Amazing Grace
Authors: Nancy Allen
Published by The History Press
Charleston, SC 29403
Copyright © 2014 by Nancy Kelly Allen
All rights reserved
First published 2014
e-book edition 2014
ISBN 978.1.62584.935.9
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Allen, Nancy Kelly, 1949-
Amazing Grace : a Kentucky girl with gumption during World War II / Nancy Kelly Allen.
pages cm
Summary: In 1944, when her father is drafted to serve in World War II, eleven-year-old Grace, her mother, and her little brother move to her grandmother's house in Ashland, Kentucky, where Grace plants a victory garden, buys Saving Stamps, and volunteers with the Red Cross.
print edition ISBN 978-1-62619-405-2
[1. Family life--Kentucky--Fiction. 2. World War, 1939-1945--Fiction. 3. Schools--Fiction. 4. Moving, Household--Fiction. 5. Kentucky--History--20th century--Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.K2986Am 2014
[Fic]--dc23
2013046009
Notice
: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
In memory of my dad, J.R., and Uncle Howard, World War II soldiers
Contents
Acknowledgements
Writing this book has not been a solo journey. Several people have added their footprints in helping me turn my daydreams into fictional characters. Who says daydreaming isn't work!
The outstanding staff of the Perry County Public Library provided research material with smiles and words of encouragement. My appreciation is sugarcoated, and I'll prove it with candy deliveries.
Meryl Shapiro's artistic talent and skills are evident in the illustrations that added visual spark to each chapter and the book cover. As we batted around ideas for the art, her suggestions helped me tweak and improve scenes.
I offer kudos, a pat on the back and a round of applauseâmake that a standing ovationâto Sandi Underwood, my critique partner. She saw this work long before it was ready for print and added her two cents' worth. Her literary spit and verbal polish are actually worth their weight in gold.
Carolyn Summers, a spunky friend who battled a health issueâand wonâprovided the inspiration for the main character's spunkiness. She, Johnny and their family have spread smiles and love my way for decades. Here's right back atcha, all of you.
My husband, Larry J. Allen, has supported my writing efforts from the first word I scribbled for publication. I send hugs his way for driving me along the route this fictional family made in their move from Hazard to Ashland, Kentucky, and more hugs for his “Amazing Grace” book title idea.
With heartfelt gratitude, I thank everyone at The History Press for believing in my story.
I love to write and create characters. Readers, I'm always grateful to you, because you make writing even more fun for me.
Chapter 1
Mysteries
My day began like every other day in 1944âordinaryâthen the mysteries unfolded, not one, but two.
Daddy trudged through the kitchen, walking in short, slow steps so he wouldn't bump into something. Like two big ropes, his arms wrapped around the box he was carrying. Purple and green paper wrapped the box, and a big green bow decorated the top.
“What's in the fancy package, Daddy?” I asked between bites of biscuit and gravy. I swiped the back of my hand across my face. Smudges of gravy and biscuit that never made it to my mouth rubbed off.
“A surprise birthday present for Grandma,” Daddy answered with a broad smile. “Grace, you and Johnny get ready. We're leaving for Grandma's in a few minutes. It's a long drive from Hazard to Ashland.”
Daddy carried the mystery box right out the door without giving me the slightest idea of what was inside. “I could use a hint about now,” I called after him.
A snapping March wind whipped through the open kitchen door and shivered goose bumps over my arms. “I could also do without the frosty air,” I thought.
Two Cracker Jack boxes sat by the sink, so careful as could be, I opened one box from the bottom. Popcorn and peanuts poured into my hand. I crammed in a mouthful. I wasn't hungry, but I couldn't resist caramel popcorn and peanuts.
I shook the box, and the prize landed square in my hand. I tried holding the little package up to the light to see what it was, but I couldn't see through the paper it was wrapped in, so I rubbed the prize between my thumb and fingers. It felt like the puzzle I had found in my Cracker Jacks last week. I shoved the prize back into the box and sealed the bottom the best I could.
I opened the other box. When I saw the prize, I could tell with only a quick glance that I had a keeper. I ripped open the paper and looked at a clown. Once I added this missing piece, my Smiley Face rocker would move. I pried the thin cardboard pieces apart, positioned them together just right and placed the clown on the rocker.
Kiss a frog and call me a princess! My Smiley Face rocked. I grabbed the whistle my best friend, Lily, gave me yesterday after school. I stuck it in my mouth and blew a blast that would rival the L&N train when it nears a railroad crossing.
Mom charged through the house. “Grace, is that you making enough noise to wake the neighborhood?”
“Look at my new rocking clown,” I told Mom, hoping to get her mind off my whistle blast.
She came over to inspect. “Good work,” she said as she ran her fingers through my straight, light brown hair, untangling some knots that had taken hold in my sleep last night. Mom pried apart the last knot and hurried off through the house.
My little brother, Johnny, moseyed into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Where did you get the clown?” he wanted to know, first thing. “Cracker Jack box,” I answered and let go with another Louisville & Nashville trainâstyle blast.
“Mom!” Johnny yelped as he covered his ears with his hands.
“Grace Ann Brewer!” Mom called out using her you-had-better-listen voice. “Do you want me to take that whistle and keep it?”
“Sorry, Mom,” I apologized quickly. Johnny grabbed the other Cracker Jack box and opened it from the top. He polished off the popcorn and peanuts, what was left, and opened the prizeâa puzzle identical to the one in my box last week. Lucky me, he didn't notice the box had been opened on the other end. He finished the Cracker Jacks and started in on two biscuits and gravy.
Daddy walked back through the door, even more slowly this time, reading a letter. He read each word as if he had to take a test on it. Somebody sure had a lot to say. Daddy called for Mom, and they walked into the front room. I tiptoed behind them. Daddy handed Mom the letter as he eyed me. He hugged me tight and reminded me to pack my things for our trip to Grandma's house.
“What's in the letter?” I asked. I knew it must be important if they spent that much time reading it.
“It's a letter from the government,” Mom answered. “Go feed Spot, then pack your things and help your brother pack.” Dad and Mom looked sadly at each other and then at me.
I picked up Spot's food and carried it out to see my sweet mutt. He wagged his tail like a windshield wiper when he saw me coming around the shed toward his doghouse. I hugged him and poured food in his bowl.
Spot slurped up his breakfast faster than I had slurped down the Cracker Jack peanuts and popcorn. He grabbed a stick, ran a few feet, stopped and looked back at me. I ran to him, and he dropped the stick. I picked it up and flung it high in the air. Spot leaped and retrieved the stick before it hit the ground. When he made his way back to me, I smacked a kiss on top of his head and explained that the neighbor would feed him supper because I was going to visit Grandma.
He didn't look too happy about the news.
“Spot, life is a series of mysteries,” I explained.
Spot looked at me as if he understood.
I went on, telling him all about the mystery box that Daddy had been carrying and the letter that he returned with. Hoping he understood, I told him how frustrating it was to never be clued in.
Spot's big brown eyes stared straight into mine. Maybe it was the way I said it, maybe it was the sound of my voice or maybe Spot actually understood what I said because he whimpered. In dog talk, a whimper that seemed to say, “I understand how you feel, Gracie Girl. Nobody tells me anything either.”
I hugged Spot one more time and marched back into the house. In Johnny's room, I snatched shirts, pants and socks and threw them in a bag. In my room, I grabbed my teddy bear and my blue plaid pajamas and stuffed them in another bag along with my two favorite pants, three blouses and some socks. I pitched in our toothbrushes and a tube of paste.
“We're as ready as we'll ever be,” I announced as I skipped back into the front room. Daddy and Mom were still where I left them, gazing at the letter. The expression on Daddy's face was as somber as the one Spot wore when I kissed him goodbye. Mom's expression mirrored Daddy's. The government sure was serious business. “What's in the letter?” I asked for the second time.
