Staring at my sneakers, I describe how Caramel and Cassie were running along the middle of the road and how we all scrambled for the ditch.

“Why was Cassie on the road by herself?” Marigold asks.

“I was out jogging. Opal must’ve slept in.”

“I see.”

Obviously Marigold doesn’t think the mother of a four-yearold should sleep in. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, Opal’s not the problem at our house.

“By the sound of it, you saved Cassie’s life,” Marigold says. “And Caramel’s.”

Heat creeps up my neck.

“I’ve complained about the logging trucks, how fast they drive after they cross the bridge.” She reaches over, pats my knee. “You can bring Cassie here anytime, Brick.”

The heat’s reached my forehead. I gulp down the last of the juice. It’s only 8:20. Feels like it should be suppertime. Before I lose my nerve, I ask, “Could I bring her next Monday afternoon about four thirty? Just until six.”

“That’s fine.”

“You won’t tell anyone about today?”

“I tell Rolf everything.”

Oh man. “And Tully?”

“No, I won’t tell Tully. And Rolf is closemouthed.”

When I go outside to collect Cassie, she flinches away from me, just as if I did whack her. Tully gives me a dirty look. “What’s up with Cassie? She won’t say a word.”

“Come on, Cassie, we’re going home.”

“I asked you a question!”

“I don’t have to answer your stupid questions!”

“I’ll ask my mom.”

“Go right ahead.”

I grip Cassie by the wrist and yank her across the lawn. Tully goes inside, slamming the door. As soon as we reach the road, I drop Cassie’s arm.

One thing for sure. She won’t run away again.

A vehicle is approaching behind us. I keep walking. The last person I want to see is Rolf.

The Hummer draws up alongside and Floyd says, “What were you doing at Rolf Langille’s place?”

“They have a new puppy.”

“We don’t fraternize with the neighbors. Go home.”

He accelerates, then turns into our driveway. If I’d stayed in bed this morning, none of this would have happened. Now Floyd’s all geared up to go just when my face is almost back to normal, the last bruise a yellow blur on my jaw.

Once, I looked up the lyrics to “Father and Son,” one of Floyd’s top Johnny Cash songs, the whole point being that some things never change.

We trail down the driveway to the house. Cassie twists the doorknob and we walk inside. “Straight upstairs,” I say.

The fear in her eyes—it’ll be way better for her when I’m gone.

Floyd’s waiting for me in the kitchen. Cassie skedaddles up the stairs.