I stand still on the shoulder of the road, head bowed, trying to breathe past the lock in my throat. Caramel licks my arm, squirming. Cassie’s a dead weight. Slowly her hands loosen their grip. The sun strikes hot on the back of my neck.

I put her down. She’s spilled juice on the front of her T-shirt. Grape juice. She’s not supposed to pour her own.

Towering over her, wanting to shake her until her teeth bang together, I heave in another lungful of air, dust and all. My voice erupts, harsh, ugly. “That’s the dumbest thing you ever did!”

She jams her thumb in her mouth. Her curls are stuck to her forehead.

“You nearly got us all killed! Chasing that fool dog down the middle of the road—what are you, a total idiot?”

Caramel is wriggling frantically under my arm. Cassie looks petrified.

I’d whack her if I wasn’t holding the dog.

I say tightly, “We better take Caramel back to Marigold’s.”

I set a mean pace down the road, pulling her along with me. The puppy whines. “Shut up,” I say, and he does.

Marigold’s side door is open. I knock. From inside, Marigold calls, “I’ll be right there.”

I don’t put Caramel down until the door’s closed behind us. He stumbles to his bowl and slurps some water, then collapses in a heap on the floor. Marigold comes into the kitchen, a hair dryer in one hand.

I say in the same hard voice, “Cassie, tell Marigold what you did.”

“I let Caramel out. I couldn’t catch him. Brick’s mad at me.”

Not a tear in sight.

Awkwardly, Marigold stoops to Cassie’s level. “You opened the side door?”

Cassie nods. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Did you knock first?” Another nod. “I was in the shower, and Tully’s sleeping in.” Marigold pauses. “Did I just hear a logging truck?”

“No,” I say.

“Brick saved us,” Cassie says. “Me and Caramel.”

Shut your trap.

Marigold says, “I think we all need a drink of juice. It looks like Caramel’s worn out—where did he run?”

“Up the road and down.” Cassie’s chin quivers. “I tried to catch him. I ran and ran.”

“Of course you did. I think you’ve learned your lesson, Cassie. Apple juice or cranberry?”

So we’re sitting there drinking juice like it’s a regular day, except none of us are saying much, when Tully wanders into the room, yawning. Shorts, bare feet, red hair tousled. She sees me and stops by the doorway. “What’s up?”

Marigold says, “Would you take Cassie outside for a minute, Tully?”

Tully’s eyes dart from me to Cassie. “Sure,” she says.

Once she and Cassie have gone, Marigold says, “Tell me what happened with the truck.”

“Nothing.”

“Brick,” she says, “we’re going to sit here until you tell me.”