Free Of Windmills and War by Diane H Moody Page A

of their civilians last fall.
Between Britain , France , Australia , New
Zealand , and Canada , you’d
think the Allies could finish off Hitler once and for all. I don’t know how
much longer we can hold out.
    I
apologize for rambling so. I can’t seem to keep my mind focused on anything right
now.
    Anya
     
    Danny still
found it hard to believe the United States had
not joined the Allies to fight the Germans. How long would America continue to turn its back on all those countries falling to the Nazis? He
wished someone like Jimmy Stewart’s Mr. Smith could stand up to the government
and convince them to help win the war.
    He
reminded himself to send a small belated gift to Anya for her birthday. Though
what he might get her, he had no idea. His mother loved to embroider delicate
handkerchiefs. Then again, he never thought of Anya as the “delicate” type. It
was hard to visualize her with something so refined. He would have to give it
more thought.
    As he
finished getting ready to head to the theater, something felt off-balance.
Something wasn’t quite right, and the sense of feeling so unsettled bugged him.
It wasn’t until he was going down the stairs with Sophie at his side that he
figured it out.
    Wim. The
farmer’s son who apparently has a crush on Anya.
    Yes,
something was definitely off-balance, and Danny had a feeling he knew exactly what
it was. For the first time in his life, he was jealous.
     

     
    Danny climbed the rungs leading up to the projection booth.
As much as he’d dreaded the thought of working for his dad, he had to admit he
really liked it. For the first time he could remember, he’d stood up to his
father, telling him he’d like to help out, but only with the understanding it
was just temporary until fall when he’d be a full-time student at Northwestern.
Of course, his dad had moaned and groaned about it, but in the end Danny could
tell he was pleased his son had offered to help. As long as he could keep Dad
from strong-arming him when it came time to leave, he’d be okay.
    He crawled into the booth—an enclosed closet built in the
back of the room above the theater. He flipped on the small lamp, pulled the
bag off his shoulder, then lifted the sliding door to the dumbwaiter behind him
to retrieve the film cans. He was relieved to see a new horror film in the
rotation. Since Gone With the Wind had released in January, the
blockbuster had remained in the evening show time at Windsor Place Theater for
more than a month. Thankfully, the afternoon slot still had some variety.
    “ Son of Frankenstein. It’s about time,” he said out
loud.
    The long-awaited sequel to The Bride of Frankenstein had
caused quite a stir the last couple of months—at least by those not obsessing
over Gone With the Wind . David O’Selznick’s epic saga ran three hours
and forty-four minutes plus a fifteen-minute intermission. Danny often caught
himself dozing off after the first three times he saw the film. Still, it gave
him more than enough time to finish his homework, write a letter to Anya, read
the latest sports news in the paper, and anything else he could think of to
fill the time.
    But this afternoon, he would get to watch Boris Karloff as
the ugly Monster, Basil Rathbone as Wolf von Frankenstein, and Bela Lugosi as
Ygor. He couldn’t wait.
    “All set up there?”
    Danny leaned out the door of the booth. “All set, Dad. Who’s
doing the intermission today?”
    Dad grumbled under his breath.
    “What’s that?”
    “Marco Polo. Dumbest act I ever saw, but the fools who come
here seem to like him.”
    “Ah, he’s not so bad. The man can juggle just about
anything.”
    “Yeah, he can juggle all right. The other night he juggled a
bunch of kittens. I’ll never hear the end of it. Some lady got all worked up
and reported it to the police.”
    Danny laughed. “What’d they do?”
    “Nothing. Some stooge from downtown came out here and tried
to tell me I owed the city a fine of $500. I let him