Dream Within a Dream

by Patricia MacLachlan

  I walk over to the mirror and look at myself.

  My heart skips a beat.

  I am beautiful.

  4

  Walking with George

  In the middle of the night I get out of bed and go downstairs for a drink of water.

  Boots is there, sitting in the half dark. She doesn’t look up when I fill a glass.

  I wonder if she’s thinking about George teaching her how to drive Jake’s car.

  I’m thinking about George too.

  I sleep late into the morning, and when I start to go downstairs, there is George, as if my thoughts called him to our house.

  He’s sitting across the table from Boots.

  Theo is there too. He is showing George a few of the forty-eight books he brought to the island. George picks up one of Theo’s books.

  “I love Julie of the Wolves,” says George. He picks up another book. “The Devil’s Storybook, too. I have a copy of Tuck Everlasting I’ll lend you. I have many books at home in my library.”

  “You have a library?!” asks Theo, excited.

  George nods. “I call it my library,” he says. “Upstairs, outside my bedroom, I have four bookshelves, floor to ceiling. And a chair with a footstool.”

  Theo’s eyes grow wider.

  “You can visit anytime. I even have overdue books there from the island library.”

  This makes me smile.

  On the table is a basket of large tomatoes.

  George looks up at me standing on the stairs.

  “Mermaid girl,” he says.

  Boots smiles.

  George’s mother sent us tomatoes from her garden.

  “She is overrun with them,” says George. “She plants and forgets.

  “She’s an editor,” says George to me. “Sometimes she writes poetry of her own. I call her One Word a Week Willa.”

  Boots laughs.

  George stands up.

  “Would you come to dinner at my house tonight, Louisa?”

  “Me?” I say, surprised.

  “You,” he says with his amused look.

  “Can I come too?” asks Theo.

  George shakes his head. “Not this time, Theo. Just Louisa. The two of us. Like a date.”

  Theo opens his mouth, surprised. He looks at Boots.

  Boots looks at me.

  A date? I’ve never had a date. I’m not old enough.

  “Sure,” I say after a moment.

  I realize I’ve only said two words—“Me?” and “Sure.”

  Theo and Boots look back at George.

  There is a lot of head turning here.

  “I’ll come to walk you to my house at six o’clock,” he says. “And I’ll walk you back home. It’s not far.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  Another single word!

  George goes to the door, then turns.

  “Don’t change your hair,” he says to me.

  And then he goes out the screen door. Tess goes over to watch him walk away.

  Theo looks at me. Boots does not.

  I go to the refrigerator and open the door. “Do we have any orange juice?” I ask.

  No one speaks. When I turn they are both smiling.

  “It is not a date,” I say firmly. “George and I are friends. Friends,” I say more firmly.

  They keep smiling.

  “Why is Louisa dressed up?” asks Jake when I come downstairs at six. “Where is Theo?”

  “I sent him to feed the sheep,” says Boots.

  I give Boots a grateful look.

  “I thought I already did that,” says Jake, looking confused.

  “I’m going to dinner at George’s house,” I say.

  “Oh,” says Jake, no longer confused. “Nice.”

  Tess goes to the door and wags her tail.

  George is there.

  I go out the door. Tess whines behind me.

  George doesn’t say hello.

  “Can you walk a mile, Louisiana?” he asks.

  “I can. And I will.”

  George looks over to the sheep field and sees Theo staring at us.

  “Your fault,” I say. “You told him this was a date.”

  “I was amusing myself,” says George.

  Talking Tillie drives toward us on the dusty road, slows down to look at us, then waves. We wave back.

  “Now our secret is out,” I say.

  George and I both burst out laughing. We laugh because we both know this is not a date.

  We pass through the small town center.

  George points. “That’s my school,” he says.

  “That’s a house!” I say. “My school is a large brick building with lots of classrooms and a large lunchroom where we line up for lunch.”

  “Poor you,” says George.

  I stare at him.

  “We eat in a large dining room, all ages, young to older. Parents make wonderful lunches in the kitchen, and we all serve each other. Sometimes we cook too.”

  “It sounds like a home,” I say.

  “It is a home,” he says simply. “Sometimes the older children help the younger ones. I’m helping some with reading.”

  I told Boots I hate change. But George makes change sound more interesting to me.

  “You’re confusing,” I tell George.

  “I know, Louisiana.”

  We stop walking.

  “What?” I ask briskly.

  “This is my house,” says George.

  “Oh.”

  “And Tess has followed us,” he adds.

  I turn and see Tess wagging her tail.

  We both burst out laughing again.

  Like friends.

  5

  Hands

  George’s house sits on a hill above the water. It has weathered shingles with a porch all around. It looks like a house in a book.

  Tess runs up the steps in front of us.

  “It’s fine. Tess visits us often. My mother and father like her. When we tell her it’s time to go home, she goes.”

  We open the door, and George’s father, very tall and darker than George, smiles at me.

  “Louisiana with the beautiful hair,” he exclaims. “I’m Eliasi,” he says, holding out his hand.

  I take it. It is warm. And I do not feel shy.

  “Don’t tease her,” calls George’s mother from the kitchen. When she comes into the room, we both stare at each other and smile.

  Her hair is wild and curly, just like mine. She has tied it back, but not successfully. Curls pop around her face.

  “Hello, Louisa. I’m Willa,” she says. “And hello, Tess. What would Tess like to eat?”

  “Toast,” George and I say at the same time.

  “Eliasi is the cook, but we can make toast,” says Willa as I follow her into the kitchen. “I made . . .”

  “Caprese salad!” I exclaim. “My favorite! No one in my family makes a beautiful salad like this!”

  There is a huge platter of large sliced red tomatoes and basil leaves and thick slices of mozzarella cheese drizzled with oil and vinegar.

  “Yay,” says Willa.

  “Yay,” I repeat.

  “I am grilling fish,” says Eliasi. “Unless you don’t like it, Louisa.”

  “I like it really, really crisp,” I say, feeling brave to say so.

  Eliasi smiles his huge smile. “I shall burn the fish for you, Louisiana.”

  And he does.

  I eat three pieces of Eliasi’s burned fish. And half the caprese salad.

  Tess sleeps under the table by my feet.

  “Willa and I met in Tanzania,” says Eliasi. “She was working with the women and children in the villages. I fell in love with her hair before I fell in love with her.”

  “Boots and Jake fell in love across the classroom in middle school,” I say. “Very young.”

  George is quiet, listening to our talk.

  “I would have fallen in love with Willa if I’d met her in school,” Eliasi says quietly. “I
t happens.”

  The sun has set. Tess has eaten crisp toast made by George.

  “I loved your fish,” I say to Eliasi.

  “I love you for loving it,” he says.

  “And I loved the salad.”

  Willa smiles.

  “As Jake would say,” says George, “now that we all like each other, let’s get going home.”

  I laugh.

  And then I surprise myself.

  “I’d like to come again.”

  Eliasi reaches over and holds my hand. “Of course.”

  “Of course,” echoes Willa. “There will always be tomatoes.”

  “That’s for sure,” says Eliasi.

  We wake Tess and say good-bye and start home again.

  “Kwaheri!” Eliasi calls from the porch.

  “That means ‘good-bye’ in Swahili,” says George.

  “How do I say ‘thank you’ in Swahili?” I ask.

  “Asante,” says George.

  “Asante!” I call, and see Eliasi smile.

  “He will teach you more Swahili,” he says. “He likes you.”

  It is late dusk with a low red line of sunset on the water.

  “Your mother has hair like mine,” I say.

  “You noticed,” says George with a grin. “My parents married in Africa. And I was born there. This was my mother’s island home. My father loved it because it reminded him of living by Lake Tanganyika, in Africa, where he fished.”

  “What does he do?” I ask.

  “My father went to school to become a teacher,” George says. “He teaches African studies at a college on the mainland. Sometimes he teaches at my school. And he still fishes.”

  We walk all the way home without more words, watching Tess sniffing the smells of the road, and the grasses, and the sea.

  “Asante,” I say to George when we get to the house.

  George reaches over suddenly to put his hand against my hair—only for a moment.

  I think of Eliasi’s large, comforting hand.

  George hadn’t said hello when he came for me.

  And he doesn’t say good-bye.

  I put my hand up to my hair where George’s hand had been and watch him walk home again.

  He turns once to look at me, walking backward. Then he is gone.

  When I go inside, Boots and Jake are alone in the kitchen, dancing close together. There are candles on the table, flickering light in the dim room. Jake puts his hands on either side of Boots’s face as they dance.

  There is no music.

  Hands again.

  They don’t notice me.

  I walk past them and up the stairs to my room.

  Hands.

  “Louisa?”

  It is night, Boots whispering in the dark.

  “Yes?” I lift my head off the pillow.

  “I didn’t see you come in tonight.”

  “You were dancing with Jake,” I whisper.

  I can imagine Boots smiling at this.

  “Did you have a good time at dinner?”

  “Willa made caprese salad,” I say, half asleep. Boots leans over to kiss my head.

  “See you in the morning.”

  I don’t remember her leaving.

  6

  Pretending

  When I get up in the morning I walk by Theo’s bedroom. His door is closed.

  I am surprised to see the wall clock says it is only seven.

  I look outside. Boots is walking across the driveway to the garage. She looks like she is walking carefully so she won’t make noise in the gravel. The garage door is open.

  I go outside and follow her.

  She stands just inside the open door, looking at Jake’s car.

  When she sees me, she puts her hand out to stop me. She puts a finger to her lips.

  George is inside the car, sitting quietly, his hands on the shiny steering wheel.

  After a moment she takes my hand, and we back out of the garage.

  George never sees us.

  “I didn’t want George to see us and feel shy. He often comes here early, before he and Jake drive off,” she whispers. “Sometimes in the evening, as if to say good night to the car.”

  “Good morning and good night,” I say softly.

  We walk into Boots’s flower garden outside the kitchen door. There are gravel paths and plants spread around, their colors contrasting and mingling like paints in a paint box.

  There are asters, dahlias, red and yellow irises, and trillium. And flowers I don’t know.

  I point to a lacy bush. “What is that?”

  “Astilbe,” says Boots. “My favorite.”

  A sea breeze comes up and ripples the astilbe blooms.

  Boots has already cut a large basket of blooms.

  “So, did George tell you that I called him and asked him if he’d teach me to drive Jake’s car?” asks Boots.

  “No!”

  Boots nods. “I figured he’d keep it to himself.”

  “What did George say?”

  Boots smiles. “He said ‘I don’t think I can do that.’ ”

  Boots picks up the big basket of flowers.

  Her face is nearly hidden by blooms.

  “But there are a few things I know,” Boots tells me. “Jake wants to give his car to George when he can’t drive any longer,” says Boots. “He told me that last night. George has helped Jake for years. Since George was just a young boy.”

  I remember Boots and Jake dancing in the kitchen.

  “I wonder why I didn’t know George when we were younger, all those summers,” I say.

  “George and his parents spent summers in Africa back then.” Boots smiles at me. “And maybe this was the best time for you to meet George,” she says.

  I don’t answer her.

  “And what is the second thing you know?” I ask.

  “George loves that car,” says Boots. “Which leads me to the third thing I know. I’m happy. I don’t have to drive Jake’s car. And I’m hatching a plan.”

  “What plan is that?”

  “You’ll know when I know it,” says Boots.

  She hands me the basket of flowers to carry into the kitchen.

  “Let’s go inside so George can pretend he just arrived to drive with Jake.”

  Which we do. George comes into the kitchen a few moments later.

  “Flower maidens,” he says. “What are you doing with all of these flowers?”

  “Some will go to the clinic,” says Boots. “Some will go to the library. And some will go to Willa.”

  Jake comes into the room, a little startled to see us all. He gives us a quick, thoughtful look, then goes over to Boots. He puts his arms around her and kisses her for a long, long time. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a long kiss. Boots begins laughing with their lips together.

  “My mother and father do that pretty often,” George says. “Do your parents do that?”

  “My parents are scientific researchers,” I say. “They don’t kiss in front of us.”

  Both Jake and Boots laugh now.

  Then Theo, standing on the stairs, announces, “My friend Joey says my parents have kissed two times—once for Louisa and once for me,” he says.

  Jake and Boots laugh even harder.

  George smiles at me. I smile back.

  I’m not sure what we are all smiling about, but there is one more truth about me that no one knows.

  I’m good at pretending that I know what I don’t know.

  7

  Remembering a Face

  Jake sits at the kitchen table, staring at a booklet and his medicine bottle.

  I see that Boots’s rubber wellies by the back door are gone. Tess is gone. They must be walking.

  Jake doesn’t look up and smile as he usually does.

  I sit next to him.

  A booklet is open to a page with a grid of lines.

  I look at the booklet title: Macular Degeneration.

  I feel cold all of a sudden. I neve
r heard the name of what Jake had. Somehow giving it a name makes it more scary.

  “I can’t read my medicine bottle today,” Jake says without looking at me. “The test grid is more wavy. I called my retinal doctor on the mainland. He’s going to see me today. There is a new treatment.”

  Jake gets up and goes to the mirror by the door. The mirror I’ve looked in so many times. He stands there.

  “With macular degeneration you lose the central part of your retina sight. The middle of what you see,” says Jake.

  He pauses.

  “I’m remembering my face,” he says. “While I still can.”

  I go over and put my arms around him. “I know your face,” I say. “If you can’t see it, I’ll tell you about it.”

  Jake turns into the old Jake then, hugging me. “My pal,” he says.

  And then Boots comes in, taking off her wellies, wet from the ocean or the dew of the meadow. Tess goes over to her water bowl and drinks and drinks.

  Life seems the same as it is every day.

  But not for Jake.

  I look at Boots, and she reads my mind.

  “We’ll be gone for the day,” she says. “Eliasi is driving us to the boat this morning. We’ll be back on the late boat, and we’ll walk to Eliasi’s house. Jake will have drops in his eyes and can’t drive. Eliasi will drive us home again. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  But things are not okay, and Boots knows I know it. I know what is really on Jake’s mind. He will lose the middle of what he sees when he drives.

  Not seeing the road is worse for Jake than not seeing his face.

  Eliasi arrives a bit early in his gray pickup truck with a surprise. Sitting between George and Eliasi is a big smooth-coated brown dog. When he opens his door, the dog leaps over George and jumps down from the truck. Tess is more than happy, leaping around with the brown dog.

  “We have a dog!” says George.

  Eliasi gets out. “I found him in my boat yesterday. He went fishing with me. He’s my sea dog.”

  George looks at me, knowing what I’m thinking. “He isn’t owned by anyone on the island,” he says. “We called the dog officer. The ferry driver said he gets on the boat and rides to the island. He stays for a few days. Then he reappears and takes the trip to the mainland again. They keep food and water for him on the ferry.”