TIMELESS PAGES

By Eddie Sullivan and Nancy Sullivan

It's June 6,1951. Eighteen-year-old Diana D' Angelo

stands at the Holly Hills train station amidst the

teardrops of angels and the angered thunder of

Heaven, as billows of smoke belch from the belly of

the big

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Rain and the Sun Publishing
• Release date: Nov 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798989066858

Eddie Sullivan

After decades of song writing, a lifetime's worth of emotions now pour onto this poet's pages,like literary portaits from a pen. "The Many Colors of My Heart" is a deep,rich collection ofjoys and sorrows, hopes and dreams, and all the shades in between. Eddie is also a novelist. His heart-warming romance novel, "Timeless Pages,"goes hand in hand with his inspiring book of poetry. Together, these two books lead readers on an emotional journey where the destination is reassuring comfort and peace. Eddie will break your heart, and then make it whole again with piecesof his own; and in the process, healing is bestowed upon both the reader ...and the writer.

Book preview

Contents

Chapter One

A Whispering Wind

Chapter Two

Billows of Smoke

Chapter Three

The Silver Picture Frame

Chapter Four

Words From a World Away

Chapter Five

The Silent River

Chapter Six

Cannoli Siciliano

Chapter Seven

The Last Light of Dawn

Chapter Eight

Traces of Tiny Teardrops

Chapter Nine

A Million Miles Away

Chapter Ten

Stars Collide

Chapter Eleven

Poppy’s Secret

Chapter Twelve

Journeys

Chapter Thirteen

The Little Red Velvet Box

Chapter Fourteen

Ti Amo, Nonnina

Chapter Fifteen

Swept Away

Chapter Sixteen

Trapped in Time

Chapter Seventeen

Awakenings

Chapter Eighteen

A Star Falls in the West

Chapter Nineteen

Above the Sounds of the City

Chapter Twenty

Shattered Glass

Chapter Twenty-One

Guardian Angels

Chapter Twenty-Two

Santa’s Workshop

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Queen of Crestmont Ridge

Chapter Twenty-Four

More Than Just a Kiss

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Question of the Evening

Chapter Twenty-Six

Pages of the Panoramic Past

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Somewhere Between

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Far Fields of Fortune

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Speak Now

Chapter Thirty

Written in the Stars

Timeless Pages—The Song

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter One

A Whispering Wind

W ill you wait for me, my love?

The words still echoed across yesterday, like a whispering wind through a bottomless canyon. The water-colored portrait still ran in the rain every now and then, even though Diana had trained herself well to keep it dry. Nonetheless, the memories lingered and his voice still followed. For time never erases the pain of separation completely, and no amount of faith and hope eases the worries and fears a young woman faces, when the man she loves is sent away to fight another senseless war.

As she flipped through the timeless pages of her panoramic past, the roller-coaster emotions took her on that wild ride once again. Even after all these years, she still returned to that fateful moment on June 6, 1951, when a departing train crushed eighteen-year-old Diana D’Angelo’s world. The heartbreaking images of saying goodbye never fade; the haunting shadows of yesterday cannot be illuminated by time….

Chapter Two

Billows of Smoke

The sights and sounds of goodbye stabbed at the young lovers as they embraced. Billows of smoke belched from the belly of the black beast; the smell of soot filled the air. The steam whistle, in harmony with the shiny brass bell, pierced the sleepy town of Holly Hills. The soul-stirring all aboard, however, drove the final nail into Diana’s care free days.

Oh God, no! This can’t be happening, she thought. He’s going off to war!

With the sound of sorrow seeping through, he said, Will you wait for me, my love?

Her voice cracked with piercing pain. Oh, Michael, please don’t go.

Body trembling, he answered. "I have to, innamorata [beloved]. I have to."

She heard Michael’s words float to foreboding skies that showed not a trace of mercy on that gray summer day. The words, however, were overshadowed by the angry voice of Heaven, as it sounded its disapproval of Mankind’s atrocious behavior toward itself. All the while, love drowned in a skyful of angels’ tears that washed away any traces of smiles, and the piercing pain was wrapped within one last embrace—one Diana and Michael wished would go on forever.

With sourness in his stomach, Mr. Armstrong touched his son gently on the shoulder. Time to go, son.

Diana held on tighter. Don’t let go, Michael. Oh, please don’t let go.

She looked into his eyes and saw how desperately he wanted to run off with his childhood sweetheart to some far-away fantasy of forbidden fruits. Nonetheless, Michael summoned all his courage, and as if he was letting go of life itself, he pulled away.

With one last touch of tenderness upon her face, they accepted the need to surrender their fates. Unable to remove the taste of tears from her tongue, one last fleeting kiss upon her lips gave birth to a fear-inducing memory that forever flashed like lightning and resounded like endless thunder! The last words Diana heard came in the form of the promise all men make just before they leave the women they love: I will come back to you, I swear.

Diana was ripped apart by the horrendous clanging of iron against iron, as if the lurching of the locomotive played the tune of a death knell. She watched her unlucky leprechaun leap upon that colorless rainbow, knowing he’d find no pot of gold in that pit of despair on the other side of the world. As he turned for the one last I love you, which drowned beneath the deafening clamor, she witnessed his final smile attempt to hide the fear upon his handsome face.

I will wait for you, I promise, she yelled over the deafening noise. Finally, swallowed by the insurmountable sounds surrounding her, with terror trickling from rainy-day eyes and the scent of soot overcoming her, quivering lips silently formed the words, I love you.

Michael’s beautiful face faded from view, and she fought the impulse to chase after that terrible train in a hopeless attempt to make it stop—as if somehow she wielded the celestial power to turn back the wheels of destiny. Lastly, the final billows of smoke, along with the foul stench of burnt coal, disappeared into the hills. And the train bound for hell dragged the man she loved more than life itself to a place neither of them had ever even heard of.

Sinking into a sea of swirling emotion, an entranced Diana seemed intent to stand on that rain-soaked platform for eternity—to stare toward that hazy horizon that hovered above the hilltops, stare at those black clouds with no silver linings. She became imprisoned by some lost hope that if she stood there long enough, the train would return and the tearful goodbye would miraculously come to be a joyous welcome home.

Frank wrapped his arm around his sorrowful daughter. Come on, sweetheart, time to go home. He opened an umbrella to shield his precious girl from the teardrops of angels. Nonetheless, he could not offer any protection against the thunder of Heaven’s anger, nor the strikes of lightning upon her frightened heart. With that, the last people walked out of the Holly Hills train station. And as the D’Angelos walked into the savage storm, the last ray of hope in Diana’s heart was swept away.

Chapter Three

The Silver Picture Frame

For the rest of that dreadful day, Diana sought solace in the room where she and her older sister, Francesca, grew up together in the Holiday House of Holly Hills—the same house their mother and grandmother grew up in. Now, however, this bedroom (once pink, but now blue) embodied Diana’s private world. A picture of Francesca, Giorgio, and their boy, little Tony, in front of their yellow house on Chestnut Hill Drive, reminded Diana that this room now belonged to her alone. Today, though, it had come to be more like a lonely schoolyard on sum mer break.

Her family had heard no words through the solitude of sorrow’s tears. That evening’s dinner plate and the unrinsed wine glass needed to go home soon. Diana had been agonizing over the soul-stirring images of how it was going to be for the boy she loved, who’d soon languish in a foreign land neither of them even knew existed, as he fought for a cause neither of them understood. The boy with the baby-blue eyes and the smile that lit up Diana’s world since she first saw him in first grade would soon suffer a million miles away in the middle of nowhere, a million years from home in the middle of a nightmare.

Entrenched in this turmoil, Diana was besieged by the never-ending echo of Michael’s final promise as he stepped onto that terrible train on its way to God only knows where: I will come back to you, I swear. Like the haunting howling of wolves in the darkness, Diana heard those words over and over again. Nevertheless, returning home is a promise no soldier can ever guarantee. Only the impartial judge—only the blind hand of fate—decides what is to be, and what is not to be.

The vow Diana took in return ran closely behind. I will wait for you, I promise. This vow, however, would only be honored if fate allowed a promise to be kept. Each day to come was about to serve as a reminder.

* * *

The next morning, outside this lonely sanctuary, a mother felt a daughter’s pain. Overflowing with divine grace, Madalena sensed the solitary suffering beyond the door. Beneath the silence of sadness, she detected the subtle sounds of a sorrowful soul softly stirring. Overnight, the nurturing mother had let the soaking rain nourish the scorched earth. Nevertheless, even though it had seemed as if Diana’s world had stopped spinning and only Michael could bring it back to life again, the shepherd needed to guide her lost sheep back to the light as passively as possible.

A gentle knock cut through the silence.

Sweetie? It’s Mamma.

Come in, Mamma.

Madalena nudged the door open a few inches, as if she was trying not to wake a sleeping baby. Slender slivers of sunlight from the hallway silently seeped their way in and danced upon the azure-blue walls. The loving mother witnessed the despair upon her despondent daughter’s tired face, like a savage storm’s raindrops upon a foggy window pane. She touched Diana’s cheek, and her love poured forth. Without a word, Madalena presented a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper that had been kissed with a hint of sunshine and a bright-red ribbon tied into a rose in bloom. The gift, prepared with the utmost care, was part of a loving mother’s passionate prayer. Madalena had been praying Diana’s sadness would somehow subside—all the while, knowing it would be quite some time before it did.

What’s this?

Madalena smiled. "Open it, tesorina [little treasure / sweetheart]."

Eyes full of wonder, Diana slowly untied the bright-red ribbon and carefully opened the much-needed gift without a single tear in the shiny gold paper. Madalena delighted in the magical transformation—how a gift can conquer despair.

Nearly choking on words, Diana said, Oh Mamma! Grazie, Mamma! Grazie, mille! This is so beautiful!

The silver picture frame laced with ornate designs captured a moment in time….

His fear camouflaged in a crisp uniform, an American soldier of Scottish heritage stood tall at a train station bound for eternity. Upon his handsome face—a hint of uncertainty. In his eyes—the wonder of bright blue skies. Upon his lips—a promise.

In his strong arms, he embraced a beautiful Italian goddess with eyes of twinkling starlight upon a canvas of rich black velvet, and hair the shade of a moonless night draping slender shoulders. Upon her breathtaking face—the fear of young lovers saying goodbye. In her eyes—dewdrops dreading the approach of nightfall. In her heart—a promise in return.

Finally, for a mother with boundless love, a tiny trace of a smile appeared upon the face of a despondent daughter. And together, there, on that canopy bed with teddy bears atop ruffled pillowcases, two women prayed for a miracle—all the while, knowing it would be quite some time before one came.

Chapter Four

Words From a World Away

Replenished by half a smile, Diana liked what she saw in the full-length mirror after her mother had shone some light onto her lonely face. She enshrined the bright beacon of hope atop the antique desk which once held crayons and coloring books for two little girls in their fairy-tale hideaway. Like a soft caress, the silver picture frame that encased the brave soldier and his childhood sweetheart, helped Diana find her way back to where all her thoughts and emotions felt free to fi nd a home.

While Diana devoted her passion to the piano, Madalena pursued her passion in photography—and she possessed an impressive collection of cameras to pursue it. Every room throughout the Holiday House testified to her talent. There, on the third floor, the walls painted pictures of happy childhoods over the course of three generations. As Diana peered into the past, the memories warmed her. Dominating the arrangement, a black and white photograph of Francesca and Diana bore witness to a history of happiness. Diana looked deep into those young eyes. The laughter of long ago invoked the smile of today.

Madalena’s latest masterpiece, laced with a loving mother’s sentimental touch, now graced the centerpiece of Diana’s private sanctuary. Diana opened the curtains for the first time in days, and the silver picture frame captured a glint of hope between shades of sadness. As Diana caught the reflection, a breeze brought a breath of inspiration. She opened the drawer that once held the playthings of happy children and pulled out a leather-covered treasure full of bottomless oceans and endless skies, secret truths and secret dreams. Diana’s diary grew into a familiar friend no one knew about, and it had been a while since they had spoken.

After lighting a vanilla-scented candle, the emotional young lady poured her heart onto a page that was always ready to listen, never there to judge. The feelings flowed, and the release helped reclaim a calm. The words transported Diana to a magical dream world where only she and Michael—although oceans apart—found their hope from ten thousand miles away.

The picture taken on the day the angels cried served as a reminder of where Michael was wrenched from her arms. At the same time, it also served as the hope of where she and Michael would celebrate a glorious reunion. That mahogany desk in the center of her little world brought to life the stage upon which the dream danced. Although they were denied the look of love in each other’s eyes, the comfort of each other’s arms, and the thrill of a lover’s kiss, here, they would listen to each other’s thoughts through words from a world away.

Nonetheless, waiting for those words was like watching sand pass through an hourglass! As much as she wanted to coerce the world into spinning faster, it reserves no regard for a young woman’s wish to spring forward one year into tomorrow. There remained, however, one slight reprieve—each day further from Michael’s departure brought Diana one day closer to his return. Captured by the curiosity of when that exact day would be, and since no calendars for 1952 had been printed yet, she created one of her own and marked the day of salvation with a big red heart. She placed it next to the picture and paid homage to the two sentimental treasures that gave her the strength to keep on believing. To seal her wish, she whispered a hope-filled prayer to a heavenly father she could not see, a prayer only He could hear.

As if God had delivered the message to Michael personally, a few hours later, Diana’s prayer was answered with a phone call from halfway across the country. The sound of his voice took her on a three minute trip to paradise. Unfortunately, the discovery of how far from home he had traveled reinforced the reality—the Earth had been drifting further and further from the Sun.

Over the next few weeks, a few calls from California kept Diana’s spirit alive. Nevertheless, once he shipped out, letters served as a soldier’s only form of communication during the Korean War. Diana’s thoughts were devoted exclusively to receiving that first one. Even so, it would provide only the slightest drop of comfort in a desperate desert thirsting for rain, a heart starving for sustenance, lips longing for the taste of a lover’s kiss. This, unfortunately, came to be a hunger with only one possible relief, one year away.

* * *

In the meantime, the busy B&B offered Diana no time to feel sorry for herself. Francesca had pitched in to pick up the slack that first day after Michael left, but by that afternoon, Diana had gotten back on her feet. She needed it. And her family needed her.

Oh, Diana, thank God. We got three couples and a family with two kids. Can you get them checked in?

Sure, Mamma.

Madalena touched her daughter on the sleeve. You okay, tesorina?

Diana shrugged. Hey, what am I going to do, right?

Madalena squeezed Diana’s hand. You cover it well. Thanks, sweetie.

Hello, welcome to The Holiday House Bed and Breakfast. My name is Diana.

Hi, Diana. We’re the Abbotts. I’m Fred, and this is my wife, Susan.

Nice to meet you, Fred and Susan….Okay, Abbott….Yup, here we go. Ooh, you got the Kingsley Suite. And you’re staying until Monday morning?

Fred removed his white fedora (gentleman’s hat). Absolutely.

Would you sign here please?....Thank you so much.

Hey, I gotta tell ya, Fred said, this is one quaint, little town y’all got here.

Oh, thank you.

We saw a magazine article one time. The writer called it a….what did he call it, hon?

A sparkling gem—

That’s right, a sparkling gem in a treasure chest of emerald valleys. Must be nice here in fall, huh?

Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. And in winter, rolling hillsides as white as pearls! Diana collected their money, wrote them a receipt, and grabbed the key from the secretary desk.

Fred breathed in the sweet scents of sugar and cinnamon. Oh, my God, that smells good! Smells like a sweet slice of paradise!

Oh, wait till Saturday. You like Italian food?

You kidding? Who doesn’t!

Nonna—well, that means ‘Grandmom’ in Italian. I call her Nonnina, which means ‘little Grandmom.’ You’ll see why when you meet her. Anyway, Nonna learned the secrets of the sauce right here in the Holiday House when she was only four years old. Talk about heavenly—

Sorellina—sorry to interrupt, folks.

This is my sister, Francesca. Frannie, this is Fred and Susan Abbott.

Hello, Francesca, they both said.

Hello, Fred. Hello, Susan. Nice to meet you.

And who is this adorable, little boy? Susan asked.

This is my son, little Tony.

Hi, little Tony. Oh my, he’s the cutest! Look at those big brown eyes!

Thank you.

How old is he?

He’s one.

And another one on the way?

"Yup. Baby number two, three months away … Well, it was nice meeting you both. I gotta go, sis. You know Giorgio—dinner has to be on the table."

Go ahead, Frannie, we’re good now. Thanks so much for coming over.

Francesca touched Diana on the sleeve. You good, sorellina?

I’m good.

After Francesca left, Fred asked, If you don’t mind me asking—why does your sister call you sorellina?

It’s our little thing. You’ll hear us speaking Italian from time to time. It means ‘little sister.’ Here, let me show you to your room.

Susan looked around with bright eyes. Wow, look at this staircase! It’s beautiful! This whole place—I love it!

It’s unbelievable, Fred said. An absolute masterpiece! Victorian, right?

Yes, it is. Nonna’s family built it in 1886. That magazine guy—he called it ‘the crown jewel on Cherry Blossom Lane.’

Oh, Fred, we definitely have to come back here.

Well, here’s your room … desserts are available day and night—

Those must’ve been the enticing aromas we smelled downstairs, huh?

Susan looked at him with her head tilted. Gee, Fred, you think?

Diana tried not to laugh. Anyway, breakfast is from eight to eleven. Call down, if you’d like to sleep late. Saturday evenings, we cook up an Italian feast that’ll knock your socks off! Homemade meatballs, sausages, the whole bit! Nonna does most of the cooking. We even grow our own vegetables, year ‘round. In fact, Nonna’s in the garden right now. She’s probably singing in Italian. Wait till you meet her. Her name’s Rosalia. She’s a real firecracker!

How old’s your grandmom? Susan wondered.

Sixty nine. A little wear and tear, but still a lot of gas in the tank. Anyway, in the meantime, there’s two really good restaurants in town: The Riviera and The Captain’s Table. There’s a hairdresser. And Fred, if you’d like a nice haircut and close shave, stop by my father’s place—Frank’s Barber Shop … Okay. Well, is there anything else I can do for you?

Nope. I think we’re set, Fred said.

Susan smiled. Thank you, Diana.

You’re welcome. Have a great night, and a great stay.

As she went downstairs, Diana realized that for a brief moment, she had completely forgotten the storm of the day before. She’d done a good job of keeping it quiet. She also realized it still hung just below the blue horizon, waiting for her to be alone.

* * *

When the morning work concluded each day, Diana sat in a white rocking chair on the magnificent wrap-around porch out front, in anticipation of the big moment….

He was never awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for doing his job. Baton twirlers and marching bands never heralded his humble arrival. Most of the people in town never even noticed what time he came. Nevertheless, Diana was always eager to greet the man in the gray uniform with the big bag on his shoulder, and the big smile on his jolly face! His bag never contained baskets of cherry-red jelly beans and chocolate eggs, but every once in a while he brought something sweet.

Blue skies or gray, Bob Clark kept a schedule you could set your watch to. In turn, Diana waited between one and two, like an anxious child expecting Christmas dreams beneath evergreen trees. Even so, each hour seems like an eternity when you’re listening to the ticking of a clock, and each day feels like forever while you wait for a lover’s words from a world away.

Finally, like a chubby elf in a flying sleigh, the friendly-neighborhood mailman arrived—hopefully, bringing messages from the other side!

Hello, Mr. Clark. Anything good today?

No, sweetheart, not yet. But any day now, I’m sure.

Okay. Thanks, Mr. Clark. Have a nice day.

You, too, Diana.

For the first week, Diana painted that peppermint smile onto the face of the sad clown—until finally, her patience paid off!

Hi, Mr. Clark. Anything good today?

Actually, I do have something addressed to a—Diana D’Angelo? In jest, he withheld the precious piece of mail. That’s you, right?

Diana smiled at the man who always helped the saddest of souls find a little humor in a dark hour. He could even coerce a crying clown into smiling again!

With his silly grin camouflaged by a serious face, he stared at the mystery envelope. A puzzled look danced delightfully in his twinkling eyes. Oh, this can’t be right. This is from a—Michael Armstrong? Huh, never heard of him. He looked at Diana. Friend of yours?

Oh, Mr. Clark, you’re a funny man, you know that?

I know. Just kidding. Here you go, sweetie.

As though he had suddenly become the hero of the hour, the kitten who’d just been rescued from the tree gave Mr. Clark a big hug! Oh thank you, Mr. Clark. Thank you so much!

You’re welcome, Diana.

As Diana rushed off to Wonderland, Mr. Clark stopped her in her tracks. Oh, Diana….

With a comical smile, he waved the rest of their mail. Forgetting something?

As her face flushed, Diana put her hand over her heart. Oh my goodness… Thanks, Mr. Clark. Have a nice day.

You, too, Diana. Bye-bye.

Diana ran inside like a little girl who’d just gotten her first Westie puppy. Mamma, it’s here! Mamma, it’s here!

Madalena looked up from the sofa. A letter from Michael?

It’s here, Mamma, it’s here!

Okay … Well, go ahead. Open it.

Diana handed the rest of the mail to her mother. Here, I have to read this at my desk.

Oh, okay dear.

As Diana ran off, she yelled, I’ll let you know what it says.

Sorry, Mom, Diana thought. This is private—for now, at least.

The big moment had arrived, at last! With eyes focused on an endless sky full of endless dreams, Diana flew up the two flights of steps to her private place, like a beautiful blue butterfly who had just found her speckled wings again! She shut the door and closed the curtains, to keep this new-found joy inside her and Michael’s own little world. For this one shining moment, no one else was invited to sit beside her at the antique desk where fantasies came to life!

With quickened breath and hands shaking wildly, she gingerly opened the precious envelope, careful not to allow a single tear. In her eyes, lived a four-year-old child on a snow-white Christmas morning! Beneath the brightly-lit lamp lay the greatest gift imaginable, and she held it in her hands the way a young mother holds a newborn baby in her arms.

She breathed deep and removed the priceless pieces of precious paper. She read words written thousands of miles from home. The voice of her beloved Michael—her saint amongst men—called out to her, like sonnets from Shakespeare! As her eyes floated across the page, her spirit and her soul were touched by a saving grace. Here, surrounded by the softness of her room, like a cup of salvation from Heaven, Michael’s words from a world away endowed her with the power to hold on, and embodied her lasting hope, her brightest light in a dark place….

My dearest Diana,

Sorry it’s taken so long to reach out to you. It probably feels like an eternity for you. I know it does for me. Anyway, I’m not at that miserable war, just yet. Thank God! I’m taking the long way there. So far, I’ve been on a train, a bus, a plane, and a yellow taxi just to get to the base, here in California. I think a ship is next. That’s okay—I’m in no hurry to get there. None of us are. I know we all pretend to be brave, but I’m scared to death! Everyone is!

Oh my Diana, I still can’t believe any of this! Weren’t we just at the Senior Prom a year ago? This is like a bad dream—one I can’t wake up from. My mind’s eyes can’t stop seeing the pain roll down your soft cheeks as that blasted train pulled out of that rain-soaked station. I can still see you disappear from me, as I held onto that handrail as long as I could. And though you’re not here in front of me, I can’t stop feeling you with me—a part of me—and this heart of mine is broken into a million pieces!

When I went and sat down on that terrible train that took me away, I stared out the window covered with the teardrops of a thousand goodbyes. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I watched Holly Hills and everything I had