Payback: The Cruelest Form of Revenge

By Larry Goldsmith

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

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669860921

Larry Goldsmith

Larry is a passionate writer who pours his romantic feelings into the pages of his writings. His characters resemble many of the individuals he has known: the good, the bad, and past lovers. His soul is cleansed, and he exercises his spirit by putting words on paper. He tells tales of his past through his characters and attempts to share a worldly view of the moral choices in life. Professionally, Goldsmith is a financial sleuth (forensic CPA) and an attorney. His professional experiences are woven into believable and authentic storylines. These storylines take place where dreams, memories, and fantasies become one. In his writing, Goldsmith finds himself personally lost in the world of his own imagination. He applies his real-life occupation of courtroom dramas and negotiating with the IRS to many of his novels. Writing is his passion, to the chagrin of his wife. He is happily married and lives in the Second City (Chicago). Being a baseball fan, every novel contains a baseball tidbit woven into each story. When not working or writing, he is riding his bicycle or recalling younger days when he kayaked down dangerous whitewater rivers or played volleyball. Goldsmith has published two novels, Bashert and Marc Marci. Both of them have received wonderful reviews, which warm his heart and soul. [e-mail] www.larrygoldsmithauthor.com [e-mail] 847-507-5604

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Copyright © 2023 by Larry Goldsmith.

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

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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 privilege to be accepted to one of the most prestigious programs in the country. I’m looking forward to the start of my classes. I had managed to take her a peg or two down with my news. Inside, I was gushing with pride, even if I was boasting. It was a got-you-back moment since her daughter had not invited me to her graduation party attended by most of my class.

Mom made sure that I was invited to several private graduation parties. Against my desire to attend, I ended up going to most of them. At each of these celebrations, I was the picture-perfect wallflower, speaking only to those who deigned to talk to me. The partygoers were, for the most part, boring, relying on their drinking and pot smoking to produce the merriment. I found drugs and social drinking offensive. The intoxicants encouraged sexual and risky behavior, which I avoided.

Sitting in the car waiting for a freight train to pass, I began thinking about how much fun Rob was going to have at camp. I had a moment of remorse as I reflected on lost opportunities. I could have attended Ramah overnight camp and spent summers frolicking in the pool or lake, but instead, I chose to attend science and math camp. I could have enjoyed a social life with stupid girls giggling about boys rather than studying on my laptop until bedtime. I had a small group of my serious -minded girlfriends—sure, we were social, but we spent much of our time studying.

I left the parking lot and drove to Evanston where I had a volunteer job teaching math and science to deprived students at the YMCA. This was a summer of volunteering before beginning my college education. I made a deal with my parents that if I tutored disadvantage kids’ science and math for the first six weeks this summer, they’d pay my way on a four-week supervised program touring Europe. It was a good deal, and since helping others was a passion of mine, it was an ideal win-win situation. What could possibly go wrong?

My Summer

On my typical day this summer, I rode my Schwinn eight miles to the Evanston YMCA, and after the tutoring gig, I would journey to the nearby rock formations overlooking Lake Michigan. That was where I kicked off my sandals to read my currently engaging mystery novel. The waves splashed refreshing droplets on me as I enjoyed solving the crime before the end of the story. Today, Chris, one of the other YMCA volunteers, introduced himself and asked if he could join me, and together, we rode our bikes to the lakefront.

We sat on the rocks, talked a bit as a flotilla of sailboats sailed past us in the distance. Chris told me his life story.

I grew up in Evanston in the same neighborhood where most of our tutoring students live. In the neighborhood where I grew up, gang and drug violence pervaded our lives. Most of our students will have no choice but to die on the street or in jail. A few may graduate high school and go off to college, but those truly are the lucky few.

Sadness overwhelmed me as I shook my head, trying to grasp his words. I asked, How did you escape the gangs? You appear to have attained a good education.

Looks are deceiving. He smiled. Nonverbally, I asked if he was pulling my leg. He continued, At fifteen, I was arrested for armed robbery. My eyes widened. I was sent to the juvey jail where the visiting pastor convinced me to study. Through his efforts, I earned my high school equivalency degree. By the time I was released from jail at twenty-one, I had two years of college credits. The pastor found me college scholarship money and assisted me with my applications. I’ve since graduated from college and teach English at Evanston Township High School. Teaching is my way of giving back.

I was curious and wanted to know more about his childhood experiences. Being from an affluent neighborhood, his survival in that environment was foreign and inconceivable. Before I could ask my first questions, he asked, Why do you come here? These aren’t your people. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to really care for the kids and have a passion to make a difference. But why do you care?

I chose my words carefully so I didn’t sound condescending. Chris, my parents stress that all of us have a duty and responsibility to help each other. It was their idea that I spend the summer before college volunteering my time. I had my choice of volunteer work and chose the one where I hoped to make a difference. The most valuable commodity in life is an education.

What are your future plans after the summer?

I’m an entering freshman at Northwestern. One day, if I’m lucky and can survive medical school, I hope to be a surgeon like my father. I want to make a difference by saving lives. I looked at my watch, and alarm bells went off. Chris, I have to run. I have my college orientation in twenty minutes, and I’ll barely make it in time. I enjoyed our time together today. Let’s do it again soon. I literally sprinted to my bike, pedaled like hell to my destination, locked my bike to a light post, and ran up the stairs, arriving out of breath and a minute before the program started.

My College Roommates

I found a seat near the front of the room just in time to listen to medical school deans and former students address the freshman class with useful suggestions on how to succeed. After two hours, there was a break with refreshments being served. The majority of students flocked to the left wall where the hamburgers and pizzas were served. I went to the opposite wall to check out the boring vegetarian food options. I stood behind a young Indian woman in the food line. She turned around to me with a grin. I thought it strange when she asked, I am looking for a studious roommate who eats only vegetarian foods. Do you know any?

Without telling me her name, she continued to share, I found an apartment off campus not far from where we will be taking our classes, but I need two roommates to help me cover the costs. I want serious students who are vegetarians and not party animals. I’m Hindu, and the eating of meat is forbidden.

I responded, My name is Hanna Bloom. I am Jewish and, like you, prefer roommates who are vegetarian and the quiet, studious types. I’ve had difficulty finding like-minded roommates. I would love to sit down with you after this next session to discuss this further.

She smiled. I’m sorry for not mentioning it before, my name is Meera. What if I meet you at the next intermission over there in the corner? Her finger pointed to an area with a couch and two chairs. I agreed to meet her.

Just then, a student standing behind