Hannah's Moon (American Journey Book 5) Read online

  HANNAH'S MOON

  A novel by

  John A. Heldt

  Copyright © 2017 by John A. Heldt

  Edited by Aaron Yost

  Cover art by LLPix Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, with the exception of brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  NOVELS BY JOHN A. HELDT

  Northwest Passage Series

  The Mine

  The Journey

  The Show

  The Fire

  The Mirror

  American Journey Series

  September Sky

  Mercer Street

  Indiana Belle

  Class of '59

  Hannah's Moon

  Boxed Sets

  Northwest Passage: The First Three Novels

  American Journey: The First Three Novels

  Audiobooks

  The Mine

  The Journey

  The Show

  The Fire

  The Mirror

  September Sky

  Mercer Street

  Indiana Belle

  Class of '59

  Follow John A. Heldt online at:

  johnheldt.blogspot.com

  To Heidi Anne

  Adoption is grief in reverse. – Jody Cantrell Dyer

  You could see the sharks circling. – Loel Dene Cox, USS Indianapolis survivor

  Courage is grace under pressure. – Ernest Hemingway

  As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. – Proverbs 27:17

  Absence makes the heart grow fonder. – Unknown

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Novels by John A. Heldt

  Dedication

  Quotations

  Chapter 1: Claire

  Chapter 2: Claire

  Chapter 3: Claire

  Chapter 4: Claire

  Chapter 5: David

  Chapter 6: Claire

  Chapter 7: David

  Chapter 8: Claire

  Chapter 9: Ron

  Chapter 10: Claire

  Chapter 11: David

  Chapter 12: Claire

  Chapter 13: David

  Chapter 14: Margaret

  Chapter 15: David

  Chapter 16: Claire

  Chapter 17: David

  Chapter 18: Claire

  Chapter 19: Ron

  Chapter 20: Ron

  Chapter 21: David

  Chapter 22: Ron

  Chapter 23: Claire

  Chapter 24: Ron

  Chapter 25: Claire

  Chapter 26: David

  Chapter 27: Claire

  Chapter 28: Margaret

  Chapter 29: Ron

  Chapter 30: David

  Chapter 31: Claire

  Chapter 32: David

  Chapter 33: Margaret

  Chapter 34: David

  Chapter 35: Claire

  Chapter 36: Ron

  Chapter 37: David

  Chapter 38: Claire

  Chapter 39: David

  Chapter 40: Claire

  Chapter 41: Margaret

  Chapter 42: David

  Chapter 43: Margaret

  Chapter 44: David

  Chapter 45: Claire

  Chapter 46: Claire

  Chapter 47: Ron

  Chapter 48: Margaret

  Chapter 49: David

  Chapter 50: Ron

  Chapter 51: Claire

  Chapter 52: David

  Chapter 53: Margaret

  Chapter 54: Claire

  Chapter 55: David

  Chapter 56: Ron

  Chapter 57: Ron

  Chapter 58: Claire

  Chapter 59: Ron

  Chapter 60: Ron

  Chapter 61: David

  Chapter 62: Ron

  Chapter 63: Claire

  Chapter 64: Ron

  Chapter 65: David

  Chapter 66: Margaret

  Chapter 67: David

  Chapter 68: David

  Chapter 69: Claire

  Chapter 70: David

  Chapter 71: Claire

  Chapter 72: Ron

  Chapter 73: David

  Chapter 74: Claire

  Chapter 75: Ron

  Chapter 76: David

  Chapter 77: Claire

  Chapter 78: Margaret

  Chapter 79: David

  Chapter 80: Claire

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1: CLAIRE

  Chattanooga, Tennessee – Monday, August 7, 2017

  Sitting upright in a tilted hospital bed, Claire Rasmussen watched closely as her husband held their infant son to his chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She could not hear Ron's words, much less understand them, but she found the one-way conversation moving nonetheless. She sighed and wiped away a tear.

  She had waited years to see this sight. She had waited through four miscarriages, infertility treatments, and shattered dreams to see the man she loved hold the baby they wanted — a baby that now had a name and a place in their hearts.

  Claire looked away when Jan, a perky nurse of thirty, entered the private room, picked up a tray, and took her leave. She appreciated that the nurse did not stick around to fuss over the new mother or even ask how she was doing. She suspected that Jan had been through moments like this many times and knew when to leave families alone.

  Claire returned her attention to Ron, who had walked away from the bed and carried his namesake to a small window. She studied his face and his posture as he stared out the window at the blue sky and the wide, curvy ribbon that was the Tennessee River.

  She wondered what was going through his mind. Though she knew Ron Rasmussen as well as anyone on earth, she could only guess what he was thinking and feeling.

  Most men handled important life moments differently than most women. They kept their emotions to themselves. They thought. They focused. They internalized.

  Ron was no different. In good times and bad, he had kept his own counsel while offering his emotional wife unqualified support and quiet strength. He had been Claire's rock — a strong, reliable partner she could depend on during a difficult pregnancy.

  Claire watched Ron pull the baby close, adjust his light blue blanket, and kiss his head. She could almost feel the tenderness between father and son. She wanted to hug them both and shower them with love and affection. She wanted to do so many things.

  A few minutes later, Ron closed the blinds, shutting out the bright afternoon light, and carried his son across the room. When he reached Claire, he gently placed Ronnie in his mother's arms, took a deep breath, and returned to a chair near the bed.

  Claire gazed at her baby and then at her husband. She saw tears in his eyes and a blank expression she had seen many times but still could not read.

  "Are you all right?" Claire asked.

  "I'm fine," Ron said. "How about you?"

  "I'm tired. I still feel the drugs."

  "Do you need anything?"

  "No. I just need you."

  "OK."

  Claire met her husband's gaze, held it for what seemed like an eternity, and then directed her full attention to the bundle in her arms. She knew she would never again have a moment quite like this and wanted to savor every second.

  Claire brushed back Ronnie's silky brown hair, kissed his cheek, a
nd softly hummed a song her mother had taught her when she was five. As she hummed, she tried to imagine Ronnie as a toddler taking his first steps, a fourth-grader boarding a school bus, and a teenager headed to the prom. She tried to imagine him graduating from college, landing his first job, and walking down the aisle, but she couldn't do any of these things. At five after four on the thirty-fifth day of her thirty-fifth year, all Claire could imagine was how bleak and painful her life would be in the coming months.

  A moment later, she finished her song, kissed her baby again, and lowered him gently to her lap. She stared blankly at an unadorned wall and then at a husband who seemed lost in another place. For the first time all day, Claire cursed the crippling numbness that enveloped her. She wanted to feel. If nothing else on this terrible day, she wanted to feel.

  She caressed Ronnie's face with the tips of her fingers, wrapped him securely in his soft, thin blanket, and said a short, silent prayer. She prayed for strength and guidance and better days. She asked for another opportunity to get things right. Then she gazed one last time at her son — her beautiful, six-pound, stillborn son — and broke into sobs.

  CHAPTER 2: CLAIRE

  Saturday, September 16, 2017

  As cemeteries go, Valley Gardens was an attractive place. Nestled between Lookout Mountain and Raccoon Mountain, two of the five monoliths that squeezed Chattanooga like an advancing Union army, the burial park offered panoramic views of the Appalachians and landscaped grounds that would be the envy of a European monarch.

  Claire loved the pastoral setting, but she cared less about the views and the landscaping than a section of the cemetery dedicated to young children. Situated near the edge of a peanut-shaped pond, the section, dubbed Baby Land by groundskeepers, was a little patch of pinwheels, teddy bears, and flowers designed to lift the spirits of grieving parents, if not the residents themselves.

  Claire released Ron's hand, advanced a few feet, and placed a small teddy bear next to a glossy marble marker for Ronald Aaron Rasmussen Jr. She wiped away a smudge on the gravestone, took a few photos with her phone, and returned to her husband.

  "They did a good job," Claire said. "I was afraid I wouldn’t like it when I actually saw it, but I do. It's a beautiful reminder of a beautiful boy."

  "I like it too," Ron said.

  Claire reclaimed Ron's hand, met his thoughtful gaze, and offered a sad smile. She had not smiled once in several weeks and did not want to smile now, but she knew at some point she would have to join the world of the living. So she smiled.

  "Do you want to go for a walk?" Claire asked.

  "We might as well," Ron said. "It's a perfect day."

  "It is. It's a perfect day for a walk — and a talk."

  "What do you want to discuss?"

  "I want to talk about our future."

  "This sounds serious."

  "I'm not leaving you, if that's what you're thinking," Claire said. "I wouldn't leave you for a billion dollars. But I would be sad and disappointed if you didn't at least give serious consideration to something I've been thinking about all week."

  "What's that?"

  "Let's walk first."

  "All right."

  For the next hour, Ron and Claire Rasmussen, jazz lovers, sports fans, and coffee connoisseurs, walked through the grounds and discussed everything from music to football to French roast. They did not discuss what Claire wanted to discuss until they reached a dogwood tree near the north edge of the cemetery and began the trip back to their car.

  "Do you remember the conversation we had on my birthday last year?" Claire asked.

  Ron stopped walking.

  "You mean the one about big decisions and comfort zones?"

  "That's the one," Claire said.

  "What about it?"

  "Well, I think we're due for another one."

  The couple resumed their walk.

  "Is this a conversation I want to have?" Ron asked.

  "I think so," Claire said. "At least I hope so."

  "What's on your mind, honey?"

  "A child."

  Ron sighed.

  "I know. I've been thinking about him too."

  "I'm not talking about Ronnie," Claire said. "I'm talking about a child we haven't met, a child who may not even exist."

  "Now you've lost me."

  "I did some reading at the doctor's office on Monday. I read an article in a health magazine about people like us."

  "What did you learn?"

  Claire slowed her step.

  "I learned that millions of couples have had difficulty starting families. I also learned that a lot of these people have turned to the same solution."

  "What are you getting at?" Ron asked.

  Claire stopped and turned to face her husband.

  "I want to try something new, Ron. I want to stop beating my head against a wall and expecting a different outcome. I want to see a counselor and start the process as soon as possible. I want to do it this month."

  "Do what?"

  Claire took both of Ron's hands.

  "I want to do what we should have done long ago. I want to adopt a baby."

  CHAPTER 3: CLAIRE

  Thursday, September 28, 2017

  A dozen days after convincing Ron to think outside the box, Claire led him through the doors of the Family Aid Society of Tennessee. She didn't ask him to bring anything more to their appointment than an open mind and a positive attitude.

  They entered the agency at four thirty, just as the commercial district was winding down, and sat on a couch in the reception area. Five minutes later, a slender, sixtyish woman named Megan O'Connor greeted them, got them something to drink, and escorted them to a comfortably furnished office on the second floor.

  "Please take a seat," Megan said. She pointed at two chairs that faced a large oak desk. "Is there anything else I can get you before we begin?"

  "No, thank you," Claire said.

  "Ron?" Megan asked.

  "No, thanks," Ron said. "I think we're set."

  Megan took a seat behind her desk, opened a folder that sat on top, and retrieved a sheet of paper that Claire had filled out and mailed days earlier. She gave the form a cursory inspection and then directed her attention to the childless couple.

  "I must admit you are younger than most of the folks who seek our assistance. Most of my clients are in their late thirties or early forties."

  "We just think it's time to look at other possibilities," Claire said.

  "I understand," Megan replied. She glanced at the form again. "I see you've had a number of miscarriages and recently lost a baby boy. I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Thank you."

  Megan folded her hands atop the desk.

  "Do you have any questions before we start?"

  The Rasmussens looked at each other and shrugged.

  "I don't think so," Ron said.

  "Then let me begin," Megan said. "The first thing you should know about adopting a child in the state of Tennessee is that it is a lengthy process. We require all eligible parties to fill out numerous forms, attend weeks of counseling and orientation sessions, and subject themselves to screenings and criminal background checks."

  Claire leaned forward.

  "I read about that in your brochure. Can you tell us more?"

  "I'd be happy to," Megan said.

  For the next half hour, Megan went over the finer points of adoption. She explained the orientation and screening process in great detail and informed Ron and Claire that twenty percent of the adults who pursued an adoption were eventually turned down.