* * *
“Oh no,” cried Mama. “Help me, Cassie! That terrible baby is rude and ugly and smelly and as dumb as a stick. And it cannot read or write. Take it away. Take it far, far away and come back and read to me.”
* * *
“Cass.”
Mama’s voice was faint. I stopped writing.
“Yes?”
“Remember when I said I’d let you know when I needed you?”
I nodded.
“Well, I need you now,” said Mama. “I think it is time.”
I almost asked time for what, and then I saw Mama’s face. It was pale and tight.
“Go get Maggie,” said Mama. “I’m going to the bedroom to lie down, Cassie. The baby is coming.”
I stood up, my journal falling off the table. I left it where it fell.
“Someone has to ride over to get her. Her phone doesn’t work,” said Mama. “I think you’d better hurry.”
Mama stood up and held on to the chair. She didn’t look like Mama all of a sudden. She looked like someone far away from me.
“I’ll get Grandfather,” I said.
I ran out the door and across the yard to the barn.
“Grandfather! Grandfather!” I screamed.
Grandfather came out of the barn.
“Mama says it’s time. The baby is coming!” I said. I could hardly catch my breath. “We have to get Maggie.”
Grandfather ran into the barn to get a horse.
“Go in with your mama. We’ll be back.”
He galloped off, out the gate, down the road to Maggie’s house.
I took a deep breath and ran into the bedroom to sit with Mama.
“Read me the part again about the cows floating through the barn,” said Mama, lying on the bed.
I read her most of my journal, even the mean parts, as we waited for Maggie. But Mama didn’t mind. She smiled sometimes. Sometimes she laughed out loud. Sometimes she pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything, and I knew she hurt.
After a long time I heard noises outside. I ran to the front door and opened it. Maggie and Grandfather were there, Maggie getting off the dappled horse.
“How is she?” called Maggie.
“I’ve been reading to her. Sometimes she laughs,” I said.
Maggie smiled and kissed me on the cheek.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “I’ll go take care of her.”
She went past me, and when she did I felt suddenly safe again.
Grandfather sat heavily on a porch chair.
“It has been years since I galloped on a horse,” he said.
“You looked like a hero,” I whispered.
“Well then, I need a piece of cake,” he said.
He looked at me and then got up and put his arms around me.
We stood that way on the porch for a long, long time.
My journal lay on the floor, untouched. Grandfather ate cake. We didn’t talk. I called Anna on the phone, but no one answered. I washed the dishes, then saw that I’d already washed them. I swept the floor and peeled carrots and potatoes to put in a pot of hot water for soup. It wasn’t until the goslings pecked at the door that I burst into tears. I went out to the porch, but it wasn’t me they were looking for. It was Mama.
“When’s Jacob coming home?” asked Grandfather.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Hurry, hurry, Papa.
“Maybe I’ll go to the barn and do some work,” said Grandfather.
I heard Mama cry out, and then Maggie’s soft voice.
“No, please,” I said to Grandfather. “Stay with me.”
Grandfather held my hand and we watched the road for a dust cloud that would mean that Papa was coming home. It seemed like hours went by. But the wagon didn’t come. And didn’t come.
And then, later, when I was almost asleep, my head on Grandfather’s shoulder, it was Maggie who came out to the porch, smiling, to tell us that the baby was here.
“Already?” Grandfather was astonished.
“Yes,” said Maggie. “Cassie, Sarah wants to see you.”
“Me?”
Maggie nodded.
“Go on, go on.”
“Mama’s all right?”
“Your mama is fine,” said Maggie.
I stopped at Mama’s door. That baby was inside. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to know it. I pushed the door open and saw Mama, lying in bed, her eyes closed. Next to her was a wrapped bundle. Mama turned her head and smiled at me.
“Thank you for reading to me, Cassie. You did a fine job.”
I stood still.
“Come on,” said Mama. “Come in and see the terrible baby.”
I looked at Mama, shocked. I moved closer. Mama patted the bed for me to sit, so I did.
And then she picked up the bundle and gave it to me.
I sat there, staring at Mama. After a moment I looked down. My heart beat faster. The baby had a round head and no hair. The baby had dark, dark eyes that looked up at me, a little like Beatrice’s eyes. The baby yawned then, making the smallest sound. I looked at the tiny fingers, with tiny nails. I bent down, remembering what Papa had said about how I smelled when I was a baby. Papa knew.
“This is supposed to be Beatrice,” I whispered.
Mama smiled.
“That may be,” she whispered back to me, “but that is a strange name for a boy.”
A boy.
“I don’t have any words,” I said to Mama.
“I know,” she said. “But you will.”
All of a sudden I heard noises in the kitchen, Papa’s voice, and Caleb’s. Laughter from Grandfather. Then Papa stood at the door, looking pale and scared, Caleb behind him. And Grandfather.
“I brought you a perfect gift, Cassie!” Caleb blurted out.
“No,” I said, my voice soft. “The perfect gift is here.”
I looked up at Papa.
“He is a terrible baby.”
I smiled at Mama.
“But he’s more perfect than the moon.”
Read on for an excerpt from the last book about the Witting family, Grandfather’s Dance.
1
Spring. School was hard in the spring. Even fourth grade was hard. The windows of the small school were open and the sweet smell of new grass blew in. I couldn’t pay attention. Neither could Ian or Min or Grace. Will was half asleep, and Isabel looked out the window. There were only six of us in school, from first grade to fifth. Mr. Willet read out loud to us, but no one seemed to hear. One of the horses whinnied outside and we all looked out the window. Finally Mr. Willet put down his book and looked out the window, too.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly.
Ian, the youngest of everyone, only six, clapped his hands, making Mr. Willet laugh.
“Go home, go on home,” he said, still laughing. “We’ll try again on Monday.”
I gathered my books and helped Ian with his. I made sure he got home every day. Today I’d ridden Molly, and I gave Ian a leg up. We rode together, Ian’s arms around my waist.
“Caleb and I used to ride home from school just like this,” I said.
“Caleb’s big now,” said Ian.
“Yes. He’s big. Away at school.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yes. I miss Caleb.”
“Does he tease you?” asked Ian.
“Yes, Caleb has always teased me.”
“I tease my little sister every single day,” said Ian.
I heard him yawn behind me, and I turned and wrapped a long scarf behind him and tied it in front of my waist. Sometimes Ian fell asleep on the way home. I didn’t want him falling off Molly.
“Lily loves me even if I tease her,” said Ian matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
“Let’s do twosies,” said Ian.
“Okay. Two times two is . . . ?”
“Four.”
“Two times three is . . . ?”
“Six.”
>
Ian laid his head against my back and Molly walked slowly down the road to his house.
“Two times four?”
Ian didn’t answer. I smiled. He’d fallen asleep, his breath warm on my back.
Way off in the fields, meadowlarks flew and the smell of prairie spring followed us home.
“Cassie! Cassie!”
Jack ran out of the barn, Papa and our dog Lottie following him. His pale hair was long and curly around his face. Mama once said he looked like an angel. Grandfather said most times he didn’t act like one.
The surprise was that Jack did act like an angel around Grandfather. He never frowned at Grandfather. He never showed Grandfather his temper. Every evening he sat on Grandfather’s lap and made him tell a story, made him sing. From the very beginning, Grandfather had been Jack’s favorite.
Papa lifted Jack up to sit with me on Molly. Jack leaned down and kissed Molly on her neck, and we went into the barn.
“Doggie,” said Jack.
I smiled.
“Horse,” I said to him. “Molly’s a horse.”
Jack turned and frowned his fierce frown at me.
“Doggie,” said Jack, making me laugh.
I kissed the top of his head. It was warm and sweet smelling.
“All right,” I said. “Doggie.”
“Horse,” said Jack, smiling back at me.
“A joke!” I cried. “You made a joke, Jack.”
I got off Molly and reached up and slid Jack down beside me.
“Doggie,” whispered Jack.
I laughed and took his hand. We walked out of the cool, dark barn into the light. He jumped up and down beside me as we walked.
His hand was tiny and warm in my hand.
About the Author
Photo by John MacLachlan
PATRICIA MACLACHLAN 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; and Kindred Souls. She is also the author of many much-loved picture books, including Three Names; All the Places to Love; What You Know First; Painting the Wind; Bittle; Who Loves Me?; Once I Ate a Pie; I Didn’t Do It; Before You Came; and Cat Talk—several of which she cowrote with her daughter, Emily. She lives with her husband and two border terriers in Williamsburg, Massachusetts.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Patricia MacLachlan
Sarah, Plain and Tall
Skylark
Caleb’s Story
More Perfect than the Moon
Grandfather’s Dance
Arthur, For the Very First Time
Through Grandpa’s Eyes
Cassie Binegar
Seven Kisses in a Row
Unclaimed Treasures
The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt
Word After Word After Word
Kindred Souls
Mama One, Mama Two
All the Places to Love
What You Know First
Three Names
The Truth of Me
Written with Emily MacLachlan Charest
Painting the Wind
Bittle
Who Loves Me?
Once I Ate a Pie
Fiona Loves the Night
I Didn’t Do It
Before You Came
Cat Talk
Back Ads
Credits
Cover art © 2013 by Jim Madsen
Copyright
More Perfect than the Moon
Copyright © 2004 by Patricia MacLachlan
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 hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
MacLachlan, Patricia.
More perfect than the moon / Patricia MacLachlan.— 1st ed.
p. cm.
Sequel to: Caleb’s story.
Summary: Eight-year-old Cassie Witting is upset when she finds out that her mother, Sarah, is expecting a baby, but writing in the journal that was her brother Caleb’s helps her sort out her feelings and she finally learns that Sarah will always love her.
ISBN-10: 0-06-075179-7 (pbk.)
ISBN-13: 978-0-06-075179-1 (pbk.)
EPub Edition © MARCH 2013 ISBN: 9780062285751
[1. Babies—Fiction. 2. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 3. Frontier and pioneer life—Great Plains—Fiction. 4. Great Plains—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M2225Mr 2004
[Fic]—dc22
2003022702
* * *
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Patricia MacLachlan, More Perfect Than the Moon
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