Chasing the Moon

By Mary Missig

A child’s fate changed forever one fiery night as her parents perish, leaving her aunt and uncle to raise her on their farm in Council Bluffs, Iowa. Searching for a deeper meaning in her life, Milly Hatfield has the courage to pack up and leave the safety of the farm. It was 1939, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and nineteen year-old Milly wanted to be a part of it. Upon arrival she quickly learns that things were not always as easy as they seemed. Milly fought hard and held numerous jobs, but never the one she really wanted. Then World War II came along and changed everything. She had to say goodbye to her lover and sacrifice her dream for the good of the country. After the war, it was hard to put the pieces back together, but Milly found her way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Missig
• Release date: Aug 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311635471

Mary Missig

Mary grew up in Oak Harbor, Ohio and now resides in Santa Monica, California. She has a bachelor's degree in Marketing from John Carroll University and works in the marketing research industry. She also is an Ironman triathlete. My Saving Grace is her first novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1:

I watch as Caroline waves goodbye and blows me a kiss. I can’t blow one in return, but I gaze back at her with love in my eyes. I always look forward to her visits. There isn’t much I can look forward to; the cancer is spreading more aggressively now. Although I can sense the end is growing near, it doesn’t scare me. As I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifts back, way back, to 1926 when I was facing another unknown.

1926

It was late, probably after midnight, when I was startled from a dead sleep by the shrill ring of the telephone. I rubbed at my young, innocent eyes and turned over to try to go back to sleep, but soon after I heard a knock at my door. I was still rather dazed but I could make out the shadowy outline of Aunt Agnes in the doorway.

Milly honey, it’s just me Agnes. She inched closer and gently sat on the side of my bed.

What’s wrong? I whispered, still not fully awake. Where’s mommy and daddy? They had gone out to dinner for their anniversary.

Agnes didn’t say a word, just drew me close. As I pressed up against her, I could hear her heart beating madly in her chest. I froze, paralyzed by the unfamiliar rhythm. Unknowingly, my heart joined in as well, our two hearts racing in unison, off to some mysterious place. I closed my eyes and held on tight to Agnes. I was scared. I didn’t know what was going on. All I knew was I wanted my mommy and daddy. They should have been home already.

Agnes unclasped my tiny arms from her waist. Milly? Milly dear… she whispered softly, searching for my eyes. I apprehensively looked up and met Agnes’ searching glance. She paused for a second, looking deeply at me, almost as if she was saying something to me but forgot she wasn’t speaking. I stared back at her, waiting intently for the next piece of information in order to dictate my building emotions.

Silent tears slowly began to fill Agnes’ eyes and a single one escaped, floating down the grooves of Agnes’ suddenly very aged skin. Aunt Agnes, what’s wrong? I was terrified now and could feel my stomach twisting into a burning knot. I had never seen a grown-up I knew cry before. Please don’t cry. I lunged forward and embraced her, hoping I could help. Maybe Uncle John was in trouble?

She held me for a moment and then pulled me away so she could lock on my eyes again. Baby girl, I love you. I don’t know how to say this to you, but your mommy and daddy… She took a deep breath. …your mommy and daddy passed away tonight. They won’t be coming home, sweetheart. They’re in heaven now. I’m so very sorry, sweetheart.

Just a single word came to my lips. Why?

Agnes seemed to be fraught with the very same question. I don’t know why, honey, it was just their time. I’m so sorry. She held me close again.

What’s going to happen now? I couldn’t feel any emotion except curiosity. The moment was too big for me to realize its impact, Agnes just held me for a while and the next thing I knew I was asleep again.

The next morning, I woke up almost forgetting what had transpired the night before. I sat down at the breakfast table. It was Sunday morning, and we should have been heading off to church soon.

Hi Milly, good morning little one, said Uncle John delicately, as I pulled up a chair next to him. He was reading the newspaper, but he stopped what he was reading, turned the pages until he found the comics, and then passed them to me.

I obliged and sat quietly looking at the pictures.

Aunt Agnes came in, surveyed the scene and then poked John on the arm, directing him to follow her. They both stood in the doorway whispering to one another and occasionally glanced over my way, their faces pale and dismayed. I suspected they were talking about me, but I couldn’t hear for sure.

I sensed a dark cloud looming over my head. It felt strange waking up in my own home with my aunt and uncle but not my mom and dad. I tried to amuse myself with the comics, but that wasn’t really working. I put my head down on the table and started to weep. I thought that maybe what Agnes had told me last night was not true, that it was all just a dream. Things were always better in the morning right? I looked up for a moment, and Agnes and John were gone; the ink on the comics had bled all over the pages from my tears, and I felt all alone. That was when the floodgates opened and grief sequestered its mighty hold. The emotions engulfed and overwhelmed my tiny body. Fear surfaced accompanied by the devastation of reality. Visions of my mom and dad inundated my mind, and I couldn’t bear to think about not ever seeing them again. I felt sick. I felt scared. I felt alone. I was crying so hard that I started to shake and suffocate. I slipped off my chair and hit my head on the way down.

Aunt Agnes came rushing in. Milly, are you ok? Oh Milly, dear, let me see if you are ok. John, get a cold rag for her head. There, there honey. I know you don’t feel good. It’s ok to cry. I miss them, too. She pressed the cold rag on my head, and we sat on the kitchen floor slowly rocking back and forth. I closed my eyes and wished for a chance to go back in time.

All I could think about was saying goodbye the night before. Agnes was at the stove warming me some soup for dinner while my dad chatted with her as he waited for mom to finish getting dressed. When mom came into the kitchen, everything stopped and all eyes looked her way. She was wearing a red dress and a white overcoat, her hair was pinned up and she had a fancy red hat with a white lace trim to match. She was wearing makeup and her eyes sparkled. Her perfume infiltrated the room with an aroma that announced it was a special occasion. My dad looked at her with such love in his eyes, the same as he always did, even when she wasn’t all dressed up. She came over to me first, giving me a light kiss on the cheek. Milly, you be a good girl for Agnes, ok. I love you sweetie. See you in the morning, she had said. I smiled, but didn’t say I love you back. My dad took her in his arm and they walked out the door. I never imagined they would not come back. I never imagined I could never tell them how much I loved them ever again. The image of them walking out the door seemed to be seared in my subconscious.

I frantically ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I had hoped the crying would not have washed it away. When I flipped on the light and saw my face, I couldn’t help but start crying again. My mother’s lipstick from the kiss she had given me the night before was most certainly gone, and I couldn’t bear to look at my own sad face. When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone that did not look like me. I literally couldn’t face myself and the parentless child I had become overnight. I grabbed a towel, jumped into the bathtub, and hid there bundled up like a lost kitten taking shelter in the cold. I needed some time to just cry. Maybe the fear and the pain would drain away with my tears?

Milly? I heard Agnes tap at the bathroom door. I had been curled up in the tub all morning. Milly are you hungry dear? I made your favorite, spaghetti.

My stomach grumbled, telling me it was time to move on, that I couldn’t sit in the bathtub all day. I got up and went to the door.

Oh Milly, come here darling, Agnes went to put her arm around me, but I pushed her away. I wanted my mom, not Agnes.

Agnes let out a deep sigh and slumped over a bit, turning her back to me. I pretended not to notice, but I felt awful just the same.

Are you going to tell me what happened? I want to know, I demanded, fighting back my grief and letting my anger take hold.

Agnes turned and nodded her head gently, as if she was convincing herself to do what I asked. Ok honey, yes, I’ll tell you. Let’s go sit by the fire.

I followed Agnes down the hall to the great room. I was scared now. I wanted to know, but now I was afraid of what I was going to hear.

Milly, your parents were at dinner last night, and there was a fire at the restaurant. They didn’t make it out. No one did. I’m very sorry, and I know you miss them a lot. John and I do, too.

Why didn’t the firemen come and save them?

The firemen did come, they were just too late – the fire had spread too quickly.

Milly, we want you to know that we’re going to help you through this. Agnes and I are going to be taking care of you now. We’re not going to replace your parents, no one ever could, but we are going to try our very best to give you everything you need, ok kid? John’s eyes were kind, even though I could sense the pain and fear beneath.

I looked him straight back in the eye. I wanted to feel comforted. But you don’t even have any kids, how do you know what to do?

My blunt comment threw Agnes for a loop but she quickly recovered. Well Milly, we might not do everything the same as your parents, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you and won’t do the best we can for you. You are a blessing, and we will treat you like a blessing. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I didn’t know at the time that Agnes and John had tried to have children before, but each time – and there were three separate times – the baby was lost. Looking back, I cringe at how I must have made Agnes felt, but I really didn’t know any better at the time.

So what do you say kid? John looked into my eyes with such genuine care that I knew I would be all right.

I gazed back at John for a brief moment before dutifully saying, Ok, and gave him a big hug.

Agnes sighed and smiled. Let’s go have some spaghetti then, ok?

As we all sat around the table eating Agnes’ spaghetti, I couldn’t help but wonder what my life was going to be like from that day forward. I had never really thought about my future before, I was only six years old, but from that day on, all I could think about was the future. I felt like I needed to live an extraordinary life, a life that would make my parents proud.

Chapter 2:

The funeral was Tuesday, June 2, 1926, and I sat between Aunt Agnes and Uncle John in the church pew, first row, right in front of the priest. I felt so many eyes on the back of my head it was nice to be snuggled tightly between two warm bodies, protecting me from all the stares. I could hear the murmurs as Agnes and John ushered me in: The poor darling, only six years-old; I can’t imagine losing my parents that young; What a blessing and a curse for Agnes; I hope the child doesn’t get any depression from this; She looks mighty strong, but I bet she’s crying on the inside; She probably doesn’t even know what’s happening; It looks like she hasn’t slept in days; all of it just whispers, but to me it sounded like everyone was screaming. My face burned red hot as I tiptoed down the aisle, trying desperately not to cry in front of everyone.

Let the Lord grant these two souls eternal happiness and peace. I tried to listen to the sermon, but all my energy was fixed on keeping the thoughts of my mom and dad out of my mind and consequently, the tears out of my eyes.

Aunt Agnes took my hand in hers and gave it a soft kiss. She nudged John and he handed her his hanky, which she passed along to me. She then leaned over and whispered in my ear, Milly honey, it’s ok to cry if that’s how you feel. I looked up and saw Agnes’ tear-soaked eyes and didn’t feel so alone anymore. I let the tears come slowly as they wished, dabbing my eyes with John’s hanky. I smiled back at Agnes through the tears and, for a moment, felt like everything was going to be ok.

After the ceremony concluded, Aunt Agnes and Uncle John and I all went to the river to let the ashes go in private. As we approached the bank, the Missouri River looked so majestic and peaceful, slowly streaming along. I didn’t fully understand what I was doing at the time, but I wanted to follow along like I did.

Uncle John took the lid off the urn and gave it to me. Go ahead kiddo, sprinkle it over the water.

As I held the urn in my hands, I felt a greater spirit around me. It really felt like mom and dad were right there, guiding me, letting me know everything was going to be all right. I peered inside the urn and took a glimpse of the ashes. Upon seeing how grey and scary they looked, I looked up to the horizon instead, at the muddy brown water flowing ever so peacefully, rushing off to the ocean so many miles away. I took a deep breath and turned the urn so the ashes could flow into the wind and out onto the water. I witnessed the faint ribbon of grey and white ash floating in the air and dancing across the water, finally dissolving and becoming one with the river as if nature had intended it exactly that way. I love you mommy and daddy, I love you so much…I’ll never forget you. Not knowing exactly what to do next, I dropped to my knees and said a little prayer. God is good. God is great. I love you mommy and daddy. Amen.

That was it. It was all over. It was time for a new chapter to begin. I felt a strange sense of freedom, which I quickly tried to push out of my mind. Freedom seemed too close to happiness and I wasn’t ready for that yet.

After the initial chaos of the funeral, I had time for the weight of the situation to sink into my soul. Opening up and talking about it proved difficult. I regularly had nightmares about the fire, imagining what the last moments of my parents’ lives had been like. I wondered if they were scared? Did they run? Did it hurt? Did they think of me? I woke up sweating and screaming, and Agnes would try to comfort me, but I simply wouldn’t let her. I was too angry. I was angry with God for taking away my parents. I also got in trouble at school because I would sneak out of class and sit in the broom closet. I felt it was the only place I could go and be left alone. Everyone was constantly asking me if I was all right. No, I wasn’t all right, but I didn’t know how anyone was going to help me. I didn’t want anyone’s help anyway, all I wanted was my parents back. It took a long time, but eventually Agnes melted the ice around my stone cold heart. I think a big part of that was she started to remind me a lot of my mother. This reassured me that I wouldn’t forget my parents, a fear I was grappling with. It was the way she would wipe her hands on her apron constantly while she was cooking, even if they weren’t very dirty. The way she laughed and the way she yelled. The way she rolled my stockings. The song she whistled while she braided my hair. The way she’d wake me in the morning, with a soft stroke with the back of her hand on my forehead. I wondered if she always did things these ways or if somehow she developed these ways just for me, as if someone, somewhere knew that’s what my mother would have done.

As the weeks turned into months and the months into years, we all grew closer together. Agnes, John, and I, we were a family. They loved me unconditionally as their child, and I loved them with all that was left of my heart. A tiny piece of my heart would always be lost, though, floating in the Missouri River along with my mom and dad. It didn’t make me sad anymore though, I just felt like I had an extension of my soul committed to another unspoken purpose. A purpose only I could understand and share with my parents. For although they were lost in body, they were not lost in spirit. I could feel their presence, always, and that made me happy.

Chapter 3:

The summer after graduating from high school, I attended six different weddings – mostly all my girlfriends marrying their high school sweethearts. I was a bridesmaid in three of the weddings and the maid of honor for my best friend, Georgia. At every wedding, someone came up to me and asked me when I was getting married. I always had the same answer. I would get married when I found the right guy. And the response was always the same, a spiteful disapproving smile that politely nudged me to reconsider my plans followed by an invitation to meet their son or nephew or whoever they thought was a suitable bachelor to pursue. I’ve never liked people telling me what to do, certainly when it came to who I would be spending the rest of my life with.

While I was certain about my philosophy on marriage, I grappled with what to do with my future. Agnes and John had recently informed me that I was to inherit some money from my parents’ on my eighteenth birthday, which was right around the corner. I sat looking out over the water of the Missouri River, gently tossing pebbles into the current, hoping it would bring me some inspiration.

"I just wanted to thank you for leaving