Ms. M poked her head out. “Well, technically—” Sadie clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her back into hiding.
When it was safe to come out, they spread the ducky blanket over the rain-dampened grass and sat on it together, slurping happily. Wilson entertained them by crouching, wriggling his behind, and springing at flies.
“Onyx was a first-rate fly catcher,” the witch said, and she sucked the last drip of juice from the Freezee Treat wrapper.
Sadie found herself thinking about how she would feel if Wilson went missing, if she had only a cat-shaped emptiness instead of his warm, furry self.
“I was lonely,” she blurted, “until you came along.”
“Me, too,” said Ms. M.
From high in the maple tree, a robin tried four or five notes four or five different ways. They both reached for their binoculars and scanned the yard. At one point their eyes met through their lenses, and they giggled.
Ms. M lowered her binoculars and looked directly at Sadie. “I like to think that Onyx has found a nice new home.”
“But you don’t know that for sure.”
“But I don’t not know it. Is my tongue purple?”
“Weirdly enough, it’s green.”
“Excellent. A spell that works.”
Sadie laughed. “What about my tongue?” She opened wide.
“The exact shade of Ethel’s belly. Which reminds me . . .”
She popped into the playhouse and popped back out waving a book, which she tossed onto Sadie’s lap. “I found my field guide!”
“The Ornithomancer’s Guide to the Upper Midwest.” Sadie read the title aloud slowly.
“The deluxe edition includes hippogriffs, but they’re mainly in the Southeast.”
Sadie turned the pages carefully, so as not to smudge them with her sticky fingers. Grackles and grebes. Shrikes and swallows. The great blue heron and the common loon. So many amazing birds!
And there, on page 198, the yellow warbler. The bird in the photo was a male, the guide said, because of the reddish streaks on his otherwise lemon-colored breast. He gazed sideways at the camera with a round, black, inquisitive eye.
“You know what I was thinking?” Sadie didn’t wait for an answer. “That it’d really be fun to be a different kind of bird-watcher and not watch all the birds sometimes but just one bird all the time. And follow him wherever he went and watch him there.”
“You’re a very interesting young woman,” said Ms. M.
Embarrassed, Sadie pretended to be studying the habitat map for the ring-necked pheasant. “Wait until you meet Jess and Maya. They’re a lot more interesting than I am.”
Ms. M laughed so loudly that the mourning doves perched on the telephone wire stopped crying. She placed her old, rough hand on Sadie’s young, smooth one. “Such a generous thing to say. And so not true.”
“When you were my age,” Sadie asked softly, closing the field guide, “did you know you wanted to be a witch?”
“I just wanted to be like my mother. We lived in the forest. My father was a botanist, and he traveled a lot. My mother taught me most of what I needed to know. The forest taught me the rest.” Suddenly Ms. M stared hard at the lilacs. “Look there.”
A flash of yellow!
Eventually the witch shook her head. “Eastern meadowlark. They build their nests on the ground, of all things.”
“What if we never find Ethel?” asked Sadie.
Ms. M polished one lens of her binoculars with the corner of her smock. Then she polished the other lens. “Things change,” she said after a while. “That’s what living in the forest taught me. Trees die and new ones grow. Wolves I could recognize in the fall didn’t come back in the spring. And what if Ethel likes being a bird? Probably she has a mate and children by now. It’s what birds do.”
“So are you going to give up looking for her?”
“No. I will always look. I like looking. Maybe it will lead me to Ethel, and maybe it won’t, but either way, I have wonderful memories.” She laid the binoculars in her lap. “Ethel and I were close for a long time. And now I have a new friend and a new place to live.”
“My parents still want to sell the playhouse,” Sadie warned.
Once again the robin in the maple tree sang out. Cheery-o, churlee, cheery-up!
“An intriguing vocalization,” Ms. M said. “Certainly territorial.”
The witch pursed her lips and replied to the robin. Sadie wasn’t exactly sure what the witch’s lilting melody meant, but she figured it was something along the lines of, Don’t worry, I won’t take your nest. I have my own.
Chapter 17
Sparks!
“Ready for Taco Night?” Sadie asked Wilson, who was sprawled out next to her on the window seat. “I wish Onyx was here. Ms. M says refried beans are his favorite.”
She put down Birds of Lore and Legend. It was a good book, but she couldn’t concentrate, not with the yummy smell of onions and chili powder wafting over from the playhouse.
In the backyard, a jittery wren landed on the feeder Sadie had bought that morning at the garden supply store with some of her yard sale money. She liked knowing that it was a wren and not a sparrow or a nuthatch. She liked watching birds closely and noticing their differences. They didn’t all look the same, and they didn’t all act the same, either. Some were shy. Some were bold. Some were show-offs. Some were copycats.
She petted Wilson. “If you could read, you’d love Birds of Lore and Legend. It would be like a menu to you and Onyx.”
Wilson’s eyes closed completely. He arched his back more deeply under her hand.
“Onyx,” Sadie said, her gaze following the ribbon of smoke that meant dinner was almost ready. “Ms. M really misses you. Please come back. Please.”
Her hand began to tingle as if it were falling asleep. Then, suddenly, sparks! Crackling between her fingertips and Wilson’s fur. Instantly awake, the cat shot out through the open window. He hated static electricity. Which was all that was, wasn’t it?
Except that when Wilson reached the hydrangea at the edge of the garden, he stopped. Crouched. Flattened his ears.
The hydrangea swayed. Swayed more. A small black nose parted the thick stems and quickly retreated.
The nose might belong to any neighborhood cat. It might belong to a rabbit or to a raccoon. Or it might . . .
Sadie raced through the kitchen, clattered out the back door, and sped to the playhouse.
She knocked, and there was Ms. M, a brightly colored Mexican serape draped over her shoulders and spilling down the front of her black dress.
“There’s something in the bushes,” Sadie said, panting. “It might be Onyx.”
“Wonderful! Wait just a moment.” She returned with her wooden spoon coated in refried beans.
Sadie tossed the hissing Wilson back indoors, and together she and Ms. M advanced toward the hydrangea, Ms. M wielding the crusty spoon like a magic wand. Together they kneeled in the grass.
“See anything?” Ms. M whispered.
“Just leaves. And dirt.” Her hopes sank as she examined the shadows beneath the branches. Maybe she’d imagined the nose after all.
But then one of the shadows began to move.
The shadow sprouted sleek black fur and whiskers.
The shadow blinked its golden eyes.
The shadow stuck out its small pink tongue and lapped at the witch’s spoon.
“Hello, my dear boy.” Ms. M waited until he was finished, handed Sadie the spoon, and gathered Onyx into her arms. She kissed his small black nose. She kissed it again.
Sadie reached to pet Onyx. The witch intercepted her hand. Held it tight. “Thank you, Sadie. You found my cat for me.”
“I didn’t do anything. He just came back.”
“Really?” Ms. M pressed her fingertips against Sadie’s. The connection between them was warm. Electric. “If I opened my field guide, would you be listed as solitary, drab, shy, and retiring? I don’t think so.”
Adios
“Let’s get into the spirit of things!” From her bag, the witch pulled a sombrero with gold tassels and plunked it onto Sadie’s head. “A perfect fit.”
Next she grabbed her broomstick, spun around twice, and lightly tapped the goldfish-shaped piñata hanging in the corner. “For after supper,” she said, teetering a bit before regaining her balance. “If the cats are interested.”
“Onyx likes candy?” asked Sadie.
“Oh, yes. Especially M&Ms. Which in this case means Mackerel and Mahi-Mahi. But for us, right now, some savory carne asada.”
“It looks really good.”
“It is really good! Hold out your bowl.”
Sadie and Ms. M sat against the sturdy walls and ate. After a few cautious sniffs and growls, Wilson and Onyx had settled down and were—miracle of miracles—side by side, sharing a small red saucer of beans. Sadie wished she had a camera. She could show the picture to Jess and Maya and say, “Sorry you missed our fiesta. It was so much fun.” Maybe she could convince Ms. M to leave the chili pepper lights wrapped around the rim of the cauldron for one more day so Jess and Maya could see them.
Tomorrow. Her friends would be home tomorrow. How had four whole days gone by?
Time was such a shifty thing. Like the great horned owl at the park yesterday. When Sadie had turned away to watch a gaggle of Canada geese totter across the bike path and then almost immediately turned back, the owl was gone. As if it had never been there.
“More guacamole?” Ms. M passed her the bowl. “I got the recipe from a bruja who lives just outside Puerto Vallarta. Carmelita will be so excited to see Onyx again! We used to spend every winter with her, but it’s been a while.”
Wilson jumped up onto a black suitcase and began cleaning himself. A suitcase? That meant . . . Sadie dropped her taco. “You’re leaving.”
Ms. M nodded. “I dreamed Ethel was in Mexico. And even if she’s not, El Gato Grande deserves a little fun in the sun after all he’s been through, don’t you agree?”
“But you can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Well, because . . . I mean . . . you just can’t.”
“You’ll be fine. I’ll write to you.”
“That’s what Jess and Maya said.” Sadie blinked back tears. The walls tilted and spun as if the playhouse were a carnival ride.
“I’m sure their postcards are in the mail.” Ms. M squeezed Sadie’s hand. Then she reached down beside her for the field guide. “Hold on to this for me while I’m gone. You watch for Ethel here. I’ll watch for her there. I have a good feeling she’ll turn up.”
The weight of the book in Sadie’s lap felt solid. Steady. “So you’re really going.”
“I really am. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be back.” The witch smiled. She had a green speck of jalapeño stuck between her front teeth. “Keep an eye on Bob and Lois, will you? If Lois’s cough gets worse, you might try letting her perch in the bathroom while you shower. The steam will ease her congestion.”
Sadie managed a small grin. “Sure. I’ll lend her a sweatshirt and a baseball cap. My parents will think she’s my new friend from the park. It worked for you.”
Cackling, Ms. M stood up and opened a cat carrier that sat beside the battered roll-on suitcase. Onyx walked right in.
“Can I go with you?” asked Sadie. “Just to the street?”
“You know what would be best? If you would check the cauldron to make sure I turned it off. Fire safety is important. Also, would you mind getting the door for me, please?”
Without thinking, Sadie opened the door. Ms. M staggered through with her belongings and bumped it closed behind her. Sadie stood with Wilson in the playhouse for a second before she cried, “Wait!” and rushed out into the yard.
Deserted. There was the lawn in all its greenness. The sky in all its blueness. The house in its houseness. But no tiny woman. No giant suitcase. No cat carrier.
Poof.
A dark, speckled bird landed on the feeder. A grackle? Before she could open the field guide, her mother stepped onto the back patio holding the white phone. “Sadie? I just talked to Jess’s mom. The girls can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” She started back inside and stopped. “Honey? Why are you wearing a sombrero?”
Chapter 19
Flock Together
Kestrel
Red-winged blackbird
Cedar waxwing
She’d filled one sheet of notebook paper and part of another, and she was still going.
Ostrich
Emperor penguin
Peacock
(Because birds at the zoo counted, right?)
Sadie was starting her life list. From memory. Of course she couldn’t recall all of the details—the dates and sighting conditions and whatnot—so she left those columns blank. It made her list look less than official, but she didn’t mind. As Ms. M had said, different birders did things differently.
She was surprised to realize how many species she’d seen. A bunch! More than she’d remembered before she started writing them all down.
When she finished, she turned to a clean page and began listing birds that she really wanted to see.
Birds with goofy names like the bufflehead, the gadwall, and the northern shoveler.
Birds with beautiful plumage like the snowy egret, the purple gallinule, and the painted bunting.
Birds that gave her the shivers like the black vulture and the common raven and the mute swan.
Birds that sang potato chip, potato chip (the American goldfinch) or how loooong? (the hooded merganser) or zoooo-zeeee-zoozoo-zeeee! (the black-throated green warbler).
In order to find these birds, the field guide said, she’d have to go all over. To weedy fields and brushy deserts and restaurant parking lots. To rocky coasts and wide-open marshland. To the shores of deep lakes.
Jess and Maya had probably paddled their kayaks right by loons or ruddy ducks and didn’t even know it. They’d probably shared the beach with mergansers and herring gulls and maybe even moose birds—Canada jays that use moose as buffet tables, eating fleas and ticks straight off the moose backs. Sadie wanted to tell Jess and Maya about Canada jays. She had a lot she wanted to tell them.
After all, she’d been traveling, too.
Pressing down hard with her pencil, she added one more bird to her wish list—Ethel—just as the doorbell rang.
She opened the door and, poof!
Her friends were there.
“Doesn’t it seem like we were gone forever?” Jess asked. The three of them stood in the hallway untangling from a group hug.
Jess wore a pair of red shorts overalls Sadie had never seen before. Maya had on new sandals, and each of her toenails was painted a different color. Still, their arms around her felt the same as always.
“Namaste, girls!” her mother, in cobra pose, called out as they passed the living room on their way to Sadie’s bedroom.
“That’s yoga language for ‘nice to see you,’” Sadie said.
“Hope you’re thirsty for smoothies,” her father called from the kitchen. “My soon-to-be-world-famous Banana Blast-Off with spirulina!”
“The little store by the lake sold smoothies,” Jess told Sadie. “But—”
Maya interrupted her. “The blender was right by the bait box.”
Jess made a face. “Mango Minnow with Mud. Yuck.”
Alone with the door closed, the girls settled themselves on the bed. Jess looked at Maya. Maya looked at Jess. Jess looked away. Finally, Sadie asked, “So you guys had fun?”
A long pause, and then Maya said, “Well, it rained a little.”
“A lot,” Jess admitted.
“Copiously,” Maya said. “The closest we got to swimming was sweating in our bunks.”
“We stayed in the cabin mostly, with the heat turned way up,” Jess explained. “My grandparents are cold all the time.”
“There wasn’t even a TV! Just backgammon.” May
a groaned. “You know how many channels backgammon has? One. The Boring Network.” She turned to Jess. “Not that BeMaw and BePaw aren’t really nice, it’s just . . . you know.”
Jess fiddled with the lace of her high-top sneaker. “We talked a lot about you and what you were doing and how we kind of wished we were back here with you.” Her eyes met Sadie’s. “What were you doing?”
Sadie took a deep breath. “It’s kind of hard to—”
“Were you bereft?” Maya asked plaintively. “Disconsolate? Crestfallen?”
“What?”
“Did you miss us?” Maya translated.
“Of course!”
“Well then, your souvenirs!” Jess started pulling things from her gray satchel and spreading them out on the bed. “Let’s see, a Moose Head Lake pen, Moose Head Lake sunglasses—like we needed those—Moose Head Lake lip gloss that tastes like bark. Don’t ask. Moose Head Lake cherry raisin fudge, which I would totally give to your parents if I were you. And this cool feather we found on our nature walk before it started hailing.”
Sadie picked up the feather. It was lovely. Small and shapely. A vivid yellow with just a hint of black at the tips. When she twirled it between her fingers, it seemed to throw off light.
Could it be?
“It’s kind of gross,” Jess apologized.
“I swished it around in a puddle to wash off the germs,” Maya said.
“It’s not gross,” Sadie said quietly. Then louder, “I love it. I’m looking for a bird with feathers exactly this color. I met this lady the day you guys left. She was really into bird-watching.”
“What lady?” asked Jess. “A friend of your mom’s?”
Sadie bounced to the edge of the bed. “Long story.” She stood up. “Want to walk to the park with me? We can look for the bird who lost this feather, and I’ll tell you what I did while you were gone.”
As soon as their feet hit the sidewalk, Jess pointed toward a bush in the yard next door. “Okay, nature expert,” she said, as Jess-like as ever. “What are those?” A flock of tiny birds with gray crested heads and white chests were arranged on different branches like football fans on bleachers.
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