Chapter 1 A girl? Oh, no!
Johnny Vic scowled at his uncle. “Awe c’mon, Uncle Ben! Do we haf’ta bring a girl?” He did not want to share his time with his favorite uncle, Benjamin Victor Bradley, with anybody, especially some strange girl, especially during one of their historic research trips.
“C’mon, Uncle Ben. Girls don’t even like history–they just don’t understand how important it is. They really don’t! She’ll spoil everything!”
“Excuse me? Where’d you get that notion? Girls certainly do love history. As a matter of fact, they grow up to be women like Linda. You do remember Linda, don’t you? And your favorite teacher, Mrs. Johnson? Remember her? She loves history, too.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“Sorry, kiddo. Anna’s coming.”
Ben shook his head. It was the first time he’d seen this stubborn, intolerant side of his nephew. Well, I’ll just have to work on that attitude, he decided. He chuckled, thinking, Wait ‘til he learns that Anna’s going to be featured in my next story. . .
Anna Lind, a home-schooled girl from a small town near Rutland, Vermont, was not just interested in history--she was already a prize-winning historian. At the tender age of ten, she’d won first place in a contest that tested her creativity and her knowledge of Calvin Coolidge, the 30th president of the United States. After gathering information about the man known as “Quiet Cal,” she had created a quilted wall hanging. Every single square a unique, hand-made display that represented an important aspect of Quiet Cal’s life--before and after his presidency. Most people don’t know much about Calvin Coolidge, but that’ll change, Ben decided. He was going to make sure of it. In Ben’s estimation, the quiet, unassuming President from Vermont had been highly underrated.
BEN’S INTEREST IN Calvin Coolidge had been inspired by a recent visit to the Coolidge Homestead. He had spent a quiet, but unexpectedly fun summer afternoon there with Linda, her Swedish cousin Lars and his wife and son, Else and Stig. Ben’s eyes crinkled with pleasure at the memory. Ten-year-old Stig had charmed the homestead staff with his enthusiasm for American history. He had also rekindled Ben’s interest in doing a series of articles on American presidents. And, as soon as Ben had seen Anna’s prize-winning quilt, he knew he had found the hook for the Coolidge story. A great intro! he thought. Lots of human interest. Everybody loves to read about kids, especially when they’re as bright and talented as Anna! He turned toward his nephew.
“So Johnny . . . would you like to stop for breakfast before we pick her up?” Ben knew he’d win a few points with that offer.
“Sure!”
Johnny Vic jumped off his seat. “So what are we waiting for?” Breakfast was eleven-year-old Johnny Vic’s favorite meal away from home. For lots of reasons. Like, pancakes. French toast. Waffles. Hot chocolate.
But there was another reason, too. He knew if they planned to eat out, they wouldn’t have to waste time washing the dishes before setting out for the day.
Chapter 2 Wow, she sparkles!
Johnny Vic watched with wide-eyed wonder as they drove East on Route 4. He loved the scenery in Vermont, especially during the foliage season. There still were a few weeks before the peak of fall color, but the hills were already alive with a vibrant display. He twisted in his seat to get a better view of a flock of wild turkeys. They were busily pecking at the hillside for their early-morning meal. What are they eating? he wondered as a forest of flame-red maples caught his attention. Wow, those trees’re as bright as a fire truck!
“Look at those trees, Uncle Ben. They’re so bright.”
“Yup. Outta sight, huh kiddo?”
“Outta sight? That’s lame, Uncle Ben. Nobody says outta sight anymore.”
“Lame? Would’st that be a shame?”
“Oh no! Shakespeare? You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what, pray tell? Am I not a mere mortal spewing out a spate of words? Setting them free to frolic ever so briefly upon this air . . . until they’re consumed by thy hungry ear? Consumed. Processed. Understood. But so . . . imprisoned by thy brain that’s as strong as any wood.”
Johnny raised his brows with relief when Ben paused, but they dropped suddenly when his uncle’s monologue continued.
“Yea, imprisoned, but tenderly done my sister’s son, as all of thy memories stay. But, wouldn’t thou keep these captive thoughts . . . thus to saver and remember? Nay, release them to be sure, with words to lure thy favored gender.” Ben gasped. He had run out of breath.
“Oh man! That Shakespeare stuff’s turned you into a nutcase, Uncle Ben. A nutcase sure to tell and in your nutty world, I dwell. With mine ear as deep as any well that’ll be filled with your words as you softly tell us . . . that all’s well that ends well, for those not spoiled or . . . Umh . . .”
Johnny Vic hesitated for a moment, then threw his hands into the air and shouted . . . jealous!” They both sputtered with laughter. The boy loved moments like this, especially his uncle’s willingness to be just plain silly. And their crazy Shakespearean speeches were their latest goofy game. Ben started his fanciful impromptu orations after he appeared in a local production honoring Shakespeare, the famous Baird. He said they helped him get into character. Johnny thought they were hilarious and often countered with his own corny rhymes and verses, to his uncle’s delight.
Ben gave his nephew a sidelong grin, them aimed his eyes back toward the road. They remained silent for the rest of the trip.
Soon they were at Anna’s driveway. Too soon, the boy thought with wrinkled brow.
“Well, here we are!”
“Great.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“Jeepers, I almost forgot about this darned girl. Go ahead, Uncle Ben. I’ll wait here in the car while you get her.”
Ben popped his seatbelt and slid out of the car. If he had looked back, he’d still have seen his nephew’s frown as he entered the Lind’s front door.
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