Hanna Street

By DK Raymer

Discover the family saga that German language readers embraced back in 2002. Hanna Street is a perfect slice of Americana, celebrating small town life during one of the most popular and colorful eras in U.S. history.

DK Raymer's debut novel was optioned for film in 2001. The project was abandoned when the events of 9-11 took the country in a different direction.  Editor Maria Duerig bought German translation rights for Bertlesmann, and the book was published in Germany under the name Das Rosenhaus..

Hanna Street wrestles with issues that still make headlines today - complex family drama, the hardships of military families, child abuse, suicide and mental health treatment, elder care and multigenerational families. This family saga offers a poignant and nostalic look at the relationships that bind us together, love lost and found, and the choices that shape our lives.

About the Story...
When elderly widow Mimi Wilson decides to sell her beloved but rundown home, she sets in motion a chain of events that will forever alter the lives of those she loves. Charming Appleton, Indiana, will get a brand new Git & Go in the spot where her house once stood. Mimi will get to spend her Golden Years in Florida with her daughter, June. And her granddaughter, Kate, will get another chance to find happiness with her high school sweetheart.

Set between 1952 and 1977, Hanna Street draws readers into an era when there was no such thing as political correctness. No one had ever heard of a smoke free community, let alone electric cars. Traveling carnivals were the summer's big entertainment, and CB radios were as popular as today's cell phones.

Hanna Street will have readers wishing they could live in fictional Appleton... if only for the summer.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: DK Raymer
• Release date: Jun 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9780979008511

Book preview

Part One:  The Auction

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It is a curious thing in human experience, but to live through a period of stress and sorrow with another human being creates a bond which nothing seems able to break. People can be happy together and look back on their contacts very pleasantly, but such contacts will not make the same kind of bond that sorrow lived through together will create.

- Eleanor Roosevelt

Chapter One

April 23rd, 1977

Mimi Wilson sat at her kitchen table studying the crack that marred the wall above the stove. It first appeared three years ago-about the time the City did all that work to the Royal River Bridge-and had been making steady progress toward the ceiling ever since. She really needed to call someone in to fix it. Mimi glanced at the clock radio sitting atop the refrigerator; it was only half past nine.

Jonah Grayham was up on her roof and though he’d only been inspecting it ten minutes, Mimi already knew the news was going to be bad. Sometimes when she walked into the house, she caught a whiff of rotting wood above the lilac scented Glade and lemon fresh Joy. It used to happen only on occasion after a big rain. Now the odor hung in the air all the time; no amount of Glade could mask it.

Mimi could hear Jonah tromping around overhead but tried to put it out of her mind by thumbing through the pages of the Sears catalog. She wound up in the lawn and garden section pricing new lawn mowers. She adjusted her glasses and slid the thick catalog away a few inches. It didn’t help much. The pictures were still blurry and the descriptions unreadable. It seemed to her the Sears people used smaller print each year. The only thing that stood out on these pages was the prices which were outrageous.

She scoured the whole section studying each mower in turn, and after a lengthy evaluation came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to find a new mower for less than a hundred dollars. Not a good one anyway, one that would last. That was something else she needed to take care of, the lawn mower. One more thing to add to her list- the roof, that crack in the wall, a new lawn mower. Everything seemed to be falling apart at once. She figured the car would go next.

Mimi slapped the catalog shut and glanced at the clock. Scarcely eight minutes had passed since the last time she looked. She decided it was time for a stout cup of Constant Comment. Mimi put the tea kettle on to boil and busied herself while she waited for its familiar whistle. She placed a new box of pink tissues in the bathroom, then grabbed the feather duster and headed for her novelty shelf. Mimi had a weakness for inexpensive figurines and, while she couldn’t bring herself to spend a fortune on a sofa or new box springs, she did indulge in an occasional dime store figurine. Dogs were her favorite, but she also fancied birds and thimbles.

Once the shelf passed inspection, Mimi paced the floor, eventually stopping in front of her picture wall. All of Mimi’s people were here - her daughter, June, who lived in Florida now, and granddaughter, Katie who, in Mimi’s opinion, was running through life in the wrong direction. Two pictures of Kate’s daddy, Ray Barbee, were proudly displayed with the others. Ray was a good man and a wonderful son-in-law. He had two passions - his family and the U.S. Army. The first photograph of Ray was taken the day he and June were married; the second was taken a few years later, shortly before he went to Korea.

At the center of all the other pictures was Mimi’s favorite photograph of her husband, Frank, with his pride and joy, a 1948 Willies-Jeep, which still waited for him in the garage; Mimi couldn’t bring herself to part with it. She missed Frank every day, some days more than others, but every day none the less. When the tea kettle whistled she made herself a cup and sipped it slowly as she wandered back to her picture wall. I wish you were here, Frank. I really do, she said as she squared his frame. Mimi talked to Frank’s picture when she worried, which wasn’t all that often. To her way of thinking worry was a colossal waste of time. Fretting is for fools and the weak of heart. That was Mimi’s famous saying. She recited it in times of crisis and even toyed with the idea of having it etched on her headstone after she passed on. Lately though, fretting was all she seemed to do. This old house had drained her energy and most of her financial reserves and right at the moment she couldn’t see an end in sight.

Mimi heard Jonah’s quick footsteps overhead and set her teacup on the bookcase. I’ll talk to you later, Frank. She hurried outside and was waiting at the bottom of the ladder when Jonah reached the ground. Jonah Grayham was a strong young man of about thirty. He was tall, but not overly so, slightly built and agile as any cat. Mimi had known Jonah forever; he’d grown up across the street. Three years ago, he took over the family roofing business and, while he wasn’t as outgoing as his dad, Jonah was personable and well-mannered and he loved his work. Over the years Mimi had watched dozens of kids grow up on Hanna Street and she was fond of them all, but Jonah Grayham had always been her favorite.

Well, what do you think? she said as he stepped off the ladder. Mimi didn't realize she was wringing her hands, but he noticed.

You need a new roof, Mimi.

A new roof, she repeated.

Yes, but there’s a problem.

That figures, she said and brushed past him with plodding determination to the spot where a single dandelion had taken root in her beautiful lawn. Mimi never could abide weeds; she considered them a sign of a slothful home owner. She bent down, a bit slower than she used to, and with some effort ripped it out of the ground, wadded it up in a corner of tissue until it was the size of a pea and stuffed it into her apron pocket. Jonah had seen her do this a thousand times, but it still intrigued him.

This old house won't take another coat of shingles, Mimi. There are at least three coats up there already. So before we can put the new ones on, we have to take the old ones off. He paused to study her face. He hated doling out bad news.

Go on, she said, her voice flat.

The timber has to go, too. It's rotten.

Jonah, dear, are you trying to tell me you need to rip the top off my house?

Something like that, yes.

Mimi drew a long, tired breath. She was going to fret out in the open and in public now, and she really didn't care who saw her do it. In the past eight months she’d replaced the furnace and hot water heater, and tiled the bathroom floor. Mimi was coming to the realization that her comfy old house needed far more attention than she could possibly give it.

Jonah felt helpless as he watched her wrestle with this latest piece of bad news. Mimi was a small woman, barely five feet tall, with boundless energy and a contagious smile. Jonah realized he hadn’t seen her smile today and he thought she looked frail.

He took the pencil from behind his ear and jotted some figures on a yellow legal pad. He wasn’t about to let Mimi shoulder the entire expense of this job, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her. Mimi Wilson was a proud old woman, one of those people who is always on the giving end of charity, not the receiving end. He decided to say it straight out; that's how he'd want to be told.

This is what she'll cost. Jonah thrust a piece of paper at her with numbers scribbled on it. I figured the materials at cost and I can comp half the labor, but it's still a lot of money. His words came out in a rush and sounded much colder than he intended, and he wished he could go back fifteen seconds and start all over again.

Mimi stared at the bid. It was staggering. Even if she scraped together every cent from her nest egg, the meager sum left in her Christmas club account, and the two hundred dollars she'd set aside for her dream vacation to Florida, she'd still be short. This was worse than she’d imagined. Much worse.

I wish I could do more, he said, scratching his temple with the lead end of a chewed up pencil.

Mimi realized how uncomfortable Jonah was with her plight. She put on her brave face and patted his hand. I appreciate this, Jonah, I really do. But if I decide to replace the roof, I'll pay full price like everyone else. That's just good business.

Mimi, you can't afford that.

Let me think about it a day or two, she interrupted. I'll talk to Mr. Reynolds down at the bank and see what I can pull together. She folded his estimate and tucked it into the same pocket with the dandelion. I'll call you day after tomorrow with my decision.

When he had gone Mimi went inside and sunk into her favorite chair, a lopsided green rocker with torn upholstery and crocheted arm covers. She stared out the living room window hoping the sight of the old neighborhood would lift her spirits, but all she saw was dandelions growing like wildfire in the neighbors’ yards. Mimi crossed the room, closed the faded drapes and returned to her chair. She felt numb, tired and overwhelmed. The little white house on the corner of Hanna Street had been her best friend nearly forty years. It kept her warm through the long Indiana winters, cheered and comforted her during the bleakest of times and sheltered her from all the bad in the world. It was clear to her now that the house was as tired as she was. Mimi Wilson just turned seventy-two years old; the house was eighty-one. Old Age had crept up on them both while she wasn’t looking and it upset her no end.

The Price Is Right was blaring at her from the TV set. They were down to the final showcase and Bob Barker was trying to explain the rules to some contestant who had never seen the game show and wouldn't stop screaming. That man had the patience of a saint. Mimi couldn't tolerate the noise today, not on top of everything else. She pulled herself up out of her chair and shuffled across the rug.

Sorry, Bob, she said as she turned off the set. Maybe tomorrow.

A chill crept through Mimi's sweater. It was a disturbing sensation, vaguely familiar. She pulled her sweater around her and shuffled to the picture wall to talk to Frank, and then it occurred to her she had this same feeling thirty years ago during the last few weeks he was alive. Mimi took care of him up to the end, until he became too ill to stay home. Then he went into the hospital one last time.

Mimi stopped short. She knew despair would set in if she dwelled on the past and her old house with all its problems. Snap out of it, Marion. You are not helpless. You have choices...There are always choices. She marched herself over to the hall closet and took her purse down from the shelf. First things first. She'd figure the balance in her check book and see how much money she had until the first of the month.

A business card fell from her purse; it was full of little scraps, coupons, odds and ends. She kept them all just in case they were important. This one was not. It was a dog-eared card from that pushy woman- a Ruth something- who worked for Champion Realty. Last month she cornered Mimi in the Kroger Store and followed her for three full aisles rattling on about Appleton’s future growth and her home’s commercial value. Mimi got the definite impression that Ruth wanted her house, she wanted it in the worst way, and Mimi found her a rude and irritating nuisance, like dandelions growing in her yard.

Mimi sat at the kitchen table and ran through her check book. Just as she thought, she had exactly $178.92 in her account and not a penny more. This house was going to fall down around her, no doubt about it. She picked up the realtor’s card again and read the bold black slogan. Meeting the Changing Needs of Rountree County Since 1964. It sounded like a slick sales pitch to Mimi but something about the words, changing needs stayed with her all that day and into the night.

Early the next day she padded through the kitchen for her morning cup of tea and found the business card laying on the table where she’d left it. Mimi crumpled it up and was halfway to the trash can when she heard a voice, an audible voice, which sounded an awful lot like Frank.

It said simply, You have choices, Marion. There are always choices.

Chapter Two

Once Mimi made the decision to sell her home she felt an enormous burden had been lifted and for the first time in years she didn’t feel alone. She felt Frank’s presence giving her the strength she needed and a perspective she lacked when it came to sentimental matters.

The first thing Mimi did was get the house appraised. For this she called Big Jim McNeill. An old friend and former Hanna Street neighbor, Big Jim owned the largest auction service in northern Indiana. She knew she could count on him for a fair and honest assessment.

There’s a rumor circulating about out-of-town investors looking for a business site in Appleton, he told her.

That piqued Mimi’s curiosity so she spoke with Mr. Reynolds down at the bank, who said it was more than a wild rumor. Legitimate investors were eyeing Appleton for a new Git ‘N Go. They preferred an in-town location, but were also considering two sites along the interstate.

Mimi thought about what he said all the way home and before she even put her purse in the closet she called Ruth, the carnivorous real estate agent who had chased her through the Kroger store some weeks back. As it turned out, Ruth represented these investors and she was thrilled to get her call. Ruth wheeled into Mimi’s driveway twenty minutes later and presented her with a bid so generous that Mimi had to sit down in her green chair.

Later that evening when the shock began to wear off, Mimi phoned her daughter for her two-cents worth. June was ecstatic. She’d been trying to convince her mother to move in with her for years. Two days later June flew in from Florida to help finalize the deal, and then she packed Mimi up and headed south before she had time to have second thoughts. It was too late to back out; the papers were signed and the investors would take possession July 11th.

All that remained was the dispersal of Mimi’s personal property, which was considerable. Several options were discussed; the most financially attractive was an estate auction. Mimi again called Big Jim McNeill, who jumped at the idea. He dubbed it the auction of the summer and launched an aggressive advertising campaign.

June knew her mother couldn’t watch strangers divvy up her things; Big Jim concurred. He feared the presence of a sobbing old woman would squelch the bidding, so it was generally agreed that Mimi should be absent from her sale. Someone else would need to organize and oversee it. Someone Mimi trusted.

She had just the person in mind.

Chapter Three

Three Months Later—Sunday, July 3rd, 1977—Kate Barbee drove her Chevy Malibu through congested Fourth of July holiday traffic on her way to Appleton, Indiana, and her Grandma Mimi’s house. She had the radio turned up, the windows down, and was singing along with one of those Top 100 Hit Countdowns that dominate the airwaves in the summer. In the seat beside her were the remains of her travel munchies- an empty bag of Doritos, an unopened can of V-8, a half pack of Fig Newtons and a wedge of warm Colby cheese. So much for the four food groups.

Kate was anxious about this trip. She hadn’t been home for more than an overnight visit in eleven years, not since she graduated high school, and she had no idea what sort of reception she’d get. She left a lot of loose ends in Appleton. Okay, perhaps a lot was an overstatement, but she left one or two big ones anyway. She decided to keep her expectations, as well as her profile, low.

Kate ran a hand through her long chestnut hair; it was stiff with hair spray. She had been driving nearly twelve hours and felt as though every stinky diesel fume and particle of road grit had bonded to her hair. The first thing she was going to do when she got to Mimi’s house was take a hot shower. Then she’d eat a decent meal. She flipped the visor down and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her dark brown eyes were bloodshot and she’d spilled Dr. Pepper down the front of her t-shirt; it was dry now but unsightly just the same.

When she left Iowa, Kate planned to spend a couple of days shopping in Chicago before driving to Mimi’s. But the farther she drove, the more anxious she became about the auction and Mimi’s move and who she might run into on this trip, and soon she found herself speeding down the highway like a woman possessed, stopping only long enough for junk food and fuel. As a result, she was arriving two days early looking like death warmed over. Disgusted, Kate flipped the visor back into place then amended her priorities: the first thing she was going to do when she got to Mimi’s was take a hot shower, then she’d sleep. Food could wait. Kate remembered the first road trip she made to Appleton. The journey was the similar, in that it was a nerve induced marathon, but the circumstances were very different...

Kate was six years old back then and the drive was made on a night black as pitch. Hail and rain pelted the car. The day before she and her mother went to a Memorial Day service at Fort Knox. It was very somber. Neighbors came up to them asking if there was any word. June Barbee politely excused herself, whisked Katie home and threw everything they owned in the car. They were leaving the base. A few weeks’ earlier two servicemen had knocked on their door with bad news. Kate’s daddy was missing in Korea.

We’re going to your Grandma Mimi’s, June said as she helped little Katie climb onto the front seat that May afternoon. June Barbee was crying, she’d cried every day since the men came to their house. They drove for hours; the storms started just after dark. June pulled into a service station in Indianapolis around eleven. The man there said the weather was much worse to the north. He said they should get a motel, stay the night, and start out again at daybreak. Had June been thinking clearly she would have listened, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. She just wanted to get home. She bought Katie a soda and a Milky Way and drove into a massive storm front.

For the remainder of the trip June Barbee barely spoke. She kept one hand firmly on the wheel, the other searched the radio dial for weather updates. When she couldn’t find a station powerful enough to cut through the static she shut the thing off and just drove. Katie sat beside her. She was terrified but made no sound. All she could do was clutch the doll her daddy gave her before he went off to Korea. Sixty miles from Appleton, June lost sight of the road. She blindly followed a pair of blurred tail lights ahead and prayed, her heart kept time with the windshield wipers beating frantically against the glass. Later, she learned three people died on that same stretch of road that night. One man missed a curve and hit a telephone pole; the other two collided head-on at the crest of a hill.

We’ll be at Grandma’s house pretty soon, honey. Everything will be fine then. You’ll see. June said that a hundred times that night, but neither she nor Katie believed it.

They pulled into Appleton in the wee hours the next morning and drove through the dark rain soaked streets until they came to a snug white house sitting on the corner of Hanna and Main. It was lit up like a beacon. Mimi ran to meet them wrapped in a ratty old chenille robe. She’d been up all night listening to weather reports on WOWO radio and by the time they pulled into her drive she was fit to be tied. Mimi whisked them both into the house. She fixed Katie cinnamon toast and cocoa and bedded her down on the couch, then made a soothing cup of tea for June. They would wait for news of Ray together. They would wait for as long as it took. Katie fell asleep on the couch huddled beneath Mimi’s flower garden afghan. Her mother and grandma sat in the kitchen and talked and cried and prayed. And all the while rain came down in sheets and the wind whipped against the cozy white house that would be their new home...

Perched above a corn field a quarter mile away, Kate saw a sun-faded billboard for the Happy Hoosier Truck Stop. She was ten miles from home. Instinctively, she dug a loose Rolaid out of the crack in the seat. Her stomach had been churning since just this side of Joliet, and she’d been eating antacid tablets like Pez since dawn. It was nerves, plain and simple, and she concluded that if she made it through the next two weeks it would be a miracle.

Kate knew cleaning out her grandmother’s house would be a monumental task but Mimi had her mind set on a new condominium with fresh paint and weekly yard maintenance, and when Kate thought about it she couldn’t really blame her. Hanna Street had gone to seed. Most of the old families were gone. Their homes had become rentals, rundown rentals, occupied by families who couldn’t afford something better. Mimi was one of the last remaining old-timers. She shared that title with LaVon Carter, who owned the combination beauty shop and pet boutique across the street, and with the troubled Milligan clan, who lived three blocks down. The old neighborhood had seen its heyday. Now it was time to simply move on.

Change was coming to Hanna Street. The Git ‘N Go people called it progress. They planned to demolish Mimi’s little white house and erect a convenience store in its place. The thought saddened Kate, but she was resigned to it. Life was full of tradeoffs. In this case Appleton would get a new place to buy cigarettes and beef jerky, and Mimi would live out her Golden Years in Florida.

The only thing left to do was hold the estate auction. That’s where Kate came in. After some subtle persuasion, Kate had agreed to come back to Appleton and oversee it. She estimated it would take three days of preparation for the auction itself, and another day or two after that to wrap up the loose ends. Then the new owners would take possession, the bull dozers would roll in and it would all be over.

Kate never put much stock in hunches or intuition- in fact, Mimi said she was far too analytical for her own good. But as she closed the distance between herself and home, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her grandma had an ulterior motive for coaxing her back. She didn’t know what Mimi had up her sleeve, but she knew one thing- Mimi could be a sneaky old fart when she put her mind to it. Kate vowed to keep her guard up and her mind focused on the business at hand, and with any luck she’d be driving this same interstate in two weeks, headed back to Des Moines.

Kate switched the radio off, took the exit ramp and listened to the rhythmic thud of the Malibu’s tires as they rolled over the pavement seams. She coasted down narrow Business 30, past the American Legion Hall and the sign that read, Welcome to Appleton, Home of Indiana’s Most Picturesque Courthouse. In a matter of a half-mile, the cornfields gave way to paved streets lined with immaculate homes. Appleton was an old town, nestled in the midst of Indiana farm country. It was Sunday morning and town was quiet. The good Christians were in church. Everyone else was asleep. Kate idled through the silent business district, past Roma’s Smart Shop, Jones Bakery and the Rustic Relic Antique Store. She made one lap around the square, just to look at the massive limestone courthouse for which the town was famous. This part of Appleton was just as she remembered it- impeccably clean and quaint, a perfect slice of Americana. She was tempted to park the car and go for a walk, but she was on a deadline. There would be time for exploring later.

Kate turned south at the next light. Hanna Street lay just on the other side of the Royal River. She got gooseflesh as she approached the aging concrete bridge. In truth, there was nothing royal-looking about the Royal River; it was muddy and dank, and Kate had grown up believing it was full of electric eels. That story was generated by the Hanna Street parents to keep their kids away from the water’s edge. The Royal River ran along the back of Mimi’s property and Kate used to dream that eels snuck out of the river at night and roamed Hanna Street looking for open windows. It was a ridiculous childhood fear but Kate noticed that, even today, she stepped on the accelerator just a little as she crossed the bridge to the other side.

Mimi’s house sat on the next corner. It was a modest house, white, two stories, with a green roof and several oddly placed windows. The lot was just over an acre in size and had been lovingly tended by Mimi for nearly four decades. Bird feeders and wind chimes dotted the lawn and flowers bloomed everywhere. There was a single car garage, a carport, and a dilapidated shed hidden beneath a tangle of honeysuckle vines. Mimi’s house was a welcome site nestled in an area that was anything but homey.

Kate heard this side of town had changed, declined was the way her mother put it. Kate thought she was prepared for the worst, but as she turned the corner her heart sank. These once happy homes were badly neglected- window screens torn, paint peeling, lawns growing wild and littered with discarded toys. The families that lived on Hanna Street when Kate grew up didn’t have much, but they took care of what they did have and they had pride in who they were. These current residents obviously weren’t cut from the same cloth. This neighborhood wasn’t declining, it was downright shabby and Kate was thoroughly disgusted by it.

She pulled into Mimi’s driveway and saw two beer cans and an empty pizza box littering the grass. Kate got out the car and slammed the door. Mimi hadn’t been gone two weeks and the neighbors were already trashing her place. She picked up the garbage and considered tossing it at the old Dunmire house across the street- that place had all kinds of trash strewn across the yard- then she thought better of it. Mimi would never do such a thing. Kate placed it in the dented metal can Mimi kept under the carport and returned to her car, her trip down memory lane over before it ever began. She had looked forward to coming home. Not anymore. All she wanted to do now was get this week over with.

Kate turned the Malibu around and headed for Main Street. She would make good on her promise to Mimi. She would oversee the sale, but she was not staying in this pathetic neighborhood. She would check into a Fort Wayne motel and commute to Appleton to do the work. When the sale was over next week she would head straight home. No socializing. No hanging around for the Old Settlers celebration.

Kate pulled onto Main Street, ready to put her new plan into action, when fate stepped in, in the form of a green panel truck, the words Grayham Roofing Company painted on the side. It barreled across the Royal River bridge straddle of the center line.

Kate slammed on the brakes and hit her horn.

The other driver stuck his arm out the window and gave her an insulting hand gesture as he thundered past.

Kate sat in the middle of the street, her heart racing. She watched the panel truck in her rear view mirror. It was tar speckled and laden with ropes and wooden ladders. She didn’t get a good look at the driver but she knew Jonah Grayham behind the wheel; the whole truck pulsated with the music of Styx. Jonah flicked a cigarette butt out the window, turned down Hanna Street without a directional signal, then swerved to miss a dog.

As Kate watched the truck disappear, the anxiety she arrived with slowly melted away.

And then she knew.

She was home.

Chapter Four

Hanna Street wasn’t the nicest in Appleton, but the yards were big, the people worked hard and there was always something to do. When Kate and June Barbee moved there in the summer of 1952, they became part of the Hanna Street family. Already present were the Grayhams, McNeills and LaVon Carter. They, along with Mimi Wilson, were the center of the Hanna Street universe. Other families lived there too, but they more or less orbited around the hub. Mimi Wilson lived on the corner of Hanna and Main Streets,