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    Beautiful Dreamer
    Beautiful Dreamer
    Beautiful Dreamer
    Ebook93 pages1 hour

    Beautiful Dreamer

    By Eileen M. Bolsover

    ()

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    About this ebook

    It is 1943, and World War II is raging thousands of miles away from twelve-year-old Nancy Killeentomboy, singer, and sister to six siblings. As food is rationed and frightening air drills pierce through the sky, Nancy is just trying to survive sixth grade at Saint Mary Magdalene School.



    Constantly accompanied by her sister, Patsy, and Ernieher best friend who lives at the end of the streetNancy climbs trees, writes in her diary, and secretly wishes she could fly. But when she realizes her neighbor, old lady Crowell, is harboring a nasty vendetta against her family, Nancy knows she must do somethingand quick. With her parents acting strangely and Ernie suspecting they are Nazis, Nancy has her work cut out for her. But just as the lazy days of summer begin, Nancy is about to discover the secret to making old lady Crowell smile.



    In this tale set against the backdrop of America during the early 1940s, a young girl embarks on a coming-of-age journey where she must make some tough decisions and soon discovers the meaning of unconditional love.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateJul 20, 2012
    ISBN9781475934977
    Beautiful Dreamer
    Author

    Eileen M. Bolsover

    Eileen M. Bolsover is a lifelong Pennsylvanian who has been singing since childhood. She is the author of the picture book Adventures with Joey. Now retired, Eileen lives in Lehigh County, where she enjoys spending time with her six children, sixteen grandchildren, and one great-grandchild.

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      Book preview

      Beautiful Dreamer - Eileen M. Bolsover

      Copyright © 2012 by Eileen M. Bolsover.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

      iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

      iUniverse

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.iuniverse.com

      1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-3496-0 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-3497-7 (ebk)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912071

      iUniverse rev. date: 07/17/2012

      Contents

      I

      The Killeens

      II

      What’s a Tomboy, Anyhow?

      III

      The Red Car

      IV

      Patent Leather Shoes

      V

      A Song and a Dance

      VI

      Louise

      VII

      Clang!

      VIII

      School’s Out!

      IX

      Birthday Girl

      X

      Peter

      XI

      Missing Persons

      XII

      A Happy Sunday

      24464.jpg

      I

      The Killeens

      The two girls stood at the top of the terrace looking out over the backyard. It was April in 1943 and the first warm day after a cold and snowy March.

      Suddenly, the older girl unbuttoned her heavy winter coat and charged down the terrace, her coat flapping behind her.

      It’s Spring! It’s Spring! she shouted.

      Nancy, that’s the silliest thing I ever saw you do, said Patsy, as Nancy came running back up to where her sister stood.

      I know, Nancy replied. But it felt so good I’m going to do it again. And she flew down the hill a second time.

      Well, wait for me, Patsy called, racing after her.

      They ran the length of the backyard yelling It’s Spring! and collapsed in a heap in the new, green grass, rolling around and shrieking with laughter.

      Uh-oh, don’t look now, Nancy said, but Old Lady Crowell is watching us.

      Mother said not to call her that, Patsy reminded her sister.

      I know. But Mrs. Crowell’s an old busybody. She’s probably going to tell everyone that the Killeen girls have lost their minds, poor things. Nancy imitated Mrs. Crowell’s uppity voice and they rolled around some more, still laughing.

      Oh, stop it, Patsy pleaded. My sides hurt.

      I hate her, Nancy suddenly blurted out.

      Mother says you’re not allowed to hate anyone.

      But I do anyway, Nancy replied. She’s always yelling at me and blaming me for everything. She told Mrs. Meade that I’m bad just because I like to play with the boys. How can a game of baseball make you bad, anyway? I hate her. And Louise scares me.

      They lay quietly for a minute looking up at the big, three-story twin houses. Mrs. Meade lived in the one stuck onto theirs. She was a plump, friendly woman who loved to chat. All the kids liked Mrs. Meade. And next door to her, across a narrow side yard, lived Mrs. Crowell. None of the kids liked her. Mr. Crowell had died three summers ago and her only son, Walter, was serving with the Army overseas. That left Mrs. Crowell alone in the big house with her daughter, Louise, who was severely challenged mentally.

      I feel sorry for Mrs. Crowell, Patsy said. I don’t think she’s very happy.

      It really is a pretty day, isn’t it? Nancy remarked, changing the subject abruptly. She stared up at the clear blue sky and felt the warm sun on her face. The green buds on the snowball bush were turning a delicate white and the azaleas were beginning to show pink and red among the dark green leaves.

      We’re lucky, you know that? Nancy said.

      Mother says it isn’t luck. She says we’re blessed.

      Oh, for crying in a bucket, Patsy, you’ve been preaching to me all afternoon.

      Sorry.

      They started to laugh again just as their mother appeared on the back porch.

      Time to come in now, Mrs. Killeen called.

      Aw, do we have to already? Nancy protested.

      Yes, girls. Daddy will be home soon. Besides you’ll catch your death of cold lying on that damp grass. Come on now.

      They walked slowly toward the house and back up the concrete steps in the center of the terrace.

      Look, Pats, Nancy said. Those flowers have big purple buds on them already. We’d better not run down here anymore. Daddy won’t like it if we mess up his rock garden.

      They went in the basement door and Nancy ran up the stairs two at a time into the kitchen.

      Your week to set the table, Nan, said Patsy, coming up behind her.

      Then, Pat, you take Janie out from under my feet while I finish dinner, Mother said.

      Nancy went over to the cabinet and opened the silverware drawer, counting out nine knives, nine forks, nine spoons, and the baby fork and spoon. She knew the routine well around this long kitchen table. Whistling softly, she set Mother and Daddy at one end and Nana at the other. They get the matching silver. Then, Kathryn, Joan, and Mary on this side; Joseph, Patsy, and me on that side, and the little fork and spoon on the high chair for Janie. Bread and butter, milk and sugar, salt and pepper, and I’m done.

      What were you girls doing out in the yard? Mother asked, as she poked the boiling potatoes with a fork.

      Just being dumb, Nancy answered. It’s such a nice warm day after all that cold rain and snow, we were celebrating spring.

      I don’t think that’s dumb at all, Nancy.

      Old Lady . . . uh . . . Mrs. Crowell was peeking out her window at us. She’ll probably tell the whole neighborhood that we’ve gone crazy.

      Mrs. Killeen laughed. She certainly doesn’t miss a thing, does she?

      Daddy’s home! Nancy yelled a few minutes later, as her father parked his old, black Buick at the curb. And half an hour later, Mother called "Dinner’s

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