Jewel takes Mama’s hand and squeezes it. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you for all your many kindnesses.”

Before Mama can answer, Jewel turns to me and touches my face. “And you, dear Piper,” she says, “are purely a wonder.”

“It wasn’t just me, though,” I say. “I couldn’t have done it without my friends.”

Jewel smooths her hand over my hair. “Yes, but you, you saw. Not just with your eyes, but with your heart.”

I reach into my coat pocket and hand Jewel a small white photograph.

“I forgot I had this,” I say. It’s the one of her and Sis, arms slung around each other, kicking up their heels.

She looks at it and smiles. Then she lets out a big laugh. “Oh, I remember this! Sis and I could be so silly!”

“All aboard!” The bus driver calls.

Jewel turns to me and smiles. “Would you carry Baby for me, Piper?”

I take Baby into my arms and hold him close. He licks my chin and wags his tail about a mile a minute.

We walk out to the bus in the falling snow.

“Don’t forget to call Mrs. Tooney tomorrow, Jewel. She’s expecting you,” Jewel’s case worker says. She’s already got a new social worker all lined up for Jewel in Boise.

Daddy hands Baby’s duffel bag up to Jewel as she stands on the bottom step of the bus.

It about tears me up to do it, but I place Baby in Jewel’s arms.

Jewel raises Baby’s paw and waves it. “Say goodbye to all the good people, Baby.”

Baby yips and sneezes.

I laugh, but my heart is breaking too. I love that little dog, I surely do. I am so happy Baby and Jewel can be together, but a corner of my heart still wishes like anything he was mine.

One last time, Jewel wipes a tear from her face. “This will be the best Thanksgiving I could have ever wished for,” she says.

And then the bus doors close, and they’re gone.

I can’t hardly believe it. All these weeks of thinking about Jewel and especially Baby day and night, and it’s done. Over. I’ll never see them again.

My heart feels like someone yanked it out and wrung it like a washcloth.

Then I feel a small, sticky hand slip into mine. Dylan looks up at me and says in his croaky little voice, “It’s okay, Peeper.”

As we start back to the car, Daddy and Ree walking side by side, Mama stops. She looks at the hand of Dylan’s I’m not holding. “Where’s Ted the Shark?” she asks, kind of in a panic because we all know what a fit Dylan can pitch when he’s lost Ted the Shark.