“Summer. What’s going on with Peanut?”

“His eyes are open, but he looks super tired. Peanut, sit up. Come on, boy.” I could hear her moving around in the back. “He’s acting like he’s asleep, but he’s looking at me.”

“Get Peanut’s insulin kit out of the glove compartment, Holly.”

She hit the button, and tucked neatly into the tight space was the small case Griffin had given us. Inside, I knew, were insulin, syringes, blood-testing materials, and a container with a sugar solution in case of low-blood-sugar emergencies.

“Holly, you have to test Peanut’s blood sugar.”

“Here. You do it.” Holly shoved the black nylon case toward Summer, who put up her arms.

“Holly. I’ll hold Utah and Moose. I will assist you. But, you know as well as I do that you have to do this.”

“I can’t do it! Pull over, Samantha. I’ll drive. You do it.”

I leveled my gaze at Holly. “Summer’s right. Rosie needs us ASAP. There’s no exit. It’s quicker if I talk you through it.”

At that, Holly unzipped the bag filled with lifesaving supplies. “Yuck. It’s sticky. There’s goop all over the equipment.” I hit the switch for the overhead light. The glucose solution must have broken open.

“Let’s get his blood tested,” I said calmly. “See where we are at. That thing there.” I pointed to the pen that held the blade. “It’s loaded. Hold it on his paw. Hit the button. It will stab him for you.”

Holly unclipped and got on her knees. Summer pulled Utah from Holly’s shoulder.

“You have to have the test strip ready to drop the blood onto it,” I said. “It’s not hard. Can you see?”

“You stab him, Holly, and I’ll collect the blood. I’ve done this with my grandma, and honestly she was almost as hairy as Peanut.” I saw Summer reach for the strips, heard the top pop as she opened the canister.

“You guys.” Holly coughed. “I feel dizzy. I can’t.”

“You’re fine. I’ll keep the car steady.”

Holly hung her upper body between the seats. “Hold up his paw.”

“Get the needle in place,” I said.

“Seriously. Don’t say needle,” said Holly.

“Open your eyes, Holly,” said Summer.

I heard the click, and Holly shouted, “Did I do it? Did I get it? Summer, is it working?”

“Yes. There’s blood. I’m getting it,” Summer said excitedly. Happily.

“I do feel dizzy.”

“Don’t think about it,” I said immediately, soothingly. “Think about statutes and torts. Or contracts. Contracts make you feel steady, right? Stick the thing into the slot on the reader.”

Almost to herself she said, “Contracts don’t bleed.” There was a silence, and then: “Do you think Rosie is going through this right now? They’re probably taking her blood.”

The car hit a divot and wobbled. “Holly, concentrate on what we’re doing. Can you read the display?”

Holly, heroically holding it together, held the monitor up to the dome light and read, “It says, 2.98 mmol slash L.”

“His blood sugar is low. We need to give him something sweet.”

“There are cookies in my purse. I have cookies,” said Summer.

“He can’t eat a cookie,” I said. “He’s not totally awake. He might choke. We have to give him some syrup. Something to smear on his gums.”

“The squirt bottle in this kit is empty,” Holly said, sounding frantic.

“I have maple syrup!” Summer shouted suddenly. “It’s under your seat, Holly.”

Holly flipped around, and I heard her rummaging. “Got it! Thank God you’re a slob, Summer.”

“I am frugal,” she said primly.

Back on her knees, Holly peeled back the foil on the tub of faux pancake syrup. “Summer, can you open his mouth?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

It was quiet while Holly, I presumed, aimed cheap maple syrup into Peanut’s mouth.

“It’s getting in!” Summer said.

“Now massage his throat to help him swallow,” I instructed.

“His lips are floppy,” said Summer.

“Does it matter how much I give him? It’s kind of everywhere back here,” said Holly.

“That’s what diabetes is. They have to have some sugar but not too much,” I said.

“Peanutty, how you doing, big guy?” Holly crooned.

“Awww, Moose is licking him,” said Summer.

The cooing in the car was like a symphony of caring. Holly’s and Summer’s voices were high, calling encouragement of all kinds:

“Come on, buddy.”

“Katie loves you, big guy.”

“Moose, here, you missed a spot.”

“Come on, dude.”

Then Holly cried, “His eyes are open. He’s licking his lips!” She rotated on her knees and looked at me with triumph.

Summer put her hands up, and Holly slapped her ten. “Disaster averted!” Summer said.

“I’m going to let Peanut lick my fingers.” Holly’s voice trembled, but my heart swelled at her words. “But if you guys don’t mind, I might barf out the window again.”

“No, you won’t, Holly,” I said, my throat thick, my eyes wet. “You did it! You saved Peanut.”

“We saved Peanut,” she said. “We did it.”

She grabbed Summer’s and my hands with her sticky fingers, and my inner deer spirit animal whispered, Good job, ladies. Nicely done.

After Holly let go of my hand, I must have touched my eye because my left lid felt gummy and slow to respond when I blinked. Holly grabbed the water bottle from the cup holder and squirted it into the McDonald’s paper bag. She wiped her hands and gestured for mine.

I felt cool water in my palm and Holly’s warm hand cupping mine.

“Nice job back there. Med school isn’t far behind.”

“I haven’t had a flu shot without a Valium in years.”

“I was squeamish too. But, your college barfing, later working in the hospital, and being a mom takes the squeee out of the mish. If you know what I mean.”

“I’m never a fan of the mish, as you know.” She gestured for my other hand, and I reached across the steering wheel. “Maybe I’ll be more help to Rosie now.”

With Holly holding my hand, I had the courage to say, “When you love someone, you can handle all their wetness. Blood, poop, barf, all of it. It’s not enjoyable, but it’s an honor. This is why it was so easy for me to take care of you in college.” I flicked my gaze into the rearview mirror and saw Summer winking and gesturing to her headphones. Slipping them on, she covered her ears, gave me one of her magical thumbs-up, providing Holly and me the privacy to talk. “I need to know what happened to us, Holly. Can you finish what we started? Please tell me.”

Holly stopped rubbing and held my hand. I saw she was just as ready to put the past in order as I was. “You never read my letter, did you?”

My heart beat steadily, and my hands were calm on the steering wheel. “What letter?” I said.

“I realized it on this trip. You didn’t see it. Didn’t read it. That’s why I never heard from you.”

“Back up. What letter?”

“Before I left that morning. After graduation. I put a letter in that junky backpack we razzed you about. Your favorite thing in the world.”

“You wrote me a letter?”

Holly nodded.

I wanted to stop time, find that letter. “A pen exploded, everything was covered in blue ink. I dumped the backpack, didn’t even go through it. I threw it away.”

“There was a letter in the side pocket.” I heard Holly’s voice catch. “Oh, Samantha. I should have known that. I should have figured that out.”

The road sounds retreated; my head felt light. “This is what happened to us. Isn’t it?”

Holly’s face, filled with pain and loss. She shook her head as if wishing this all away.

“What did it say?” Strung between us was a heavy tension wire, a current of history and sadness passing back and forth and through the years. I saw the apartment again, two floors, like a town house, dated green Formica countertops in the kitchen around the corner from the main bedroom.

“It was a love letter.”

The breath went out of me. “Oh.” I touched my sternum. “A love letter. I see now. I get it. Holly. I didn’t understand.”

I thought about that night. I’d braided her short hair to keep it out of her face. Rubbed her back. Holly’s pajamas white with tiny horses. Helping her wash her face, throwing her jeans in the laundry. I reframed this memory with this new information. Lovers? Friends? What was the difference?

She brushed her hair away from her face, and I saw how hard this was for her. “I wrote it all in a letter. My phone and address where you could reach me. I was trying to figure it all out.”

I let myself feel the crushing loss of us, the abject misery of unrequited love, but it was visualizing Young Holly waiting for me to respond that made me groan with pain.