Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  Marie smiled.

  "That's because she has a nurturing mama."

  "Thank you."

  Claire wasn't about to argue that point. She had peppered Dr. Johnston with a hundred questions and didn't leave his office until she had some answers. She was shocked to learn that vaccines for diphtheria, tetanus, and whooping cough were not yet licensed and that a safe and effective vaccine for polio did not yet exist. She yearned for the day she could take her daughter to a twenty-first-century medical facility.

  "Does Hannah have any more appointments?" Marie asked.

  Claire nodded.

  "She has a follow-up visit with Dr. Johnston. He wants to see her again, next month, for her first annual checkup."

  "That's right," Marie said. "She has a birthday coming up."

  "She does. She'll be one on June 6."

  "Do you have anything special planned?"

  Why, yes. We're going to Skype her daddy at boot camp.

  "No," Claire said. "I think anything more than a small party with cake and ice cream would be a bit much for a one-year-old."

  Marie nodded but did not reply. She instead picked up a clipboard and a pen she had placed at her side and made a few notations. Her first home visit was under way.

  "Tell me about the things that Hannah has done or is doing. Is she sleeping well? Has she walked or talked or done anything to tell her grandma about?"

  Claire felt her stomach sink. She had forgotten all about her daughter's extended family. Somewhere out there, albeit in a decidedly inconvenient parallel universe, Hannah had two grandmas, two grandpas, several aunts and uncles, and enough cousins to fill a classroom. She hoped Marie would not ask about any of them and begin a new line of questioning.

  "She's sleeping well," Claire said. "I can tell you that. She sleeps through the night almost every night and rarely wakes up before seven."

  Marie laughed.

  "If that's true, you're the luckiest mother I know."

  "She's just a good baby," Claire said.

  Marie made a few more notes.

  "How about the walking? Has she taken any steps?"

  Claire nodded.

  "She's not ready to run a marathon, but she's getting close. David has been working with her and can now get her to take five or six steps without falling."

  "That's great," Marie said. "That really is. I hope you are capturing some of this on film. You don't want to let too many of these moments go by."

  "We're not."

  "How about the talking? What's she been saying?"

  "She's mastered the usual suspects," Claire said. "She can say 'Mama,' 'Dada,' and 'Day-bah.' That's what she calls my brother."

  Marie laughed.

  "I bet you're so proud."

  "I am," Claire said. "I was especially proud of her last week."

  "Why is that?"

  "She said 'Dada' to Ron for the first time as he prepared to board his train to Chicago. She brought tears to his eyes — and mine."

  "I believe it," Marie said.

  Claire took a breath as Marie turned again to her clipboard and made a few notes. She hoped the questions would remain light and answerable. When Marie continued to scribble, the new mom became nervous again and switched into hospitality mode.

  "Can I get you anything?" Claire asked. "Can I get you some tea or coffee? I would be happy to make some if you would like some."

  "Thanks, but no thanks," Marie said. "I've had plenty this morning."

  "OK."

  "Besides, I'm almost done. I have just one more matter to address."

  Claire tensed up.

  "Oh?"

  "Yes," Marie said. "I'd like to talk about your husband."

  Here it comes.

  "I'm listening," Claire said.

  "I'm sure his conviction has left you very anxious."

  "That's putting it mildly."

  Marie smiled.

  "Then let me alleviate some of that anxiety. I have spoken to Carter Galloway and Richard Pearson about the case and concluded that the conviction was a miscarriage of justice. Ron did nothing that would make me question his fitness as a father."

  "That's good to hear."

  "A judge, of course, will make the final call on your suitability as parents, but I have no doubt he will accept my recommendation that the adoption proceed. Unless you or Ron do something awful, you will be Hannah's permanent guardians by July 10."

  Claire sighed with relief as her eyes became moist. She had hoped for a positive assessment, but she had not expected something so clear and sweeping.

  "Thank you," Claire said in a cracking voice. "Thank you very much."

  Marie smiled and took Claire's hand.

  "You're welcome."

  CHAPTER 32: DAVID

  Wednesday, May 23, 1945

  Near the end of his sixth day as a court runner for the prestigious law firm of Anderson, Maine, and Galloway, David clutched his leather satchel, picked up his step, and walked through downtown Chattanooga like he owned the place. He felt good.

  He felt good because he believed he was doing something important. For the first time in weeks, he was doing more than reading the paper, searching the neighborhood for a lost crystal, and reacting to events he could not control.

  David admitted he liked some things about his new job more than others. He liked walking and driving around town, flirting with clerks, and learning the finer points of the legal process. He didn't care as much for serving subpoenas to reluctant witnesses or delivering divorce papers to people who didn't want them or need them.

  David also didn't like visiting some of the rougher neighborhoods, where well-groomed men in gray flannel suits stood out like cats in a dog pound. Though he didn't consider the city any more dangerous than Long Beach or Los Angeles, he was mindful of its violent past. In 1942, Chattanooga, Tennessee, had the highest murder rate in the country.

  The time traveler gave that sobering statistic a moment of thought and then turned his attention to more pleasant things, including the people he had encountered on the job. He found them to be amusing, interesting, and in some cases, downright inspiring.

  The amusing ones weren't hard to find. They wore red lipstick and skirts and insisted on calling the courier "darlin'" or "hon" instead of David or Mr. Baker. Those who did not ask about David's accent inquired about his availability. Two women at the courthouse rushed to meet him every morning. One slipped her phone number in his satchel.

  David found the interesting people no less compelling. No matter where he went, he managed to find good old boys planning and scheming, average Joes eking out a living, and cordial professionals who made the city work. He even liked the difficult people with prickly personalities. They added spice to his day.

  So did the inspiring folks. Found mostly in nursing homes, they tended to be older and quieter but also easier to approach. Some, in fact, did not wait to be approached at all. They initiated contact with the man with the bag.

  Earl Lewis was one such person. When David delivered a legal document to a nursing home on Friday, Earl, sitting in the lobby, called him to his table. He asked David about his background, his family, and even his job. Then he asked him to play a game of chess.

  David balked at first. He wanted to grab some lunch. But he thought the matter over and eventually changed his mind. He accepted Earl's invitation on the condition he share at least one interesting story. David had no idea what he was getting into.

  Earl, as it turned out, was not just a spry ninety-one-year-old with too much time on his hands. He was a retired cook who had seen the world on a merchant ship and a former slave who had witnessed the Civil War as a boy.

  David considered the places he saw almost as interesting as the people he met. In the past three days alone, he had visited a munitions factory, a research facility at the university, and a National Guard armory. Each was bustling with the kind of activity one might expect to see in wartime.

  He found other venues compellin
g for different reasons. The Warehouse District, built on the location of a former Civil War fort, was historically significant. So were the Ochs Building, the Old Post Office, the Read House Hotel, Chattanooga Union Station, and other facilities bound for the National Register of Historic Places.

  He visited each of the venues because he had to. He stuck around and admired several of them because he wanted to. As a student of history and a lover of classic architecture, he found much to like in these prominent Chattanooga landmarks.

  Even these gems, however, could not compete with a building that was architecturally unremarkable. When David learned of an A&P near one of his stops, he rushed to see it. He found that a grocery store immortalized by author John Updike and singer Kate Smith was a veritable tribute to Main Street America.

  It also sold goods at reasonable prices. When David visited the store on Monday, after work, he loaded up for the week. With coffee thirty cents a pound, soup ten cents a can, and baby food seven cents a jar, there was no reason not to.

  David thought about these adventures and more as he walked south on Market Street and headed toward Sixth Street, the courthouse, and the firm. He was done for the day and eager to join Claire and Hannah for dinner, dessert, and perhaps an evening stroll.

  He felt a little guilty about leaving his sister and his niece six hours a day, but he knew he would have plenty of opportunities to compensate. He looked forward to a Saturday trip to Lookout Mountain and a sibling movie night with Claire on Memorial Day.

  As David continued down the busy street, he saw a city on the move. He saw women enter and exit shops, businessmen catch cabs, and truckers make deliveries. He even saw a policeman write a ticket to a motorist who had parked in a restricted space.

  David thought about these timeless urban activities as he crossed Fourth Street and began the final stretch toward the firm and his car. As he did, he missed a few things that even a casual observer — an undistracted observer — might have easily picked up.

  He did not see a man on a bench hide behind a newspaper and then lower that paper as David walked by. He did not see the man get up, toss the paper into a trashcan, and begin to walk in the same direction.

  Nor did David see another man, similarly dressed in a suit and a fedora, step out of a doorway, and join the flow of pedestrians on a sidewalk. He did not see the man track his movements from the other side of Market Street.

  In his haste to end his day and start his evening, David did not notice that he had drawn the interest of more than flirtatious clerks and talkative seniors. He had drawn the interest of men who acted slowly and judiciously but almost always effectively.

  He had become a wild card at a time the country needed order and predictability. He had become a distraction and a curiosity. He had become the subject of surveillance.

  CHAPTER 33: MARGARET

  Lookout Mountain, Tennessee – Saturday, May 26, 1945

  The view, as always, was spectacular. From the observation deck of the Ochs Memorial Building on the northern tip of Lookout Mountain, Margaret could see most of Chattanooga, the entire Moccasin Bend of the Tennessee River, and according to tourist brochures and popular belief, hills and mountains in six other states.

  Margaret didn't buy the tourism board's claim. She knew the curvature of the earth limited the view to a much smaller area, but she usually kept that knowledge to herself. She thought every visitor to this place should leave with something to brag about.

  The teacher gazed at the lush scenery and then shifted her attention to something far more impressive and inspiring. Barely three feet to her left, near the edge of the platform, a love story of epic proportions had started to unfold.

  Margaret smiled.

  "I think you've found the girl of your dreams."

  David laughed.

  "I could have told you that last month."

  David lifted Hannah to face level, rubbed his nose against hers, and didn't stop until she broke into giggles. Then he pulled her close and directed her attention to the valley below.

  Margaret looked farther to her left.

  "Is this her first sightseeing excursion?"

  Claire nodded.

  "Next up is the zoo."

  "Oh, she'll love that," Margaret said. She waved to Hannah. "She'll especially love the monkeys. I have yet to see a child who doesn't."

  "I hope you're right," Claire said. "She needs to see new things. There are only so many sights in St. Elmo. There are only so many sights in our living room."

  Margaret smiled at David.

  "Well, Hannah does have an uncle with a car," Margaret said. She turned again to Claire. "You should insist he take her for a drive."

  Claire laughed.

  "I'm afraid if I did, David would take her on his rounds. I'm not sure Hannah would warm up to courthouses and office buildings."

  "Of course she would," David said. "She'd find them intellectually stimulating and want to see more. She would demand a guided tour."

  Margaret looked at Claire.

  "Is he this way at home?"

  Claire shook her head.

  "He's just trying to impress the neighbor lady."

  "That's not true," David said. "Hannah would demand a tour."

  Claire glanced at Margaret.

  "As I said . . ."

  David lifted Hannah again, this time above nose level. He sniffed a few times, crinkled his snout, and looked at Claire with concern in his eyes.

  "I believe our little lady is loaded for bear."

  Claire frowned.

  "I was afraid of that."

  David lowered Hannah and pulled her close. He looked at Claire.

  "I'll change her. You need a break."

  Margaret looked at David with amusement in her eyes. In twenty-four years on God's green earth, she had never once seen a man volunteer to change a dirty diaper.

  "I'm impressed," Margaret said. She turned to Claire. "Does he change her at home?"

  Claire nodded.

  "He does all the time."

  Margaret laughed.

  "Now I'm really impressed."

  David smiled.

  "You should be. I've got it down to a science."

  "Well, your science will have to wait. It's feeding time as well as changing time," Claire said. "I'll take her and give you two a chance to visit."

  "OK," David said.

  Margaret watched with envy as Claire took Hannah from David, picked up a large cloth bag, and walked toward a side door of the fortress-like memorial. When Claire and Hannah disappeared from sight, she resumed her conversation with the Renaissance man.

  "Were you really going to change her diaper?"

  "Yes. I was," David said. "Men are capable, you know."

  Margaret giggled.

  "Oh, I know they're capable. It's just that most aren't willing."

  David smiled.

  "Well, I'm not like most."

  "I can see that," Margaret said.

  David looked at her thoughtfully.

  "You're in a good mood."

  Margaret smiled.

  "That's because school is almost out."

  David chuckled.

  "I can relate to that."

  "How do you like your new job?" Margaret asked. She turned to face him completely. "I've been meaning to ask you about it for several days."

  David took a breath.

  "I like it. I like seeing the town and meeting people."

  Margaret laughed.

  "So I hear."

  "What does that mean?" David asked.

  "What it means, Mr. Baker, is that I have a friend at the courthouse. Remember? Constance tells me you're quite a hit with two of the clerks there."

  "I humor them."

  Margaret smiled.

  "I'm not criticizing. I'm just reporting information."

  David laughed.

  "Of course you are."

  "Betty and Barbara are nice girls. I know both of them," Margaret said. "In fact, I w
ent to school with both of them. We were all in the Class of '39 at Moccasin Bend."

  "They didn't mention that," David said. "I'll have to ask them about you the next time I visit the courthouse. I'm sure they have lots of good stories."

  Margaret hoped they didn't. She didn't care much for her high school years and didn't like the thought of others rehashing them with a relative stranger. She let the matter drop and then started a new subject with a mild query.

  "Can I ask you a personal question?"

  "You can if I can ask you one," David said.

  "OK."

  "What's your question?"

  Margaret took a breath.

  "Why don't you have a girlfriend? You're intelligent, handsome, and clearly fun to be around. Why don't you have someone special in your life?"

  David smiled softly.

  "I don't have a girlfriend because I haven't been looking for one. That may sound odd coming from someone my age, but it's true. I'm kind of indifferent to dating right now."

  "I see," Margaret said. "What's your question for me?"

  "Can I really ask anything?"

  "Of course."

  "OK," David said. "Here goes. How come you don't wear an engagement ring?"

  Margaret laughed.

  "I didn't know 'indifferent' men noticed such things."

  David blushed.

  "I guess I walked into that."

  Margaret smiled.

  "Yes, you did."

  David tilted his head.

  "Well, do I at least get an answer?"

  Margaret nodded.

  "I don't wear a ring because I don't have one. Tom wanted to buy one before he left for basic training, but I told him to wait. I didn't want to rush into getting something I might not like in a few years."

  "That makes sense," David said.

  "I didn't need a ring from Tom to know he was serious about marriage," Margaret said. "I needed only a promise."

  "I admire that."

  "It's how relationships work in wartime."

  David met her gaze.

  "Have you heard from him lately?"

  Margaret nodded.

  "I received a letter just yesterday. He's still filling out forms, overseeing deliveries, and passing time. He's still on Guam and safe."