by Joy Redmond
THE DREAMER
By
Joy Redmond
Review
The Dreamer is a great book to pick up and sit back and daydream yourself. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. Great way to let your imagination soar. Great explanation of how things change as you grow up. I read parts to my four-year-old and she loved it! Thanks for such a great book, Joy!
Reviewed by Tazz *****
A wonderful book full of imagination and joy! The story is about growing up and growing old and how a little girl and her grandparents share a secret life that is full of life lessons -- hope, miracles, loving and losing. It is a story that will be enjoyed by families, youngsters and oldsters, for years to come.
Reviewed by Sandra Whitmire *****
Books by Joy Redmond
Give me Wings
Stolen Lives
Anna’s Visions
Contact at:
www.storiesbyjoy.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Note:
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.
Joy Redmond ©2013
Dedication
To my precious granddaughters, Julia Eakins and Caitlin Baker, and in loving memory of Aaron Kloke.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Trudi Morehouse for supplying the cover picture.
DREAMING
Saturdays were my special days with Nana and Pawpaw. They lived in a four-room trailer that was thirty-some years old. The roof leaked and Nana had to grab buckets and place them around the rooms to catch the water. However, Nana had a great sense of humor and she always laughed as she told me how she had to hold an umbrella over her head when she sat on the commode during a rainstorm.
Nana had married Pawpaw when I was three months old. She always laughed and said, “I think Pawpaw married me so he could have you for a granddaughter.”
Nana was busy one Saturday morning, so I decided I’d play on the computer. I tapped my foot, waiting for Nana’s unbelievably slow computer to boot-up. I decided I’d log on to my favorite game site, but even that sounded boring, so I decided to Google “the Epiphany tradition”. My fourth grade teacher at Holy Name Elementary had been talking about it but she didn’t give us much information.
The webpage came up and I typed in “Epiphany tradition.” It was also referred to as Old Christmas, and it had twelve days. My family only celebrated Christmas for one day. I continued to read. At the stroke of midnight on January 6th, God supposedly, grants animals the ability to talk.
Wow, it would be so cool if I could hear my two dogs, Maggie and Koda talk. This year, I decided, I would sit by their sides a few minutes before midnight and count down the seconds. How cool if they talked to me! In fact, how cool it would be if animals could talk all the time!
I kept reading, but my eyes were beginning to sting and didn’t want to stay open. My head bobbed a few times. I crossed my arms, placed them on the desk, and lay my head on them. I tried to read the screen in that position, but the lines began to run together and my eyes finally closed as I drifted into dreamland. In my dream, Nana was calling my name.
***
“Julia! Julia Raye!” Nana called.
“Oh, no, the two-name call!” I hurried toward the kitchen.“What, Nana? What did I do?” I asked, as if Nana were going to accuse me of setting the trailer on fire.
“It’s not what you did do. It’s what you didn’t do,” Nana said, wagging her index finger in my direction. “Come when I call you.”
“I’m sorry, but I was on the computer,” I said. Then I heard the sound of a loud horn outside. I glanced out the kitchen window. “Pawpaw’s out in the pickup.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot why I called you. Pawpaw said you wanted to drive down to the creek and look for deer. There should be a lot of them out in the pasture this time of year. I’ve got my camera around here somewhere,” Nana said and looked around. “I had it. Where did I put it?”
“It’s here on the table,” I said, picking up the digital camera. Pawpaw had given it to Nana for Christmas last year and she was still learning how to use it.
“Oh, yeah. That’s where I put it. We better get going before Pawpaw blows that horn until it runs out of toot juice.”
“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders,” I teased, giving Nana my version of a “shame on you” finger-wag. “That’s what you’realways telling Pawpaw.”
Nana grinned. “Yeah, and then I give him the dewy-eyed-dodo look that I do so well.” She fluttered her lashes, her eyes looking like a pair of butterflies ready for takeoff. “I can always make him laugh.”
Outside, Pawpaw blew the horn again with a “Doot-dooty-doot-doot”. I gently clasped Nana’s hand and we hurried outside. Nana opened the truck door and boosted me in. I reached for Nana’s hand and pulled her inside. Nana stood only five feet tall and the pickup sat high enough that her legs weren’t long enough to make the step.
“Well, it’s about time,” Pawpaw said, patting my leg. “Those legs of yours are getting long, Sweet Pea. Pretty soon, you’ll be as tall as Nana. My, my. I can’t believe you are already nine years old. It seems like only yesterday you were born.”
“Actually, I’m almost ten,” I said.
“Okay, you’re nine, almost ten,” Pawpaw said with a chuckle.
I glanced over my shoulder at the rifle that Pawpaw carried in the gun rack above the back windshield of the pickup. He always said it was in case he saw a cottonmouth, but Nana said he did it because he just liked to shoot snakes.
I loved the ride to the creek. The pasture alongside the creek was beautiful, and whenever I saw a deer run across it, it took my breath away. I’d wanted a deer for a pet as long as I could remember. “Oh, how I’d love to get close enough to a deer and give it a big hug,” I said wishfully.
Pawpaw said, “Well, that will never happen. Deer are scared of people and if they smell a human they run like the dickens. A deer can smell a human a mile away.”
“I love the deer and I’d love to hug one, too,” Nana said. “How anybody could shoot one of those precious animals is beyond me.”
“Shoot one!” I cried, remembering Bambi’s mother. I hated that movie. Tears welled and I couldn’t stop crying.
“Now, you’ve gone and done it!” Pawpaw said giving Nana a stern look. He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed me on top of my head.
“Well it’s the truth,” Nana said. “A harsh truth, maybe, but sometimes the truth is hard. You can’t keep children in bubble wrap or in a box. They have to be exposed to life and learn the good, the bad, and the ugly. Hunters thin out the deer population, and if they didn’t do that, many deer would starve come winter. And some families would starve if they didn’t have deer meat. It’s nature’s way, although I could never do it.”
Nana pulled a Kleenex from her blouse pocket and handed it to me. “Here, wipe your eyes. Nobody is going to shoot a deer today, sweetheart.”
“I think nature’s way stinks!” I said. “People don’t have to eat deer meat to keep from starving. We don’t live in pioneer days. People are just mean and use that for an excuse. I think the deer would find enough to eat and wouldn’t starve either. I think it’s very cruel!”
“My thoughts, too,” said Nana. “But we won’t worry about any of that today.”
“I sure
hope we see a lot of deer, and I hope you don’t get too confused trying to figure out your new fandangle camera and get some good pictures,” I said.
“I know what I’m doing, Miss Smarty Pants,” Nana said, gently tapping the back of my head. Nana was always quick with a head bop whenever I gave her lip.
“We’re almost there,” I said, my eyes darting in all directions.
Pawpaw stopped the truck at the edge of the creek and turned off the motor. “Keep your eyes peeled. They run fast and you have to tell Nana when to aim her camera. If we’re lucky, maybe some will stop and stare at us. I’ve seen them do it, like they’re trying to tell me something,” he said.
I scooted up until I was almost sitting on Nana’s knees, my heart racing. “Come on, deer,” I whispered. Then I reached for the camera. “Give it to me. I’ll take the pictures. I hope you remembered to charge the batteries.”
“I remembered this time. I think.” Nana replied, scratching her head as she always did when she was trying to remember something.
We waited, and waited, and waited. Pawpaw rested his head on the window and was soon snoring.
I grinned, my mischief mind spinning, then yelled, “Wake up, Pawpaw! Wake up!”
Pawpaw jumped as if a cottonmouth had crawled up his pant leg, bumping his head on the metal frame above the window. He threw his arms in the air and sputtered, “What? What?”
I managed to stifle my giggle. “Pawpaw, can you please drive across the creek? If we park in the meadow, maybe we can see the deer better. I’m tired of waiting on this side.”
“Sweet Pea,” he replied, “I can’t drive across the creek. I know the water’s shallow, but the creek bed is too deep and narrow. If I drive down the bank, the truck will end up hood down and tail up. I’ve got four-wheel drive, but it can’t perform tricks.”
“Then let’s wade across,” I said, holding my hands together as if in prayer. “You said the water isn’t deep.”
“Honey, we can’t wade through the water without rubber boots,” Nana said.
“We don’t need rubber boots,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We’ve got tennies on. So what if we get our feet wet?”
“The water is cold. We’ll catch our death,” Nana answered as if she were sure a deadly disease might take us before nightfall.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck out my bottom lip. “Fine!” I said. “We’ll put on boots!”
“Turn the truck around and head to the house,” Nana said to Pawpaw. “That girl won’t give us a minute’s peace until she sees a deer.”
BABY DEER
Pawpaw drove us back to the trailer and pulled up beside the carport. He turned off the key and said with a yawn, “You two are going to wear me out.”
“Get out Nana, hurry,” I said.
“Hold your horses. I’m going as fast as I can,” Nana said, dropping to the ground with a thud. “I swear, I need a stepstool to get in and out of this thing.”
She reached for my hand and I jumped out and took off running toward the trailer. By the time Nana and Pawpaw made their way inside, I was already in the utility room, had my rubber boots on, and was holding Nana’s in my hand. Then I asked breathlessly, “Pawpaw, will you dive us back now, please?”
“No, honey, we can walk back to the creek,” said Nana. “Pawpaw needs his nap and it’s a beautiful day. May’s my favorite month. I love the fresh green leaves and the wildflowers. We’ll pick flowers and I’ll make an arrangement for the kitchen table. Give me a few minutes, then we’ll head back to the creek.”
I sighed deeply, rolled my eyes, and said, “Whatever! I’ll be waiting outside.”
I kicked gravel in the driveway while I waited for Nana to emerge from the trailer, wondering how long it took just to put on a pair of rubber boots. She finally came out, smiled, and held her hand out. I put my hand in hers and we started down the dirt lane, but Nana walked too slowly for me, so I dropped her hand and ran ahead.
A few minutes later I stopped and waited for her to catch up. “Nana my feet sweat in these boots. I hate them,” I complained.
“Well, sweetie, they’ll keep your feet dry and you won’t get sick, so suck it up, and keep on trucking,” Nana said, laughing and patting my bottom.
We reached the creek. “Do you think we’ll step on a cottonmouth, Nana?”
“No child, they’re just as sacred of us as we are of them. They’ll get out of the way. And truth be told, nobody has seen any cottonmouths around this creek in years.”
We finally made it down one side of the bank, crossed the creek, and began the climb up the other side. I clasped Nana’s hand and helped her up the bank as if I were pulling a balky mule to the top of a mountain.
The beauty of the pasture and the trees was breathtaking. I turned in circles. “You can see for miles and miles,” I said. “It’s the most beautiful place in the world. We’ve got to take a lot of pictures.”
“Oh dear me! Where is the camera?” Nana said, frisking her body.
I laughed, held up the camera, and said, “I’ve got it, Nana.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, hold on to it,” she said.
“Shh. Did you hear that?” I whispered.
Nana cocked her head and listened. “I do hear something,” she whispered.
“It’s coming from behind that tree,” I said, pointing to our right. Then I heard the sound again, so I eased away from Nana and slowly crept to an old oak tree. When I reached the base of the tree, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in the underbrush was a tiny spotted deer.
“Nana,” I called softly. “It’s a baby deer!”
“Aaahhh!” the baby deer cried, turning to face me. “You scared me half to death!”
I dropped to my knees, hugged the deer around the neck and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Then I blinked in surprise. “Wait a minute. Did I hear you talk?”
Nana had joined me by that time and with her face as white as chalk, she said. “Sakes a live—a talking deer!”
“Aaahhh!” the baby deer cried, turning to face Nana. “You scared me half to death!”
I clung to the tiny animal, stroking its fur, and said, “Don’t be scared. I’m sorry we frightened you. We just wanted to see a deer and take pictures, but we didn’t expect to find a talking deer.” As I continued to pet the deer, I said, “Nana, will you take our picture?”
“I think I need some smelling salts before I faint, child,” Nana said, wiping her brow. The she added, “Well, of course I’ll take your picture.” She aimed the camera. “Okay, smile.”
I grinned, and to my surprise, the baby deer spread its lips and bared its teeth as if it were smiling, too. Nana snapped the picture.
“Let us see it,” I said, and took the camera from Nana’s hand. “Oh, it’s perfect. Look!”
I showed the picture to the baby deer.
“Is that what I look like, Julia? How did Nana do that? What is that thing—some kind of magic?”
“It’s called a camera and it takes a picture—sort of like reflections.” I paused for a second. “Wait a minute. How do you know my name? How do you know Nana’s name?”
“Simple,” said the baby deer. “I heard you from where I was hiding. She called you Julia and you called her Nana. We deer can hear really well, you know.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” I said, stroking the deer’s fine fur. “Do you have a name?”
“Baby Deer.”
“I know you’re a baby deer, but what’s your name?”
“Baby Deer.”
“Okaaay,” I said slowly. “What were you saying before I found you?”
“I said, ‘hi, little girl.’ I said it three times before I got your attention. I guess people don’t hear as well as us deer.”
“I guess not. But I finally head you,” I said.
“Do you want to be my friend?” asked Baby Deer, and his eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned up as if he were smiling again.
“Sure! I can�
��t think of anybody, I mean any animal I’d rather have for a friend. I still can’t believe you can talk.” My heart felt as if it were doing a tap dance in my chest. I was talking with a talking deer—and it wasn’t even January 6th.
Nana, who had been quiet for a long time, finally scratched her head and said, “Now I’ve seen and heard it all. I hope I didn’t take too many of my rheumatism pills.”
“You didn’t, Nana. I don’t take medicine and I see and hear the same thing. This is so cool,” I said.
Nana reached out hesitantly, then pulled her hand back and asked, “Is it okay if I touch you, too?”
Baby Deer replied, “It’s perfectly alright.”
As she touched Baby Deer’s soft fur, Nana asked, “Are you a he or a she?”
“I’m a buck,” he said proudly.
Then he turned his head toward me and asked, “If it’s alright with Nana, would you like to play with me? I’ve been alone here for quite awhile.”
Looking up at Nana, I said, “Would that be okay with you? Please. Pretty please.”
“Well, I guess so,” she said. “I’ll gather some wildflowers while you two have fun.”
As Nana walked away, Baby Deer asked, “What would you like to play?”
“I don’t know any deer games, but if you’d like to play people games, we could play hide-and-go-seek,” I said.
“I know how to hide—but I don’t know how to I seek. But I’ll try if you’ll tell me what to do,” he said, tucking his head, a sad look on his face.
“You don’t have to be sad because you don’t know people games.” I said, feeling my eyes sting with tears.
“I’m sad because none of the other deer want to be my friend. They laugh at me and won’t let me play with them.”
