“Maggie’s the girl who owns the huge dog you were fancying,” said Otto.
“His name is Sirius,” said Maggie.
“Whar’d you get a name like that?” asked Cliff.
“It’s after the brightest star in the sky, in the constellation of Sirius, the Great Dog. He has a white star on his black chest, so ‘Sirius’ seemed right,” Maggie explained. “You can come up and see him sometime, if you like.”
“If old Rand doesn’t shoot the dog first,” warned Marcus.
“Rand was in here after talking to your pa,” Art said to Maggie. “He’s getting together a group of sheep owners from other bays to put some pressure on about passing the dog law.”
“Sheepherding dogs won’t be bothered by the law,” said Otto. “Why don’t you teach Sirius to herd sheep?”
“There’s an idea!” agreed Art.
“We don’t have sheep,” Maggie answered. “May I have some tea, please?”
“What’s that scratching noise?” asked Art as he poured tea into a paper bag.
A bark came from outside. Cliff opened the door, and there stood Sirius, his tail flapping. In his collar was a piece of paper. Maggie took it and read, “ ‘Please bring home two pounds of salt pork.’ ”
“What a dog,” laughed Art, cutting off a slab of pork. “Knows right where to come with his message.”
Sirius barked again and came inside, pushing past Maggie and Cliff.
“Now you can meet my dog properly,” Maggie said to Cliff. “This is Sirius.”
Sirius sat down and held out his large paw to Cliff, who shook it gently. Then, the dog sniffed at Cliff and drooled on the boy’s boots.
“You’re so lean, if he jumped on you he’d knock you over in a second,” said Marcus, flashing another toothless grin. Maggie couldn’t remember ever seeing Marcus with teeth. They had been knocked out in a brawl years ago.
“This is a good dog to take fishing.” Otto scratched Sirius’s ears. “Maggie’s pa, Reuben, keeps him at the gunwale ready to grasp the fish should they slip off the hook.”
“And if one does,” added Art as he wrapped the pork in brown paper, “Sirius dives under the water and retrieves it.”
Cliff shook his head in disbelief.
Maggie nodded vigorously. “It’s true,” she said. “And when Pa goes duck hunting, Sirius will leap into the roughest water, find the duck, and bring him back to Pa without loosing a feather.”
“There’s many a story we can tell you about this dog,” said Uncle Jabe. “It’ll be a loss to Bonnie Bay if anything happens to Sirius.”
“The problem is that sheep are being destroyed by packs of dogs in many of the out-ports. So consequently many innocent dogs and families will have to suffer,” said Otto. “Old Rand is taking up the cry here in Bonnie Bay. Folks are fighting to get the law passed in other places, too.”
Marcus spoke up. “There are two sides to every coin.”
Maggie’s face flushed in anger. “That Tamar lied when she said Sirius chased her sheep off the cliff. She’d lie in court, too.”
“Now that’s a right serious thing you’re saying, Maggie,” said Otto. “Better find a legal way to keep Sirius. Calling names never helped any cause.”
Maggie didn’t respond. Taking her package, she led Sirius to the door. “Come see Sirius whenever you want,” she said to Cliff.
“Thanks!” Cliff replied with a nod.
Maggie and Sirius walked to their square yellow house on the rocky hillside. To offset the gray of the rock cliffs, people in Bonnie Bay painted their homes in combinations of yellows, reds, blues, and whites. The houses faced every direction. Sometimes one house fronted another’s back door, and sometimes only a tiny path led from one house to the next. Rickety fences marked property lines and gardens where potatoes, carrots, and turnips grew. In summer, flowers splashed the village with color. Now, in early June, a few patches of snow remained in the shaded spots in the woodlands, and flowers were not yet in bloom. The brightest colors in Bonnie Bay were the houses themselves. The hillside overlooking the water looked like a colorful quilt.
Vera’s house was bright blue and stood just across the stony path from Maggie’s yellow one. As Maggie approached, she noticed unusual activity. Ma and Pa were running up the steps into Vera’s house.
Lucy Kelly, Marcus’s wife, was heading from her small green house over to Vera’s. She was frequently called upon to help out when someone was very ill. To see Lucy Kelly heading for Vera’s was a bad sign for sure.
Maggie remembered Vera’s headache. Had something awful happened to her cousin? Maggie began to run.
SICKNESS
VERA COULDN’T BE SICK. HADN’T she climbed all the way up the quidnunc today?
Maggie and Sirus hurried up the steps to Vera’s porch. “Wait here,” she told the dog.
In the parlor, Vera’s parents, Uncle Norm and Aunt Selina, knelt by the sofa where Lucy was bending over Vera’s still form. Ma and Pa stood by helplessly.
“Maybe she’s only fainted,” said Ma consolingly.
“She’s burning up with fever,” Lucy said, rubbing Vera’s hands.
“She was unconscious for several minutes before we called you,” cried Aunt Selina, panic in her voice.
“I’ll go to Twillingate and get Dr. Auld,” said Pa. “I’ll hitch up the horse right now.”
Aunt Selina clutched her husband’s arm. “It would be faster if you took the boat.”
“The iceberg is blocking the harbor,” said Uncle Norm. “We can’t get through.”
“I’ll go by wagon.” Pa rushed by Maggie.
“What can I do?” asked Maggie.
“Go home, Maggie,” said Ma gently. “You can trim the lamps and start the potatoes for supper.”
“But I want to stay here with Vera,” Maggie protested.
“No, go along home, dear.”
Reluctantly, Maggie stepped out onto the porch. Sirius lifted his head and thumped his tail.
“Come on, dog,” Maggie said sadly. “We’re not needed here.” They walked back home, where Pa was hitching up the horse and wagon.
“Will Vera die?” Maggie asked her father.
“Try not to worry, maid,” said Pa, swinging himself up on the seat. “I’m going for help now. You take care of things around here.” The wagon clattered down the hill, out of sight.
Maggie went into the house, dropped her parcel onto the kitchen dresser, and lined up the lanterns. After pulling a pail from behind the door, she went outside to the well, which the Wellses shared with three other families—Uncle Norm’s, Uncle Jabe’s, and Otto’s. While Sirius stood by, Maggie walked carefully around the broken boards that served as a cover for the top of the well and pumped until the pail was full of water.
She carried the heavy bucket back to the house, set a pan of water on the stove, and opened the damper. The wood fire began to crackle and flame, and Sirius stretched out close to the warm stove.
Taking a sharp knife, Maggie trimmed away the hard crust that lined the top of the lantern wicks.
Maggie looked anxiously out the window. There was no sign of anyone. Finally she ran outside to Vera’s.
Sirius, who had jumped up to follow, yelped softly as the door swung back on him. He pawed the door until it opened and trotted after his mistress.
“Ma!” Maggie called quietly. “Ma!”
Ma appeared in the doorway. “There’s no change, Maggie,” she said. She hugged Maggie and kissed her hair. “Go home and pray, maid.” She went back into the house, closing the door softly behind her.
Maggie sat down on the steps and buried her head in her hands. “Lord and Father,” she whispered, “please be with thy servant Vera. She’s my only cousin and she’s such fun. Surely Thou must have some useful plan for her life. Help her to be well, please . . . please . . .” Maggie felt a nudge at her elbow. Sirius poked his huge silky head under Maggie’s arm and started to lick her face. Maggie threw her arms around the dog�
�s neck and wept. “I love you, my good dog,” she said. Sirius moved closer, burrowing his nose in her neck.
“Stop, Sirius! Stop tickling me!” She wiped her face with her sleeve and smiled. “You slobbery old thing!” Sirius backed away, and Maggie hugged him again. “Good star dog,” she said.
Maggie thought of Tamar standing on Witch’s Rock, her black dress flapping around her ankles, and how she had threatened Sirius. Now Vera was lying unconscious. Did Tamar Rand truly have some dark and terrible power?
* * *
Maggie fell into a fitful sleep that night. Once, she awakened and could see there were lights still shining over at Vera’s house. The waning moon was rising over the quidnunc, and Maggie wondered which was closer, the moon or Heaven.
Ma peeked into Maggie’s room. “How is Vera?” asked Maggie.
“She’s in a coma.” Ma’s voice was somber. “We’re still waiting on Pa and the doctor.”
“Tamar cursed us!” Maggie exclaimed. “I didn’t believe she could, but look what’s happening to Vera.”
“Oh, balderdash!” Ma looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her red hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her face was pale in the moonlight. “Just where do you think Tamar suddenly acquired this power?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve been praying really hard, and Vera still isn’t better.”
“ ‘A day is with the Lord as a thousand years,’ ” quoted Ma. She sat on Maggie’s bed and took her hand. “Time is different for Him. As for us . . . well, we have to be patient, even though it’s hard sometimes.”
“I wish I could do something to help Vera.” Maggie leaned back as her mother pulled the blankets over her.
“We’ll see in the morning.” Ma kissed Maggie and left the room.
Moonlight crept between the limbs of the crab apple tree and made dancing shadows on Maggie’s wall.
* * *
There was no change in Vera’s condition the next morning. Ma was next door, keeping watch with Vera’s mother. Maggie raced across the stone walk in her nightgown to see what was happening. Sirius was on the porch chewing on a ham bone. He looked up briefly and wagged his tail.
Vera, now in her own bed upstairs, was still flushed with fever.
“It’s me, Vera,” whispered Maggie. “Please speak to me. Please?”
Vera didn’t move.
“Get ready for church now, Maggie,” Ma said. “Vera needs all the prayers she can get.”
Sirius followed Maggie back into her house. Upstairs in her room, Maggie unbraided her hair. Does God hear prayers better when they’re said at church? she wondered as she combed her hair with her mother’s big ivory comb. She put on her blue dress with the white piping around the collar.
Maggie went to the desk in the parlor, pulled out a small box, and opened it. Nestled on the black velvet interior was a silver brooch with amber and topaz stones that glistened in the light from the window. Maggie ran her finger over the rough surface. The Celtic brooch was the family’s only treasure. The pin had been handed down from generation to generation for so long, no one could remember its exact origin.
Maggie knew there was a magic about that pin. Perhaps it belonged to a knight—after all, it had a crest on it, and something written in Latin, Ma said. Maggie thought about her forebears who had worn and cared for the brooch so that it still glistened and sparkled even after hundreds of years. Perhaps if she wore the brooch today—for Vera—it would bring good luck. Maggie frowned. Superstitious foolishness, she thought. Pishogues!
Sirius entered the parlor, wagging his silken tail.
“Naughty boy,” Maggie said sternly. “You know you’re not allowed in the parlor.”
Sirius nudged Maggie’s hand. She held the box with the pin under his nose. “See the precious stones? This brooch is our family heirloom.” Sirius sniffed curiously, and Maggie pulled the box away. “And it would be best if you didn’t drool all over it!” Sirius sat and thumped his tail on the wooden floor.
Would it hurt to wear the brooch today? After all, it was hers—at least someday it would be her very own. Yes, she would wear it to church. She fastened the heavy, ornate brooch to her neckline.
Ma came home long enough to braid Maggie’s hair and fix her some biscuits and partridgeberry jam for breakfast. Before heading back to Vera’s house, Ma noticed the brooch on Maggie’s dress. She hugged her daughter. “It’s all right, my child,” she said. “Wear it today.”
The stove fire had died, and Maggie poured herself a cup of switchel—yesterday’s tea, now cold and strong. Before heading down the hill to the white church in the village, Maggie called to Sirius. “C’mon,” she said. “They’ll never shoot you at church, or on Sunday.”
Sirius barked and pranced around Maggie happily as they strolled down the road together. They met Cliff and Otto, who were also headed to church. Maggie noticed how smart Cliff looked in his new clothes.
“How’s Vera?” asked Otto.
“No better.” Maggie sighed. “We’re still waiting on Dr. Auld.”
“We’ll say a prayer for her this morning,” Otto said.
Cliff patted Sirius, who licked his hand. Then he waved and walked on ahead with Otto.
Sirius stayed close to Maggie. As she rounded the bend she saw Lucy Kelly and her daughter, Annie, entering the church. Annie had on the dress she wore every Sunday. The Kellys were probably the poorest family in Bonnie Bay. Lucy Kelly often took on small jobs around the village, and folks paid her with food or clothes, or sometimes some small amounts of money. She looked worn and older than her years. Many times Maggie heard her mother say, “Poor Lucy. Her husband, Marcus, is never around to help her.” Maggie had known Annie all her life, and she felt a sudden surge of sadness for both Annie and her mother.
Sirius lay down on the front lawn while Maggie went inside the church. The singing had started, and Maggie stood in her family’s empty pew. She loved the hymn singing best of all and joined in before she had even opened her hymnbook.
“ ‘Jesus, Savior, pilot me, over life’s tempestuous sea . . .’ ”
When the song and prayer ended, Maggie settled down to hear the sermon. At first she listened carefully to hear if the Reverend Dobbs said anything that would explain what happened to Vera, but the pastor spoke only about being a good neighbor and not bearing false witness or telling lies about one’s friends.
Maggie’s eyes began to roam. Sitting up front were the Rands. Tamar sat up straight, looking neither to the left nor right, her hands folded in her lap. Her father and mother sat rigidly on either side of her. Tamar was the only child left at home now that her sister, Marie, had married and moved away to the city of St. John’s.
Maggie scowled. How could Tamar sit there and listen to a sermon about being a good neighbor when she herself had lied about Sirius and swore something terrible would happen to Maggie and Vera?
Maggie stood up suddenly and strode to the back of the church. Several people stared. Tamar turned and looked at Maggie with narrowed eyes.
Maggie walked into the sunlight. Sirius lumbered over to meet her. “C’mon, Sirius,” she said. “This is no place for us, with Tamar Rand sitting in there in the front pew all pious and Christian. A lot of good it does for her to learn about bearing false witness, when she lies about you.”
So Maggie and her dog went back around the harbor road, by the cemetery, and up the hill. A flock of ravens circled overhead, and Maggie counted them. Seven. Seven for sickness, eight for dying. She counted them again. There must not be eight.
“Seven,” she whispered in relief. “Sickness—but not dying.”
At Vera’s house, Maggie tiptoed through the open door. Sirius headed for his own porch.
Maggie’s mother and aunt were at the kitchen table, drinking tea. Both of them looked tired.
“I thought you were at church,” Ma said.
“I left early,” said Maggie. “The sermon was so boring, I almost fell asleep.”
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Ma smiled, and even Aunt Selina seemed to brighten for a moment. “That pastor was sent to Bonnie Bay because no one else wanted him, I’m sure,” Aunt Selina said.
“But it wasn’t polite to walk out, Maggie,” her mother admonished.
“How is Vera?” Maggie asked.
“Ah, there’s a true scrimshank if I ever heard one,” said Ma, grabbing Maggie’s hand and pulling her close. She hugged her, then held her out at arm’s length, pretending to scold. “Trying to change the subject, eh? Well, walking out on the reverend will get you in trouble with the Lord.”
Maggie crossed her arms. “Even the Lord would have been bored with Reverend Dobbs’s sermon.” She paused. “Ma, does God hear prayers in churches more than He hears prayers outside of churches?”
“I’m sure He hears prayers wherever they are offered.”
“I’m going up to see Vera.” Maggie headed for the stairs. “Oh, I saw seven ravens today, Ma. That means sickness.”
“Most people think they’re just crows,” said Aunt Selina. “Big crows.”
“Hmm,” Maggie said. “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. My friends at school say the same verse for crows, only they cross themselves whenever they see one.”
“Crows or ravens, it’s just superstition,” Ma said. “With all those big black birds around here, your friends would be crossing themselves all day long. Speaking of school, Maggie, I heard the new teacher will be coming as soon as the harbor opens up and the steamer can come in.”
Maggie frowned. “I don’t want to even think about school,” she said. “After all, summer holidays have only just started.” But summer wouldn’t be the same with Vera sick.
Heavenly Father, Maggie begged silently outside Vera’s door. Please show me how I can help Vera. Please use me as you did the little slave girl in the Scriptures—the one who sent Naaman to your prophet so he was cured of leprosy. Show me how to help Vera, please. In our Savior’s name. Amen.
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