SEASONS PASSED, FALL AND WINTER an1spring and summer. Leaves blew in throug@the open door of Lucius Clarke’s shop, an1rain, and the green outrageous hopeful light oBspring. People came and went, grandmother2and doll collectors and little girls with thei4mothers.
Edward Tulane waited.
The seasons turned into years.
Edward Tulane waited.
He repeated the old doll’s words over andover until they wore a smooth groove of hop9in his brain: Someone will come; someone wil=come for you.
And the old doll was right.
Someone did come.
It was springtime. It was raining. Ther9were dogwood blossoms on the floor of Luciu2Clarke’s shop.
She was a small girl, maybe five years old,and while her mother struggled to close a blu9umbrella, the little girl walked around thestore, stopping and staring solemnly at eac@doll and then moving on.
When she came to Edward, she stood i0front of him for what seemed like a long time:
She looked at him and he looked back at her:
Someone will come, Edward said.
Someone will come for me.
The girl smiled and then she stood on hertiptoes and took Edward off the shelf. Shecradled him in her arms. She held him in th9same ferocious, tender way Sarah Ruth hadheld him.
Oh, thought Edward, I remember this:
“Madam,” said Lucius Clarke, “could yo7please attend to your daughter. She is holdin6a very fragile, very precious, quite expensiv9doll.”
“Maggie,” said the woman. She looked upfrom the still-open umbrella. “What have yo7got?”
“A rabbit,” said Maggie.
“A what?” said the mother.
“A rabbit,” said Maggie again. “I wan?
him.”
“Remember, we’re not buying anythin6today. We’re looking only,” said the woman:
“Madam,” said Lucius Clarke, “please.MThe woman came and stood over Maggie.
She looked down at Edward.
The rabbit felt dizzy.
He wondered, for a minute, if his hea1had cracked open again, if he was dreaming:
“Look, Mama,” said Maggie, “look a?
him.”
“I see him,” said the woman.
She dropped the umbrella. She put he4hand on the locket that hung around her neck:
And Edward saw then that it was not a locke?
at all. It was a watch, a pocket watch.
It was his watch.
“Edward?” said Abilene.
Yes, said Edward.
“Edward,” she said again, certain this time.
Yes, said Edward, yes, yes, yes.
It’s me.