Dog Whisperer (19 page)

She had the sense that Mrs. Griswold wanted to run into the house to get away from this conversation—and if she hadn't been stuck on a walker these days, maybe she would have.

“Um, we don't have to talk about this,” Emily said. “I know it's all really strange, and—”

Mrs. Griswold brushed that aside with an abrupt move of her hand. “Is he haunting the area, because he's tormented?”

Emily shook her head. “He's haunting the area because
you're
tormented,” she said quietly.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, and Emily wasn't sure whether the silence was awkward, or just thoughtful.

“He needs to be sure you're okay, and know that the accident wasn't your fault,” she said. “And that you're like, letting the world back in, and all.”

“Sam uses ‘like' and ‘and all' and such now?” Mrs. Griswold asked.

Emily felt her face get hot. “No, I was just, you know, paraphrasing, and—”

“Kidding,” Mrs. Griswold said.

Right. Okay. “My parents don't like it when I speak that way,” Emily said. “But, I always forget, and do it, anyway.”

Mrs. Griswold nodded, smiling slightly. Then, she looked more serious. “Does he—come into the house?”

Emily shook her head. “No. He was definite about that. If he comes near here, I don't think he ever leaves the road out there. He said he doesn't want to do anything that causes pain.”

“He wouldn't,” Mrs. Griswold said, her eyes looking very bright. “He was a gentleman, and a gentle man.”

It certainly seemed that way.

Mrs. Griswold didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and Emily looked out at the front yard, where new grass was starting to grow in the spot where the big tree had been before the hurricane blew it down.

“I don't believe any of this for a minute, of course,” Mrs. Griswold said, sounding less certain than that sentence maybe sounded. “I recognize that you're a kind child, and want to help a lonely old lady, but making up fanciful stories really doesn't—”

Zack jumped to his feet, staring out at the yard. Then, he leaped off the porch and into the grass. Emily followed his gaze, and saw a golden shimmer near the rose bushes. She whistled sharply—to her delight, Aunt Martha had taught her how to do one of those piercing “stop everything!” whistles with her pinkies—and Zack instantly turned to look back at her.

She pictured Marigold, and Zack responded by barking at the gold shimmer. As Emily watched, the shimmer turned into golden mist, and slowly took form. Then, Marigold was standing there in the sunshine, wagging her tail.

Emily turned to grin at Mrs. Griswold. “Look! There she is!”

“I don't see anything,” Mrs. Griswold said testily.

Oh. Emily whistled again, and motioned with her arm.

“Can you please stop making that infernal noise?” Mrs. Griswold asked.

Both dogs bounded up onto the porch.

Okay, Zack was the key. What was the word? She totally had it in her vocabulary—somewhere.

Conduit! That was it. He was the connection.

“Put your hand on Zack's back for a minute,” Emily said.

Mrs. Griswold sniffed. “I'll do no such thing.”

It was hard not to sigh. “Please?” Emily asked.

Mrs. Griswold rolled her eyes, but touched Zachary's back.

Emily could sense that Zack was concentrating as hard as he could, so she did, too.

And it must have worked, because suddenly, Mrs. Griswold gasped and yanked her hand away.

“That's—I can see Marigold,” she said, stuttering. “I—she—I can't believe it.”

Marigold wagged her tail, and put her front paws up on Mrs. Griswold's lap, and to Emily's shock, Mrs. Griswold hugged her dog and began to cry.

“Will she stay here?” Mrs. Griswold asked Emily, still crying.

Marigold was already getting a little shimmery again, so Emily knew the answer. But, she didn't have the heart to say so.

Marigold let Mrs. Griswold hug her for another moment, licked her face, and then sailed gracefully off the porch. She almost seemed to skim across the grass, and then she stopped out on the dirt road, looking up at something.

Emily saw the familiar mist, and then, Mr. Griswold was there, looking more shimmery than she had ever seen him.

Mrs. Griswold gasped. “Sam!”

Mr. Griswold smiled such a loving smile at his wife that Emily felt tears in her own eyes. He put his hand to his heart, and held it there. Then, he made a hugging motion with his arms, while Marigold wagged her tail joyfully back and forth.

“Sam,” Mrs. Griswold said softly. “Oh,
Sam
.”

He lifted one hand to his ear and held it there, making a motion with his other hand as though he might be using a telephone.

“I don't understand,” Mrs. Griswold said through her tears.

Mr. Griswold did another pantomime of making a telephone call, and then pointed at her. Then, he reached down to pat Marigold, and Emily could see the same golden shimmer start to surround him, too. He winked, raised his hand as though he was saying good-bye—and then, they both disappeared in a small flash of bright gold light.

Mrs. Griswold kept weeping, and Emily stayed right where she was, not sure what to do, or say. Zack had trotted back up onto the porch, and Emily patted him, trying to think of a graceful way to leave.

Mrs. Griswold was the kind of person who had an old copper cowbell hanging on a rope by the front door, instead of a normal doorbell—and when it rang loudly, Emily ducked.

“It's okay,” Mrs. Griswold said, smiling through her tears. “He's just making a joke.” She laughed weakly. “He loved movies.”

Emily didn't
get
the joke, but that was okay.

“He looks wonderful,” Mrs. Griswold said, with true wonder in her voice. “He looks
radiant
.”

That was a perfect description, so Emily nodded.

“I don't understand any of this, but—” Mrs. Griswold shook her head as though she was trying to clear out some cobwebs. “You and the Percival boy are building a boat, correct?”

Emily nodded.

“You'll need something special for the prow,” Mrs. Griswold said, and then reached over to pat Zack affectionately. “A dog, maybe?”

Definitely! “That would be—wow,” Emily said. “Thank you. I would love that.”

“I'll need you to bring me a block of wood,” Mrs. Griswold said briskly, “when you can. I'm going to be laid up for quite some time, and—I like to keep my hands busy.”

Emily nodded eagerly. How neat would it be to have a gargoyle of
Zack
?

“Well,” Mrs. Griswold said, and picked up a portable telephone, which was on the end table. “I appreciate all of this more than you will ever know, but I need to be alone now. I have a long overdue phone call to make.”

Emily nodded, and got up from her chair. Zack followed her cheerfully down the steps.

“Hello, Hank?” she heard Mrs. Griswold saying into the telephone, as they walked towards the front gate. “This is your mother.”

Emily grinned. Unless she was completely off-base, that sounded as though the task had been completed!

Zack was feeling very bouncy, so she let him jump over the gate before she opened it. She was feeling pretty bouncy herself, and if she weren't twelve, and
beyond
cool, she maybe would have skipped.

They were about halfway home when Zack stopped. He was looking up at the sky, and Emily saw something drifting down towards them. They both watched curiously as the object floated very, very slowly in their direction. Finally, it wafted all the way down to the ground and landed right in front of them on the ground.

It was a feather.

A
beautiful
feather.

The colors didn't look quite real—sunshiny yellow with flecks of scarlet and blue, and a bright white quill. Emily picked it up carefully, not wanting to damage it in any way.

She held the feather out to Zack, who sniffed it delicately, then barked.

“I think it's a present,” she said.

Zack barked again, so enthusiastically that she decided that her guess must be right.

She let the feather rest on her palm, noticing how warm it felt. It really was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

When they walked into their backyard, her parents were sitting out on the deck, drinking iced tea and reading. Her father saw them first, and lowered his book.

“Mama!” he said, with what might have been an attempt at a Southern accent. “Look who's come back from the war!”

Emily and her mother both laughed.

“We were beginning to think that we might have to come down and rescue you,” he said.

“What did she want?” her mother asked curiously.

Emily sat down at the table, while Zack went over to his water dish and drank heavily—and noisily—for a long time.

“I think she wants to be a better neighbor,” Emily said.

Her parents waited expectantly.

“And—she likes Zack,” Emily said. “Since she used to have a dog. When's supper?”

“About fifteen minutes,” her mother said. “I just want the macaroni and cheese to crisp up nicely.”

Cool. She liked macaroni and cheese. And Zack
loved
it.

Her father noticed the feather, and leaned over to look at it more closely. “Well, that's awfully pretty. Where did you find it?”

Emily pointed out at the road. “On our way home.”

Her father squinted at it, through his glasses. “I don't think I've ever seen plumage like that before. What on earth kind of bird could it have been?”

Not
on earth, was Emily's guess.

“Maybe we should take it over to the biology department, and see if they can identify it,” he said.

Emily shook her head. “No, thanks. I don't really
want
to know.” Which was totally and completely true. “I just maybe want to hang it over my desk, and be able to look at it.”

“Well, it's certainly spectacular,” her mother said. “We can get a little frame, to protect it, if you want.”

Emily nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

They ate dinner out on the deck as the sun went down, and the moon slowly rose over the quiet sea. None of them really spoke, because it was nice just to be together, and outside, and enjoying the evening.

“Oh, look!” Her father pointed up. “A shooting star!”

Emily glanced up just in time to see it streak across the night, followed by a second one. “Hey, there's another!”

“Right between Orion and Sirius,” her mother said.

Emily knew that Orion was a constellation of a man, who was maybe an archer or a hunter. “What's Sirius?” she asked.

“The Dog Star,” her mother said. “According to the myth, he was Orion's dog. It's supposed to be the brightest star in the sky.”

A man, and his dog.

Well, of course. What
else
could it be?

Zack barked happily, and Emily bent down to give him a huge hug.

“It's perfect, isn't it, boy?” she said.

She could have sworn that he actually nodded at her, and then he leaned against her, looking up with adoring brown eyes. Brown eyes, with maybe
a little
speck of gold.

They all watched as the two shooting stars journeyed across the sky, leaving behind two small bursts of golden light at the end of their path.

Emily smiled, feeling as though—even if it was just for a moment—everything in the entire world was
exactly
the way it should be.

That everything was absolutely perfect!

 

A Square Fish Book

An Imprint of Macmillan

DOG WHISPERER: THE GHOST. Copyright © 2012 by Nicholas Edwards.
All rights reserved. For information, address Square Fish,
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

ISBN: 978-0-312-37096-1

Square Fish logo designed by Filomena Tuosto

First Edition: November 2012

mackids.com

eISBN 9781466828056