Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  "So what do we do now?" Ron asked.

  "We explore possibilities," Galloway said.

  "Do you have a solution in mind?"

  "I have many solutions in mind."

  Ron tilted his head.

  "Can you share them now?"

  "I would rather not," Galloway said. "I would rather wait until we meet next week. I will have more information then and will be in a position to advise you more effectively."

  "I see."

  "I know I've painted a bleak picture, Mr. Rasmussen, but I don't want you to lose hope of a successful outcome. If there is a way I can keep you out of prison, I'll find it."

  "I appreciate that," Ron said.

  The attorney leaned back in his chair.

  "There is one more thing."

  "What's that?"

  The attorney rubbed his hands.

  "Judge Jones set a reasonable bail because he believes you are not a flight risk. He believes you are a family man who has every intention of remaining in Chattanooga."

  "I am," Ron said.

  "I'm happy to hear that," Galloway replied. "I'm happy to hear that because nothing would complicate your case more than an unauthorized trip to California."

  "I understand."

  "Don't even think about leaving town."

  Ron sighed.

  "I won't."

  CHAPTER 21: DAVID

  Saturday, April 21, 1945

  Sitting on the sofa in his home away from home, David Baker put a newspaper on his lap, flipped to the front page, and caught up with his world. There was much to catch.

  In Germany, the U.S. Seventh Army had captured Nuremberg and begun a long march south. Russian guns had raked Berlin on Adolf Hitler's birthday. In the Pacific, war correspondent Ernie Pyle had died in the trenches covering the Battle of Okinawa.

  David reminded himself that these stories were fresh. Though he had grown up in a world where the war was ancient news, he was now in a world where it was immediate, relevant, and unfolding. This was history, he thought — real, living history.

  He started to turn the page when someone tugged on his trousers and reminded him that bigger, more important matters were happening in his living room. He looked down and saw a little girl in a bright pink dress. He saw the most beautiful child on the planet.

  "Are you done playing blocks?" David asked.

  Hannah answered with a hard stare. Then she pulled herself off the hardwood floor, tugged again on David's pants, and raised her arms high.

  David grinned.

  "Oh, now you want a hug."

  Hannah replied with a smile.

  David laughed, tossed the paper aside, and picked up his niece. He gave her the hug she wanted, placed her on his lap, and then stared at her until she giggled.

  "You're going to be a heartbreaker, girl. I can promise you that."

  David glanced at the floor, where Hannah had scattered more than thirty wooden blocks, and then at a watch that read eleven fifteen. He thought about Ron and Claire and hoped they were enjoying their day trip to nearby Lookout Mountain. He could not imagine anyone enjoying anything in the face of a criminal trial.

  As he bounced Hannah on his lap and patted her hands together, David thought about the unpleasant days and weeks ahead. He thought about Carter Galloway's final words and his own significant mistake. He had put his family at risk by failing to do the one thing he had been charged to do. He had failed to secure a rock.

  David gave the matter a moment of thought and then put it to the side. He had better things to do than mope and wanted to accomplish at least a few before the day was done.

  He got up from the sofa, strengthened his hold on Hannah, and carried her across the living room toward a small box that Ron and Claire had filled with toys. He made it about halfway when he heard a knock on the front door.

  "Who could that be?" David asked.

  Hannah seemed indifferent to the question. She gently slapped and pinched David's face like it was a big slab of modeling clay.

  David walked to the door and slowly pulled it open. He smiled when he saw a familiar face — a face he had not seen in several days.

  "Hello," David said.

  Margaret Doyle stood outside the door. She held a stainless steel pot.

  "I hope I haven't come at a bad time," Margaret said. "I wanted to give this to y'all. I made some chicken soup."

  "You've come at a good time, actually," David said. "Please come in."

  The time traveler, dressed in a white shirt and gray slacks, stepped back and opened the door wide with his right hand. He held Hannah firmly with his left.

  Margaret stepped inside. She walked a few feet into the living room, turned around, and stared at her neighbor.

  "Do you mind if I put this in your fridge?"

  "I don't mind at all," David said. "Do you need some help?"

  Margaret shook her head.

  "I think I can manage."

  David watched with interest as Margaret tiptoed over five or six blocks and carried the soup into the kitchen. He smiled when she returned a minute later.

  "Did you make that this morning?"

  "I did," Margaret said. "I got up at five so I could make it by ten. I wanted to give it to you before you made plans for dinner."

  David grinned.

  "I think you mean supper. It's supper in the South."

  Margaret folded her arms.

  "You have a smart mouth, Mr. Baker."

  David laughed.

  "You're not the first to say that."

  "I imagine not," Margaret said.

  "Do you have time to visit?"

  "I do."

  "Then take a seat," David said. "Hannah and I would love some company."

  "All right."

  Margaret waded through a block minefield as she made her way to the sofa. She lifted the newspaper from a cushion, placed it on an end table, and took a seat.

  David pushed aside some blocks with his foot and carried Hannah to the couch. He sat down next to his neighbor as she smoothed a few wrinkles from a bright yellow dress.

  "I haven't seen you in a while," David said. "Have you had a busy week?"

  Margaret nodded.

  "I have. I've spent the past three evenings grading essays and book reports. This is a particularly busy time of the school year."

  David smiled.

  "I know."

  "Where are Ron and Claire? Are they here?" Margaret asked. "I saw your car out front and assumed they were home."

  "They left two hours ago to ride the rails."

  Margaret raised a brow.

  "Are you referring to the Incline Railway?"

  "Yes," David said. He chuckled. "I keep forgetting that everything in Chattanooga has a proper name."

  Margaret smiled.

  "I hope they enjoy themselves. I 'ride the rails,' as you put it, several times a year just because I can. The views from the top of Lookout Mountain are spectacular."

  "So I hear," David said. "I haven't seen many attractions around here, but the mountain is on my short list. I was planning to explore it this spring."

  "Then you should join me next month," Margaret said. "I go up every Decoration Day to see the historical sites. You do realize that several battles of the War Between the States were fought in this vicinity, do you not?"

  David laughed to himself. He didn't need to ride the rails to find some local history. It was sitting on his couch. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard someone refer to Memorial Day as Decoration Day or the Civil War as the War Between the States. California and the twenty-first century never seemed farther away.

  "I do. I'm reminded of the battles every time I hear men refight them over coffee," David said. He grinned. "As for your invitation, I'd love to join you. I can't imagine anything more enjoyable than getting a history lesson from a history teacher."

  Margaret tilted her head.

  "Are you making fun of me?"

  David blushed.

/>   "No. I'm just being silly."

  Margaret offered a skeptical smile.

  "In that case, I'll let it go."

  David chuckled.

  "Please do."

  Margaret smiled and waved at Hannah as the baby started to drift off. Then she straightened her dress, turned toward David, and looked at him with serious eyes.

  "How long will Ron and Claire be gone?"

  "I'm not sure. I imagine most of the day," David said. He lifted his sleepy niece off his lap and draped her over his shoulder. "They wanted to spend some time together."

  "I don't blame them. I'm sure they have much to discuss."

  "Do you know about Ron?"

  Margaret nodded.

  "Constance Miller, a friend of mine, told me on Thursday. She works at the courthouse and saw Ron's name and address on a court document. She knows where I live and wanted to know if I knew anything about an assault case involving my neighbor."

  "What did she tell you?"

  "She said Ron had been in a fight Saturday night."

  "That's putting it mildly," David said. "He fought off two men while defending another and put both men in the hospital. Because of that, he's facing possible prison time."

  "That's terrible."

  "I know."

  Margaret frowned.

  "Has Ron spoken to a lawyer?"

  "He has," David said. "We all met with a Mr. Galloway on Wednesday and will meet him again next week. He's trying to find a way to keep Ron out of jail."

  "I suspected it was serious. That's why I made the soup. I wanted to do something for your family while y'all were struggling with this."

  "I appreciate it. I'm sure Ron and Claire will too."

  Margaret looked at Hannah and smiled.

  "I see your date's a little tuckered out."

  David chuckled.

  "She's probably ready for a nap. She's been up since six."

  "How do you like being an uncle?"

  "I love it. I admit that Hannah makes it easy, but I still love it. I like the idea that I'm helping to shape a young life. I think I'm going to enjoy it even more as she gets older."

  "She is a beautiful child," Margaret said. "She's probably a smart one too. I can tell by that little pyramid of blocks on the floor that her wheels are already spinning."

  "She built that an hour ago. The Eiffel Tower is next."

  "Oh, I'm sure she'll do better than that."

  "I'm sure she will too," David said. He patted Hannah's back and kissed her head. "Would you like to hold her? I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

  "I think I'll take a rain check this time," Margaret said. "I'm meeting Constance for lunch in a bit and don't want to keep her waiting."

  "OK."

  "There is something I'd like to ask you before I leave though."

  "Oh?" David asked. "What's that?"

  "Would you be interested in speaking to one of my classes?"

  "You really want me to do that?"

  "Yes," Margaret said. "I've already cleared it with Principal Wiggins. He said if you want to speak to my geography class about California, or anyplace else, you can."

  David laughed.

  "Did you have to twist his arm?"

  Margaret shook her head.

  "No. He agreed right away. He likes you."

  "In that case, pick a date."

  "You'll really do it?"

  David smiled.

  "I'll really do it."

  CHAPTER 22: RON

  Tuesday, April 24, 1945

  For the second time in six days, Ron walked into Carter Galloway's office, sat in a chair, and waited for some news. Once again, he feared the worst, hoped for the best, and expected something in between. He believed his attorney would not have called him into his office unless he had at least something good to say.

  Ron watched Galloway closely as the lawyer, dressed in a gray Brooks Brothers suit, claimed a seat behind his desk, shuffled a few papers, and pushed them to the side. He clasped Claire's hand as the attorney cleared his throat and prepared to speak.

  "Good afternoon," Galloway said. "I hope y'all had a pleasant week."

  Ron met his gaze.

  "We managed to get through it."

  Galloway offered a slight smile.

  "I'm glad to hear that. I know how stressful these situations can be. That's why I worked through the weekend to find a way out of this mess."

  "Did you?" Ron asked. "Did you find a way out?"

  "I did. At least I think I did."

  "What is it?"

  "I'll tell you in a minute," Galloway said. "I'll tell you as soon as I update you on your legal situation. I've learned a few things since the last time we spoke."

  Ron glanced at Claire, who held Hannah, and then at David, who sat to his right. Then he took a deep breath and settled into his chair.

  "I'm listening."

  "First, I'll give you the bad news," Galloway said. "The prosecutor intends to prosecute. Mr. Pearson will not drop the charges under any circumstances."

  "I was afraid of that."

  "What's more, he still intends to charge you with first-degree assault."

  "I was afraid of that too," Ron said. He sighed. "What's the good news?"

  Galloway folded his hands atop his desk.

  "The good news is that he's not all that interested in actually trying a California man who apparently has had no prior run-ins with the law."

  "What are you saying?" Ron asked.

  "I'm saying he wants to deal. He wants to offer you an option he has offered many other men who have found themselves in similar situations."

  "What is that?"

  "He wants to give you a chance to serve your country," Galloway said. "He is prepared to take prison off the table if you enlist in the United States military."

  Ron stared at the attorney.

  "So what he wants is a quick conviction that makes him look tough but fair."

  Galloway nodded.

  "That's how Richard Pearson operates."

  Ron once again appealed to his family and saw two strikingly different reactions. He saw fear in Claire's face and eagerness in David's. He sensed that his brother-in-law was itching to speak to him privately on the subject at the earliest opportunity.

  As he returned to his attorney, Ron asked himself the obvious questions. Was this really the best possible deal? Could he seriously consider the military in a time of war? Could he risk prison and the loss of his daughter by rolling the dice on a trial? He didn't have good answers. He didn't have any answers. He had only a sense of hopelessness.

  "Would the judge go for a deal like this?" Ron asked.

  "I should hope so," Galloway said. "He's handed out more than a hundred jail-or-military sentences since the war began. He's an ex-Army officer who sees the military as an ideal outlet for men who like to settle disputes with their fists."

  "How long can I think about it?"

  "You can think about it until your trial in August. Once the trial begins, you're looking at freedom or two years in the state penitentiary. That's one reason I'm advising you to make a decision as soon as possible."

  "What's another reason?" Ron asked.

  Galloway extended a hand toward Hannah.

  "Your little girl is another reason."

  Ron bristled.

  "Speak plainly, counselor."

  "OK. I will," Galloway said. "From the very beginning of this case, I have had two objectives. The first is to keep you out of prison. The second is to keep your family intact."

  "I figured that much."

  "If you take the deal, I can keep you out of prison and convince others to allow this adoption to go through. You want authorities to have all the facts before they make a final determination on your fitness as a father. If they see you are preparing for a criminal trial when your parental probation ends in July, they may turn you down. If they see you are serving honorably in the military, they will almost certainly approve the adoption."


  So there it was, Ron thought. He could lose Hannah even before having the opportunity to prove his innocence in a court of law. He wondered what he had done to deserve this.

  "If I decide to take the deal, how soon could I change my plea?" Ron asked. He looked at his family and then at his lawyer. "How soon could I get the ball rolling?"

  Galloway brought his hands together.

  "You are scheduled to appear again before Judge Jones on Friday. If you give me an answer by Thursday morning, you can put your troubles behind you by the weekend."

  Ron gazed one more time at Claire and Hannah. He knew he probably didn't have a choice in the matter, but he wanted to think things through. He turned to the attorney.

  "Let me talk it over with my family, Mr. Galloway. Give me until Thursday," Ron said. "I'll have an answer for you by nine o'clock."

  CHAPTER 23: CLAIRE

  Wednesday, April 25, 1945

  Sitting across from her husband and her brother at their dining table, Claire voiced her opinion on a matter that divided the family. She had done so several times that morning because she wanted to keep reason alive.

  "I still don't like the idea," Claire said. "I don't like it at all."

  Ron frowned.

  "I'm not asking you to like it. I'm asking you to support it."

  "How can I support you joining the military when a war is in progress?" Claire asked. "I would rather have a husband in prison than one who is dead."

  "Do you want to risk losing Hannah?"

  "No."

  "Then at least listen to David," Ron said. "He has a plan that may work for all of us."

  Claire tightened her hold on Hannah, whom she cradled in her arms, and then stared at her brother. She did not want to consider any plan that required breaking up her family, but she saw no harm in listening. They had to make a decision and had to make it soon.

  "Well? Let's hear it," Claire said. "What's your plan?"

  David turned away for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts, and then looked at Claire with eyes that revealed fear, frustration, and determination. When he finally spoke to his sister, he did so in a firm, measured voice.

  "I think we should play our hand but not play it to the end."