Ulysses nodded. It seemed like a very good thing.
“We will eat, because this is important, to eat. And then, even though it is the middle of the night, we will go and knock on the door of Mr. George Buckman. And he will open the door to us because he is capacious of heart. And then George Buckman and I will figure out together why you are here and where our Flora Belle is.”
Ulysses nodded.
Dr. Meescham went into the kitchen, and the squirrel sat on the windowsill and looked out into the dark world.
Flora was out there somewhere.
He would find her. She would find him. They would find each other. And then he would write her another poem. This one would be about little fishes and humming in the dark of the night.
Flora was on the side of the highway.
There were, she had discovered, all kinds of ridiculous things strewn along the side of a road. Shoes, for one thing. And balled-up knee-high stockings. And polyester slacks, baby-blue ones, with a permanent crease. Did people undress as they drove down the road?
There were metal objects: hubcaps, a pair of rusty scissors, a sparkplug. And there were truly inexplicable things. For instance: a plastic banana, glowing a bright and unreal yellow in the dark. That one was interesting. Flora bent down to examine it more closely.
“What are you doing?” said William Spiver. He stopped, too, because she was attached to him and he was attached to her. Which is to say that William Spiver and Flora Belle Buckman were, unbelievably, still holding hands.
“I’m looking at a banana,” said Flora.
Tootie was marching ahead of them, holding the little shepherdess out in front of her and shouting Ulysses’s name.
William Spiver’s hand was getting kind of sweaty. Or maybe it was Flora’s hand that was getting sweaty. It was hard to say. William Spiver was still crying (silently) and Ulysses was still missing, and here they were walking along a highway behind an unlit lamp, stopping occasionally to look at knee-high stockings and plastic bananas.
It all must mean something.
But what?
Flora mentally flipped through every issue of The Illuminated Adventures of the Amazing Incandesto!, every issue of TERRIBLE THINGS CAN HAPPEN TO YOU! and The Criminal Element Is Among Us, that she had ever read. She searched for some kind of advice, acknowledgment, the tiniest clue about what to do in this situation.
She came up empty-handed. She was on her own.
She laughed.
“What are you laughing about?” said William Spiver.
Flora laughed louder. William Spiver laughed along with her.
“What’s so funny back there?” said Tootie.
“Everything,” said Flora.
“Wheeee,” said Tootie.
And then they were all laughing. Except for Mary Ann, who couldn’t laugh because she was inanimate. But even if she had been capable of laughing, she probably wouldn’t have done it. She just wasn’t that kind of lamp.
They were all still laughing when the temporarily blind William Spiver stepped on the cord of the little shepherdess and tripped.
And because he refused to let go of Flora’s hand (or did she refuse to let go of his?), Flora fell, too. She landed on top of William Spiver.
There was a crunch and then a tinkle.
“Oh, no,” said William Spiver, “my glasses! They’re broken!”
“For heaven’s sake, William,” said Tootie. “You don’t even need those glasses.”
Flora was so close to William Spiver that she could feel his heart beating wildly somewhere inside of him. She thought, I sure have felt a lot of hearts recently.
“Wait a minute,” said William Spiver. He held his head up. “Everyone be quiet. Shhh. What are those tiny pinpricks of light?”
Flora looked where William Spiver was looking. “Those are stars, William Spiver.”
“I can see the stars! I can see! Great-Aunt Tootie! Flora Belle, I can see!”
“It’s a miracle,” said Tootie.
“Or something,” said Flora.
The hallway of the Blixen Arms emitted the same green gloomy light no matter the time of day or night.
“Watch out for the cat,” said Flora.
“The infamous Mr. Klaus,” said William Spiver. He looked around. He was smiling. “The cat who was defeated by a superhero squirrel. I will certainly keep an eye out for him. And I hate to sound like a broken record, but may I just say again what a delight it is to see? Talk about being born anew. Nothing, nothing, will ever again escape my notice.”
“Goody,” said Tootie.
“I’m not kidding,” said Flora. “Mr. Klaus could be anywhere.”
“Yes,” said William Spiver. “My eyes are open. They are open, indeed.”
“Knock again,” said Tootie.
Flora knocked again.
Where could her father be in the middle of the night? Had someone kidnapped him, too? Was it kidnapping if it was an adult? Or was that adult-napping? George Buckman–napping?
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.”