sixteen

Rosy knew they were lucky—the wind was out of the west and blew them over to Heart Island with no wear and tear on their wings, which were stiff from the cold. How we’ll get back is anyone’s guess, Rosy thought. “Oh, why didn’t we stop to ask for Queen Mab’s help?”

“We didn’t have time,” Clara replied. “We did the right thing.” Clara didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if they hadn’t acted as quickly as they had.

“She’s right in the middle of the island,” said Sylva. “I guess it must be a loon—”

“It’s a cat, I think,” said Goldie.

“—whatever it is, the sound is coming from the middle of the island. Not much farther now.”

In the very middle of Heart Island, there’s a rock that looks like a heart itself. At the top of the rock, there’s a little cleft, which makes a shelter. That’s where the noise was coming from. And that’s where the Fairy Bell sisters found Squeakie Bell.

“Oh, Squeak! You’re all right!” cried Clara. “You’re all right!”

All the Fairy Bell sisters rushed over to give her a hug. And I don’t mind telling you: Many tears were shed.

“Why did you leave us?”

“How did you fly so far?”

Then the little cry came again. “What’s making that noise, Squeak?” They looked carefully. Squeak was sitting in the shelter of the rock, and nestled in her lap was something even smaller than she was.

“What have you got there, Squeak?” asked Clara.

Rosy was the first to realize. “Oh my!” she said. “The question is not what have you got there. It’s who have you got there.”

And Squeak said, “Baby.”