For a few minutes, Jenny kept reliving the whole

thing, felt the heat wash out from the car, saw Peaches's nearly lifeless form on the backseat, remembered the awful helpless feeling as she sat in the waiting room. But finally she was able to push the images away by reminding herself that Peaches was going to be all right. That was the most important thing.

The tears had dried up, and she was feeling much calmer when the car stopped. On its own. No sputtering or coughing to let her know something was wrong, either. It just coasted a few feet in silence before finally refusing to move another inch. Jenny tried to restart it, got out and looked under the hood, checked the tires, got back in, and turned the key one more time. That's when she noticed that the gas gauge was on empty. Below empty, to be more precise.

"Oh, no." She put her head against the steering wheel, not sure whether to laugh or start crying again. It was only two-thirty in the afternoon. If the rest of the day kept up like this, it was going to be the longest twenty-four hours on record.

If she just sat here for a while, somebody would come by, wouldn't they? Of course they would. But judging from the traffic on this road, it would be two or three days at least. If she was lucky.

Feeling very tired, Jenny got out and stood beside the car. Your house isn't that far away, she told herself. Three miles? Maybe less. You can do it.

She stood another minute or two, then pocketed

the keys and started down the road. That does it for the meat, she thought, glancing back at the car. She'd have to dump it the minute she got it home. Whenever that miraculous event occurred.

For the first few minutes, Jenny kept listening hopefully for the sound of another car, but after that, she became resigned to the fact that it wasn't going to happen. She didn't know where all the Saturday shoppers lived, but it obviously wasn't out this way. Nobody seemed to live out this way except her and Sally. She brightened up at that. Sally said they were leaving later this afternoon. Maybe she was still home. She'd go there first and see if they had any gas. If they didn't, at least they could drive her back to her car after she'd called a gas station.

That thought brought a little energy back to her legs, and she picked up her pace and actually smiled. When she saw the telephone booth, the smile widened into a grin.

She must have passed it every time she'd driven into town, and she'd completely forgotten about it. But there it was, set back in a little place where the road widened for cars to pull off so their drivers could make calls. Important calls, like the one she was about to make.

Jenny dug down into the bottom of her purse, which was where all the change ended up, and fished out four quarters and three dimes. Then she forgot how tired she was and started running toward the telephone booth.