Jim drove us to the vet and helped me carry Alice into the exam room.
“Are you sure she hasn’t had any chocolate?” The vet gave me a searching look as I tried to keep Alice from pacing the length of the clinic’s exam room.
“I don’t know where she would have gotten it.” I kept all of ours in a cupboard.
“She’s been vomiting? Had diarrhea?”
I nodded.
“Tell me about her daily care. Have you changed anything? Food? Shampoo? Medications?”
“Nothing.” I was kneeling on the floor beside her, trying to stroke her head, but she kept shifting positions—sitting on her haunches, then pushing to her feet—as if she just couldn’t get comfortable.
“Has she been anyplace new? A dog park? Someone else’s house?”
“No. And we’ve been walking the same route for years.” I tried to embrace her, tried to ease some of her discomfort, the way I did with Sam, but it didn’t seem to help.
“She hasn’t spent longer than usual in one place on her walks? She couldn’t have discovered any old food containers on the street or anything?”
I had no answers.
“Something’s poisoning her system.”
Fear clutched me. Something or someone?
“Do you keep fertilizers or pesticides within reach?”
“No.”
Alice whimpered again, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
I stroked her head. Her ears.
She lay down and then immediately got back up.
The vet lifted Alice’s tail with one hand and wielded a thermometer with the other. But before she could insert it, Alice began to seize.
* * *
It took a while for the doctor to stabilize her, and there were some harrowing moments, but by the time I left the veterinarian’s office, I was told she would recover.
I got back in enough time that I was able to walk down to pick up Sam right when school ended that afternoon. There was no reason for him to stay for their extended day program since I was home. I had to figure out how to cancel him out of the program anyway. Even if I managed to bring Sean back to life soon, with security systems and car repairs and vet bills and the loss of my job, we were going to have to save every penny we could.
Sam and Alice had always had some sort of telepathic connection. First thing he asked when he got home after school? “Where’s Alice?”
I’d meant to ease into telling him. Could nothing go right? I shoved my keys into my front pocket and took off my coat, trying to buy myself some time. “She has to stay at the doctor’s overnight.”
Sam looked at me, concern coloring his eyes. “Why?”
“The doctor thinks she found chocolate somewhere and ate it.” No need to tell him of my own suspicions. “She can’t eat chocolate; it’s not good for dogs.” It wouldn’t hurt for Sam to know that. “If they have too much they can get super sick.”
His mouth dropped open. His eyes went wide. “Is Alice going to die?”
“The doctor says she’ll be fine. But she got really sick and she’ll need to stay there a few days.”
Tears were welling up in Sam’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I knelt and gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry too.”
“It’s my fault.” He wrestled himself out of my hug and took me by the hand and led me to his room. I had discovered Alice in the hallway, so I hadn’t seen Sam’s room until just then. The mattress of his bed had been pushed askew and the floor was littered with candy wrappers. “Sam?”
He was sobbing. “It’s all my fault. Alice is going to die and it’s all my fault.”
“Shh.” I tried to hug him again, but he wasn’t having it. He beat my arms back and sat on the floor, pulling at his hair.
“Sam. It’s okay. Alice is going to be okay.”
Gulping back his sobs, he looked at me. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Pretty sure. I sat down next to him.
He scooted onto my lap.
I put my arms around him and rocked him back and forth.
He turned and snuggled into me.
“How come you had so much candy for Halloween in here? I thought I told you we were keeping it all in the kitchen.”
“I took it for Daddy. In case he was hungry after the firm hole.”
* * *
I cheered him up with his Super Sam cape, tying it under his chin. Then I made him half a peanut butter sandwich as a snack.
When tears threatened, I thought up another diversion. “Hey! Guess what—I have a surprise for you. Want to see it?” I slipped my old phone into my back pocket, in case the vet called, and the new one into my front pocket in case Sean texted. Then I grabbed the bag containing the new train from one of the boxes on the living room floor.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.” I’d been meaning to keep it for Christmas, but he seemed to need it just then. And so did I.
We went downstairs into the basement where he could play with it.
The delight in his eyes when he pulled it out of the box was worth it. “Grandpa was telling me about these!” He offered the train and its crates to me. “You can use them with the crane.”
I handed them back. “Show me.”
Sam took them from me and pushed them along his intricate network of intersecting tracks. He made the crane take off the crates, ran it around again, and then made the crane put them all back on. Pretty soon he forgot about me, so I sat cross-legged on the floor and checked my email. Already word had gotten around that I’d been let go. I drafted an email to send to all of my business contacts.
Sunlight had retreated from the basement windows; it was getting dark. I got up and turned another light on.
Somewhere above us, a floorboard creaked.
“Can you do this for me, Mommy?” He held up two of the trains. He was trying to secure the connection between them.
I cocked an ear toward the ceiling. Old house. Just settling. “What?”
He dumped the trains into my lap. “Can you make them fit together?”
“Sure.” I picked them up.
But there it was again.
I put a hand to his arm. “Just a second, buddy.”
I held a finger to my lips as I glanced up at the exposed ceiling. He followed my gaze with his own.
Another creak.
I set the trains on the table. Put an arm to his shoulder and eased him away from it. I bent so I was looking directly at him and spoke quietly. “This is very important. When you and Dad played that game, the one about hiding?”
He nodded. “The Bad Guys.”
“Did you ever play it down here?”
He nodded again.
“I think we ought to play it, you and I. Can you show me how?”
“Not really, I mean—”
“This is a real game, Sam. Do you understand?” There was another creak upstairs. That time it sounded like it was coming from the dining room. “There’s someone up there. And Alice isn’t here to protect us.”