CHAPTER TWENTY

DON’T BE MAD

I launched myself out of the van and stumbled across the pea gravel to the front steps of the cabin. The door stuck, and I had to kick the bottom of it so when it opened into the cabin, I tumbled inside. Summer was washing a cup at the sink, and Holly was in the midst of folding a white T-shirt. “I just talked to Katie.” My voice sounded loud and frantic. “Holly.” I said her name as a touch point, to get control of my emotion. “She’s out of remission.”

Holly’s quiet reaction, a rapid blinking, told me she already knew about Katie. That was fine. I saw that I didn’t care. In fact, if she knew, we’d be on the same page to get out of here with as little fuss and fighting as possible.

My bag lay on the floor, and I stuffed in my sweatshirt and a pair of jeans I’d worn the previous day. My toiletries were in the bathroom. I’d need those tomorrow. What else could I pack? “Do we have to strip the beds tomorrow? I’ll check out and pay right away. Should one of us go to Kanab and get water, food for the rest of the trip?”

Summer put the cup down and said, “I can do that. Get us coffees. Something to eat. You guys settle up and get the dogs.”

“Good. Yes, Summer. Thanks. That would be great. Holly? What did Katie say to you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything useful. I don’t think she knows very much.”

I remembered how important it had been for me to know who Katie had called first when this all started. What pettiness. Such a waste of time. In the past when there was a crisis—Maddie’s broken arm, Jeff cleaning out our accounts—there was always something to do. Get to the emergency room, go back to work. I could do, do, do instead of feel. Today there was nothing to keep me busy. Katie was gravely ill, Holly and our gulf were unresolved, and we were miles and miles away from getting Peanut to the hospital.

“How’s Rosie?” I said, and Holly’s face pinked.

“She’s feeling good.”

I nodded. “I need something to do.”

“I know you do. There’s nothing we can do right now. We will get on the road tomorrow and drive.”

“Griffin is helping us. Peanut is out of the clinic. He’s no longer in quarantine. Griffin knows what we need to get on the road.”

“Good work, Sam.” Holly’s all-business face had less rigidness, more consideration.

My puppy heart, so eager for approval from its owner, skipped a beat and sped up, hoping, begging, for another pat on the head.

We spent the evening quietly. Even Summer was subdued. She offered us more weed but half-heartedly. We ordered a pizza. Ate it silently. Holly examined Google Maps, looking to save us minutes off our drive. I didn’t want to talk to anyone other than the women in the cabin. I had no desire to contact Drew, tell Maddie and manage her anxiety, or commune with the horses. I wanted the morning to come.

When we shut off the lights, I heard every rustle and sigh while we took turns sleeping, waking, using the bathroom in the night. When the morning sun streamed into the cabin, I rolled to my side and saw Holly was already gone. I looked at the time on my phone. I felt less nervous, more resolved. Today was a do day. I knew how to do .

I stood, gathered my things for the shower, found my tennis shoes. Summer peered at me from under the covers. My eyelids felt gritty, but I felt more rested than I’d expected to.

“You Midwestern girls get to it, don’t you? Holly out for her run at dawn, and she’s already at Cat World volunteering. You off to get this show on the road.” Summer sat up in bed; her right breast, as perfect as a teenager’s, popped into sight, and she covered herself with the sheet.

“Are you naked? Are you naked every night?”

“That’s kind of a personal question.”

“You know Holly thinks I’m homophobic.” I found this less important this morning. More silly and pointless than damning.

“I heard.”

“Did she talk to you about it?”

“God, no. You two are the talk of the entire sanctuary.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup. You and Holly and you and the vet. Nobody needs Netflix with you two around.”

“There is no me and Griff. Nobody thinks there is a me and Griff.” The thought that others were watching this drama play out startled and embarrassed me. I’d striven to live so quietly. Here, my life was a show for others’ enjoyment, when I didn’t know what I was doing.

Summer stood, pulling the sheet off the bed with her, but not bothering to cover her backside. “It’s like one big buzzing soap opera around here. ‘Did the crabby one talk to the nice one? Did the nice one kiss Griff yet? Is the pretty one’—that’s me—‘going to stay at Best Friends after the crabby one leaves? Is Griff going to help them when Tom shows up?’”

Summer clapped her hand over her mouth and turned to look over her shoulder.

I froze. “Tom? Katie’s ex-husband? He’s coming here?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t have permission to take the camper.”

“What? I saw Misty give you that folder. She waved to you as we drove away.”

“Right! Misty said I could use it to pick up Peanut, but she texted me and said Tom was mad. It’s his camper after all, not hers.” Her eyes widened, and she said, “I fully expected to drive it back to her. But then you guys said we had to go to Utah and finish this caper.”

I turned on her. “It’s not a caper, Summer. None of this is a caper. This isn’t fun for us. This is about survival! Don’t you see that?” I grabbed her by the narrow shoulders, as if she were a child who needed focus. “What have you done?”

Summer looked stricken.

I dropped my hands, considered the implications, my mind sluggish without coffee. “You’re saying we stole the bus?”

Summer tried to lighten the news with a nervous smile. “Turns out we did a bit. But I texted her that we were at Best Friends because Peanut got moved out of the California place.”

I pointed my angry finger at her. “That’s why Tom is on the way. He saw the camper was gone, and he knows where it is. Dammit, Summer. This isn’t fun and games.”

Summer gave me a panicked look. “Obviously when I texted Misty, I didn’t think it all the way through.” In a high voice she said, “I was trying to help. Make Misty understand why we didn’t return the bus immediately.”

“Is he coming with the police? Will Tom take the camper? How are we going to get out of here?”

Summer frowned. “Oh, that never occurred to me. The police.” She dropped her sheet and pulled a T-shirt over her bra-less torso. “Misty didn’t say anything about the police.”

“Please stop making me ask questions and tell me what is going on.”

As she quickly pulled on her shorts and slipped her feet into her flip-flops, Summer’s eyes drifted to the window behind me. “Get down, Sam.” She yanked my arm hard, and we dropped to our knees. “He’s here.”

I peered out the window. Tom climbed out of one of the sanctuary golf carts and waved a thank-you to the driver as the volunteer moved off. He walked in a wide arc around the camper. He looked tan and as fit as I remembered. I was sure the female California Invisalign crowd loved perfecting their blinding smiles with the Culver City dentist.

“It turns out Misty dumped Peanut while Tom was taking a big dental acupuncture course in Florida. She said she was sick of that dog moping around for his ex-wife, and one day she drove to the humane society and dropped him off. Then she felt bad and called Katie.”

“Misty dropped off Peanut?”

“I told you that,” said Summer, which of course she hadn’t.

“I could strangle you, Summer.” Furious, I added, “How could you not have told me all this?”

“Lots of times I don’t know what to say, and I’m afraid everyone is going to be mad at me.” She said this like a little girl, and my rage dimmed, but my resolve was not to be messed with.

Tom opened the sliding door of the bus and looked as surprised to see its internal transformation as we had been. I considered what to do. Should I race out, confront the man? I knew Tom, and if you went at him, he would fight you to the finish. He held all the cards in this situation. I needed Holly. She would know what to do.

“What else do you know, Summer?”

“Misty isn’t all bad. She texted me that he was on his way. She hoped that I’d still have room for her on my new talk show despite this snafu.”

“What talk show?”

“What?”

“What talk show did you promise Misty?”

Summer looked at me. “I don’t have a talk show anymore, Sam. You know that.”

I let out a groan of frustration just as Tom closed the side door of the bus. I couldn’t see him anymore, but the gravel crunched under his feet as he moved to the driver’s side of the vehicle. The door screeched open, and the bus listed with his weight as he crawled in the driver’s seat.

“He’s going to take the bus without even talking to us?”

“That’s what quid pro quo is, Sam.”

“Summer,” I hissed, not wanting to alert Tom but wanting Summer to understand how serious this was. “He’s taking our only wheels. How are we going to get home?”

“I thought I was helping! Misty thought Tom would be as happy as she was to see the last vestiges of that marriage. But she got it wrong.” She was speaking quickly, trying to deflect blame. “Tom is still super pissed at Katie—you know, for whatever reason men are pissed at the women they divorce after they’ve been caught in an affair.”

I watched Tom, my anxiety ratcheting up as our ride pulled out of the driveway.

“I’ll stop him!” said Summer like an energized Tinker Bell, but I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. As if her bones were hollow, she ricocheted away from the door and crumpled next to me.

“We can’t overpower him. We have to have a strategy. He’s going up to get Peanut.” I wrenched my phone out of my fanny pack and dialed the vet clinic number. I waited, and when the line connected it was the answering machine: “This is the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary Veterinarian Clinic. We are working with the animals right now. Please leave your name, number, and message, and we’ll call you back.”

At the tone I said, “Griff, this is Sam.” I thought about what to say—there was no time: “Don’t give Peanut to the man.” I hung up.

Summer said, “Nice, Sam.” And she gave me a closed-fist solidarity hand signal like we were part of a teamsters’ picket line.

I slapped her hand down and said “Summer!” like I’d said “Maddie” a thousand times before. “We have to get up there. We’ve got to stop Tom.” I pulled up Holly’s number and texted her: Tom’s here. Has Van. Peanut!! I hit send, and immediately I heard a buzzing sound. Holly’s phone sat on the bedside table. “What? She always has her phone!”

“I texted my pig guy,” Summer said, looking at her phone. “He said we can use a golf cart to get up there. But Sam. He’s going to take Peanut. We can’t stop him.”

“That is not happening,” I said. “Not happening!”