Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  "Yes, Ron, it did. It contained very personal information," Claire said. "It contained all my thoughts and feelings from a difficult time in my life. I never got over losing it."

  Claire turned away to hide tears.

  "Are you all right?" Ron asked.

  "I'm fine. I just didn't need to see a reminder of that day."

  "I understand."

  David looked at his sister. When she met his gaze, he spoke to her in a soft voice.

  "Claire?"

  "Yes?"

  "I did more than take pictures that day," David said. He offered a warm smile. "I also took care of some loose ends."

  "You didn't," Claire said. "You couldn't have."

  David reached into his case and retrieved a small leather-bound diary with a strap lock. He got up from the sofa, stepped around the table, and gave Claire Rasmussen a deeply personal artifact she hadn't seen since she was Claire Baker.

  "I grabbed it as soon as you left the dining room. I didn't want anyone else to get their mitts on it," David said. He put a hand on Claire's shoulder. "I promise I didn't look at it."

  Claire put the diary on the table, rose from her couch, and gave her brother a hug. When she was done, she wiped away some tears, smiled, and hugged him again.

  "Thank you."

  David smiled.

  "You're welcome."

  Claire released David and stepped back.

  "So all this is real?"

  David nodded.

  "I spent three hours in 2001 and returned to 2017 as if I had never left. I went back to a world where George Bush was president, the twin towers were still standing, and Shrek — the first Shrek — was playing in theaters. I saw the past, Claire. I saw us as kids."

  "How is that possible?"

  "The Bells have a time tunnel under their house. I don't know exactly how it works, but it does. I walked into the tunnel after dark Tuesday night and walked out in the bright morning of July 6, 2001. I've been trying to make sense of it for days."

  "So what does this mean for Ron and me?" Claire asked.

  David took his sister's hand.

  "It means you have an opportunity. It means you have the chance to adopt a baby, acquire all the necessary documents, and bring the baby back here as if you had done nothing more than travel to California for a private adoption."

  "Why 1945? Why not some other year?"

  "There are two reasons. The first is because a trip to 1945 would coincide with one the Bells have planned for months. They could conceivably help us out if we got into trouble."

  "What's the second reason?" Claire asked.

  "It's also safety-related," David said. "The mansion will be unoccupied. Geoffrey and Jeanette don't want to travel to a year when someone else owns the house."

  Claire looked at her brother.

  "You're really serious."

  David nodded.

  "I've never been more serious in my life. If you want a baby by Christmas, you can get one. All you have to do is give the Bells a month to prepare, book a flight to Los Angeles, and tell people you're pursuing a private adoption in California."

  "Where can we go in the past?" Claire asked.

  "We can go anywhere," David said. "We can stay in California or travel around the country. We can even come back here. Geoffrey suggested Tennessee because its adoption laws in 1945 were less restrictive than those in other states."

  Claire released David's hand and took a moment to ponder the possibilities. Then she turned to her husband and gazed at him with tearful, happy eyes.

  "What do you think?"

  Ron smiled warmly.

  "I think I should dig out the crib."

  CHAPTER 6: CLAIRE

  Los Angeles, California – Friday, November 10, 2017

  Claire looked around the dinner table and tried to decide what she liked most: the food, the faces, or a conversation that still seemed unimaginable. In the end, she decided that even cracked crab and smiling mugs could not compete with talk about time travel.

  She had not wasted a moment in preparing for the trip. In the month leading up to her arrival in Los Angeles, she had repainted two bedrooms, taken a crash course on the 1940s, and informed friends and relatives about a pending private adoption. By the time she walked into Geoffrey and Jeanette Bell's Victorian mansion at three thirty, she was ready to race through the so-called time tunnel and embrace the age of Rosie the Riveter.

  Claire pondered the past month for a moment and then directed her full attention to her quiet husband, her talkative brother, and a charming aunt and uncle she had neglected for far too long. When the lively conversation finally hit a lull, she restarted it with a question for the man who seemed to have all the answers.

  "Uncle Geoffrey?"

  "Yes, Claire?"

  "How many people have traveled through your tunnel?"

  Geoffrey smiled.

  "I've lost count."

  "He's joking," Jeanette said. "We confirmed the number last night. Counting Percival Bell and three people at this table, twenty-two have passed through the chamber."

  "Are they all still alive?" Claire asked.

  "Percival is not," Geoffrey said. "My great-grandfather died in 1900, the year after he built this mansion and the tunnel. He is the one who discovered the secrets of time travel while on a scientific expedition in the Sierra Nevada. He succumbed to a stroke only weeks after testing the tunnel. Another man, a private investigator I hired in 1900 for some time-travel-related business, has also passed on. As for the others, I believe they are still with us, though some are living in different time streams. I have not heard from them in a while."

  Claire giggled.

  "I think this is where my head explodes."

  "It's not as complicated as it seems," Geoffrey said. "The individuals in question are merely people from the present who have opted to live in the past. For example, two of my guests, a journalist and his son, decided to return to 1900 after spending some quality time in Galveston, Texas."

  "What persuaded them to go back?"

  "Two pretty ladies."

  Ron laughed.

  "That will do it."

  Geoffrey sipped some wine.

  "In fairness to the men, they did not make the decision lightly. Nor did another time traveler, a doctoral student, who decided to stay in 1925."

  "What persuaded him?" Claire asked.

  "One pretty lady."

  Everyone laughed.

  "I spot a trend," Claire said to her brother. "Are you paying attention?"

  David scolded his sister with a stare.

  "I'll stick to women in the digital age, thank you."

  "I suggest you do," Geoffrey said. "The one thing you must all keep in mind in 1945 is that you are visitors, not residents, of the time. As visitors, you have an obligation to tread carefully and leave the past as undisturbed as possible."

  Claire folded her hands.

  "Isn't adopting a baby disturbing the past?"

  "It is. There is a distinct possibility you could alter some family lines. That is why Jeanette and I discussed your situation for hours before deciding to help you. We ultimately concluded that the benefits to you outweighed the risks to others."

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," Geoffrey said.

  Claire looked at her millionaire uncle with affection and wondered why she had not noticed his many fine qualities in previous encounters. Perhaps it was his unruly blond hair, lively eyes, and devilish smirk. It was easy to overlook the wit and wisdom of a noted professor, author, and lecturer when he looked like Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka.

  Claire smiled when Geoffrey spoke quietly to David and made him laugh, but she frowned when he struggled to hold his glass of wine. She wondered if her gracious host was ill or perhaps had a problem with alcohol. Either way, it did not diminish her estimation of the man or his wife. She respected and admired them both.

  "So what's next?" Claire asked. "I assume you have a trip mapped out for us
."

  "I do," Geoffrey said. "I'll give you the weekend to rest and go over some materials I have compiled. Then, on Monday morning, we will all pass through the chamber."

  "Have you contacted the adoption agency in Chattanooga?"

  Geoffrey nodded.

  "We sent three letters on your behalf to a woman named Marie Weatherford. She will meet with you on April 3, 1945, to discuss your prospects and evaluate your suitability."

  Claire frowned.

  "Do you anticipate any problems?"

  "No," Geoffrey said. "You and Ron are a young, attractive, educated couple. I suspect you will win over Mrs. Weatherford in five minutes. In the event you don't, I will provide you with letters and documents that attest to your character and qualifications."

  "You really have thought of everything."

  "I've done this before."

  Claire offered a tentative smile.

  "That's nice to know."

  "You'll be fine," Jeanette said. "You'll have a baby in your arms before you know it."

  "I hope so."

  "I know so."

  Claire looked around the table and saw several smiles and nods. She liked the optimism and confidence and hoped it was justified.

  "David tells me you're planning a trip of your own," Claire said. She looked at Jeanette and then at Geoffrey. "Where are you going?"

  Geoffrey chuckled.

  "That depends on my stamina. If I can keep my energy up, we will travel to every country between the Rio Grande and Tierra del Fuego. We're headed to Latin America."

  "Why go there?" Claire asked.

  "We're going there because it is one of the few places we can visit without stumbling into a war zone. World War II will still be in progress when we exit the tunnel."

  "Will it be safe for you to travel in 1945?"

  "I think so," Geoffrey said.

  "Will it be safe for us to travel?" Claire asked.

  "I know so."

  "That's comforting."

  "There are still many things I must tell you before we leave, but I can do that tomorrow and Sunday. Tonight let's talk of other things," Geoffrey said. He raised his wine glass. "Here's to bouncing babies, family ties, and glorious new adventures."

  The others raised their glasses.

  "To all three!" Claire said.

  CHAPTER 7: DAVID

  Monday, November 13, 2017

  Of all the rooms in the 118-year-old Painted Lady that Geoffrey and Jeanette Bell called home, none stirred the imagination quite like the basement.

  Unlike the living room, the dining room, the parlor, and the bedrooms upstairs, which celebrated the Victorian Age through period paintings, antiques, and furniture, the lower chamber offered itself as a brightly lighted tribute to the twenty-first century. With white walls, a white ceiling, a plush white carpet, and two large white leather couches that faced each other on one end, the thirty-by-forty-foot space looked more like a heavenly corporate lounge than the lowest level of an ancient mansion.

  David set his ceramic mug on a glass-and-brass coffee table that stood between a sofa he shared with Claire and Ron and one occupied by the Bells. He watched with interest as Geoffrey sorted a small assortment of papers he had scattered on top of the table.

  "Are those our official papers?" David asked.

  Geoffrey smiled.

  "Indeed, they are. These are just a few of the documents you will need to survive and thrive in 1945. I gave some others to Ron and Claire this morning."

  "I see birth certificates."

  "You should. I've prepared three. Get to know them. Each of your birthdates has been adjusted by seventy-two years. All of you are now natives of the great state of California."

  David laughed.

  "That works for me."

  Geoffrey sorted the papers into three separate stacks while the others visited quietly in God's Waiting Room. He finished just as David was about to ask another question.

  "I think this does it," Geoffrey said.

  "Does that mean we're ready to go?" David asked.

  "No. It means I'm ready to give you your final orientation."

  David watched with amusement as Geoffrey sat upright on his sofa, flexed his knuckles, and grinned at his time travelers like a mischievous elf. He watched with concern as his uncle struggled to lift his cup of coffee to his mouth. He hadn't seen that before.

  "Do we each get a stack?" Claire asked.

  "You do," Geoffrey said. "You each get a stack that supports your mission."

  "Mission?"

  Geoffrey nodded. He gazed at his guests.

  "I'm assigning each of you a specific mission and specific responsibilities. Please remember them as you travel through 1945. Remember the missions and responsibilities of the others. If you do, you will have a far more pleasant journey."

  "What's my mission?" Claire asked.

  Geoffrey chuckled.

  "Your mission, my dear niece, is simple. I want you to go to Chattanooga, adopt the baby of your dreams, and bring him or her back to 2017. I want you to find the fulfillment that has eluded you for so many years and bring joy to the life of an unwanted child."

  Claire beamed.

  "That sounds like fun."

  Geoffrey lifted the first stack of papers and slid them into one of three manila envelopes he had placed on the table. He handed the envelope to Claire.

  "This is your packet," Geoffrey said. "It includes a marriage license, letters of recommendation, and a high school diploma."

  "That's it?" Claire asked.

  "That's it. I know you have a music degree from the University of Colorado, but as of now, you are a high school graduate who never completed college. You are Claire Baker Rasmussen, wife of Ron, sister of David, and a mother in waiting. You are like millions of other American women who came of age in the first half of the twentieth century."

  David glanced at Claire and snickered. He knew she did not like her social "demotion," but he also knew she could skillfully play a demure 1940s housewife. Wearing a green shirtwaist dress, a veiled hat, seamed stockings, and pearls, she already looked the part.

  Claire flashed a playful grin.

  "Do I get a clothing allowance?"

  The others laughed.

  "You get a ten-thousand-dollar savings account I set up in Chattanooga," Geoffrey said. "How you spend that money is up to you."

  Claire stared at her uncle with wide eyes.

  "You're giving us money?"

  "We're giving you the means to an end. The money is our gift to you. Jeanette and I feel it's the least we can do for neglecting you all these years."

  Claire wiped away a tear.

  "Thank you."

  David had to tip his hat to the professor. He didn't know another soul who could set up a trip this complex, much less get his sister to cry in a nanosecond.

  Geoffrey gave Claire a moment to collect herself and then turned to her husband. He retrieved more papers, slipped them into an envelope, and offered them to Ron.

  "These are for you."

  Ron examined the envelope and then peered at his host.

  "What's my mission?"

  "Your mission, sir, is to provide a plausible cover for your family's trip to Tennessee," Geoffrey said. "So, as of today, you are a coffee shop owner who is thinking about relocating his business to the Volunteer State, where you spent time as a youth. Since you actually own a coffee shop in Chattanooga, I thought you might like this assignment."

  "I do," Ron said.

  "To help you win over any skeptics, I have provided you with a business license, a few civic awards, and a membership certificate from the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce."

  "That was nice of you."

  "I have also provided you with a bachelor's degree in business administration from UCLA," Geoffrey said. "You graduated fifth in your class in 1933."

  "That was very nice of you," Ron said.

  The comment triggered laughter and a round of light conversation. Fo
r the next few minutes, Ron, Claire, and the Bells discussed the pros and cons of forged documents.

  As they did, David Baker, the youngest member of the traveling trio, surrendered to his thoughts and asked himself some serious questions. Was he ready? Was he ready to spend days, weeks, and even months in a year he knew only from movies and books? Was he ready to take risks, reap rewards, and experience the forties to the fullest? Was the history teacher ready to dive into history itself? Yes, he thought. He was.

  David looked at his watch, noted the time of one thirty, and thought of the students he would usually be teaching at Pacific Crest High School in Long Beach. He laughed to himself when he thought of the question-and-answer session he could have on Wednesday, when he returned to his school, his job, and the world of public education.

  Mr. Baker? Mr. Baker? Yes? Yes? What did you do on your personal days? Why, Chloe, I time-traveled to 1945 and shook hands with President Roosevelt. He sends his best wishes to all of you. I'll give you a full PowerPoint presentation on my trip on Friday.

  He pondered all the possible exchanges for a moment and then turned his attention to the others in the room. He glanced at his estimable host when he heard his name.

  "David?" Geoffrey asked.

  "Yes?"

  "Are you ready to continue? You seem distracted."

  "I was just thinking ahead," David said.

  Geoffrey smiled.

  "That's good. I want you to think ahead. I want you to do a lot of things. Your sister and your brother-in-law will have enough on their hands as new parents. That's why I'm making you the manager of this little expedition."

  "You want me to manage the trip?" David asked.

  "I do," Geoffrey said. "As a history teacher who studied the 1940s in college, I think you are perfectly suited for the job."

  David smiled.

  "What exactly does a trip manager do?"

  "He manages the interests of the group. He looks for problems and opportunities and makes adjustments when necessary," Geoffrey said. "He makes sure that three adults from 2017 don't get into hot water in 1945. He brings them back in one piece."

  "I'll do my best."

  "I'm sure you will."

  David gestured toward the last stack of papers.