For Sue Carlin and all those who rescue dogs—
And for those who adopt and foster them.
It is a heroic, never-ending job.
And for Kodi.
MY THANKS TO EMILY CHAREST
chapter 1
“Once upon a time there was a wicked queen,” said my younger sister, Alice.
She peered out the window at the house over the field and across the small brook. I looked and saw a woman, her hair piled on top of her head, walking up the sidewalk. She was followed by movers carrying furniture.
“The wicked queen had two children. They were bad children and she often punished them.”
“Alice!” said Mama from the screened side porch. “Can’t you tell a pleasant story?”
Alice was the storyteller in the family, some of her stories filled with hilariously mean characters.
“How did she punish them?” I asked.
“Zoe! Don’t encourage her.”
I watched my mother through the open door to the porch. She brushed Kodi. She always brushed dogs on the screened porch, then swept all the hair up.
“If I brush them outside,” she had said, “the hair blows around and hangs on the trees and bushes.”
Kodi was a Great Pyrenees, 140 pounds of white fur. May, almost as big, stood waiting for her turn. There was fur everywhere—porch floor, furniture, and on Mama’s jeans. Soon May would be adopted into a new family, and there would be other new dogs, one after the other.
Mama rescued Pyrs, as she called them, and found homes for them so they wouldn’t be put to sleep. Once, we had five of them in our house. When they lay on the wood living-room floor, they made a huge, deep white rug.
I watched the movers carry a sapphire blue velvet couch into the house along with two matching chairs.
Mama came to look out the window too.
“No Great Pyrs on that furniture,” I said.
“That’s for sure,” Mama said. “Not on that beautiful couch and those chairs. There’s probably no dogs there at all,” said Mama. “Or cats.”
“And no children,” I said.
We watched a series of tables with carved legs be carried in. And then velvet drapes were carefully lifted by two men.
“She punished her children in the drapes,” announced Alice, making me jump. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
“She rolled them up like burritos, so only their heads showed. They couldn’t get into trouble that way.”
Mama couldn’t help laughing.
“You have a way, Alice,” she said.
We watched the second pair of bright velvet drapes be carried in.
“I suppose I should be neighborly and invite her over for tea,” said Mama.
“Not in this house, Mama,” I said. “Not during shedding season.”
We watched white fur flying into the room, carried by the summer breezes coming off the porch. Some stuck to Mama’s shirt. A clump floated by my nose, so close I caught the satisfying smell of dog.
“You can invite her,” said Alice. “She won’t punish you. We don’t have drapes.”
Mama put one arm around Alice and one around me.
“No. No drapes,” she said. “Just dogs.”
We watched a wooden carved porch swing being hooked up on the porch.
“We could weave drapes from the fur of the dogs,” Alice said. “It would make life much more exciting.”
Before Mama could answer, a long black car pulled up and a man stepped out.
“And suddenly the king arrives,” said Alice in what Daddy called her hushed-wildlife-documentary voice. Usually that voice whispered, “And then the leopard sees its prey.”
Even though it was summer, the man wore a jacket and tie. He opened the passenger door. After a moment a small boy climbed out.
“And the prince!” said Alice, surprised.
The man turned and began to walk up to the house. The boy stood still. Then he turned and stared at our house. He saw us all in the window: a mother, two children, and two huge white dogs. Beside me Kodi’s tail began to wag. The boy stared.
Then the man/king turned and came back, taking the boy’s hand, pulling him up the sidewalk. The boy kept staring at us until he went up the porch steps and into the house.
“Not a prince,” said Alice. “A prisoner.”
chapter 2
My father came home just before dinner. He still wore his white vet medical jacket. He carried a large covered cage.
Kodi and May ran up to him, sniffing.
“So, what is this?” asked Mama.
“I saved the life of an African grey parrot today,” said Daddy.
“And did the parrot thank you?” asked Mama.
Daddy took the cover off the parrot cage.
“Did you thank me?” said Daddy to the parrot.
“You cahn’t know!” said the parrot loudly in a British accent.
My mother laughed.
“She belongs to a woman going into a nursing home. She can’t keep him,” said my father.
“Feisty woman, I’d say,” said Mama.
“What’s your name?” asked Alice.
“You cahn’t know!” said the parrot.
“Lena,” said Daddy. “Lena is her name.”
“Lena,” repeated Lena.
Kodi and May sidled up closer to the parrot.
“Easy, May,” said Mama. “Sometimes these dogs don’t like birds.”
“Easy, May,” said Lena.
Kodi sat and stared.
“Most birds don’t talk, do they, Kodi?” said Daddy, scratching Kodi’s ears.
“I have a question,” said Mama. “What is Lena doing here?”
Daddy grinned. “This question from you,” he said. “The dog woman. The rescue angel.”
“You got me into it, John,” said Mama. “Remember? ‘The dogs need saving, Claire.’”
“Lena needs saving too,” said Daddy. “Someone has to keep Lena until we find her a home.”
“What do you eat?” I asked Lena.
“You cahn’t know!” we all said at the same time. Even Lena. This made Lena laugh. It was a high-pitched, wild sound that made us all laugh. The more we laughed, the more Lena did, and the more we did.
And on and on.
The next day, early, there was morning mist, with sun shining through. I let Kodi and May out into the large fenced-in yard. They ran to the side fence, and I could see the boy from next door standing there. Behind him, the man got into his black car and drove off without a wave.
The boy put out his hand and Kodi nosed it through the fence. The boy smiled, then he looked up and saw me, and his smile went away.
“That’s all right,” I called, walking down through the wet grass in my bare feet. “That’s Kodi. His real name is Kodiak. And May, who’s licking your hand. I’m Zoe. What’s your name?”
The boy was silent but still stood staring at the dogs. Kodi’s tail wagged and the boy smiled again.
“Phillip! Phillip, come away from those beasts!”
The woman with the piled-up hair stood on her porch.
“It’s all right,” I said to her. “They’re good dogs.”
“They could bite!” she said loudly, coming down the steps.
She walked across the grass, carefully stepping over the small brook that ran between our houses.
“No, they’d never bite,” I said.
“Never,” said Mama, suddenly standing behind me. “Not when someone is kind to them. Phillip? Is that your name?” she asked.
He nodded.
“He doesn’t speak,” said the woman impatiently. “At least not to us. My husband’s niece left him with us, and we’re keeping him while . . .” She hesitated. “While his parents solve a problem.”
“Well, Phillip, you can visit the dogs anytime,” said Mama. “You don’t have to talk.”
Phillip looked at my mother for a long time.
“And you are welcome to visit too,” Mama said to the woman. “I’m Claire Cassidy.”
Mama put out her hand across the fence. The woman took her hand, then dropped it.
“I’m Phyllis Croft,” she said. “We just rented this house for a few months.”
“Welcome,” said Mama. “We’ll have tea sometime.”
Mrs. Croft backed up a bit.
“And I have a daughter, Alice, who is probably about Phillip’s age. Are you about ten?”
“He’s nine,” said Mrs. Croft crisply.
She grabbed Phillip’s arm and pulled him away.
“We have errands,” she said. “Nice to meet you,” she added.
“Nice to meet you, Phillip,” said Mama. “And you,” she quickly added to Mrs. Croft.
Mama and I watched them go back up the steps to their front porch. Phillip turned to look at us. All of a sudden he held his hand up in a small wave.
“Well, Kodi. I’m surprised you didn’t bite that woman,” said Mama.
Kodi wagged his tail.
“I feel sorry for Phillip,” I said.
Mama sighed. “I do too.”
“Alice is right. He is a prisoner,” I said. “Mrs. Croft is mean.”
Mama seemed thoughtful.
“I wonder . . . ,” she began.
I looked up at her, waiting.
“I think she’s scared,” said Mama.
“Scared of what?”
Mama smiled slightly. “Dogs. She’s scared of dogs. And I think . . .” She stopped.
“What?”
“I think maybe she’s scared of Phillip.”
Mama and I stood at the fence for a moment.
“You cahn’t know!” a voice came from inside our house.
“Let’s go,” said Mama, smiling. “Lena’s awake.”
As we walked, I turned to look at the Crofts’ house and saw Phillip in the window, watching us.
I smiled.
He smiled too.
chapter 3
“He doesn’t speak?” asked Alice.
“No,” I said.
“No,” said Lena.
“Why?” asked Alice.
I shrugged.
“Okay,” said Alice. “I can talk.”
I smiled.
“You sure can,” I said. “You and Lena.”
“He doesn’t have to talk,” said Alice.
“That’s what Mama said.”
But why didn’t he talk? Was he afraid? Was he sad? He must have talked once, maybe when he was a baby. When he was little? Maybe he had talked last week.
Why not now?
Daddy finished his coffee.
“I have to go. I have dogs and cats and one donkey to see,” he said. “You want me to take Lena to the clinic? She could be a bother here.”
“Lena. Bother,” said Lena.
Mama smiled. “It’s okay. We can put the cover on her cage if she talks too much. That quiets her.”
“Funny,” I said. “There’s a boy next door who doesn’t talk and a parrot inside who talks all the time.”
“And a man who drives a black car and comes and goes slyly,” said Alice.
“Slyly?” I asked.
Alice nodded.
“He’s not a king,” she said. “He’s a spy. Spies don’t talk much. They just spy.”
Daddy smiled.
“Could be,” he said. “Though you seem more like a spy than Mr. Croft.”
“I’m a writer,” said Alice.
“Kind of like a spy,” said Daddy.
Alice smiled as if she knew that.
The phone rang and Mama answered it.
“Hello. . . . Oh yes. . . . Uh-huh. . . . Uh-huh.”
“Uh-huh,” said Lena, making us laugh.
“I have a leash for her, by the way,” said Mama. “See you in the morning, then.”
She hung up the phone and leaned down to hug May. Mama’s face was very serious.
“May’s going to her new home tomorrow?” asked Daddy.
Mama nodded and Daddy put his arm around her.
“I’ll miss May,” he said.
We’d all miss May. But what Daddy meant was that he knew Mama would miss her most. Mama had rescued May.
“Well, May has a great home in the country,” said Mama with a small smile. “With a pond. With a family who will love her. And . . .”
She stopped suddenly.
“And what?” asked Daddy as if he knew what.
“I got a telephone call last night. There are two more dogs coming,” said Mama.
Daddy didn’t say anything.
“I had to,” she said. “They wouldn’t be alive in two days, so I’m taking them.”
“Two,” said Daddy.
“Two. I have to drive across state to pick them up. One is young.”
Daddy nodded.
“Two,” he said, beginning to laugh.
“Two,” said Lena, laughing with Daddy.
The Crofts’ house was the only other one we could see from our house. Ours was old. The farmer who owned all the land around it had lived here with its uneven wood floors and lavender wavery glass windows, its five fireplaces and three closets. When the farmer retired, he built the house where the Crofts lived.
The dogs had almost a half acre fenced in for running and digging and sleeping under trees. There were still cattle and horses in the fields surrounding our house. Sometimes Kodi spent time watching over the cows from his side of the fence. It was a Great Pyr’s job in life to guard the herd. Kodi kept watch over them in his own way.
The fence was where I found Alice and Phillip, sitting cross-legged with the dogs.
Alice was talking.
“And my father is a vet. He takes care of small and big animals. Mama rescues Great Pyrenees dogs so they won’t be killed. We have a talking parrot inside. You can come in to see her if you want.”
Kodi and May lay on either side of Phillip, Kodi’s big head on his lap.
“Did Mrs. Croft allow Phillip to come inside the fence?” I asked Alice.
“Yes. I told her he was coming over for a visit. I said I’d walk him home when he was ready.”
“And?”
“She didn’t say anything,” said Alice.
I laughed.
A door opened and shut next door. Mrs. Croft stood on the porch.
“Come home soon, Phillip,” she called. “We have to go shopping before lunch.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Croft,” called Alice.
Mrs. Croft’s mouth hung open with surprise.
Alice stood up, and Phillip stood too.
“Phillip’s having lunch at our house,” she called. “Don’t worry. It will be healthy.”
Alice took Phillip’s hand and they walked toward the house.
“The queen watches,” said Alice softly. “Come, royal doggies.”
Kodi and May walked on either side of them like guardian angels.
I looked back. Mrs. Croft had gone inside. A little slice of sunlight marked the place she had been.
chapter 4
Inside the kitchen Phillip stared at Lena. Lena slid sideways on her bar perch and bobbed her head, staring back at him.
“Lena’s waiting for you to say something,” said Alice.
There was a silence.
&n
bsp; “Okay,” said Alice. “I’ll do the talking. Lena, meet Phillip.”
“Meet Phillip,” said Lena.
Phillip’s eyes widened. He grinned and moved his hand for Alice to say something else.
“Phillip is a nice boy, Lena,” said Alice.
“Nice boy, Lena,” said Lena.
Phillip laughed suddenly. It was the only sound we’d heard from him. It had burst out of him, somehow, like music. It made me think of the cheerful sound of Daddy emptying the coins from his pockets onto the kitchen table.
It made Lena laugh too. Kodi came up and nosed Phillip. Kodi was nearly as tall as Phillip, and somehow Phillip looked small next to Kodi, his skinny arm around Kodi’s neck.
“Tomorrow May goes to her new home,” said Alice.
Phillip frowned a bit. He reached out and patted May. She sniffed his face, making Phillip close his eyes happily.
Mama put sandwiches on the table.
“Lie down, Kodi. Lie down, May,” said Mama. “They can easily reach the table and eat your food,” she added.
“Food,” said Lena.
Phillip ate quickly. He looked around the sunny kitchen at Lena and the dogs. I wondered what it was like eating with the Crofts next door. Was it quiet? Too quiet? One small boy with two grown-ups who didn’t seem to know what to do with Phillip?
Of course, Alice the talker said it out loud.
“I bet it is different next door,” she said, not expecting Phillip to answer.
He didn’t.
“The spy and the queen next door eat at a long, dark table in a long, dark dining room,” said Alice, making up a story. “They eat creamed spinach and liver. There is no talk. When there is talk, it is boring.
“‘Nice day, dear . . . la-la-la.’
‘How do you like my tie? . . . la-la-la.’
‘Lovely liver . . . la-la-la.’
“The boy who lives with them bundles up the creamed spinach and liver in his napkin and puts it in his pocket. He throws it in the trash when the spy and the queen aren’t looking.”
Phillip grinned at his toasted cheese sandwich.
But he didn’t speak.
chapter 5
“Car,” said Alice, peering out the kitchen window.
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