It took Kelly fifteen minutes to get to Lief’s house, and all the way there she was wondering, What is Courtney doing there? As she understood it, Lief was making a quick trip to Los Angeles County Court to get the final filing on his custody of Courtney. But Courtney and the puppy were supposed to be with Amber. It was just after six, and Courtney had her hands full of dead dog.

Oh, this is great, she thought dismally. What in God’s name am I going to do with this situation?

When she got to Lief’s house, she was doubly alarmed to find the front door standing open. “Courtney?” she yelled.

“In here!”

Kelly followed her voice and found Courtney kneeling beside the dog in the kitchen, Spike on the floor and looking calm and sleepy, but not dead.

“Is he all right?” Kelly asked.

Courtney turned to her, her face pathetic with the tracks of tears, red nose, puffy lips. “He’s breathing, but not a lot. And he can’t stand up!”

“Holy crap, look at that tail,” Kelly said, grabbing the phone. “Where’s the vet’s number?”

“They’re closed!” Courtney said desperately. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sh. Just pet him a little and let me listen a second.” The recording came on explaining the hours of operation, but after that there was a number for an emergency animal hospital, available twenty-four hours. Kelly scribbled down the number, placed the call and spoke to an operator or receptionist. “Hi. I have a five-month-old pup—Labrador or golden mix—and I’m not real sure what happened to him, but—”

“He chewed wires!” Courtney cried out with a sob in her voice.

Kelly looked at the dog. “Well, that explains it. He chewed on wires. I think he got a bad shock. He’s breathing but his mouth and tail are burned and he can’t stand up.”

“Is he gonna die?” Courtney cried.

“Sh,” Kelly said. Then into the phone she said, “Sure, where are you?” She scribbled on the back of Lief’s note. “Okay, we’ll be there. Thanks.”

She disconnected and looked at Courtney. “Get your jacket, kiddo. He needs to go to the hospital.”

“Is he gonna die?” she asked again, desperate.

“I have no idea, but he’s not dead yet. Let’s take him to the vet. Get your jacket. And maybe a special toy or blanket for Spike.”

“’Kay,” she said, running to do so.

And Kelly thought again, what the hell? Lief is out of town! They’re not supposed to be here.

She looked at the note and list of numbers—hers was there along with others. Not the Hawkinses’ number, however.

Courtney insisted on carrying Spike to the car, wrapped in his favorite filthy, demolished, threadbare and frayed blanket. Once they were under way, Kelly said, “Your dad told me he was flying to L.A. but that you would be at Amber’s house for the night…”

“I know,” she said with a sniff. “He’s going to be so pissed…”

“Well, what’s going on?”

“I wanted to prove to him that I could handle things. That I don’t need a babysitter! But I can’t! I might’ve killed Spike! Because I wasn’t watching!”

“Aw, Courtney,” Kelly said. “When you’re fourteen and as responsible as you are, it’s not a babysitter, it’s more like company. And an adult in case you need something, like a ride to the doggie doctor. And he’s not dead yet, so let’s not bury him. Okay?”

“What if I killed him?” she sobbed, laying her head on his fur.

“Well, first of all, you didn’t. Puppies, like small children, get into trouble sometimes. You have to be alert. But you didn’t feed him the live wires.”

“It’s my fault. I don’t like him to have to stay in the kennel. He’s getting big and it’s getting too small and I know he’s going to learn to stop doing bad things. He goes to the back door now! When he has to go outside! Every time!”

Kelly reached over and gave the dog a caress. “Don’t borrow trouble. He’ll probably be just fine.”

Dr. Santorelli was a silver-haired man in his sixties with a great sense of humor. He gave Courtney a little peace of mind. “Oh, he’s had a bad shock, that’s for sure. I think he’ll be all right. Don’t know about that tail, though. He might lose the end of it. That jolt went straight through him and blew out the end of his tail.”

“Oh, no,” Courtney sobbed.

“Easily fixed, really. He’ll have to stay the night, get some IV fluids and some antibiotic and a little oxygen. He’s stunned and hurt, but not terminal. I think your biggest worry is whether he’s brain damaged from the jolt.”

Courtney sniffed. “How will I know?”

Dr. Santorelli peered at her over the top of his glasses. “If he chews wires again, brain damaged.”

Kelly put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I have Labs,” Santorelli said. “I had to take rocks out of one’s stomach. Then I had one who ate one of those disposable plastic razors. My fault—I didn’t get the shower door closed and she got in there and ate an entire shaver. Had to watch for razor blades to pass….”

“Really?” Courtney asked.

“Oh, yes. I’ll never hear the end of that one. My fault and all. But it was my wife’s shaver. One of those scented ones. I think she should share responsibility, personally.”

“It didn’t kill her?” Courtney asked. “The dog, I mean?”

“Hey, I’m a veterinarian!” he teased. “Everything passed, clean as a whistle.” He leaned close to Courtney. “I get the shower door closed now.”

“When do they stop chewing everything in sight?” Kelly asked.

“Some never do. Most outgrow it in a couple of years. But some eat the wildest things, you’d almost wonder if they need to eat them. Like rocks, garbage, plastic, wood. The rule of thumb is, watch your dog and figure out what he does. If he’s a chewer, replace the bad thing with the good thing. Tell him ‘No!’ and give him the rawhide. That’s a good start.”

“He goes outside and not on the rug now,” Courtney said, proudly but tearfully.

Kelly instinctively put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, holding her, giving support and comfort.

“Listen, you have to watch them, but understand something—they get the best of all of us sometimes. They take off running, chase cars, eat valuable or dangerous stuff, get in fights with other animals, all kinds of things. They’re animals, young lady. We love ’em. We don’t necessarily trust ’em.”

“Will you let Spike out tomorrow?” Kelly asked.

“I imagine so. But I want a closer look at the tail—might need a surgical procedure. And I need to get a little life back in him. He’s had a bad shock.” He raised a brow at them. “Literally,” he added.

On the way home Courtney said, “I guess you could probably take me to Amber’s. That would probably be all right.”

“It’s late,” Kelly said. “We don’t have to bother them. I’ll just sleep on your couch and you get some rest.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know, honey. But I think you’ve had a hard enough night. I don’t mind.”

“But you don’t have pajamas,” she said.

“I’ll live. Won’t be the first time I’ve slept in my clothes.”

“My dad’s going to kill me.”

“Nah, he’ll get over it…”

Courtney glanced at her. “You could’ve said, ‘Oh, we don’t have to tell him.’”

Kelly smiled. “No. I couldn’t. You have to own it, Courtney. When you screw up you own it, you make amends, you learn your lesson.”

“Yeah, I guess. Sooner or later he’d find out anyway. Like when he sees Spike with a shorter than usual tail.”

“Yeah. Dead giveaway.”

It was quiet in Kelly’s car for a long time. Then Courtney said, “It was nice of you to help me out, take me to the vet…”

“You’d do it for me,” she replied.

“Well, thanks a lot. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Listen, Courtney, if I hadn’t answered, someone else would’ve. Jack or Preacher or Amber’s dad… I like Spike. I was happy to help out.”

Another long silence passed. Then Courtney said, “You can sleep in my dad’s room if you want to.”

Kelly reached over and patted Courtney’s knee. “I’ll be fine.”

It was about eleven at night when Kelly heard her cell phone chime, alerting her to a text message. Where are you? it said.

She glanced down the hall to see that Courtney’s bedroom door was closed and her light off. Then she went to the great room, picked up the cordless phone and called Lief’s cell. When he answered, she said, “I’m sitting on your sofa, watching TV. But I had to check the wiring behind the entertainment console before turning it on.”

“What?” he asked.

“We’ve had a little excitement, and I’m spending the night on your couch.”

She explained the events of the evening, her story punctuated by Lief continually saying Oh, God and Oh, Jesus.

“So, the dog will live?” he finally asked.

“It appears so. And so will Courtney.”

“Tell her she’s in big trouble,” he said.

“Sorry, boss. That’s above my pay grade. You tell her when you get home. And she’s having a sore throat tomorrow…”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m calling her in sick to school. We’ll go visit the dog or hopefully pick him up and bring him home. I know she was a bad girl, but that bad girl has been through the grinder with this. She’s limp as a noodle with remorse.”

“Whatever you want,” he said tiredly.

“I’ll stay till you get home tomorrow night. Then you can do whatever you have to do.”

“Well, go find a T-shirt of mine or something. Sleep in my bed.”

But it was hard enough to think about his bed, to think about his wonderful scent on the pillow. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just travel safe.”

“There’s some brandy in the cupboard above the Sub-Zero, kind of hidden behind the Crock-Pot.”

She laughed at him. “Now, I might take you up on that.”

After they hung up, Kelly used the kitchen’s step stool to root out that brandy, poured herself a small bit in a juice glass and settled back on the sofa, wrapped in the throw. And she was really quite happy watching very old, very late night television reruns. She was almost done with her brandy and starting to nod off when she heard an odd sound.

She turned the volume way down. Yes, an odd sound. The wind whistling through the pines maybe. If Spike were here it could be the sound of him whining in the kennel, but he wasn’t here. She threw off the blanket and got up, creeping down the hall toward Courtney’s room, listening. Sure enough—little miss was crying. Scared for her dog probably.

On instinct, Kelly just opened the door. “Hey, hey, hey,” she said, entering and sitting on the bed. “He’s going to be fine. Try not to worry!”

Courtney turned over a bit. “I could’ve killed him!” she said.

“Oh, honey, he got into mischief. That’s why we watch. He’s going to be all right.”

But she turned back and just sobbed into her pillow.

Kelly lay down on the bed behind her, spooning her. “Wow, you have a major pity party going on here,” she said, running fingers along Courtney’s temple, stroking back her hair. “We’ll pick him up tomorrow and I bet he’s not even brain damaged. Probably not any smarter, though, so be warned. You might have to do the majority of thinking in this family for a while.”

More sobbing.

“You’ll probably be grounded forever,” Kelly said, just to get Courtney’s mind off the dog.

“Did you tell him?” she asked through her tears.

“Yes. You were right. I think he’s pissed. But he’ll probably get over it. All we really care about right now is that the dog’s okay. Right?”

“Right,” Courtney said miserably.

“You’ll feel so much better when you know that for sure.”

“I have school,” she said.

“Nah,” Kelly said. “There’s a major illness in the family. Hospitalization, even. I’ll call you in sick. We’ll go together. Pick him up. Bring him home. I’ll stay with you till your dad gets back. You’ll get through this…”

“It’s all my fault,” she whimpered.

“We’ve been through that,” Kelly said. “Even the vet had accidents with his crazy dogs—puppies are intrepid! They can find trouble anywhere.”

“But my fault for not going to the Hawkinses’. I wanted to prove we didn’t need anyone. I wanted my dad to see that he didn’t need anyone besides me. What a dummy!”

“Well, you can put that proving thing off a little while, I think. Just a little assistance here and there until you can drive your own dog to the vet, huh?”

“But it was wrong. Jerry was right—it was wrong.”

“Who’s Jerry?” Kelly asked.

“Oh, the stupid counselor who said we need lots of people in our lives.”