Prologue
April 1942
Hattie Alexander let out a sigh as she opened up the front door to Savannah House and plopped herself down on the chaise in the parlor. She was thoroughly exhausted. Not that she was griping. She was doing her very best to serve the war effort on the Home Front. She had stood on her feet all day collecting scrap metal, aluminum cans and rubber, all of which would be recycled to make armaments. It was nothing, she realized, in comparison to the sacrifices of all the brave soldiers fighting an enemy across the world.
Life as she’d known it had changed forever. It was as if all the sunshine had been stamped out by sooty black clouds. Food, gas and even clothing items such as stockings were being rationed. Everyone received ration stamps which allowed them to buy a certain number of items such as meat, sugar, chocolate, tea. There was so much uncertainty, mostly for the brave soldiers fighting for the USA.
More than anything, Hattie missed Samuel. It felt as if a huge chunk of her was missing. If he was here in Savannah right now, Hattie thought she could withstand all of these deprivations with a smile on her face. If Samuel was here, she wouldn’t feel so afraid. The future—their future—hung in the balance. There was so much uncertainty surrounding what was coming. What would the future look like?
Come back to me, Sam. Please come back to me. The words were her daily mantra. She thought perhaps if she said it over and over again Sam would hear her. God would hear her pleas and send him back to her loving arms. She’d written him dozens of letters but she had only received a handful back. But with each word he wrote to her, Sam was imprinting himself even more indelibly on her heart.
My one true love. His words were always romantic and soaring. Right before he’d left, Samuel had given her a diamond ring and they had become engaged. Every day she held tightly to their dreams, counting the days until they would be face to face again.
A heavy knock sounded on the front door. Hope didn’t want to be uncharitable, but she hoped it wasn’t a neighbor begging for their limited food and goods. Her parents were generous to a fault and they never said no, even when it meant they would do without. Her mother had gotten so thin as of late. Hattie stood up and smoothed down her dress. She would just have to deal with it herself. Be strong, she reminded herself. But kind as well.
Hattie quickly made her way toward the front door and wrenched it open. She sucked in a deep breath as she looked up into the eyes of a tall, broad man dressed in a military uniform. On instinct, Hattie tried to close the door. She knew what was coming. She’d heard of it, seen it, known it was a possibility from the moment Samuel had gone to war.
“Miss Alexander. I have a telegram for you.” He held out an envelope. The somber tone of his voice and his expression foreshadowed the contents of the envelope.
As if in a daze, Hattie ripped it open with her finger. The words blurred on the page.
The Secretary of war desires me to express his deep regret that your fiancé, second lieutenant Samuel Blythewood, has been killed in action over Germany.
Hattie felt her knees giving out beneath her. The telegram floated to the hardwood floor. Pain ricocheted through her as she hit the floor. She let out a mournful cry.
“No. Please, God. No. Not Samuel. Not my love.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. She felt strong arms embracing her and the lilting sound of her mother’s voice. “Hattie. Hattie. What’s happened?” Over and over she screamed out Samuel’s name until she heard the rustling sound of her mother picking up the telegram and reading it out loud. Suddenly, her mother’s voice trailed off. Her mother let out a moan and began hugging her. “Oh my poor, Hattie. I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry.”
Hattie awoke hours later, knowing she must have passed out. For a few moments she thought she might have dreamt about the telegram and Sam’s death. But the low rumble of her parents’ voices downstairs served as a harsh reminder. They wouldn’t be here on a normal Wednesday. They would be engaged in town helping out with the war effort. Despair settled over her as the realization hit her once again. Samuel was gone forever. He would never kiss her lips again. He would never take her hand in his and walk with her in the moonlight. She would never again hear declarations of love tumbling off his lips.
Suddenly, the world was a very dark place.
Weeks passed during which Hattie couldn’t even get out of bed. She barely ate. All she could do was wonder what might have been. She became ill, throwing up every morning until it dawned on her she was expecting a child. The knowledge hit her like a sledge hammer pounding her heart. She and Samuel had shared an intimate moment when he was home on leave. It had been fueled by desperation and despair and the love they both sensed might come to an end at any moment. Shame crept over her. How in the world was she going to tell her parents? How was she going to raise Samuel’s child in a world that looked down upon out of wedlock babies? Not to mention how she would be disgraced. Another part of her spirit soared. She would have a part of Samuel that lived on. Thrived. Drew breath. The miracle of life was being bestowed upon her. Gratitude burst inside her at the notion that she would be a mother.
For the next six months, Hattie kept her secret. She traveled to a neighboring town, and using a fake name, received medical care. Largely due to stress, she had only gained fifteen pounds. One month before her baby was due, Hattie’s secret exploded. Hattie was getting changed in her bedroom when her mother entered without knocking. Her mother’s cry of outrage upon spying Hattie’s belly could be heard throughout the house. That evening, a family meeting was called during which her parents peppered her with questions about her “delicate condition.”
“How far along are you?” her mother asked, clutching a handkerchief in her hand.
“Eight months,” she’d answered, trying not to cry at the disappointed expressions etched on her parents’ faces.
“Your mother and I have this all figured out. We’re going to tell everyone you’ve contracted polio and that our house is under quarantine. In two weeks or so we’ll travel to Florida where you’ll deliver the baby. No will know us there and you can give the child up for adoption.” Her father’s voice was crisp and no-nonsense.
“I don’t want to give up my baby! Samuel’s baby!” she’d cried out.
“You have no choice.” Her mother’s voice had been firm.
“Do you want a life of disgrace for your child?” her father had barked. “Illegitimate. Fatherless. Dismissed. Disregarded. Think, Hattie! Don’t you owe your child much better than that? Not to mention yourself!”
Hattie’s mind whirled with the possibilities. Couldn’t she earn a living somehow and raise her child with love and commitment? She was smart. With her parents’ help she could pull it off.
“If you help me I can—” she began.
“It’s not possible,” her mother said in a raised voice. “Don’t you see? Once the war is over we want to continue to run Savannah House. Don’t you understand? People could shun us! They might refuse to come here.”