Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  David frowned for a moment as he considered what he was leaving behind. Then he looked at Hannah, returned her heartwarming smile, and focused on the road ahead. It was time, he thought, to think about the future.

  CHAPTER 71: CLAIRE

  San Diego, California – Wednesday, September 26, 1945

  The USS Hollandia was not the shiniest jewel in the Navy's crown. An escort carrier that looked more like a sub sandwich than a ship of war, she was a utilitarian craft, a recently reconverted workhorse that had been assigned to carry men and not aircraft in the heady days that followed the war.

  To Claire Baker Rasmussen, however, the "baby flattop" was something else. She was the Queen Mary 2, the Carpathia, and Noah's Ark rolled into one. She was a big beautiful boat that had delivered the goods on schedule, a ship that was bringing her husband home.

  Standing next to David and Hannah on a pier at the U.S. Repair Base, Claire watched with pride and fascination as the first of more than three hundred special men, smartly dressed in their Navy blues, began to descend the gangway. Each was a genuine American hero, a patriot, and a testament to the strength of the human spirit.

  Little fanfare greeted the sailors as they stepped off the ship. Except for a contingent of WAVES, a few dignitaries, and the Naval Training Center Band, which played "Anchors Aweigh" and other songs, the reception committee consisted of family and friends.

  It was just as well, Claire thought. This homecoming was more of a private event than a public spectacle. It was a reward for the fathers, mothers, wives, sons, and daughters who had endured so much in the past four years and could now resume their lives.

  Claire lifted Hannah and held her high so she could see the sailors as they moved down the gangway like ants on a log. She knew her daughter wouldn't remember seeing these men, but she wanted her to see them anyway. She wanted Hannah to be able to tell her children and grandchildren that she had seen her father — her time-traveling father — come home from World War II.

  Claire knew the road ahead might contain a few bumps. She knew from classmates who had served in Iraq and Afghanistan that war changed those who fought in it. Even those serving far from the lines became different people as the result of their experiences. She hoped any changes to Ron were ones she could manage.

  She was optimistic about the future. She was optimistic because she had read the letters Ron had mailed from Guam to the general delivery box at the San Diego post office.

  In the letters, Ron sounded weary but upbeat. He wrote a lot about his desire to reunite with Hannah, return "home," and resume his life. He wrote less about Tony Giordano and his Navy peers and nothing at all about Tom Pennington. If Ron knew something about Margaret's fiancé or how he had died, he kept it to himself.

  Claire braced herself as man after man stepped off the ship. She had been told by base officers to expect little time with Ron on the pier. Except for the sailors who still required medical care, the Indy survivors would be rushed to a downtown parade and then to nearby Camp Elliott for processing. Then — and only then — would Claire be able to spend some quality time with the husband she had not seen in almost five months.

  As the line thinned at the top of the gangway, she began to fear that Ron was not with this group. Was he still on the ship? Had he already stepped off? Was he still on Guam?

  Claire received the answers to her questions a moment later, when Seaman Ronald A. Rasmussen, packing a sea bag, stepped onto the gangway. Within seconds, a thousand thoughts and memories flooded her mind. She thought of her first date with Ron, their wedding day, working on a cruise ship, starting a business, and adopting a baby. She thought of anything and everything that defined her life with this man.

  Claire watched her husband's every step as he descended the plank. When Ron finally spotted her and returned her wave, she sighed and turned to David.

  "Hold Hannah," Claire said. She offered her daughter. "I don't want to drop her."

  David smiled but didn't say a word. He just took his niece, hugged his sister with his free arm, and sent her off to the reunion of a lifetime.

  Though Claire knew there was probably a right way to greet a returning seaman, she didn't care about right or wrong. She didn't care about appearances or protocol or anything except getting from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible.

  So she moved. She moved slowly and then quickly as the tears began to flow. She worked her way through a seemingly endless crowd of sailors, families, and others until she reached an open space near the bottom of the gangway.

  When Ron stepped into that space, dropped his bag, and said, "Hi, gorgeous," to his wife, Claire melted. She battled fresh tears as she stumbled into her husband's arms.

  "It's you," Claire said. "It's really you."

  Ron held his wife tightly for a moment and then pulled back to kiss her. He kissed her softly at first and then firmly. Then he repeated the greeting twice, as if sending her a message that he was real and permanent and not a mirage. He smiled at Claire.

  "Sorry I'm late. I've been swimming a lot."

  Claire laughed through her tears.

  "So I hear."

  Ron chuckled.

  "I brought you some laundry."

  Claire threw her arms over his shoulders and smiled.

  "And I brought you a daughter."

  Ron beamed.

  "Where is she?"

  "She's with David, over by the band."

  "Let's go see her."

  "All right."

  Claire took a deep breath, placed her hands on Ron's cheeks, and gazed at him one more time with waterlogged eyes. Then she leaned in and gave him a long, soft kiss.

  "Welcome home, sailor," Claire said. "Welcome home."

  CHAPTER 72: RON

  Camp Elliott, California – Thursday, September 27, 1945

  Ron Rasmussen liked making introductions. For as long as he could remember, he liked introducing people who might never meet each other because of who they were, where they lived, or when they were born. So it was with pleasure that he introduced his wife, born in 1983, to a sailor born in 1919.

  "Claire, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine," Ron said. "This is Seaman First Class Tony Giordano of Queens, New York. He is a fine man, an excellent sailor, and the second smartest coffee merchant in the world."

  Claire giggled.

  "Hi, Tony. It's a pleasure to meet you."

  "The pleasure is mine, ma'am," Tony said. He took Claire's hand and smiled. "You are as lovely as this big lug said you were."

  Claire laughed again.

  "Thank you."

  Ron looked around the reception room at Camp Elliott, a Navy training and redistribution center, and saw several other introductions in progress. He could only imagine how his comrades felt as they introduced other sailors to their families and friends. Scenes like this, he thought, were what it was all about.

  "Tony is getting married next month," Ron said. "Did I tell you that?"

  "No," Claire replied.

  "He's getting married to a fellow New Yorker who looks like Rita Hayworth."

  Claire smiled.

  "You definitely didn't tell me that."

  "Ron is mistaken," Tony said. "My fiancée, Carla Romano, is indeed very beautiful, but she looks more like Gene Tierney than Rita Hayworth."

  "That's not what you said at sea," Ron said.

  Claire laughed.

  "Either way, you're a lucky man."

  Tony nodded.

  "Indeed, I am, ma'am."

  "When is the wedding?" Claire asked.

  "It's Columbus Day, October 12."

  "Why Columbus Day?"

  "Carla wanted to get married on a Catholic holiday, but there are no Catholic holidays in October, when I get my leave, so we picked Columbus Day," Tony said. "Columbus was Catholic — and Italian — and that was close enough."

  Ron laughed.

  "I told you he was funny."

  Claire smiled.

  "I think a Co
lumbus Day wedding is a lovely idea."

  "I'll tell Carla you said that," Tony said.

  "Please do."

  Tony turned to Ron.

  "I posted the particulars on the bulletin board. I hope you can make it."

  "I hope so too," Ron said. "I can't make any promises, but we'll try to be there."

  "That's all I can ask for," Tony said. "If there's anything I can do in the meantime, let me know. OK?"

  Ron nodded.

  "I will."

  "Well, I better run. I'm going out with some of the guys tonight and want to get cleaned up before I do," Tony said. He turned to Claire. "It was nice meeting you, Claire."

  "You too, Tony."

  With that, Anthony Giordano, fiancé, coffee merchant, and Purple Heart recipient, left the conversation, the reception room, and Ron Rasmussen's life. Like every other sailor Ron had served with aboard the USS Indianapolis, he was destined to be a short-timer in the life and times of a man who was bound for the twenty-first century.

  Claire took her husband's arm.

  "Tony is a nice man."

  "He is," Ron said. "They all are. They all were."

  "I've noticed you've been reluctant to talk about one of those men. You've barely said a word about Tom Pennington. Is that because you never had a chance to meet him or because you don't want to talk about him?"

  "It's because I think there is a time and a place for everything."

  "Will you tell me anything?" Claire asked.

  Ron did not want to talk about Tom. He did not want to revisit any part of his four days in the water — at least not now — but he knew he could not put off the conversation forever. So he decided to get it over with. He turned to his wife and got right to the point.

  "I spent most of my time in the water clinging to a raft with seven other men. Tom was one of the seven and one of four that didn't make it. I watched him die, Claire. I watched him give up on life just hours before we were rescued."

  Claire dropped her head.

  "I'm sorry for asking."

  "Don't be sorry," Ron said. "You're curious. A lot of people are curious about what happened out there. It's human nature to want to know things."

  "You don't have to tell me more."

  "Sure I do. You're my wife. I'm not supposed to keep secrets from my wife."

  Claire smiled.

  "I'll allow an exception here."

  Ron kissed Claire on the head. Then he gazed at his brother-in-law, who held Hannah in his arms as he visited with two attractive sisters of a sailor about twenty feet away.

  "It looks like David has made some friends."

  "There's nothing more appealing than a man with a baby," Claire said. "I'm glad to see him mingle. He's been kind of down since Margaret left."

  "Why is that?" Ron asked.

  "He's in love with her."

  "Are you serious?"

  "I am," Claire said.

  "Is it mutual?"

  "I don't know. I do know that something happened between them one afternoon that neither wanted to talk about. I also know that David was with Margaret the night she received the telegram about Tom. He spent a couple hours with her."

  Ron frowned.

  "It looks like I missed a lot."

  Claire looked up.

  "That's the understatement of the year."

  Ron smiled softly.

  "Then I had better catch up."

  Claire kissed his cheek.

  "I was hoping you would say that. I want you to take some time off when we return to the future. I want you to spend two weeks with Hannah and rediscover our daughter."

  "What about the shop?" Ron asked.

  "I can manage things. I've done it before."

  "OK."

  "I'm serious," Claire said. "I want you to be Mr. Mom for a while."

  Ron smiled and pulled her close.

  "I think we have a deal."

  "Thank you."

  "So what's next?"

  "We drive to Los Angeles tomorrow, give the car to a charity, and meet the Bells at two at Candy's Café in West Adams," Claire said. "It's just a few blocks from the mansion."

  Ron grinned.

  "Do we have to give the car away?"

  Claire laughed.

  "Yes, Ron, we do. Unless you can think of a way to squeeze a four-door sedan through a five-foot-wide tunnel, we have to give it away."

  Ron chuckled.

  "You're spoiling my leave."

  "Your leave hasn't started yet," Claire said. "You have another hour."

  Ron smiled again.

  "That's what I missed the most. I missed your sass."

  Claire turned to face her husband and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  "Get used to it, mister. You have a lifetime of it coming up."

  CHAPTER 73: DAVID

  Los Angeles, California – Friday, September 28, 1945

  The nieces and nephews met the uncle and aunt at five after two. Ten minutes after Ron gave his Hudson Six to an orphanage, he and his family took a cab to Candy's Café and reconnected with their time-traveling relatives.

  David studied Geoffrey and Jeanette as the party of six finished burgers and fries at a table in the outdoor dining area of the West Adams restaurant. Like Richard Nixon in 1968, the Bells looked tanned, rested, and ready for their next great adventure.

  "Did you get your fill of Latin America?" David asked.

  Geoffrey smiled.

  "I did. I inhaled the tropics."

  David chuckled.

  "I hope that's all you inhaled."

  "It was," Jeanette said. She smiled. "I steered him away from the local customs."

  David laughed again. He looked fondly at the couple.

  "It sounds like you had a great trip."

  "We did," Geoffrey said. "It was not quite as adventurous as yours, but it was one I will remember for the rest of my life. I enjoyed every day."

  Claire tilted her head.

  "Does that include the day you were robbed?"

  "Actually, it does," Geoffrey said. "I admit I was upset about the looting of our room, but I had faith the authorities would catch the culprits. I had even more faith we would be able to finish our trip as planned and return to our time."

  "Why were you so confident?"

  "I was confident for two reasons. The first is because I had easy access to some liquid assets. The second is because I had left a spare crystal in a safe-deposit box."

  Claire smiled.

  "You didn't miss a thing,"

  "That's not entirely true," Geoffrey said. He sipped some iced tea. "As I will explain later, I did not anticipate every potential twist and turn in our respective adventures."

  "So what's next?" David asked.

  Geoffrey wiped his mouth with a napkin.

  "We finish up here. We pick up our suitcases, walk a few blocks to the house, and return to the twenty-first century."

  "Are you sure no one lives in the mansion?" David asked.

  "I'm positive. I've watched the house for days."

  "That's right. You came back early."

  "We came back Monday, as a matter of fact," Geoffrey said. "Jeanette and I had hoped to dine with you yesterday."

  "Sorry about that," Ron said. He smiled. "The Navy insisted I eat lunch in San Diego."

  "You're forgiven."

  "Thanks."

  "How long is your leave?" Geoffrey asked.

  "That depends on your definition of 'leave,'" Ron said. "I have two weeks to report to Mare Island but only four days to contact my superior officer there. I'm supposed to check in on Monday."

  "Then I guess the seven of us had better get going."

  David stared at the professor.

  "Seven? I count six of us."

  Geoffrey smiled.

  "Perhaps you should count again."

  "What?" David asked.

  Geoffrey got up from his chair.

  "You can come out now, dear."

  David stood up, t
urned around, and directed his eyes toward a corner of the small brick building. As he did, he saw a vision — a blond, blue-eyed vision — come into view. She wore a floral dress, stylish sandals, and a carnation in her hair.

  "Margaret?" David asked.

  "Hi," Margaret said.

  David stepped away from the table and walked into the open.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Margaret glanced at Geoffrey, as if seeking some guidance, and then returned to David. She studied his face, took a deep breath, and slowly approached a man she had last seen on a terrible night. She offered a smile when she reached him.

  "I came to give you three things," Margaret said. "I couldn't let you go without them."

  David looked at her with puzzled eyes.

  "I don't understand."

  "I came to give you this . . ."

  Margaret placed a slip in his left hand.

  ". . . and this . . ."

  She put a clear crystal in his right.

  ". . . and this . . ."

  She leaned forward and gave David a soft, lingering kiss.

  David answered the first question in his head by glancing at the slip, a sheet of notepad stationery he had not seen in three months. On the slip he saw his uncle's name and contact information, the name and address of the café, an appointment time of two o'clock, and the date of Thursday, September 27, 1945.

  David smiled at Margaret.

  "You took this from my desk."

  Margaret nodded.

  "I'm sorry. It seemed important at the time."

  David laughed.

  "Where did you get the rock?"

  "I bought it from a 12-year-old boy who moved into your house this month," Margaret said. "I saw him play with it on the porch a week ago when I came back to Chattanooga to collect my things. He found it half-buried in the front yard."

  David glanced at Claire and saw a big sister in full-amusement mode. Like everyone else at their table and a few restaurant patrons at nearby tables, she wore a smile. If she wasn't in on this surprising reunion, she was certainly enjoying it.

  David looked again at Margaret.

  "How much did you pay for it?"

  "Two dollars."

  "Two dollars?"