. I'd give my right arm to meet Clark Gable or Errol Flynn. Then again, I'd give my right arm for an air conditioner. It's hotter than blazes back here."