Diamond Willow (10 page)

and I know that Prince and Lucky are
smart
enough

to follow my commands, no matter who is leading.

I give all the dogs a pep talk:
You know the trails.

We'll take it slow this first time, see how it goes.

I haven't told anyone I think Roxy can see

a little bit. I'm not sure why. I just

have a feeling it's something

she wants to keep

secret.

 

I

can

think better

out here with my dogs,

the sound of the sled runners,

quiet as my thoughts, inside me

and around me, all at the same time.

It's so amazing that
Roxy is
keeping up

with Cora! Is she
telling me
that she can

see? Or is she saying
something
else, like:

Seeing isn't as
important
as you think.

Roxy is such a pretty dog, so smart.

Everyone always loves her,

but none of us knew

how tough she

could

be.

 

It's

hard to say

who's leading.

Roxy and Cora and I

all seem to have the same idea

of where we're going. The dogs turn

off onto the old trail before I tell them to.

When we arrive at the diamond willow grove,

they both come to a stop before
I can
even say
Whoa
.

I want to know if Roxy is going to
keep
her eyes closed here.

When I look, they are wide open, like
a secret
passageway between

her thoughts and my own.
Roxy,
I am thinking to her,
did you know

I had a sister? Her name was Diamond and she died, just four days

after she was born. They brought her ashes here because of these

diamond willow trees. This is where they got our name.
Roxy

thinks back to me,
Oh yes, Willow. I know about Diamond.

I know her as well as I know you.
For some reason, I

am not surprised. Then Roxy thinks,
Willow,

don't tell anyone that I can see.

I understand that, too. Now

we're both thinking

together,
This

will be our

secret.

Yes.

 

 

 

Cora (Willow's great-grandfather's sister)

When Willow looks into Roxy's eyes, I can hear them thinking to each other. The other dogs don't listen, so I'm the only witness. I don't think they know that I can hear.

I figured out who Roxy must have been when she was human. She was the baby they called Diamond.

I remember Diamond shining like a star in that brief time that she was here. Everyone kept saying she was perfect. Well, of course she was perfect: she didn't live long enough to do anything wrong.

No one would say the same for Roxy—when she was a puppy, she was always causing trouble. Once she chewed a hole in the screen door and tried to push herself through. She got her head stuck and pulled it back out; then she gave up and went to sleep under the aspen tree. When everyone came home, Roxy looked so innocent, they looked around to see who could have done it, and guess who took the blame? I got blamed for lots of things that Roxy did. It never bothered me too much. I liked Roxy just as much as they did.

Come to think of it, Roxy was always trying to get into the house. There was that time when she was a little bigger, and she started digging under the front door. When the hinges loosened and the door swung open, Roxy ran inside. I heard them say they found her hiding under some clothes in a corner of Willow's closet. They put her back out in the dog yard with the rest of us, and for days she drove us crazy with her howling. No one, including me, could figure out what was wrong.

Now I think I understand—if Roxy is Willow's twin, of course she wants to stay inside.

 

 

At

last,

Kaylie and I

have a chance to be

alone. Mom is taking Zanna

to the dentist, Dad is working late, and

Richard has basketball practice after school.

Kaylie meets me at my locker and we walk to my

house together. First she tells me every detail of every

conversation she and Richard have had in the past week.

Then finally she asks:
How are you, Willow? How is Roxy?

(It feels like all one question.) When
I tell
her what I found out

about having a twin sister (I love this about
Kaylie
), she stops

in her tracks to stare at me, like she
almost
doesn't believe me,

but she does. So I tell her
everything
I know about Diamond.

Remember where we found shelter the night of the blizzard?

She remembers.
Well,
I say,
It's almost like that's the place

where Diamond lives.
I tell her how Roxy and Cora took

the sled there, and she asks,
Are Roxy's eyes healed?

I think,
Yes!
But I'm careful. I say,
Maybe, almost.

Kaylie asks,
I mean, can Roxy see?
I hesitate.

I half answer,
How would I know that?

I hate to do that to my best friend,

but—I'm pretty sure of this—

I made a promise to my

other best friend,

Roxy.

 

Roxy

sleeps

curled up

on my bed, and

I dream of Diamond

here beside me.
We
are both

the age I am now. In the
dream
, we're

at school and we're sitting at
the same
table.

I'm thinking,
This must be a
dream
,
because all

the sparkly kids who always sit
together
are asking

if they can sit with us. They're all coming up to us and

saying
Diamond, Willow, can we sit here?
(Or are they

saying
Diamond Willow
?) I'm quiet, like I always am,

while Diamond is saying,
Sure, just save that place

for Kaylie,
and,
Good luck in the game tonight,

and,
Are you coming to our party tomorrow?

Our party? I forgot—tomorrow is my (our)

birthday. I've never had a party. (I'm not

sure I'd know how.) I wake up, but I

don't open my eyes because I know

Diamond will be gone when I do.

After a while, I open one eye—

and there's Roxy, sitting

right where I've been

looking, in the

dream, at

Diamond.

 

Dad

and Mom,

with Kaylie's help,

planned a surprise party—
For

you and Roxy,
Kaylie says,
because

Roxy's almost better, and you're thirteen.

Marty's home; Grandma and Grandpa came;

Zanna got to invite one of her friends, and Kaylie

invited four kids we know from school (Richard,

two quiet kids that Kaylie and I both like, and that

boy called Jon—he's been saying he wants to meet

Roxy). Usually I'd hate this kind of surprise. More

than seven people in a room, and
I'm
off hiding in a

closet somewhere. Thirteen, I'm
actually
sweating,

if not crying. But Roxy is
enjoying
all the attention

everyone is showering on her.
This
dog,
Richard

announces,
was nearly blinded, and could have

died when she was out all night in the worst

blizzard of the year—yet look at her now!

Let's have a toast to Roxy!
Okay, he's

been watching a little too much TV,

but we do look at Roxy: her eyes

are closed, and she's grinning

the way dogs do, that look

that says,
If only I could

talk, I'd have a few

things to tell

you.

 

I'm

not sure

how the kids

will react when

Grandma starts telling

riddles.
I see something,
she says.

Someone is untangling his dog lines.

Pretty soon those dogs will start howling.

I laugh, because I know
this is
Grandma's

way to have some gentle
fun
, teasing Dad.

Jon looks all around the room and guesses:

I think I might know the answer. Maybe

it's your father, changing the strings

on his guitar.
Pretty good, for his

first time meeting Grandma.

He glances over at me

like he's hoping

I'm impressed

and that I'll

smile, and

I am

and

do.

 

I'm

almost finished

sanding and polishing my

diamond willow stick. Dad sits down

with me and asks what I want to use it for.

He shows me a picture of a diamond willow lamp.

I love that idea! Dad helps me measure and plan it, and

then he starts talking about
Roxy
.
Do you think she's well

enough to go back outside? It
makes
sense to move her back

before she gets used to being indoors.
Me
? Dad is asking me

what I think about Roxy? No one is going to
laugh
at what I

have to say, or pretend to listen and then ignore me? I say,

Roxy should stay inside.
Dad doesn't argue, but he seems

a little doubtful. And then, as if someone planned this,

just at that moment, a mouse runs across the room.

Squeak, squeak!
it says, and Roxy goes,
Arf, Arf!

and the mouse runs back into its little hole,

and Dad says,
Come to think of it, that's

the first mouse I've seen in here since

Roxy's been inside.
So just like that

it's all settled: Roxy is our new

mouser. I go over to her and

stroke her ears, smiling.

No one else is looking,

so Roxy opens both

her eyes and

laughs.

 

A

perfect

trail, a perfect

day: new snow—quiet,

dry, and sparkling, the kind

that doesn't hurt the dogs' feet.

The days are getting longer, warmer,

twenty above zero instead of twenty below.

I'm running all six dogs, with Cora and Roxy

leading the team like two wings of a swan.

I feel like
I am
flying with them, like my

twin sister
Diamond
is alive inside me

saying,
Willow
, this is happiness.

Me, these dogs, this snow, the

spruce hen flying just

ahead of us:
This is

happiness.
I

see.

 

 

 

Jean, Willow's great-great-great grandmother (Spruce Hen)

Almost every day now, Willow is out here with her dogs. Up and down the old trails and the new ones. She knows her way around about as well as I do.