Mama smiled.
“Yes,” she said.
“Phyllis isn’t so scatty today,” I said. “She is sitting in our house with Alice and Callie. She’s probably crying.”
“Crying?” asked Phillip. “Why?”
“She thought it was her fault you were lost,” I said. “She had screamed at you. She wanted you to talk.”
“And now I do,” said Phillip.
No one said anything. We crossed meadows and fields. We crossed two dirt roads I didn’t remember crossing.
The cows looked like they’d had baths, all clean and shiny. The horses ran by the fences when we passed.
“Hello, horses,” said Phillip. “Hello, cows. Remember those horses, Jack? We were in the barn with them. We made a little nest in the hay.”
“I found that nest,” I said. “I found a bit of Jack’s hair.”
I put my hand in my pocket and gave the clump to Phillip.
“There it is,” I said.
Phillip smelled it.
“That’s Jack’s hair,” he said, and we laughed.
We walked by the barn at the end of our meadow. The cows looked up and went back to eating.
We walked up past the fence to our yard. Callie came running and leaping with excitement. Alice smiled at us and waved. Phyllis stood next to her. Daddy was on the porch standing next to a policeman. A police car stood at the curb, its whirling lights still on.
Mr. Croft’s black car drove into his driveway. He got out and walked down the yard.
He opened his mouth to speak. We had never heard him speak up to now, but Mama spoke before he could.
“Phyllis, thank you for being so patient. As it turned out, Zoe found Phillip and Jack, but I should tell you—”
Mr. Croft started to say something.
“Wait.”
It was Phillip interrupting both Mama and Mr. Croft this time.
“Let me tell it,” said Phillip.
Mr. Croft stopped trying to talk.
“Jack is this brave dog who saved me in the storm. He led me into one barn, then into another safe place when it started to hail and was so windy. . . .”
Everyone stared. Alice smiled.
And as Phillip went on to tell the story, I didn’t hear him anymore. All I saw was Phyllis kneel down to put her arms around Phillip. It didn’t stop Phillip from talking.
“I was foolish to run after Jack, I suppose, but I love Jack. And then we slept in the hay until Zoe came and her mama and Kodi, and then . . .”
Phyllis, not crying anymore, sat down in the wet grass and put her arms around Jack, who seemed to like it very much. Then she hugged Kodi, who, of course, wagged his tail. And when Phyllis pulled away, there was wet white fur all over her navy blue sweater and slacks.
In the end Mr. Croft never did speak, almost as if he’d taken over Phillip’s role as the silent one. And when Mr. Croft and Phyllis and Phillip went across the grass and over the brook and up the steps to their house, Jack followed them.
“Jack!” called Mama.
Phyllis turned around.
“Oh, Claire, please let him come. We’ll take care of him. Don’t worry.”
And she opened the door and they went inside.
chapter 15
It was quiet. Kodi and Callie slept in a heap on the rug. Even Lena was quiet for the time being, as if she knew that it was quiet we all needed.
Daddy put his arms around Mama for a long time.
“Do you want something to eat?” he asked her.
Mama shook her head. “I’m too tired to eat.”
There was a small silence.
“I was scared,” said Alice finally. “Phyllis was scared too.”
Mama smiled.
“Yes,” she said. “I didn’t know that Zoe was out in the terrible weather. But I was scared for Phillip and Jack.”
Mama paused.
“But both Phillip and Jack turned out to be different than I thought they were,” she added. “There are some things you can’t know.”
Alice looked up.
“Zoe?” asked Daddy.
“I’m not sure what happened,” I said. “I fell asleep in the hay, and when I woke up, Phillip was talking.”
“And probably still is,” said Daddy with a smile.
“I think Phillip’s silence was for protection,” I said. “If he said nothing, he couldn’t be responsible for his mother and father’s troubles.”
“That’s what Phyllis said,” said Alice.
“Everything changed,” I said. “It was like something magical happened.”
“For a while that something magical was Kodi,” said Daddy. “But then that something magical was . . .”
“Jack,” I said.
“Yes,” said Mama. “It was Jack at the end.”
“And now Phyllis is over in her house with white fur flying around the room, attaching itself to the sapphire blue drapes and couches and on her navy blue sweater and slacks and Mr. Croft,” said Alice.
She wrote something down in her journal and sat back.
“I’m done,” she said. She put down her pen.
“Done,” said Lena suddenly.
“With what?” asked Daddy.
Alice opened the rings of her notebook and handed a page to Daddy.
He read it:
“You Can’t Know
You can’t know that I have everything to say
Even if I don’t speak.
You can’t know that I have nothing to say
Even if I speak always.
You can’t know what I know in my dog mind
Because I have no words.
You can’t know, ever, but you should,
That a dog will save you.”
When Daddy finished, it was quiet.
Except for Lena. And when she spoke, it was almost a whisper.
“You can’t know.”
chapter 16
Sometimes you think you know more than you really do—people, events, things that are true and things that are not. Sometimes you think you know yourself. But then, surprise, it is someone else who shows you what is really there, like the truth a photograph shows.
It was Alice’s journal that turned a light on the day that Phillip was lost and began to speak. Alice is, after all, what Daddy calls the real spy.
It was soon after all that had happened—on a summer day, no wind—when Alice showed it to us.
ALICE’S JOURNAL
Our life is back to the same. Maybe a little bit the same.
Of all of us Zoe is the hero. She’s quiet and doesn’t say as much as I do, but she’s the hero. She went out in the rain and hail and wind all by herself that day to find Phillip and Jack. I should try to be more like Zoe.
Phyllis and I had a long time to talk. Mama was right. Underneath everything I thought she was, Phyllis is nice.
When I asked her if Mr. Croft was a spy, she laughed for a long time. She laughed a nice laugh, not a Lena laugh. I’m not disappointed to find out that Mr. Croft is a librarian! Think of a life surrounded by books and quiet.
I told Phyllis that was more exciting than a spy. I asked her if he talked, and she told me he was more comfortable with books than with people.
“Does he know books and people are the same thing?” I asked.
Phyllis smiled at me.
“Not always,” she said.
Phillip adopted Jack as his own rescue dog. They are happy. He has gone home to his parents, who solved their problem. Phillip hasn’t stopped talking. He writes us very talky letters.
We have adopted Callie. She and Kodi are soul mates, Daddy says.
Phyllis and the silent Mr. Croft decided to stay in the rental house next door for a year. Phyllis is very fond of Callie and Kodi. They
visit her often, brushing up against her drapes and lying on her furniture. Phyllis is getting quite good at cleaning white fur flying off her furniture and clothes and Mr. Croft.
Sometimes when Mr. Croft goes out to his car in his dark suit, Phyllis comes running after him, rolling a sticky tape up and down his trousers.
Daddy has not found a home for Lena. It may be a secret to everyone, even to Daddy, but I think he loves Lena. I have started reading poetry to her, and Lena spouts it back.
“I wandered lonely as a cloud!”
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
And Lena’s favorite, a Mary Oliver poem:
I have a little dog who likes to nap with me.
He climbs on my body and puts his face in my neck
He is sweeter than soap.
Lena’s version, while short, is still poetry. She says, “I have a little dog . . . sweeter than soap.”
Then we put the cover over her cage.
Mama has new dogs coming. It is no secret to anyone that Mama loves to rescue dogs.
Things change.
Things don’t change.
Lena’s right.
You can’t know.
—Alice Cassidy
Author’s Note
Thousands of Pyrs and Pyr mixes, as well as other abandoned dogs, end up in shelters across the country. It takes a great deal of work to find homes for them, but the good news is that there are many people rescuing, fostering, and adopting these dogs. My daughter, Emily, and her family have adopted a Great Pyr mix, and he is a gentle, sweet, big dog. I have written about him in my book Waiting for the Magic. His name is Neo.
Dogs make great friends and companions to all ages of people.
If you go to NationalPyr.org you can see the many Great Pyr dogs waiting for adoption, and those who have found homes.
Patricia MacLachlan
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; Waiting for the Magic; Edward’s Eyes; and The True Gift. She is a board member of the National Children’s Book and Literary Alliance. She lives in western Massachusetts.
Margaret K. McElderry Books
Simon & Schuster
New York
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KIDS.SimonandSchuster.com
Also by Patricia MacLachlan
Edward’s Eyes
The True Gift
Waiting for the Magic
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.
copyright © 2013 by Patricia MacLachlan
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Book design by Debra Sfetsios-Conover
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The text for this book is set in Baskerville.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
MacLachlan, Patricia.
White fur flying / Patricia MacLachlan.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: A sad and silent nine-year-old boy finds his voice when he moves next to a family that rescues dogs.
ISBN 978-1-4424-2171-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4424-2173-8 (eBook)
[1. Rescue dogs—Fiction. 2. Dogs—Fiction. 3. Human-animal relationships—Fiction. 4. Family problems—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M2225Whi 2013
[Fic]—dc23
2011046125
Patricia MacLachlan, White Fur Flying
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