Echo Mountain

by Lauren Wolk

* * *

  —

  I knew the same thing, all over again, later that day, when we led my father and Cate out to sit in the afternoon sun and take another step toward well.

  They had become friends as they’d healed, side by side, and even better friends when they both grew strong enough to do small chores together at the kitchen table, and to help us with our lessons, all the while talking about their lives on Echo Mountain.

  “You’re lucky to have a girl like Ellie,” Cate said as I settled them in the chairs we’d brought out to the yard, one facing down-mountain, one facing up, so they faced each other.

  “We are,” he said, smiling at me.

  And I was lucky, too, when I left them to their conversation and went into the woodshed to lay fresh straw for the puppies, only to find the stool not where I had left it but just there, by the high shelf where I kept my small treasures.

  And I was lucky when I stepped up on the stool and found not ten carvings waiting where I’d left them, but eleven now.

  A new one, right next to the one that looked like me.

  This one was of a boy. Tall. Lean. With hair like a bear’s fur, and a face with so much music in it that I laughed out loud.

  And climbed down from the stool.

  And went out into the trees to find him.

  And did.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am grateful to many people who helped with Echo Mountain.

  First, those who have suffered my amateur ministrations over the years, especially my husband Richard (whose broken tooth I once sanded down with my Dremel), and our sons, Cameron and Ryland. I sometimes think I should have gone to medical school and become a diagnostician. As it is, I like to investigate sickness and do what I can to cure it. My friends and family have been very patient patients over the years, and I thank them for that.

  My grandmother, Ann McConnell, who made everything better when I got banged up playing on the family farm. She used things like balsam of Peru, baking soda, vinegar, poultices, and mud for everything from bee sting to bruises. And she relied on scoldings and sweets for almost everything else.

  My mother, Mimi McConnell, who bought some land in Maine and built a little camp there so we could retreat from the chaos of our lives and let the mountains remind us of what’s important. That land inspired Echo Mountain. So did she. I thank her for that and for her thoughts about Ellie’s story.

  My sister, Suzanne Wolk, and my father, Ronald Wolk, who were among my first and best readers and helped me see how to make this a better book. My uncle, Calvin Richard McConnell, who built his own cabin in a place called Wolf Hollow and helped to inspire Echo Mountain.

  As always, the members of my writing group, the Bass River Revisionists, especially Deirdre Callanan, another early reader who never fails to push me into better, stronger work. And Jack Harrison, whose voice I sometimes hear when the work is most difficult.

  Beatrice and Frieda Bilezikian and Zoë Reese Gameros, young readers whose insights helped me see Echo Mountain in a new light.

  So many colleagues and friends—including Bob Nash, Amy Neill, Meg McNamara, Laura Kelley, and Patty Creighton—who make me feel stronger than I really am. (Amy is also a lovely hag skilled at making potions and tinctures and brews of all kinds. She helped to inspire Cate.)

  Lila, Tanner, Rascal, Spike, and all the other dogs who helped me create Captan and Maisie and their pups . . . especially Quiet.

  Wendy Newmeyer, co-owner of Maine Balsam Fir Products in West Paris, Maine, whose little shop I visit whenever I go to the Oxford hills to camp. When I asked Wendy about the healing properties of balsam, she took me to a tree at the edge of the woods behind the shop and told me about the many ways to use its wood and sap.

  Elaine Wilson Young, who lent me a mountain of very old books on healing, which I shared with Ellie and Cate, and which helped me understand what people in those days knew about illness and medicine. And what they didn’t know.

  Julie Strauss-Gabel, who has an incredibly sharp mind paired with a tender heart: a rare combination that makes her the perfect editor for someone like me and books like mine.

  And the rest of my family at Penguin Young Readers, all of whom bridge the gap between my books and those who read them, especially the extraordinary Jen Loja; Anna Booth, Melissa Faulner, Rob Farren, and Natalie Vielkind at Dutton; marketing wizards Venessa Carson, Christina Colangelo, Andrea Cruise, Carmela Iaria, Trevor Ingerson, Bri Lockhart, Summer Ogata, Matt Phipps, and Rachel Wease; my publicist Lindsay Boggs; jacket designer Maggie Edkins; and a boatload of amazing sales reps.

  Jodi Reamer. There is no finer agent anywhere. And her cohorts at Writers House who make my literary life easier, including Alec Shane, Cecilia de la Campa, and Alessandra Birch.

  And of course all my other family and friends—especially Cally, Denise, and Ashley Wolk—whose love and encouragement make all the difference in the world.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lauren Wolk is an award-winning poet, artist, and author of the adult novel Those Who Favor Fire, the Newbery Honor-winning novel Wolf Hollow, and the Scott O'Dell Award-winning Beyond the Bright Sea. She was born in Baltimore and has since lived in California, Rhode Island, Minnesota, Canada, and Ohio. She now lives with her family on Cape Cod.

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