“I am not sitting with these two for long. It’s like a hot, hairy, humid Roman bath for dogs back here.”

“Griffin! Thank you for everything.”

“Yes!” Holly said and stuck her hand out the window.

I hit the gas, and we were off.

“Turn right onto US-89 N.” The GPS spoke, and Summer pinched the screen and said, “It looks like we’re on 89 for an hour, but then it’s I-70 for almost five hundred miles.”

I calculated seven hours of driving during my leg of the trip. I wasn’t sure I had the staying power for that many miles despite my resolve to pull my weight behind the wheel. I felt my arms sag, and Summer said, “I’m working on a driving schedule. You won’t have to do this for too long.”

I heard a telltale gagging from Peanut, a sound all dog owners are familiar with. A repeated hiccup-swallow sound that usually ended up in a pile of grass and undigested food.

“Peanut just threw up on my shoe.”

“Are you okay? Should I stop the car?”

Summer hit the sunroof, sucking some of the odor from the car.

“No. Keep going,” Holly said, but it came out, “No”—gulp, cough—“keep going.”

“If you give Moose a minute, I’m sure he’ll just eat it anyway,” said Summer.

“Gross,” I said and glanced at Holly. She looked pale but not too sick, considering.

“Way to hold it together!” Summer said. “Just fifteen hundred miles and twenty-two hours to go!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

FIRE DRILL

I had a good long look at the map on my phone. We were leaving Utah soon on I-70 and would have to travel through Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and into south central Wisconsin. There were precious few turns, lots of similar climate and landscape—almost nothing stimulating.

“Let’s call Katie.” I pulled my phone forward. “Summer, hold it up so we’re all in the screen.” Summer rested her hand on the dashboard, and I hit Katie’s number so we could FaceTime.

I heard Holly repositioning in the back seat. “Peanut, look alive. Moose. Not you. You’re fine.”

The phone rang and connected, and to my surprise Drew said, “Hi, Samantha,” enthusiastically but also confusingly because he was lying down in a hospital bed. Had I dialed Drew? But, no. I hadn’t. Drew had Katie’s phone. The view shifted to Katie dragging an IV pole on wheels out of the bathroom. The thrill of our victory at Best Friends had my emotions sailing high, but the sight of Drew, so familiar and fun with Katie, slapped me back to reality.

“Katie’s here.” Drew’s voice.

The ceiling came into view, and Drew groaned. “I was trying to fix the position of Katie’s bed. We can’t get the head of the bed at the right angle.”

We.

Drew and Katie. I guessed that would be right. My valiant heart bucked up and said, That’s fine. And I knew it would be.

“Hi, Katie!” Holly said. “Look who we have.” Summer focused the camera so that Peanut’s face obliterated everything else on the screen. I didn’t know what expression was on my face, but I did feel a tinge of disappointment.

“Peanut,” Katie squealed. “Hi, boy. Hi, lovie, it’s me. Mama. What a good doggo, baby. Who’s a good boy? He looks good, you guys. I mean, weird too. I’ve never seen so much of his face before.”

Hearing Katie’s joy made me feel so proud of all of us. Then she switched to the voice she used for Peanut that had a lisp. “Of courth you look handthome, Peanutty. You’re my Peanut. You are the motht hanthome dog in the land.”

Drew laughed, and Katie said over her shoulder, “What? You don’t have a special language for your loved ones?” Drew repositioned again, and Katie slung her arm around his neck. “Thanks for sending Drew. He’s terrible at Words with Friends and doesn’t smell that good, but he knows where all the ice cream is at the hospital.”

“I smell fine,” he scoffed, then said, “Where’s Samantha?”

“I’m driving, guys!” That felt nice, but I wanted to poke my head into the picture and see Katie’s face.

“Is that wise?” Drew said. “I’m joking, Sam!”

“You look great!” said Holly, and I looked closely at my best friend. She did look pretty great. If a little greenish beneath her Revlon foundation.

“Drew’s off tonight. He’s bringing curry.” Then abruptly the signal died, and we lost both of them.

“Get them back,” Holly said, and Summer hit the screen several times in an attempt to reconnect.

“We must be in a dead zone,” Holly said. “I’ll text her. Tell her we’ll call her when we’re closer to a town.”

I heard Peanut drop back onto the seat. Summer was uncharacteristically quiet. I felt Holly’s hand on my shoulder, and I heard myself say, “Katie hates curry.”

Summer propped herself against the passenger-side door to take both Holly and me in and said, “Okay. I know what you’re thinking. Let’s look at the evidence.”

Holly’s phone rang. Thank the Lord. I did not want to look at any evidence; I knew what everyone was thinking because I was thinking that too. Katie was not better.

Holly answered saying, “Marlene. Hi. Is something wrong? How’s Rosie?”

Marlene was Rosie’s mother, and Holly looked scared.

“Okay. Okay.” She nodded like she was in the room with the woman on the other end of the phone. Holly flexed her jaw. “And her blood pressure now?”

I swung a glance at Summer, and we locked eyes. Summer touched my arm. “She’ll be fine,” she murmured.

“When can I talk to her? No, I understand. Tell her I know. I’m not at all worried. Please keep me posted and have her call as soon as she’s able.” Holly hung up and said, “Pull over. I’m driving.”

Peanut sat up, and his globe of a head filled the rearview mirror.

“What’s happening?” I said, trying to see Holly’s expression. Worried.

“Samantha. Pull over now.” Moose let out a yip. Peanut dropped his tongue like an anchor off the side of a boat and panted. I slowed the car, moved to the gravel at the shoulder of the road.

“You can’t pull over here. There’s no shoulder.” Summer grabbed the steering wheel and shoved the car back onto the highway.

“Hey! Don’t!” I pushed her tiny hands away from the steering wheel.

“There’s a rest stop just ahead.” A car whizzed by, the driver pressing the horn as it passed. Peanut let out three sharp barks, and Moose mimicked in a higher range.

“Hit the brakes. Sam, come back here. I’ll drive,” said Holly.

I braked again, guarding the steering wheel. Holly was the authority as always, but she had real anguish in her face that I wanted to soothe.

The car slowed to a stop, and I slipped the transmission into park. The driver’s door was yanked out of my hand, and I climbed out of the car. All in now, Summer yelled, “Let’s move, team! Get home.”

Summer ran around the car and deposited herself right back where she’d been seated the whole trip, in the passenger seat.

I pushed Peanut over and flopped into the back seat. I felt the car move forward a few inches and screech to a stop. Both Moose and Peanut slid off the seat in a lump. I heard Peanut’s teeth clink together as he hit his chin on the front seat.

“Where’s Utah?” Holly looked as if she were on the verge of having a stroke.

I squinted at Holly from the back seat, and Summer had a confused look on her face.

“Utah! Utah!”

Summer pointed behind us, and I realized that Holly meant the cat she’d adopted.

“I’m sure she’s back here,” I said, searching for the cat.

Holly launched herself out of the car. “No, she never leaves my shoulder.”

She yanked the side door open, threw her body across mine, and tried to look under Peanut’s butt. Peanut grumped, and Moose wedged himself between Peanut and the seat. I touched his sleek fur and searched the floor.

“She’s not back here.”

Holly straightened and like a skinny quarterback, arm extended to oncoming traffic, of which there was none, high-stepped it across the road. “There she is!” she screamed in a girly voice and disappeared into the brush.

Summer rushed out of the passenger seat and clipped the leashes on the dogs.

“I’ll quick get everyone to pee if you can help Holly. You guys. Let’s take a pee.”

The top of my head felt light with anxiety for Rosie, Holly, and Utah. Just as I was about to charge out of the car and start searching, I felt a soft brush against my ankle. There, emerging from under the driver’s seat, was Utah. “Summer. Here’s the cat!”

“Hit the horn.”

I leaned into the front seat. Hit the horn. One long and three short, then dropped like a sack back into my seat.

Holly’s head appeared like a prairie dog over the small mound of grass and trees.

“We have her!” I screamed and frantically waved her back into the car.

Limbs lanky and unorganized, Holly paused, looked both ways down the highway, and galloped back. Her face was wet with tears, and when she got to the car, she took Utah into her arms. She nuzzled the kitten. Oh, to have Holly look with such fondness on you.

“Oh my God. Oh, Utah.”

Summer looked at me and said, “Sam found her under the seat.”