The Poet's Dog (4 page)

E
llie made her way home again after lunch, carrying the telephone number of Nickel and Flora's parents.

“Their names are Ruby and Jake,” said Nickel. “It's probably best to tell them you were here when Teddy found us. They might not understand us being saved by an
Irish wolfhound.”

“I'll tell them you're fine and give them directions to this house,” said Ellie. “And I
am
here. They could surprise you, of course. They might be so happy to see you both that they won't care who found you.”

“I don't remember them ever surprising me,” said Flora.

“Except when they try to dance, don't forget,” said Nickel.

Flora nodded.

“They are not very good at dancing,” she said thoughtfully.

Outside, Ellie put on her skis again.

She kissed us all and went off, a red spot against the white.

“I'll take you all for a ride in my little red car!” she called back to us, waving.

“Thank you!” called Flora.

We watched her ski off, slowly disappearing into the woods and out of sight.

“She'll be back,” said Nickel, watching me.

“She will,” I said. “She's Ellie.”

Nickel rolled a snowball in his hands and tossed it in the air.

I leaped up and caught it in my mouth.

It had no taste.

That night we ate a very good stew warmed on the grate of the fireplace.

“What's in this?” I asked.

“Never mind,” said Flora.

“That means you don't want to know,” Nickel said.

I nodded and kept eating.

“I wasn't sure Ellie was real,” said Nickel as he ate.

“I knew that,” I said.

“I don't mind going home so much now that I've met Ellie,” said Flora. “But I'll miss you, Teddy,” she added.

My throat felt tight.

“Just remember the red car,” I said finally.

“You promise a visit?” she said.

“I promise, I promise, promise, promise, promise . . . ,” I said.

Flora and Nickel laughed.

I knew they would. I knew they believed me.

And we slept for the last time together—

In a heap—

In front of the fireplace—

In the quiet cabin.

I
t happened before we thought it would.

The knock at the door—

Nickel opening the door—

A man I knew must be his father sweeping Nickel up in his arms—

Nickel crying.

I'd never seen Nickel cry until now,
only the tear streaks on his face the day I found him in the storm.

Flora stood by the fireplace, watching. I went to stand next to her, and she put her hand on my neck the way I love.

Nickel's father looked over at Flora then. He came into the house, closing the door behind him.

“Thank you for your note, Flora,” he said, coming over to take her hand. I don't think he even noticed me beside her. He picked her up and hugged her. She put her arms around his neck.

I liked the smell of him.

“Ellie told me that she had been here with you,” her father said.

Flora leaned back, and her father put her down.

“This is Teddy,” she said. “
He
found us.
He
saved us and brought us here, not the family with six children. I made them up so you wouldn't worry.”

Her father stared at me for a moment.

“Hello, Teddy, I'm Jake,” he said.

“Hello, Jake,” I said.

Jake shook his head a bit, looking confused.

“He doesn't hear your words,” whispered Flora very softly.

“I know. I am used to answering questions whether people hear me or not. But he hears
something
.”

Jake looked over my head at the bookshelf.

“Wait,” he said. “Who lives here? Was this Sylvan's house? I see his pictures on the wall. I see his books on the shelf.”

We were surprised.

“Yes,” said Nickel. “Sylvan lived here with Teddy. He rescued Teddy the way Teddy rescued us.”

Jake sat down.

“You're the Teddy of his poem ‘HE the Poet's Dog,'” he said softly.

“Yes,” I said.

Jake bent his head as if listening to something far away.

Flora smiled a little.

“He was my teacher,” said Jake. “And he sent me the poem.”

Jake grinned.

“Sylvan told me once that I could be a poet if I wasn't so lazy.”

Nickel laughed.

Flora went over to her father.

“I'm not going home without Teddy,” she said.

There was a big silence in the cabin.

I felt the hair on my neck stand up a bit.

Finally Jake shrugged his shoulders.

“You're right, Flora Jewel. If Teddy saved you, he should come home with us. He doesn't have Sylvan now,” he added.

Jewel?

Flora noticed my startled look.

“It's my middle name,” she whispered. “Silly. My mother is Ruby.”

Not silly. Not silly at all.

“Will you come home with us, Teddy?” asked Flora.

I thought of leaving my cabin. How could I do that?

Flora saw my face.

Flora always seemed to know what I was thinking.

“Ellie can bring you back here for visits. Whenever you want.”

“Yes, he will come home,” Nickel said.

Jake stroked my head.

“Yes, he will come home with us,” he said.

Flora Jewel?

We put out the fire and closed the cabin door. We walked up the hill where Jake's big car was parked.

I don't remember ever being in a car before. Surely Sylvan brought me home from the shelter in someone's car.

But that was when I didn't have words.

Nickel leaned over close to me in the backseat.

“I think he almost hears you speak,” he whispered. “He isn't a poet, but he wouldn't mind being one. He teaches literature.”

“
You
can hear me. That's what really matters,” I said. “And you never told me he teaches literature.”

“You didn't ask me,” Nickel said.

Jake called Ruby on his cell phone on our ride home.

“Ruby? I have Flora and Nickel. We're on our way home. They were rescued by a wonderful dog. Teddy took them to his home and cared for them. Ruby? Teddy is coming home with us, too.”

There was silence as Jake listened. He looked at us in the rearview mirror and smiled.

“Ruby says great!”

And we rode home on snowy roads, past
snow-covered meadows and ponds and trees.

The whole way there we were the only car.

The only car in the whole world.

When we got to the big white house on the hill and got out of the car, the front door opened, and Ruby ran into the cold without her coat.

Flora and Nickel ran up the hill to hug her.

And then she saw me. She burst into tears, reminding me of Flora.

“An Irish wolfhound! You didn't tell me he was an Irish wolfhound! I grew up
with one all of my childhood.”

She put her hand on my neck and knelt down with her face next to mine like Flora did when I first took her to the cabin in the snowstorm.

“Jewel was the best dog in the world, and you look just like her!”

Jewel.

Ruby put her hand on my neck.

“Welcome home, Teddy,” she said.

“Find a jewel or two,” Sylvan had said. “Trust me.”

And as we walked up the hill, I felt Sylvan was walking alongside me.

Flora was right.

Sylvan had never left at all.

Photo by John MacLachlan

PATRICIA M
AC
LACHLAN
is the celebrated author of many timeless books for young readers, including
Sarah, Plain and Tall,
winner of the Newbery Medal. Her novels for young readers include
Arthur, For the Very First Time; The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt; Skylark; Caleb's Story; More Perfect than the Moon; Grandfather's Dance; Word After Word After Word; Kindred Souls;
and
The Truth of Me
; she is also the author of countless beloved picture books, a number of which she cowrote with her daughter, Emily. She lives in Williamsburg, Massachusetts.

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Cover art © 2016 by Kenard Pak

Cover design & lettering by Aurora Parlagreco

Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

THE POET'S DOG
. Text copyright © 2016 by Patricia MacLachlan. Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Kenard Pak. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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ISBN 978-0-06-229262-9 (trade bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-06-229263-6 (lib. bdg.)

EPub Edition © August 2016 ISBN 9780062292650

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