Dream Within a Dream Read online

  Boots doesn’t say anything.

  Jake doesn’t say anything. But he takes Boots’s hand and pulls her into the middle of the kitchen. They dance, the sheep watching them as they move, closer together. The sheep eyes follow them as they turn around and around.

  “See?” says George.

  George takes my hand and puts his arm around me, and we dance, turning around, his face close to mine.

  “We’ll have eggs later,” George whispers in my ear, making me smile.

  He pulls his face away from mine so I can see him smile too.

  We don’t know how long we dance, Jake and Boots, George and I. It could be minutes or longer. An hour maybe. George puts his hand on my cheek. I suddenly remember the day he first put his hand against my hair and how that changed me.

  I move closer to him, our faces almost together. I think about kissing him.

  Then he stops dancing.

  “What?” I whisper.

  He begins to dance again.

  “Silence,” he whispers.

  And suddenly I know that George doesn’t mean no music.

  The storm is over. Only rain. No whining wind. No hail against the windows. Silence.

  I kiss him.

  Too fast for Boots and Jake to see.

  17

  The “Something”

  We eat George’s eggs for dinner, the four of us, Boots and Jake giving me smiles. I know they saw me kiss George as we danced. Theo falls asleep in his bedroom and sleeps all night. When I go upstairs I find a paper next to him on the bed.

  It is about Jake.

  JAKE

  Our caretaker

  The something I need

  Who sees all

  Without eyes

  I stare at it. And I know what Theo is trying to do. He is writing down the “something” that will help him keep us on the island instead of going home.

  I leave quietly.

  The morning is clear and quiet. It seems odd, all the silence.

  George and Jake go outside to check on damage and downed trees.

  Boots is feeding the girls in the kitchen.

  “We’ll lead them back out to their field when George and Jake check the fences.”

  I nod, still thinking about Theo’s words.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Boots.

  The phone rings.

  Boots answers it.

  “Hello?” I know.

  “Hi, Millie. Yes, we had quite a storm. No electricity or phone for a few days.”

  There is a pause.

  “Today? Is the ferry running?” Another pause.

  “Hi, Jack. You should know it is a mess here, trees down. We have the sheep in the kitchen. Okay, then. Here and gone again? See you.”

  Boots puts down the phone.

  Theo comes down the stairs. “They’re coming today?” he asks.

  “Just for a while,” says Boots.

  A car drives up outside, and Micha knocks at the door.

  “Come in, Micha,” calls Boots.

  “Sheep in the kitchen during the storm? What fun!”

  Bitty bleats at Micha.

  She bends down and pets them all.

  “I came to get the writing to go with Theo’s wonderful painting,” she said. “We’re going to put it up today.”

  Theo walks down the stairs and hands his paper to her.

  “But you’re the writer, Louisa,” he says to me.

  “Your ‘something’ speaks for me,” I say. “Use Theo’s words.”

  “Lovely,” says Micha. “May I take this?”

  We both nod.

  “We’ll put up Boots’s painting next week. Who is writing about her?”

  I look at Boots. “I wanted to write about Boots, but Jake might want to.”

  Boots shakes her head. “I know what Jake will say. He’ll say, ‘My painting is my thoughts of Boots.’ ”

  Micha laughs.

  “Well, you’ve got time, Louisa,” says Micha.

  Jake and George come in the house.

  “Jake, can Louisa write the words that go with your painting?” asks Boots.

  “Or do you want to do it?” I ask.

  “No,” says Jake. “My painting shows how I feel about Boots. You write what you know of her, Louisa.”

  Micha smiles at Boots. She goes out the door and gets into her car, still smiling at us through the car window.

  Theo and I look at each other.

  Our parents are coming.

  Jake and George are out mending the sheep fence when my parents arrive in the late afternoon.

  My mother comes in the door, looking very tan with her brown hair swinging around her.

  I hug her, not sure of how happy I am to see her. Theo gives her a kiss. My father comes in, sees the sheep in their kitchen pen, and laughs.

  “Island life!” he says.

  He hugs Boots, then Theo, then me.

  He is wearing worn brown boots.

  “You’ve grown up this summer,” he says to me.

  “I have.”

  “Where’s Jake?”

  “Mending the sheep fences,” says Boots.

  I look outside and see a car with a driver waiting.

  “I’ll go get him. I want to share our news with him. We can’t stay long this time.”

  My father goes out the door and down to the sheep fence. I can see him and Jake hugging. I see him shake hands with George. I feel like I am watching a performance onstage.

  They walk back to the house and inside.

  “This is George, my friend. My mother.”

  “Hello, George,” says my mother with a smile.

  “I’m glad to meet you,” he says.

  “Why is the town driver here?” asks Jake.

  “We’re going back as soon as the ferry leaves again,” says my father. “I’m sorry for a quick trip this time.”

  “We have great news for all of us,” says my mother happily. “Jack has a grant for at least two years to travel and study in many exciting places. We’ll take you with us, and you can go to school wherever we stop! Isn’t that wonderful? I’ve already spoken to your school.”

  There is a silence.

  Theo has a look of great relief on his face, as if a path has opened in front of him. I know he has something to say, but I can’t figure out what.

  “That is wonderful for you,” Theo says. “And I’m glad you spoke to our school. Louisa and I have been very involved with projects on the island, and they will take at least one year, maybe two.”

  I see George smile at the word “two,” given to Theo by my mother.

  “I . . .” Theo looks at me. “Louisa and I want to stay here and go to school and continue our island project.”

  There is a greater silence now. My mother doesn’t speak. My father is silent, staring at Theo.

  “I can travel back and forth to my music lessons, so that won’t change. I’ll go back and forth on the ferry with Rafiki,” Theo says.

  He smiles at George.

  “Who’s Rafiki?” asks my mother, looking stricken.

  “My dog,” says George kindly.

  And my mother begins to cry.

  “Would anyone like a cup of tea?” asks Boots.

  This makes George smile again.

  “I love it here,” says Theo simply. “It is my home away from home. And,” he adds softly, “I have a library here. A library!” he repeats.

  “But we love you!” my mother cries out.

  “And we love you. But I love Boots and Jake, too. And they love us. And I have good friends here.”

  “But you’ll be a wanderer, back and forth on the ferry,” says my mother, tears still on her face.

  “No,” I say suddenly. “You and Dad are the wanderers. We want to stay in the place we love with the family we love. With friends and teachers who care about us. And with projects that are important to us. Like yours are to you.”

  My words startle me.

  Jake clears his throa
t and looks at Millie and Jack. “You two have lived very independent and creative lives. Your children have learned very well from you.”

  “You can be proud of them,” says Boots.

  It is quiet.

  Then our father surprises us.

  “You’re right!” he says. “I am proud of them! And we can’t take them away from their work here.”

  He looks both happy and sad at the same time.

  I go to my mother and hug her.

  “This is right for us, do you see?” I say.

  She smiles at me. She is quiet for a moment. “I do see,” she says. “I do.”

  “I’m so glad you understand,” I say to my father.

  “It was what you said about us being the wanderers,” he says softly. “And Theo, as young as he is, being so compelling. Your mother,” he adds, “will understand as soon as she realizes that you have her strong opinions.”

  “I love you,” I say.

  “Me too.”

  “Would you and Mother like to see my library?” ask Theo in a poignant voice. “George made it for me.”

  Surprisingly, my mother goes over to George and hugs him. “That was a great thing to do for Theo. He’s a great reader,” she says.

  “I was glad to do it,” says George. “I love Theo. And I love Louisa,” he adds.

  My mother nods. “Love is good,” she says, startling me.

  She and George look at each other as if they shared something unspoken.

  “Of course we want to see your library,” says my father. He takes a breath. “But first I have something to do.”

  He goes outside. My mother comes over and stands next to me. We can see my father talking to the town driver, who is waiting there. After a moment the driver drives off.

  “I think we’re staying a night or two,” she says softly, putting her arm around me. “Okay, Boots?”

  “Very okay,” says Boots.

  When I turn to look at my mother, it is a bit like looking at myself—a version of me. Or I am a version of her.

  My father comes back inside. “Now for the library,” he says to Theo.

  Theo leads the way as my father and my mother go upstairs, and it is quiet in the kitchen.

  “Well, what about that?” says Jake.

  “ ‘Something’ always happens,” says Boots with a lilt in her voice, looking satisfied with herself.

  The next day my father helps George, Theo, and Jake fix the barn roof and cut up fallen trees. My mother and Boots put out the pots of flowers and cook two or three days of food. My mother weeds the garden with great energy. And we take two long walks through the sheep field and down by the sea, Tess running ahead.

  George comes for dinner the night before they leave.

  “What birds do you remember from Tanzania?” asks my father.

  George puts down his fork.

  “A few. The malachite kingfishers are colorful with bright orange bills. My father says this bird is more beautiful than any jewel. And then . . .” George stops to think. My parents have already put down their forks, captivated by George.

  Theo and I smile at each other.

  “And then there is the lilac-breasted roller, who flies in a rolling fashion, not in a straight line. And”—George gathers steam—“there is the very large shoebill stork, a three-foot-tall bird that has binocular vision.”

  He looks at my father.

  “You know that is rare in birds,” my father says.

  All of the rest of us are staring at George.

  “The Ross’s turaco with scarlet wings. And some of the yellow weaver birds, which make interesting woven nests with entry tubes that hang down. And my mother’s favorite birds, the little fire finches. That’s about all I remember.”

  George stops talking then. He looks around the table.

  “Nobody’s eating,” he says.

  “We were busy listening,” says my mother with a great smile.

  “I’ll say,” says my father with admiration.

  We all pick up our forks and eat again.

  My mother and father steal admiring looks at George.

  When it is dark, George and I go outside. I hold up my hand next to George’s.

  “Rafiki,” says George.

  “Rafiki,” I say.

  “I just remembered another bird,” he says.

  I grin.

  “Save it for next time.”

  He reaches over and puts two fingers on my lips.

  And I watch him walk home under the moon.

  My mother and father go to bed early since they have to catch the first ferry to the mainland.

  At the top of the stairs I put my arms around Theo.

  “You were the ‘something,’ ” I tell him.

  “Actually, Mother and Father were the ‘something’—planning to travel, talking to our school.”

  Jake and Boots come upstairs then.

  I turn to them suddenly. “Did we ever ask if we could stay?”

  “In many ways,” says Jake.

  “In all possible ways,” says Boots simply.

  18

  A Dream Within a Dream

  In the morning Theo and I kiss our mother and father good-bye for now. We watch them drive away to the ferry.

  So, this is close to the end of my life story so far that began with anguish—when I hated change.

  I’ve been given courage by an eight-year-old brother who is brave.

  And Jake and Boots, who are thoughtful caretakers.

  And parents who may be “dense,” as Boots once put it, but who know us better than we thought. They are brave.

  And my friend George, who when we first met held up his hand and said, “Even steven.”

  Boots tells me I could like George and love George at the same time. So I will like him and kiss him every so often.

  I can be brave too.

  Today, sadly, the sheep have gone back to their green field. Tess has gone out too, so she can tell them where to go and where not to go. They will, of course, ignore her.

  Boots has gone off on some kind of secret venture.

  Theo went back to sleep.

  I sweep up the last bits of hay on the kitchen floor.

  I wipe the table of breakfast crumbs.

  I wash the poached egg pan and smile that George made poached eggs for us all.

  He was inventive.

  “This is good. What’s this?” asked Jake, happily poking at something with his fork.

  George shrugged. “I found it in the refrigerator.”

  “Buttered asparagus with a touch of lemon,” said Boots with a smile.

  “But I hate asparagus!” said Jake with a shocked look. “It’s good I’m half blind. At least I can’t see it.”

  And he went on eating.

  So I wait.

  George and Jake have gone off to admire the 1938 midnight-black Cord car.

  The barn roof is finished.

  There are no more tree limbs on the ground.

  Theo runs down the stairs. “Louisa! Look outside!”

  I hear shouts coming from outside. Jake and George.

  Theo and I go out where Boots has come home.

  She gets out of a green truck and pats it.

  Boots driving a truck?

  George is grinning, walking around the truck and looking it over.

  Jake has no words.

  Boots hugs him. “I learned to drive. I got my license!”

  “Look!” she tells Jake, pointing at her boots. “My truck is the color of my wellies!”

  BOOTS

  Truth teller

  her arms around me

  making the truth safe to know—

  calm comfort—

  And a wellie-green truck

  all her own.

  My life is a dream within a dream.

  About the Author

  Patricia MacLachlan is the author of many well-loved novels and picture books, including Sarah, Plain and Tall, winner of the Newbery Medal
; its sequels, Skylark and Caleb’s Story; Edward’s Eyes; The True Gift; Waiting for the Magic; White Fur Flying; Fly Away; and Just Dance. She lives in western Massachusetts.

  Visit us at simonandschuster.com/kids

  Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Patricia-MacLachlan

  Margaret K. McElderry Books

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  Also by Patricia MacLachlan

  Edward’s Eyes

  Fly Away

  Just Dance

  Waiting for the Magic

  White Fur Flying

  MARGARET K. McELDERRY BOOKS

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2019 by Patricia MacLachlan

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2019 by Amy June Bates

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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  Book design by Debra Sfetsios-Conover

  Jacket design by Debra Sfetsios-Conover

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: MacLachlan, Patricia.

  Title: Dream within a dream / Patricia MacLachlan.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Margaret K. McElderry Books, [2019] | Summary: Eleven-year-old aspiring writer Louisa considers traveling the world with her globetrotting parents, but friendship with George helps her to see her grandparents’ farm on Deer Island in a new light.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018042908 (print) | ISBN 9781534429598 (hardback) | ISBN 9781534429611 (eBook)