Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  Depressed and dismayed, Ron turned away from the others and glanced at the moon, which had broken through the clouds. Radiant and white, it lit up the eastern sky like a giant streetlight and cast a magical glow over the smooth glasslike waters below.

  Ron could not blame the others for losing hope. He was pretty close to the end himself. At least twice that day he had resisted the temptation to sip the water around him. Each time he came close, he thought of Claire and the promises he had made to her.

  He wondered how she was faring as a military wife who could do nothing except wait for news that might not come for days. He hoped she was doing well. He could not imagine what it was like to wake up each morning and wonder if you were a widow.

  Ron closed his eyes and tried to imagine Christmas with Hannah, but he did not get far before another scream brought him back to the here and now. In the distance, maybe fifty yards away, a sailor shrieked in agony. His shriek was followed by another and then another and then another. The blood-curdling screams continued for several minutes until the flotsam island, with its dwindling population, fell silent again.

  Ron felt the urge to vomit. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to purge his body of every thought and substance that had poisoned it for days, but he could do no more than lick his cracked lips, lower his head, and think of his turn with the sharks. He knew it was coming.

  As he pondered his own inevitable demise, he heard a clicking sound, like a buckle unfastening, and sensed some movement to his right. He opened his eyes and turned his head just as one of his companions released a rope and began to drift away.

  "No!" Ron shouted.

  The man smiled wistfully.

  "Tell her I love her."

  Mustering his strength again, Ron quickly untied his jacket from the raft, pulled his arm out of the safety rope, and started to go after the man. He didn't get two feet before Al Rossi grabbed his arm and pulled him back with a jerk.

  "Let him go," Al said with conviction. "Let him go."

  Ron resisted for a second and then relaxed as the drifting man vanished from sight. He took a breath, nodded at Al, and then returned to his station filled with guilt.

  As he retied his vest to the raft, he asked the obvious questions. How could he do it? Why not wait? Why not give it another day? Then he heard another scream in the distance and got an answer to all three questions. Death, he thought, was not the easy choice. It was the difficult one. It was the one that required surrendering your dreams.

  Ron wiped his cheeks as fresh tears — more useless salt water — began to flow from his swollen eyes. This was so unfair, he thought. It was so damn unfair.

  He gave serious thought to ending it all until he looked again at the indigo sky and saw not a sign of hopelessness but rather a sign of hope. The bright tropical moon — Hannah's Moon — spoke to him like a friend. It encouraged him to fight a little longer and a little harder. It asked him to give his dreams just one more day.

  So he did. As the moon slipped again behind the dark puffy clouds, Ron Rasmussen, wavering sailor, renewed his will to live. He renewed a promise to his family and set aside his doubts and fears. He vowed to fight for the Christmas he wanted and the life he needed. Then he spoke in his mind to the people he loved in a voice they could surely hear.

  I will see you again.

  CHAPTER 65: DAVID

  Chattanooga, Tennessee – Thursday, August 9, 1945

  Two weeks after federal authorities had put him in jail, David opened a door, walked into his home, and gave his sister a joyous and tearful hug. He was joyous because he had overcome a serious problem. He was tearful because a bigger problem remained.

  "How are you?" David asked.

  "I'm all right," Claire said. "I'm still depressed over Ron, but I'm all right. Let's sit down. We have some catching up to do."

  David released his sister and then followed her into the living room, where God's gift to toddlerhood sat on the floor and lectured Raggedy Ann. When he stopped in the middle of the room, Hannah looked up, said "Day-bah," and rushed into his arms.

  Give the kid credit, David thought. She didn't forget me. He picked up his niece, gave her a hug and a kiss, and then returned her to her doll. It was nice to be home.

  David joined Claire on the sofa, made himself comfortable, and collected his thoughts. After a moment of awkward silence, he asked a question that was on both of their minds.

  "Have you heard any news?"

  Claire shook her head.

  "I called Mare Island twice today and asked different officers if they knew anything about the ship's present location. Both told me the same thing."

  "What's that?" David asked.

  Claire sighed.

  "They said the Indy's location is classified."

  David frowned. He had expected as much. He laughed at the irony. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the people in the Navy, he knew the ship's location. He also knew that more than three hundred of its crewmen had been plucked from the sea on August 2 and were now recovering in hospitals. What he didn't know is whether Ron was among them.

  "If he's alive, he's out of the water," David said. "He's in a hospital."

  "Where?"

  "My guess is Samar. That's an island in the Philippines. If he's not there, he's in a Navy hospital on Peleliu. Eventually, he'll be moved to Guam and shipped home."

  "Can I contact him at one of these places?" Claire asked.

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "The Navy won't allow it," David said. "The Indy's mission is still a secret. That's why the crew was stuck in the ocean for so long. The people in Leyte didn't look for the ship because they didn't know it was coming. No one told them a thing."

  "So what can we do?"

  "We can't do anything except wait for a telegram. The Navy won't send us anything until Japan surrenders next week."

  "I can't wait that long," Claire said.

  "You don't have a choice, Claire. I don't have a choice. The government has all the cards. Be glad you can even read the papers now. I was sure the feds wouldn't let us go until after we lowered the boom on Nagasaki. That's today, by the way."

  "You think that's why they dropped the charges?"

  "I do," David said. "The FBI was afraid we were going to blab about Hiroshima and somehow tip off the Japanese. They considered us poster children for the "loose lips sink ships" campaign. When we dropped the bomb on Hiroshima Monday, they had no reason to hold us. Everyone in the world knows we have atomic weapons now."

  "So if everything is out in the open, why won't the Navy tell is whether Ron is dead or alive?" Claire said. She was tearful and flustered. "This makes no sense!"

  "I agree."

  "I don't like this."

  "I don't either," David said. "We're just going to have to find a way to keep our minds on something else for a few more days."

  Claire frowned.

  "Did Carter tell you anything important on the drive back?"

  David paused a moment to consider his words. He knew it would not take much more to send his sister over the edge.

  "As a matter of fact, he did."

  "What?" Claire asked.

  "He said the FBI might not be done with us."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean the feds looked into our backgrounds," David said. "They discovered, among other things, that we've never lived at our address in Los Angeles. Ron is not a graduate of UCLA. I am not a teacher — at least in 1945. They know we are not who we say we are."

  "So they still think we're spies?"

  "I don't know. I suspect they think we're fraud artists. The FBI investigates fraud too, so we're going to have to be careful in the coming weeks. We don't want to give them an excuse to arrest us again."

  "What does Carter think?" Claire asked. "Does he think we're crooks?"

  "He didn't say. He just said it might be a good idea if I looked for a job with another firm. He said he's had enough excitement for one year."

&nb
sp; "We all have."

  David nodded in agreement at the understatement. They had all had enough excitement to last a lifetime. What they needed now was calm and peace.

  David glanced at Hannah and smiled sadly as she methodically built four block walls around Raggedy Ann. He wondered if her artwork had been inspired by her mother's house arrest and then decided he didn't want to know. He could not believe how much she had grown and progressed in fourteen days.

  Then he turned his head and gazed out the window at the house across the street. He had thought of Margaret often during his long confinement. He had thought of her almost every waking moment. Engaged or not, she was a fixture in his mind.

  "How is Margaret?" David asked.

  "I don't know," Claire said. "I haven't seen her for a while. She took a bus to Gatlinburg on Tuesday. She said she needed to get out of town."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "I'm not sure. She's been acting funny lately."

  "How so?" David asked.

  "She said she's been having reoccurring nightmares of Tom trying to escape a sinking ship. She knows it's a dream, but she can't quite shake it."

  "Isn't he still on Guam?"

  "He is as far as I know," Claire said.

  "Have you told her about Ron?"

  "If you mean have I told Margaret that Ron was on a ship that is now at the bottom of the ocean, then no, I have not. I did what you asked me to do. I kept it all to myself, which is why I am going crazy. I need to talk to someone."

  "Well, I'm here now."

  "I know."

  David took a breath.

  "Is Margaret coming back?"

  Claire nodded.

  "She's coming back this weekend."

  "We should see her," David said.

  "We will. We'll see her on Saturday."

  "How do you know?"

  Claire looked at her brother.

  "She invited us to dinner."

  CHAPTER 66: MARGARET

  Saturday, August 11, 1945

  Seated at the head of her modest dining table, Margaret said grace, opened her eyes, and looked at her handiwork with satisfaction. Given that she'd had just four hours to shop and cook for three adults and a baby, she thought she had done a pretty fair job.

  Margaret passed a plate of fried chicken to David, who sat to her right, and accepted a bowl of mashed potatoes from Claire, who sat to her left. Then she smiled at Hannah, who occupied a high chair at the end of the table and picked at a pile of shredded chicken.

  "Hannah is hungry," Margaret said.

  "She knows good food when she sees it," Claire said. "I admit I haven't put many five-star dinners on her tray this summer."

  "That's understandable given your challenges."

  "I can't argue with that."

  Margaret offered a warm smile.

  "I'm so glad your legal difficulties are over. I have worried about all of you."

  "Thank you," Claire said.

  "If you don't mind me asking, why did the FBI change its mind? I've never heard of it dropping a case so quickly after bringing charges."

  "They dropped their case because they had no case. Mr. Galloway convinced them that they wouldn't be able to prosecute us for jaywalking with the evidence they had. This whole thing was just one big misunderstanding."

  "I guess so," Margaret said. "In any event, I'm happy you are free of that ordeal. You have enough on your plate right now."

  "Once again, I can't argue."

  "Have you heard anything from Ron?"

  "I . . . I haven't," Claire said.

  Margaret sensed she had said something wrong the second she saw Claire's hesitation. She wondered if her neighbor knew something she was unwilling to share.

  "I didn't mean to pry," Margaret said. "I'm just curious. I know how concerned you were about his welfare when he began his assignment."

  "I still am concerned," Claire said. "I just don't have any news to report. I haven't received a letter from Ron in more than three weeks."

  "You shouldn't worry. Tom didn't send me a letter for a month once. He got caught up in his work and didn't take the time to write. I'm sure Ron is fine."

  "I hope so."

  "How was your trip?" David asked Margaret. "Claire told me you took a bus to Gatlinburg. Did you go hiking in the mountains or something?"

  "I didn't hike anywhere. Hiking is something Californians do," Margaret said. She smiled wryly. "But I did go on several enjoyable walks."

  "Were they as enjoyable as our walks?"

  "No."

  Margaret watched with amusement as David blushed. She had answered his flirtatious question with an answer he didn't expect and couldn't counter.

  She didn't lie either. She had enjoyed their walks. She had enjoyed every minute they had spent together, including a Saturday afternoon that would always be etched on her heart. She would miss this man dearly when they had to part.

  Margaret savored David's embarrassment for a moment and then turned to a subject that had been on her mind for days. She knew it was only a matter of time before her friends packed up and headed for the West Coast. She turned to Claire.

  "Have you decided when you'll leave Chattanooga?"

  "We have," Claire said. "We'll return to California at the end of the month. Now that Hannah's adoption is final and we're out of legal jeopardy, there's nothing to keep us here except friendly neighbors."

  Margaret smiled.

  "Is there any way I can talk you into staying?"

  "No," Claire said.

  David chuckled.

  "Do I get a vote?"

  "No," Claire repeated.

  Margaret laughed. She appreciated Claire's curt answers, even if they were not what she wanted to hear. She considered a reply but decided instead to change the subject. There was an elephant in the room that had not yet been acknowledged.

  "What do you think of the news this week?" Margaret asked. "What do you think of President Truman's decision to drop those bombs on Japan?"

  "I support it," David said. He looked at Margaret with serious eyes. "I support anything that might bring this war to a quick conclusion."

  "Claire?"

  "I'm with David," Claire said. "I want the fighting to end."

  "That makes three of us," Margaret said. "I have worried for months about Tom getting drawn into an invasion of Japan. Now it looks like he won't."

  "I told you that back in April," David said. "Remember?"

  Margaret smiled

  "I remember. You're a seer, Mr. Baker."

  "It's one of my many faults," David said. He sipped some water from a glass and then gazed at his hostess. "You seem to be in a good mood."

  "I am," Margaret said. "I've been in a good mood since I heard the news from Hiroshima. I knew then it was unlikely Tom's ship would see combat."

  Claire tilted her head.

  "Tom is on a ship?"

  Margaret nodded.

  "He received new orders late last month. He sent me the details in a letter that arrived on Monday. He's on a ship now, a cruiser he boarded in Guam."

  "Did you say 'cruiser'?" Claire asked.

  "I did," Margaret said.

  Claire closed her eyes and sighed, as if digesting bad news. She glanced across the table and exchanged frowns with David before turning back to Margaret.

  "Do you know the name of Tom's ship?"

  "I do," Margaret said. "He told me that in the letter. He was very excited about his promotion. He's been assigned to the Indianapolis."

  CHAPTER 67: DAVID

  Tuesday, August 14, 1945

  Minutes after completing hours of errands for Claire, David turned south onto Broad Street, about three miles from home, and flipped on the radio in the Hudson Six. He did so because he was starving for news and because he wanted to get his mind off a bombshell that Margaret Doyle had dropped on her dinner table Saturday afternoon.

  David had agonized over Tom Pennington's safety almost as much as Ron's. Though he
had never met the man and considered him a rival for a woman he could never have, he wanted him to survive. He could not imagine Margaret ever again living a normal life if she lost the man she loved in such a sudden, random, violent way.

  Neither David nor Claire had told Margaret that her fiancé had boarded a doomed ship. They were no surer of Tom's fate than they were of Ron's and did not want to cause their friend unnecessary distress. But with each passing day, they began to second-guess their decision. Each considered the truth a higher calling than sensitivity and tact.

  For several hours, David had listened to various radio stations, hoping to get at least a preview of President Truman's evening speech to the nation. He thought that Truman would announce Japan's surrender, but he wasn't entirely sure. He knew only that he wouldn't get any word on the Indianapolis until the president told the country that World War II, the greatest conflict in history, was over.

  He turned the dial from station to station but found nothing except advertisements and commentary. Then he twisted the knob one more time and got the mother lode.

  "We bring you an announcement from the Navy Department. The USS Indianapolis has been lost in the Philippine Sea as the result of enemy action. The next of kin of casualties have been notified."

  David didn't need to hear another word. He turned off the radio, stepped on the gas, and made a beeline for St. Elmo Avenue, his home, and his sister. He did not let up until he slid to a stop in front of the house, opened the car door, and got out.

  He slowed when he stepped on the lawn and noticed a light in Hannah's window. Was that a good sign? Was Claire playing with her daughter? Or had she abandoned her in her grief?

  David didn't even want to hazard a guess. He didn't want to set himself up for a surprise he couldn't handle. So he plunged ahead. With the benefit of no foresight, he approached the residence with caution.

  When David opened the door a moment later and walked into the living room, he found it devoid of people. He didn't see Claire. He didn't see Hannah. He didn't even see Raggedy Ann. All he saw was an empty room. Then he glanced at an end table by the sofa and saw a small, official-looking piece of paper. Once again, with trepidation, he stepped forward.