Kate DiCamillo: Flora & Ulysses

And then she heard her father laugh.

But the laugh wasn’t coming from his apartment. It was coming from apartment 267.

“Dr. Meescham!” said Flora.

“Who?” said William Spiver.

“Dr. Meescham. Knock on that door, quick,” said Flora to William Spiver. She pointed, and William Spiver raised his hand to knock just as the door to Dr. Meescham’s apartment swung wide.

“Flora Belle,” said Dr. Meescham. “My little flower, our beloved.” She was smiling very big. Her teeth were glowing. Ulysses was sitting on her shoulder.

Behind Ulysses and Dr. Meescham was Flora’s father. He was wearing his pajamas. His hat was on his head.

“George Buckman,” said her father, slowly raising his hat to them all. “How do you do?”

“Ulysses?” said Flora.

She said his name like a question.

And he answered her.

He flew to her; his small, warm, hopeful body hit her with a thud that almost knocked her off her feet. She wrapped her arms, her hands, her self around him.

“Ulysses,” she said. “I love you.”

“So much happiness!” said Dr. Meescham. “This is how it was when I was a girl in Blundermeecen. Like this. Always opening the door in the middle of the night and finding the face of someone you wanted to see. Well, not always. Sometimes it was the face of someone you did not want to see.

“But always, always in Blundermeecen, you opened the door because you could not stop hoping that on the other side of it would be the face of someone you loved.” Dr. Meescham looked at William Spiver and then at Tootie. She smiled. “And maybe, too, the face of someone you did not yet know but might come to love.”

“Tootie Tickham,” said Tootie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And this is my nephew, William. I would shake your hand, but as you can see I am in charge of this lamp.”

“Actually,” said William Spiver, “I am her great-nephew. And my name is William Spiver. And I realize that it is early in our acquaintance for me to be revealing such astonishing and deeply personal information, but I must tell you that I was temporarily blind and now I can see! Also, I feel compelled to say that your face is beautiful to me. In fact, every face is beautiful to me.” He turned. “Your face, Flora Belle, is particularly beautiful. Even the sepulchral gloom of this hallway cannot dim your loveliness.”

“Sepulchral gloom?” said Flora.

“That’s because she is a flower,” said Flora’s father, “my lovely flower.”

Flora felt herself blushing.

“It is a lovely face, the face of Flora Belle Buckman,” said Dr. Meescham. “It is truly beautiful. But you have all stood long enough outside; you must come inside now. Come.”

So,” said Dr. Meescham, “we have been speaking with Ulysses. We have been working to understand his story. From what we have put together so far, it involves a shovel and a sack. And the woods. And a poem.”

“And a giant donut,” said Flora’s father.

Ulysses, sitting on Flora’s shoulder, nodded vigorously. A distinctly fishy smell emanated from his whiskers.

Flora turned to him. “Where’s my mother?” she said.

Ulysses shook his head.

“Pop?” said Flora. “Where’s Mom?”

“I’m not certain,” said her father. He adjusted his hat. He tried to put his hands in his pockets, and then he realized he was wearing pajamas and had no pockets. He laughed. “Holy bagumba,” he said softly.

“We need a typewriter,” said Flora.

Ulysses nodded.

“We need a typewriter so that we can get to the truth,” said Flora.

“The truth,” said William Spiver, “is a slippery thing. I doubt that you will ever get to The Truth. You may get to a version of the truth. But The Truth? I doubt it very seriously.”

“Will you please, please shut up, William Spiver?” said Flora.

“Shhh,” said Dr. Meescham. “Calm, calm. You should maybe sit and eat a sardine.”

“I don’t want a sardine,” said Flora. “I want to know what happened. I want to know where my mother is.”

Just as she said these words, there was a bang, which was followed by a long, bone-chilling yowl, which was, in turn, followed by a very loud scream.

“What was that?” said William Spiver.

“That’s Mr. Klaus,” said Flora. “He’s attacking someone.”

There was another scream, and then came the words, “George, George!”

“Uh-oh,” said Flora’s father. “It’s Phyllis.”

“Mom,” said Flora.

Ulysses tensed. He dug his claws into Flora’s shoulder.

Flora looked at him.

He nodded.

And then Flora’s father was running out the door, and Flora was behind him and William Spiver was behind her. Another of her mother’s screams echoed down the hallway. “George, George,” she shouted, “please tell me that my baby is here!”

Flora turned and said to Tootie, “Bring the lamp! She’s worried about Mary Ann.”

There was another scream.

Me? thought Flora.

“She’s here,” said Flora’s father.

Flora’s mother started to cry.

“Everyone needs to calm down,” said Tootie. “I’ve got it.” She waded into the fray and whacked Mr. Klaus over the head with Mary Ann.

The cat fell to the ground, and the little shepherdess, as if she were astonished by her own act of violence, crumbled. Her face — her beautiful, perfect pink face — broke. There was a tinkle and a crash as the pieces of Mary Ann’s head hit the floor.

“Oops,” said Tootie. “I broke her.”

“Uh-oh,” said Flora.

But her mother wasn’t looking at the lamp or what was left of the lamp. She was looking at Flora.

“Flora,” her mother said. “Flora. I went home, and you weren’t there. I was terrified.”

“Here she is,” said William Spiver. He gave Flora a gentle shove toward her mother.

“Here I am,” said Flora.

Her mother stepped over the pieces of the broken little shepherdess. She took Flora in her arms.

“My baby,” said her mother.

“Me?” said Flora.

“You,” said her mother.

Flora’s mother was sitting on the horsehair sofa. Flora’s father was sitting next to her. He was holding her hand. Or she was holding his. In any case, her mother and her father were holding on to each other.

Dr. Meescham was putting alcohol on Flora’s mother’s bites and scratches. “Ouch, ouch, oooooh,” said Flora’s mother.

“Come,” said Dr. Meescham to Flora. She patted the horsehair sofa. “Sit down. Here. Beside your mother.”

Flora sat down on the couch and immediately started to slide off it. Was there a trick to sitting on the horsehair sofa? Because she certainly hadn’t mastered it.

And then William Spiver sat down beside her so that she was wedged in between her mother and him.

Flora stopped sliding.

“And I went up to your room,” said Flora’s mother. “I climbed the stairs to your room, and you weren’t there.”