Philippa Fisher and the Dream-Maker's Daughter (21 page)

“The oak tree,” Annie repeated. “Noon. Don’t be late,” she added. “There’s one last thing we have to do before this assignment is over.”

Robyn pulled her coat closer around her as she kicked through the leaves. “I dreamt about my mom last night,” she said as we walked.

“Really? A bad dream or a good one?”

Robyn stopped walking. “It was horrible. All I wanted was to reach her. I could see her, but she was on the other side of a wall. It was so high, and I couldn’t get over it. She kept telling me not to try, that I should stay where I was, but I wanted to get to her. I was desperate.”

As she spoke, a tear slipped out of her eye. “Philippa, it was awful,” she said, wiping the tear from her cheek.

We walked on. As we walked, an occasional plop of rain began to drop around us.

“When I woke up, I thought I would break,” Robyn went on. “Physically, actually, break,” she said. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

By now, tears were falling freely down her face. She ignored them and kept on walking. The rain was falling harder, too. I wrapped my coat more tightly around me, wishing I’d thought to bring an umbrella or a hat. It had been sunny when we got up this morning.

We turned onto a new path — and there it was, ahead of us: the oak tree. Its branches dead and spindly, empty of leaves, it still stood proud and defiant, taking its place in the forest like all the other trees.

“Philippa, I don’t know if I can do it,” Robyn said. She held on to my arm.

“Come on, I’ll be with you, and Annie,” I said.
And Daisy,
I added to myself. I still wasn’t sure about Robyn and Daisy. They’d gotten along OK yesterday, but I knew there was still some suspicion and jealousy between them.

We walked slowly toward the tree. They weren’t there yet. Robyn slumped onto the ground beside the tree, on wet twigs and muddy leaves. I sat down and joined her.

She pulled up her knees and hugged them. “I just miss her so much!” she said. “I can’t —” The rest of her sentence caught and broke as she dropped her head onto her arms and wept openly. “I can’t bear it!” she cried. “I can’t bear it!”

I put an arm around her and held her as tightly as I could. We sat there in silence, while Robyn sobbed and sobbed and I held her, wishing there was something I could do to stop her from being sad, but remembering the story about the butterfly getting out of its chrysalis.
The struggle will make her strong,
I reminded myself. I couldn’t try to take it away from her.

The rain was pouring down on us now, lashing against our faces, howling around us. The wind lifted leaves into cyclones, spun them around, hurling them in between the trees. Where had this come from?

I wiped my face, which was wet and cold from the bitter wind — and then I saw them. Two figures coming toward us. The taller one holding the other one’s hand. The smaller of the two was limping a little, walking slowly, her bright blond hair whipping around her head as she walked.

“Daisy!” I yelled. Jumping up, I pulled Robyn with me. “Robyn, they’re here! Look — Daisy’s out of bed. She’s here!”

Robyn looked up. Wiping her face, she stood up. She grabbed my hand. “I’m so glad, Philippa,” she said with a weak smile. I knew it was all she could manage right now, and it meant a lot.

A moment later, Daisy and I had fallen into a huge hug. “Are you OK now?” I asked her as Annie went over and wrapped Robyn into her arms. “Are you better?”

“She’s not a hundred percent yet, are you?” Annie said, looking over Robyn’s head at Daisy. “Another day or two to recover, and then it’s back to work!”

“Slave driver!” Daisy said with a smile.

“Back to Triple D?” I asked.

Annie shook her head. “Daisy’s wing was slightly damaged in the tussle with Martin. It’ll be absolutely fine in time, but we decided it was best to transfer her to a different department. ATC is coming today to discuss it further. She’ll get the highest possible recommendation from me, though.”

I smiled at Daisy. She grinned back. “Annie’ll make sure I get something good,” she said.

“So, what are we doing here?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” Annie replied. She reached down to wipe the tears from Robyn’s cheeks, then pulled her close again as Robyn continued to sob. The four of us stood close together below the branches of the dead oak tree, huddled against the rain.

“It’s going to get worse,” Annie said after a while. She had to raise her voice so we could hear her over the rain. I didn’t know if she meant the weather or Robyn’s grief, but as if to highlight her words, the wind whipped up even more fiercely and thunder grumbled in the distance.

Annie sheltered Robyn in the crook of her arm as Robyn cried and cried.

The storm was coming closer and closer. “Will we be all right?” I asked as a flash of lightning tore across the sky. “Is it safe to be out here in this?” I still didn’t understand why we were here at all.

Annie looked up at the sky. “Any minute now,” she said mysteriously. “Just wait a few —”

A growl of thunder broke into the rest of her sentence. Instantly, behind it, a streak of lightning split the sky. And then another, and another. And then —

Just like a giant spear hurtling toward us from the sky, the lightning struck the tree. Right in its center.

“Look out!” Annie called. She pulled Robyn away from the tree. Daisy and I were right behind them. We ran together toward a nearby tree. Its semi-bare branches weren’t much shelter, but it was better than nothing.

From a few yards away, we watched in total silence as the oak tree creaked and cracked and moaned. Then it fell, and split in two.

Branches that had been reaching up into the sky only moments earlier bent and fell backward, stretching outward and falling to the ground. It was as though the tree were opening up its hands, opening up its whole self.

And then the strangest thing happened. From inside the tree, colors and lights burst out. They spun and unfurled from the very being of the tree, whirling around like smoke rising from a fire. More and more — blue, pink, gold, orange, green, jade, and silver — every color you could think of, flowing out, flowing and pouring out of the tree like lava running free and wild.

“What’s happening?” Robyn asked. Her voice shook — but not with fear or with sadness. With something else. It was laughter. She was laughing. Soon I realized I was, too. We fell together into the colors, lapping them up like they were a million dollar bills fluttering around us. We danced and reached out for the colors, trying to catch them, to touch them. “What is it? What’s happening?” Robyn asked again.

Annie went over to the tree. Walking right into the center of the dancing lights and waving the colors out of the way, she reached into the tree and pulled something out. A tiny parcel.

“This is for you,” she said to Robyn.

“What is it?” Robyn’s eyes were wide and shining.

“It’s full of dreams. The happiest dreams you could imagine. All of your life, your mother saved them.”

“For me?” Robyn asked.

“Every last one. Your mother wanted you to have them so much.”

“Why now?” I asked.

Annie turned to me. “Any dreams a Dream Maker creates can only exist undelivered for a year after her death. After today, it would be impossible for you to have them.”

“Why did you wait, then?” Robyn asked.

Annie took one of Robyn’s hands. “Gifts like this from the fairy-godmother world have laws attached to them. You can only receive such dreams of happiness if you have first opened your heart to the sorrow inside it. The sadness opens a space inside you — and the dreams can only enter if that space is open, if your heart is ready to receive them.”

Robyn swallowed hard.

“That was why I sent you those dreams,” Annie went on. “So you would be ready to receive this gift.”

“What would have happened to them if she hadn’t been ready in time?” I asked.

“They would never have been delivered,” Annie replied. “Instead, they would have been released as pure energy with nowhere to go. And that would have been extremely dangerous.”

“Why?” Robyn and I asked in unison.

“Such energy cannot exist in the human world. Without an open heart to enter, dreams like these turn to fire. Released here and now, they would have torn through the forest. The destruction they could have caused is unthinkable.”

I shuddered.

“But you don’t need to worry about that now. The process has begun. You have opened your heart.” Annie held the parcel out to Robyn. “Take them,” she said. “They’re yours.”

Robyn took the parcel and held it in her hands as delicately as if it were an injured bird.

“Inside this parcel is the most powerful dream dust you will ever find,” Annie said. “Each single speck of dust holds a dream created especially for you, to use whenever you need it. Every one chosen with care, and with love. Think of it as a savings account that your mother created for you — fairy style!”

The parcel was wrapped in the most delicate silk wrapper. A butterfly’s wing!

“But how . . . ?” Robyn’s voice trailed away as Annie turned around.

“Thanks to my accident, we discovered the power of a butterfly’s wing,” she said. “We found a way to keep them safe.” Opening up her coat, she revealed her shoulder blade — not the one she’d shown us yesterday, the other one. She had a matching scar running all the way down it — where her wing should have been.

There’s more than one way to show gratitude,
Annie had said. Now I understood what she’d meant. She’d cut off her one remaining wing so that Robyn’s mom could ensure Robyn would have this amazing gift!

“What use is a butterfly with one wing?” she said simply.

“I don’t know what to say,” Robyn gulped. The tears on her cheek were drying now. The rain had slowed down, too.

“Just keep the parcel somewhere safe,” Annie said.

“I’m going to make a necklace out of it,” Robyn said. “Then I can have my mom close to me all the time. It will always remind me of her, and of you and the sacrifice you made for me.” She rushed into Annie’s arms, holding tightly on to her while Daisy and I stood and watched.

“Wait a minute.” Annie pulled away from Robyn. She was looking beyond her at something. We turned to see what she was looking at. There was someone in the distance coming toward us. Robyn’s dad! His face looked fierce as he strode toward us.

“Robyn!” he called. “Annie!”

No! After everything we’d been through — he couldn’t drag Robyn away again. Not now!

Mr. Fairweather caught up with us and stood in front of Annie. Now what? Would they have a full-scale argument out here in the woods? Would he drag Robyn off again and forbid her from ever seeing any of us?