I clutched the phone. “Oh, Katie.” I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my icy hands. I had known this was coming, the petechiae, the red marks on her legs. “Like the last time, right? Did they say this is like the last time?” Already I was planning: We’d get the cold cap for her hair. We wouldn’t forget to ask for the nausea drugs early this time. Dum-Dum lollipops, only the red and purple ones. I’d stock up on rice cakes to settle her stomach. My thoughts raced, my body itching to run to her side, to start the process of saving Katie.

I heard a woman’s voice. Katie said, “Sam, I’ve gotta go. The nurse is here. I have to get in the shower, then some tests.”

“Wait. I need more information.” I heard the anguish in my voice. This was not the voice of a confident person. It was the voice of a person who knew this time was different, worse.

“There isn’t anything yet. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

“I am coming home,” I said, standing, shoving my chair back into the wall. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m just going to get Peanut and drive.”

“Don’t speed,” she said. “I gotta go.”

The phone went silent.

There was a short rap on the door, and Griff poked his head in. “How are you feeling?”

Wild eyed, I said, “I’m so sorry we brought all this to your sanctuary. Can I pack whatever Peanut needs so we can go first thing tomorrow?”

In a calm voice Griffin said, “Everything is ready. He’s going to get his final dose of meds and his last bag of fluids tonight. I’ll have him bathed with Moose and ready when you wake in the morning. There’s three of you. You can drive all night.”

“What can I do?” I heard my voice crack, but I said it again. “What can I do?”

Griffin took a beat, then said with care, “Let’s get you back to your cabin.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

DON’T BE MAD

I launched myself out of the van and stumbled across the pea gravel to the front steps of the cabin. The door stuck, and I had to kick the bottom of it so when it opened into the cabin, I tumbled inside. Summer was washing a cup at the sink, and Holly was in the midst of folding a white T-shirt. “I just talked to Katie.” My voice sounded loud and frantic. “Holly.” I said her name as a touch point, to get control of my emotion. “She’s out of remission.”

Holly’s quiet reaction, a rapid blinking, told me she already knew about Katie. That was fine. I saw that I didn’t care. In fact, if she knew, we’d be on the same page to get out of here with as little fuss and fighting as possible.

My bag lay on the floor, and I stuffed in my sweatshirt and a pair of jeans I’d worn the previous day. My toiletries were in the bathroom. I’d need those tomorrow. What else could I pack? “Do we have to strip the beds tomorrow? I’ll check out and pay right away. Should one of us go to Kanab and get water, food for the rest of the trip?”

Summer put the cup down and said, “I can do that. Get us coffees. Something to eat. You guys settle up and get the dogs.”

“Good. Yes, Summer. Thanks. That would be great. Holly? What did Katie say to you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything useful. I don’t think she knows very much.”

I remembered how important it had been for me to know who Katie had called first when this all started. What pettiness. Such a waste of time. In the past when there was a crisis—Maddie’s broken arm, Jeff cleaning out our accounts—there was always something to do. Get to the emergency room, go back to work. I could do, do, do instead of feel. Today there was nothing to keep me busy. Katie was gravely ill, Holly and our gulf were unresolved, and we were miles and miles away from getting Peanut to the hospital.

“How’s Rosie?” I said, and Holly’s face pinked.

“She’s feeling good.”

I nodded. “I need something to do.”

“I know you do. There’s nothing we can do right now. We will get on the road tomorrow and drive.”

“Griffin is helping us. Peanut is out of the clinic. He’s no longer in quarantine. Griffin knows what we need to get on the road.”

“Good work, Sam.” Holly’s allbusiness face had less rigidness, more consideration.

My puppy heart, so eager for approval from its owner, skipped a beat and sped up, hoping, begging, for another pat on the head.

We spent the evening quietly. Even Summer was subdued. She offered us more weed but half-heartedly. We ordered a pizza. Ate it silently. Holly examined Google Maps, looking to save us minutes off our drive. I didn’t want to talk to anyone other than the women in the cabin. I had no desire to contact Drew, tell Maddie and manage her anxiety, or commune with the horses. I wanted the morning to come.

When we shut off the lights, I heard every rustle and sigh while we took turns sleeping, waking, using the bathroom in the night. When the morning sun streamed into the cabin, I rolled to my side and saw Holly was already gone. I looked at the time on my phone. I felt less nervous, more resolved. Today was a do day. I knew how to do.

I stood, gathered my things for the shower, found my tennis shoes. Summer peered at me from under the covers. My eyelids felt gritty, but I felt more rested than I’d expected to.

“You Midwestern girls get to it, don’t you? Holly out for her run at dawn, and she’s already at Cat World volunteering. You off to get this show on the road.” Summer sat up in bed; her right breast, as perfect as a teenager’s, popped into sight, and she covered herself with the sheet.

“Are you naked? Are you naked every night?”

“That’s kind of a personal question.”

“You know Holly thinks I’m homophobic.” I found this less important this morning. More silly and pointless than damning.

“I heard.”

“Did she talk to you about it?”

“God, no. You two are the talk of the entire sanctuary.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup. You and Holly and you and the vet. Nobody needs Netflix with you two around.”

“There is no me and Griff. Nobody thinks there is a me and Griff.” The thought that others were watching this drama play out startled and embarrassed me. I’d striven to live so quietly. Here, my life was a show for others’ enjoyment, when I didn’t know what I was doing.

Summer stood, pulling the sheet off the bed with her, but not bothering to cover her backside. “It’s like one big buzzing soap opera around here. ‘Did the crabby one talk to the nice one? Did the nice one kiss Griff yet? Is the pretty one’—that’s me—‘going to stay at Best Friends after the crabby one leaves? Is Griff going to help them when Tom shows up?’”

Summer clapped her hand over her mouth and turned to look over her shoulder.

I froze. “Tom? Katie’s ex-husband? He’s coming here?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t have permission to take the camper.”

“What? I saw Misty give you that folder. She waved to you as we drove away.”

“Right! Misty said I could use it to pick up Peanut, but she texted me and said Tom was mad. It’s his camper after all, not hers.” Her eyes widened, and she said, “I fully expected to drive it back to her. But then you guys said we had to go to Utah and finish this caper.”

I turned on her. “It’s not a caper, Summer. None of this is a caper. This isn’t fun for us. This is about survival! Don’t you see that?” I grabbed her by the narrow shoulders, as if she were a child who needed focus. “What have you done?”

Summer looked stricken.

I dropped my hands, considered the implications, my mind sluggish without coffee. “You’re saying we stole the bus?”

Summer tried to lighten the news with a nervous smile. “Turns out we did a bit. But I texted her that we were at Best Friends because Peanut got moved out of the California place.”

I pointed my angry finger at her. “That’s why Tom is on the way. He saw the camper was gone, and he knows where it is. Dammit, Summer. This isn’t fun and games.”

Summer gave me a panicked look. “Obviously when I texted Misty, I didn’t think it all the way through.” In a high voice she said, “I was trying to help. Make Misty understand why we didn’t return the bus immediately.”

“Is he coming with the police? Will Tom take the camper? How are we going to get out of here?”

Summer frowned. “Oh, that never occurred to me. The police.” She dropped her sheet and pulled a T-shirt over her braless torso. “Misty didn’t say anything about the police.”

“Please stop making me ask questions and tell me what is going on.”

As she quickly pulled on her shorts and slipped her feet into her flip-flops, Summer’s eyes drifted to the window behind me. “Get down, Sam.” She yanked my arm hard, and we dropped to our knees. “He’s here.”

I peered out the window. Tom climbed out of one of the sanctuary golf carts and waved a thank-you to the driver as the volunteer moved off. He walked in a wide arc around the camper. He looked tan and as fit as I remembered. I was sure the female California Invisalign crowd loved perfecting their blinding smiles with the Culver City dentist.

“It turns out Misty dumped Peanut while Tom was taking a big dental acupuncture course in Florida. She said she was sick of that dog moping around for his ex-wife, and one day she drove to the humane society and dropped him off. Then she felt bad and called Katie.”

“Misty dropped off Peanut?”

“I told you that,” said Summer, which of course she hadn’t.