Of Windmills and War by Diane H Moody

class.
I’ve already got enough credits to graduate.”
    “I’ll
be happy to talk to someone, honey.”
    He
looked over at his father’s sleeping face. Even at rest, the creases of a face
always scowling made him look mad. Danny thought back on those moments before
the ambulance came when his dad whispered for Danny to tell Joey he was sorry,
to tell his mother—well, he could only assume he wanted her to know how much he
loved her. Such a striking difference from the indifferent, brusque, and angry
father he knew. Would he still be different when he woke up? Would he still ask
Joey to forgive him? Tell his mother how much he loved her?
    He blew
out a sigh. “It’ll all work out, I guess. I’m just thankful he pulled through.”
    She reached
over and placed her hand on her husband’s. “I couldn’t bear it if we’d lost
him.”
    Danny thought
back on all the times his dad had belittled her in front of him. All the times
he’d silenced her with his glare. And still, she couldn’t bear it if she’d lost
him?
    Danny needed
some fresh air. “I need to run some errands. I’ll be back in a little while. Do
you need anything?”
    “No,
dear. I’m fine.” She took hold of his father’s lifeless hand. “I’ve got all I
need right here.”

13
     
     
    May
1940
    Danny sat
at his father’s desk going over the ledger. As much as he didn’t want to learn
the business, he wished at some point he’d asked his dad to explain the books.
He felt sure it all made sense to his father, but to him it looked like
chicken-scratched numbers in nameless columns. He rubbed his hand over his face
and sighed.
    I can’t
do this on my own. I’ve got to take the ledger to Dad at the hospital and have
him explain it. If he can stay lucid long enough.
    Danny stared
out the window, fighting the despair consuming him. Ever since he accompanied
his mother to yesterday’s consultation with Dr. Mercer, he’d known his hopes of
starting college in the fall had just gone up in smoke. The doctor’s words
buzzed through his head over and over . . . With luck Mr. McClain
might be able to leave the hospital by the holidays. But don’t count on him
walking for at least a year. He’ll require months of physical therapy to
retrain mobility of his legs. Of course the head trauma and other internal
injuries are far more serious. As I told you before, Mrs. McClain, your husband
is lucky to be alive.
    Danny dropped
his head in his hands. At least a year . . . Even if his
dad made it home by Christmas, his mother would need help caring for him. He’d
be an invalid. Who knew when he’d be able to go back to work? Danny could fight
it all he wanted, but nothing would change the fact he’d have to wait another
year to start college.
    He
stood up and stretched, then decided to go across the street for a cup of
coffee. He had another half hour before opening the theater doors for the
matinee. He locked the alley door behind him then made his way across 75th
Street to the diner. He was about to climb the steps when a newsie stepped in front of
him.
    “Hey
mister, want a paper?”
    He
started to brush past the kid when the big bold letters of the Chicago Tribune headline
jumped out at him:
     
    GERMANS INVADE HOLLAND
     
    For a
second, he stood motionless, staring at the headline as it seared into his
brain. He dug in his pocket for coins and quickly swapped the newsie for a copy
of the paper. Danny devoured the front page story as fast as he could, his
heart beating faster with every sentence.  The story began the evening of May 9
when Hitler gave another of his ranting speeches. In it, he said The
Netherlands had nothing to fear. Because of their neutrality during the Great
War, he said he respected their wish to remain neutral in the current war. Then,
in the wee hours the following morning, the Dutch were awakened by the
deafening sounds of an air battle overhead. Hundreds of planes roared above
them, many dropping bombs at strategic