fter a thoroughly wretched afternoon Faith decided that nothing worse could happen and that perhaps it was time to call the police. “William?”

Her husband closed the book with a snap. He put a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

“What is it?” Gran whispered and set down the tea.

William looked at Gran. “Someone just called my name.” He tapped the book. “From inside.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t close it!” Faith stepped toward him.

He shook his head, his eyes widening. “It doesn’t matter. I think … I think … they are—”

A wind tore through the library. Loose pages flew wildly above their heads and pages flapped in chorus from every shelf in the room. Several seconds later, three people and one cat appeared on the floor.

After a breathless moment of silence, Faith cried and pounced on the figure nearest to her. “Yeats!”

William froze, his eyes moving from his son to the person sitting next to him. Faith stopped fussing over the cut above Yeats’s eye as the new arrivals slowly rose to their feet. A page from the book fluttered to the floor.

“Hello, William,” Shari said softly.

Tears flowed freely down William’s cheeks.

She embraced him. Wrapping her small arms around William, she patted his back while he wept. “I’m back, finally.” She pulled away to look at him. “And let me say—you are old! Do you remember how we used to imagine what we would look like when we were ancient? We used to put our hands out and pretend they were wrinkled.”

William couldn’t speak. Yeats walked to his father and threw his arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you, son,” William gasped.

Yeats looked him square in the eye. “Thank you, Dad. You gave me the necklace. You knew it was important. It was! We were stuck there. I couldn’t get Shari to remember. When she saw the bell she remembered everything.”

His father nodded. “My heart told me you needed it. Thank God, for once I was right.”

“And your wishes at the well! One of them made it through. I put a coin in and one of them got out. It helped Shari choose to come home. You’ve been right all your life, Dad.” Yeats grinned. “There is no madness in our family. It was just so hard for everyone else to believe.”

Faith wiped her eyes. “Especially me.”

William looked up hopefully.

Shari sighed. “I kind of like this. You’ve gotten old.” She shifted her gaze to Yeats. “But I get to stay a kid!”

“For the moment,” said Mr. Sutcliff thoughtfully. “I do believe, however, that all will progress normally now.” He grinned. “As normal as childhood can be. For there seems to be enough magic in it to last a lifetime.”

William wiped his eyes. “You haven’t changed at all,” he said to Shari. “I feel like there’s a part of me that’s still twelve. Like I’ve gone back. But I know I can’t. Shari, this is Faith. She is—”

“I’m his wife.” Faith stood beside her husband and took his hand. Yeats hugged them both.

“I knew William would marry someone pretty,” said Shari.

“Welcome home,” Faith said. “And thank you.”

Shari nodded. “In the palace, you would have all the young men running after you. …” She paused, suddenly troubled, as if stirred by a memory.

“I fear,” said her grandfather, “that you will find the memory of your adventure lingering for many a year to come.”

Shari ran to him.

Gran moved over to them and ran her hands through the girl’s hair. “Exactly the same as when you left.” She stifled a sob.

Odysseus growled at the shelf. The bookends were back in place.

Yeats pointed. “Skin and Bones!”

The metal pirates remained frozen.

Mr. Sutcliff smiled. “Hats off to you gentlemen.” He glanced at the ceiling and lowered his voice. “For pirates, I’ve never known any so gallant.”

“How about some tea?” Gran asked and gestured to the kitchen. “I think we’ve all had enough adventures to fill twenty years.”

“To quote a favorite of mine”—Mr. Sutcliff put his hand over his heart—“‘All’s well that ends well!’”