Margaret smiled.
"It sounds like your brother has a soft spot for the ladies."
Claire stared at her friend.
"David has a soft spot for people."
"I can see that," Margaret said in a thoughtful voice. "I don't know him as well as you, of course, but I can see that side of him. So can others."
"I know."
"It's a shame he doesn't have someone special in his life."
"I agree," Claire said, "but that will change. Someday my brother will meet his match. Someday he will meet someone who is kind, thoughtful, and intelligent, someone who is worthy of his time and affection. I'm sure of it.
Margaret offered a warm smile.
"I am too."
CHAPTER 39: DAVID
Monday, June 25, 1945
Chilling with three lovely ladies in seats near home plate, David watched a batter rip a single to right, listened to two thousand fans scream, and tipped his cap to the boss. Carter Galloway was right. When it came to pastimes that relaxed the mind and stirred the senses, nothing on earth beat baseball.
David knew this, of course. A lifelong fan of the Colorado Rockies and a recent convert to the Los Angeles Dodgers, he had seen more than two hundred games in the past twenty years. He had seen them with classmates and colleagues, guys and girls, and even a dog at Bark at the Park, but he had never seen one with two women and a baby in 1945.
David pondered that fact for a minute and then checked in on each of the others. He found all three happy, engaged, and in various states of nirvana.
Seated to David's right, Margaret seemed the most engaged. She watched the action intently, cheered at the appropriate times, and scribbled notes on the back of her program. When she did not comment on the game itself, she made astute observations about the players, the managers, and even Engel Stadium. She knew her baseball.
Seated two seats to David's left, Claire seemed the most relaxed. Wearing a pink cotton dress and a white floppy hat, she looked like a woman who was finally at peace. She had welcomed the opportunity to get out of the house and do something besides fret over Ron. She mouthed a "thank you" to David when he looked her way.
Hannah was just Hannah. Standing between two seats and two pairs of legs, she divided her attention between a Raggedy Ann doll and a bottle of milk. When she got bored with both, she greeted the stranger in front by tapping his head. When the stranger — a retired fireman — answered the taps with a smile and a wave, the toddler squealed with delight.
Hannah turned to face the field when a new batter smacked a double off the left-field wall. She responded to the hit and the subsequent cheers by raising her arms high.
David laughed.
"That's for touchdowns, Hannah, not doubles."
Claire giggled.
"We'll straighten her out."
"Aren't you glad we brought her?" David asked. He switched to Margaret. "She wouldn't be having this much fun with the babysitter."
Margaret raised a brow.
"Are you trying to pick a fight, Mr. Baker?"
David chuckled.
"I'm just trying to elicit a reaction."
Claire leaned forward and looked at her neighbor.
"Don't let him goad you, Margaret. You're the best babysitter in town — much better than my easily distracted brother. In fact, if you want Hannah next Saturday, she's yours. David and I want to see a piano concerto at the university."
Margaret grinned at David and then at his sister.
"I'd love to watch her."
David lapped up the playful exchange. He loved seeing his sister and friend have fun, even if their fun came at his expense. All three of them needed more moments like this.
David laughed again as Hannah wedged Raggedy Ann between two seats, turned toward her uncle, and beckoned him to pick her up. He obliged before Claire could make another crack about his babysitting skills.
A moment later, David wrapped Hannah in his arms as she settled into his lap and relaxed. He wondered how much time would pass before the girl, well past her bedtime, finally succumbed to fatigue. He kissed her head and smiled at Margaret.
"I think she's done rooting for the Packers."
Margaret frowned.
"You shouldn't tease a child like that."
"I'm not teasing anyone," David said. "I'm bonding with my niece."
Margaret looked at him funny.
"I'm not sure what that means."
"It means David is going to watch Hannah while I go to the concession stand," Claire said. She rose from her seat. "Do either of you want something to eat?"
Margaret shook her head.
"David?" Claire asked.
David turned his head.
"Get me a stuffed brat in a gluten-free pretzel roll."
Claire stared at her sibling. She did not seem amused by his reference to a twenty-first-century snack, even if that reference had apparently flown over Margaret's head.
"I'll see what I can do."
David smiled.
"Thanks, sis."
"Men," Claire muttered.
David watched his sister as she stepped past several other fans on her way to the aisle. When she disappeared into the crowd, he turned his full attention to a woman he had neglected most of the night. He sensed she wanted to talk.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" David asked.
"I am," Margaret said. "Please give Mr. Galloway my thanks. I don't see as many games as I used to. This is nice."
"Did you catch many games growing up?"
"It depends on your definition of 'many.' When I lived in the orphanage, I came here almost every weekend. I lived just six blocks away. Later on, when I lived with foster families, I came here only when they came here. Most of the families I stayed with were not keen on baseball. They weren't keen on a lot of things."
David sank a bit when he heard the matter-of-fact sadness in her voice. He could not even imagine living with different families during his formative years. He considered letting the subject drop but decided instead to press on. He suspected that Margaret had a story to share or at least something to get off her chest.
"Did you see any famous players play here when you were a kid?" David asked. "Surely you saw at least one or two."
Margaret smiled.
"Do Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig count?"
"You saw Ruth and Gehrig? Here?"
The blonde nodded.
"I saw them both strike out too."
David took a moment to rack his brain. He remembered that something important had happened here once, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"OK. You have my attention. Tell me about Ruth and Gehrig."
"I'm surprised you don't remember," Margaret said. "It wasn't that long ago."
David chuckled.
It was for me.
"I guess my memory is failing."
Margaret smiled.
"Then I'll refresh it."
"Please do," David said.
Margaret paused before speaking.
"Does the name Jackie Mitchell ring a bell?"
David rocked Hannah as she drifted off.
"It doesn't."
"Well, it should," Margaret said. "Jackie Mitchell was a local girl, the daughter of a doctor, and one of the best pitchers I have ever seen — male or female."
David chuckled.
"This is starting to sound familiar."
"That's probably because it was reported in all the papers," Margaret said. "In any case, Jackie was so good that Mr. Engel, the owner of the Lookouts, signed her to the team in 1931. She was seventeen at the time, just seven years older than me."
"Let me guess," David said. "She faced the Yankees."
"She did more than face the Yankees. She struck out their best in an exhibition game. She came on in relief of the starting pitcher, after he gave up two hits in the first inning, and struck out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig on seven pitches."
"I'll bet they didn't like that."
<
br /> "They didn't. At least Ruth didn't. He berated the umpire until his teammates pulled him away," Margaret said. "The baseball commissioner didn't like it either. He voided Jackie's contract a few days later. He said that women were unfit to play the game. Baseball, he declared, was 'too strenuous' for them."
David smiled.
"You must have had a great time."
Margaret smiled wistfully.
"I did. That game was the highlight of my childhood."
"I'm sure it was," David said.
"What about you? Do you have any baseball memories?"
Does the 2007 World Series count?
"I have a few."
"Share one," Margaret said.
"I'd rather not. I have nothing on Jackie Mitchell."
"What about favorite players? Do you have a favorite player?"
David paused before answering. He did not want to discuss baseball legends that Margaret knew as current players. To do so would only invite trouble. So he mentally searched his inventory of baseball cards until he came up with an answer he could defend.
"As a matter of fact, I do. I like Hank Greenberg."
"I do too," Margaret said. "I admire his skill and his service to our country. I don't think any player has served in the military longer."
"Isn't he still in the Army?" David asked.
Margaret shook her head.
"He was discharged June 14. I read today that he may play again as soon as next month. If I have the chance, I'm going to visit my friend in Detroit and watch him play."
David smiled.
"If you do, get his autograph."
Margaret tilted her head.
"Is that an order or a request?"
David chuckled.
"It's a humble request. If you, Miss Doyle, have the opportunity to obtain the autograph of a baseball player we both admire, I would appreciate you getting that autograph and delivering it to me in a timely manner."
Margaret giggled.
"You sound like a lawyer."
David grinned.
"Well, I do work for one."
Margaret shook her head.
"You're something."
"Does that mean you'll get it?" David asked.
"Yes, I'll get it," Margaret said. She smiled and sighed. "If I have the chance to meet Hank Greenberg this summer, I won't let you down."
CHAPTER 40: CLAIRE
Thursday, June 28, 1945
Claire carried her sleeping daughter into her room, kissed her cheek, and slowly placed her in her crib. She did so slowly not because she feared waking Hannah but because she wanted to savor every second. Of all the things she did as a mother or had done as a woman, nothing came close to this. Putting her baby to bed was heaven on earth.
As she gazed at Hannah from the edge of the crib, she pondered her difficult past, her unsettled present, and her uncertain future. Though she had faith in her husband and brother and faith in herself, she worried about the unexpected. If there was one thing she had learned as a time traveler, it was that she could take nothing for granted.
Claire kissed her fingertips, touched Hannah's cheek, and reluctantly slipped away. A moment later, she slowly opened and closed a squeaky door, stepped into the hallway, and moved toward the living room, her brother, and a necessary conversation.
Claire entered the living room just as David, sitting on the sofa, finished a letter she had given him. Sensing that he had much to say about the day's correspondence, she joined him on the couch, took a deep breath, and gave him her undivided attention.
"Did you read both letters?" Claire asked.
"I read both twice," David said. He placed the letters on the middle cushion. "We have a lot to discuss."
Claire nodded but did not speak. She instead picked up the first letter, from U.S. Navy recruit Ronald A. Rasmussen, and reread the end of his message.
"Plan on flying to San Francisco and meeting in Vallejo July 16. I anticipate three days of leave upon arrival at Mare Island and may get more depending on my first assignment. That should give us time to finish our business and take the vacation we've planned. I'll call on July 15 to update you on the particulars and any change in plans. Until then, know that I think of you often and send my love . . ."
"Can we even do what he wants us to do?" Claire asked. She placed the letter on her lap. "Can we fly to California from here?"
David nodded.
"I think so. If we can't, we can always drive to Atlanta."
"I don't like this," Claire said. "I don't like it at all. I would rather drive to Chicago, attend Ron's graduation, and leave from there."
David sighed.
"So would I. But meeting in California makes sense. If Ron doesn't check in at Mare Island, authorities will look for him immediately. If we're going to run to Mexico, we should do it close to Mexico. We may need every one of those three days to get across the border."
Claire fidgeted.
"I'm starting to get nervous."
"I am too," David said.
Claire retrieved the letter, read it again, and tried to focus on the positive. She found that easier to do when she considered her husband's achievements.
According to his letter, Ron had done more than succeed in camp. He had excelled. He had aced most of his tests, vastly improved his physical fitness, and made several interesting friends. He had also completed and signed three long forms and mailed them to Family Aid, bringing the family's long adoption odyssey much closer to an end.
Claire mulled that happy prospect for a moment and then turned to the second letter, which Geoffrey Bell had mailed June 10 from Cartagena, Columbia. She picked it up, read it a second time, and focused on a paragraph that raised many questions.
"The thieves cleaned out our room, taking our passports, cash, and other belongings, but we are optimistic about getting them back. The police are chasing down several leads and insist that arrests are imminent."
"What about this?" Claire asked. She put the letter down and looked at David. "What do you make of Geoffrey's cheerful tone?"
"I think he's sending us a message," David said. "I think he's telling us to hold onto our crystal because he may have lost his."
"Now I'm really getting nervous."
"I'm kidding, Claire. If Geoffrey had lost his crystal, he would have told us. He's not a fool. Neither is Jeanette. They will come through for us. I'm sure of that."
"I hope you're right," Claire said. "As much as I like this time and the people we've met, I can't bear the thought of staying here forever."
David took a breath.
"Neither can I."
"What do you think we should do?" Claire asked.
David rubbed his chin.
"We should start planning our exit. We should sell the car, gather our assets, and complete Hannah's adoption. We should tell people we're taking a trip in July but pay our rent through August to cover our tracks. We should plan for every contingency because you know something will go wrong. It always does."
Claire frowned.
"Is there anything we can do now?"
David nodded.
"There's a lot we can do — or at least a lot I can do. For one thing, I can tell Geoffrey and Jeanette that I've lost our crystal and that we will leave Chattanooga soon. I'll update them on Mexico after we're in Mexico."
"How will you do that?" Claire asked.
"I'll send letters to the embassies in San José, Managua, and Mexico City, just like Geoffrey advised. I'll send them with notes advising the staffs there to hold the letters until two American citizens arrive to pick them up."
"You really think that will work?"
"I do," David said. "If it doesn't, then we'll have to hold out until September."
"What if that doesn't work?" Claire asked. "What if we can't reach them at all?"
David smiled.
"If that happens, we buy some warm-weather clothes. Then we assume new identities and brush up on our Spanish."
CHAP
TER 41: MARGARET
Saturday, June 30, 1945
Sitting alone on a sofa in the Rasmussen castle, Margaret watched with interest and amusement as three dolls went back and forth across the living room floor.
The biggest doll, the living doll, was by far the most interesting. Short, blond, and decidedly fickle, she carried two lifeless dolls between a box and a chair.
At first she favored Raggedy Ann, the soft, durable, redheaded friend her uncle had given her in April. Then she warmed to Nancy Ann, the painted bisque belle that Marie Weatherford had brought to her birthday party. She changed companions like an actress changes clothes until her temporary guardian, the lady on the couch, broke into a laugh.
"Will you make up your mind?"
Hannah stopped, dropped Nancy Ann, and rushed into her babysitter's arms.
"That's better," Margaret said. She lifted Hannah, plopped her on her lap, and smiled. "I should be your first choice anyway."
Margaret gazed at Hannah with loving eyes as the toddler clapped her hands, stared at her caregiver, and started to giggle. She could not believe a girl who had been through so much could still be so happy, sweet, and affectionate.
Then again, she did not have to search for explanations. Unlike other poor, blond, blue-eyed girls in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Hannah Rasmussen had won one of life's lotteries. Given up by selfless parents, nurtured by caring professionals, and adopted by a family that smothered her with affection, she had all the inspiration she needed to have a happy life.
Margaret pondered the other girls, including one she saw every day in a mirror, as she played pat-a-cake with Hannah and kept her entertained. She wondered how they managed in a world filled with neglect and despair. Did they find love later in life? Did they meet their champion? She did not know. She knew only that this little girl was going to make it.
Margaret played with Hannah until the not-so-neglected girl threw her arms around her neck and slowly went to sleep. She got up from the sofa and started for the child's room, but she took her time getting there. Unlike Claire Rasmussen, Margaret did not get to put a baby to bed every day and wanted to enjoy the moment as long as she could.
Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5) Page 17