“Can you get some ice melt while you’re there?” Mom asked.

  “The pet-safe kind,” I added, scratching Jack-Jack’s head.

  “Why don’t you and Jack come with me,” Dad suggested. “The two of you can pick out the type you want.”

  I looked at Jack and shrugged. “Want to go for a ride?”

  I no sooner got the word “ride” out of my mouth than he sprang to his feet and trotted to the door. He looked back at us, tail wagging.

  “Yup, he wants to go,” Abby said.

  We all laughed.

  So it was shortly after breakfast when Jack and I climbed into the car with Dad and made the trip. Jack enjoyed the ride with his head hanging out the back window, but the store was even better. His nose was working nonstop from the moment we got inside. There was so much he had to smell. But don’t worry, after his incident with the tennis balls, I knew to pay attention. He thought about peeing on the wheels of one snow blower, and he tried to grab a pair of winter gloves off the shelf, but I stopped him both times.

  It didn’t take long. We picked out the right ice melt and Dad got his shovel. Jack had his fun, but you could say the visit to the store itself was rather uneventful—which I’ll admit was probably better than another pet-store disaster. It was what happened in the parking lot that was important.

  Jack-Jack and I climbed into the car while Dad loaded our purchases in the trunk. I had just buckled my seat belt when Jack started barking in the back seat.

  “What is it, boy?” I asked, glancing out the window to see what had him so excited.

  It was Rory. The second I spotted him across the parking lot, I began hurting. He was with a man and they were using sign language.

  Jack continued to bark until Rory looked in our direction, and the instant he did Jack’s barking turned into whimpering. Rory saw us. He saw me. His eyes met mine, but he didn’t wave—and neither did I. Instead, I watched his shoulders sag as he turned away from us. The man with him never looked in our direction.

  Dad opened his door and sat behind the wheel. “What was all that barking about?” he asked.

  I shrugged, pretending I didn’t know, and glanced back at Jack-Jack. He whimpered a few more times before growing quiet. I understood. I felt the same way. And it wasn’t going to get any better until I did something about it.

  49

  I’M SORRY

  Ms. Stacy was in her classroom, but it was Rory I needed to talk to…if he’d let me. I’d waited until now because there was no way I was trying this at the middle school with other kids around. Jack-Jack was off having fun with my sisters and Simon, so this was my chance. I knew where to find him.

  “Can I give you a hand?” I asked, approaching the bulletin board where he was busy replacing turkeys with snowmen.

  He shrugged.

  I glanced around and spotted an extra staple remover in the bin on the floor. I grabbed it and began taking turkeys down, careful not to damage them because I saw that Rory was keeping them, probably for next year.

  “Thank you for walking my sisters and Jack-Jack home the other day,” I said, tossing a handful of staples into the trash.

  He nodded.

  “That was really nice of you…especially after the way I treated you,” I admitted, my voice fading.

  He shrugged again.

  Usually I was the one not talking, but our roles had reversed, which wasn’t making this very easy. You could say I was getting a taste of my own medicine—but I deserved it.

  “Did you say anything to Ms. Stacy about me getting upset?” I asked, trying to get more out of him. His silence was uncomfortable. I bent down and put my turkeys inside their designated folder, waiting to see if he’d respond. Finally, he did.

  Rory sighed. “After I walked your sisters and Jack home and came back here, I saw Ms. Stacy. I asked her if you were okay…and then I told her about what had happened.”

  “And what did she say?” How much did Rory know? I wondered.

  “Only that I need to forgive you…and that I definitely shouldn’t believe what you said because it came from a place of deep pain.”

  “She’s right. About not believing any of what I said,” I quickly clarified, “because I didn’t mean any of those things….But I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me.”

  Rory looked at me then.

  “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “Truly sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” I asked, feeling relief.

  “Yeah, I do. My dad has mastered reading lips, but I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people.”

  I swallowed. “Was that who I saw you with, outside the hardware store?”

  He nodded.

  I bit my lip, wanting to ask more, but not sure if I should, so I returned to the bulletin board. I took a snowman and handed it to Rory. I watched him attach it and then I gave him another.

  “Has he always been deaf? Your father, I mean,” I finally managed.

  “Took you long enough,” Rory replied.

  My mouth fell open. “You knew I was struggling with that question the whole time and didn’t say anything? Ugh,” I groaned, and shoved him.

  “Told you I could read people,” he said, and laughed.

  I stuck my tongue out at him and sneered, but then broke into a smile—one that he returned.

  “My dad lost his hearing last year,” Rory said after we got done fooling around.

  I felt a sharp pang of guilt. I didn’t know what to say.

  “He got sick and ended up in the hospital with some sort of infection, a virus or something that the doctors couldn’t explain. They don’t know if it was the virus or the high doses of medicine they were giving him that took his hearing, but it was a big shock.”

  I handed him the last snowman. “That must’ve been hard.”

  “It was,” he acknowledged. “For Mom. For me. But especially for my dad.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rory attached the final snowman and then looked at me again. “It’s okay. Anyway, that’s why I know sign language.”

  “Which is very cool, by the way, and not dumb like I said.”

  He grinned and then I did the sign for “thank you.”

  He replied with “you’re welcome.”

  Our moment of quiet ended there because just then there was a burst of commotion coming from the entrance. Simon came running, my sisters and Jack-Jack not far behind.

  “Hey, are those snowmen sledding?” Simon yelled when he saw the new bulletin board.

  Rory grinned. “Yup.”

  “What’re you guys doing inside?” I asked.

  “Simon’s gotta pee,” Abby announced.

  Judging by the way Simon was holding himself and dancing in place, it looked like he had to go pretty bad, but he couldn’t stop staring at Rory’s bulletin board. “I’ve never been sledding on a big hill like that,” he said.

  “You haven’t?” Rory asked.

  “Nope. Just down the small one behind my house, and it’s not very good.”

  “We’ve gotta fix that, then,” Rory said. “Tell you what, when our first snow comes, I’ll take you sledding on a big hill.”

  “You will?” Simon squealed.

  “Promise,” Rory said.

  “Can we come too?” Abby asked.

  Rory glanced at me. “Yeah, we can all go,” he said, and smiled.

  I still hadn’t told Rory my story, and I was sure there was more to his, but we’d fill in the gaps with time. I knew because I felt lighter and better when I was with him—and maybe some other feelings too.

  50

  PERFECT CONDITIONS

  It was a perfect afternoon for sledding. School had let out early because teachers were having a meeting, and since Christmas break was right around the corner there wasn’t any homework or projects I had to worry about, and on top of that, the conditions were just right—it was cold, with temperatures in the twenties but no real windchill, and the sun was shining bright. We’d gotten two more inches of fresh powder overnight, but sitting beneath that was the best packing snow. Blazing the first trail wouldn’t be fun because the fluffy stuff resting on top was sure to blow in our faces, but once we got past that it would be smooth sailing—or, according to Rory, speed racing. He was taking us to the notorious Thatcher’s Hill. “Us” being my sisters and Simon and me, and Jack-Jack, of course.

  Jack and I met all of them on the corner when Arena Elementary dismissed. The plan was simple: Walk to our house so my sisters and Simon could drop off their backpacks and Liv and Abby and I could grab our sleds. Simon and Rory already had their sleds with them.

  We skipped along Salem Street, my sisters taking advantage of the bright sun behind us to play shadow tag, and Simon asking Rory a million questions about Thatcher’s Hill. Rory was the only one of us who’d been there before. Simon had heard stories about it but never had anyone to take him there. His parents were more than happy to let him tag along with us today, because then they didn’t have to worry about getting out of work early to pick him up from school.

  My sisters and I listened as Rory described the hill. “It’s so steep there’ve been snowmobiles that couldn’t make it to the top. Some people estimate you reach speeds close to twenty or thirty miles per hour when you go zipping down it. They say one person went so fast the bottom of their sled melted right under their butt.”

  “Whoa!” Simon cried. The boy couldn’t contain his energy and excitement on a regular basis, so add the legend of Thatcher’s Hill to the mix and you had a kid jumping and spinning and karate-kicking out of control. Rory’s tall tales coupled with Simon’s enthusiasm were amusing until Simon stumbled and dropped his sled.

  We had just made it to the top of the one and only hill we needed to climb on the way to our house when it happened. Simon’s sled hit the sidewalk and skidded backwards, gaining speed as it continued down the slope before veering into Salem Street.

  Everyone has heard stories about little kids chasing their ball into the road. Every parent tells those stories as a way to warn their own child not to do it. I used to wonder if any of those tales were true. They were now.

  “No!” Simon yelled, chasing after his sled.

  I felt the leash yank and then go limp. Jack lunged so hard that he broke his collar.

  I can’t describe much of what took place after that moment because I couldn’t see. The sun glare blinded me. Luckily, the driver of the large truck rumbling up the hill had the sun at his back, and could see. He swerved to miss Simon, and when he did the wagon load of hay he had in tow jackknifed right in the middle of Salem Street, sending hay bales flying and snow clouds and straw everywhere. Brakes screeched, horns blared, and voices cried out from every direction. When the dust finally settled there were people everywhere.

  Simon lay sprawled out in the snowbank on the other side of the road. At first glance, I knew he was all right because his body didn’t have the same awkward angle that Charlie’s had, but we still ran to check on him, and breathed sighs of relief when we saw he was unharmed. The man who’d been driving the hay truck and the drivers of other cars in the vicinity weren’t far behind us. They all stopped and got out and rushed to check on Simon as well.

  But where was Jack? Frantically, I searched up and down Salem Street. No sign of him. With my heart in my throat, I asked Rory to check under the hay wagon. I couldn’t look.

  Tentatively, Rory knelt and peered underneath. “He’s not here.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding.

  Rory straightened. “There’s no sign of him anywhere.”

  “He hates large trucks and loud engines. I still can’t believe he ran toward it,” I said.

  “He saved Simon. The truck driver said he saw Jack knock Simon out of the way, but he didn’t see where he went after that.”

  “Maybe he got scared and ran off?” Livvy suggested. “If he did, he’ll find his way home.”

  I nodded, but somehow I knew that wasn’t going to be the case. Hard to explain, but I felt it. For the past three days, when I awoke in the morning Jack hadn’t been in bed with me. It was as if he was preparing me for this. These were perfect conditions…perfect for Jack-Jack to disappear.

  “You kids have sure got one special dog there,” the truck driver said, coming over to us. “How he escaped my tires, I’ll never know.”

  “He’s Houdini Dog,” Abby responded.

  “He vanished, all right,” the driver replied. “A real mystery.”

  He was that—and so much more.

  51

  SEARCHING

  The mere hope that Jack-Jack would be waiting for us on the front doorstep when we got home was what helped Liv and Abby hold it together. It was also the reason we slipped away from the commotion surrounding the scene on Salem Street as fast as we could. Like Jack, we disappeared before anyone noticed. But when we walked up to the house, there was no sign of our beloved dog.

  “Where is he?” Abby cried.

  “Jack-Jack!” Livvy yelled.

  “Here, boy!” I shouted.

  “Jack!” Rory and Simon hollered.

  After calling him for a solid minute, we held our breaths and stood silent, waiting. Praying. When he didn’t come, we tried again. When there was still no sign of him, my sisters grew even more anxious.

  “Where is he?” Abby whined.

  “Maybe he’s lost,” Simon suggested.

  “We’ve got to go looking for him!” Abby shrieked.

  “We need to hang up posters on all the trees and telephone poles,” Livvy said, thinking strategically.

  “Yeah, lost-dog posters,” Simon agreed. “With a ten thousand-dollar reward!”

  I didn’t have the strength or heart to tell my sisters it would never work. Jack-Jack wasn’t lost. I knew it in my bones. He’d found my sisters on the first day he escaped his crate. He could find us now if he wanted.

  “Good idea,” Rory said, speaking up for me since I was lost in my own thoughts.

  We went inside and Rory helped my sisters and Simon get started on the posters while I called Mom. Rory was smart and convinced them to change the ten-thousand-dollar part to just REWARD, so then we weren’t obligated to pay a certain amount.

  Both Mom and Dad left work and got home as fast as they could after hearing the news. We took the posters and made over a hundred copies. Then we drove around the neighborhood hanging them up and searching for Jack-Jack.

  We searched high and low. Dad drove around for hours and hours every morning and night for a week. Rory’s mom even put a note in her principal newsletter. And when Christmas break came, we hung up new signs and drove around even more.

  We never found him. We never would.

  52

  CHRISTMAS EVE DINNER

  We sat around the dinner table on Christmas Eve, excited for Christmas Day, but still struggling to find normal again in the absence of Jack. We’d gone from talking about him and the possibility of finding him, to not mentioning his name at all—a clear sign that we’d lost hope—until Abby accidentally dropped her meatball on the floor.

  “Now’s when we need Jackson,” Dad said. “He’d clean that up in no time.”

  At first, I thought that was a slip. But it wasn’t. Dad knew what he was doing.

  “What do you think happened to him?” Livvy asked. “I keep thinking about him being lost and all alone again, like when he was a puppy, and it makes me sad.”

  “Me too,” Abby followed. “I miss him.”

  “He’s not lost,” I said with no uncertainty.

  “Where did he go?” Abby asked.

  I took a moment before answering. It can be hard to open up and share what you hold close, even with family, sometimes more with family, but I found the courage for my sisters, hoping it might bring them some comfort. “I don’t know where he’s gone,” I admitted, “but I know he’s safe and happy.”

  “How do you know?” Abby pressed, a scowl creasing her forehead.

  “Jack-Jack was special,” I said, “but more than your normal special. He came into our lives when I needed him most. So many things happened in the last few months…because of him.”

  “He gave us our big sister back,” Livvy said.

  I smiled.

  “And my daughter,” Mom choked, reaching across the table and taking my hand.

  Dad took my other hand. “Jack’s work here was done, so it was time for him to move on,” he explained to my sisters.

  “Do you think Jack-Jack was an angel?” Livvy asked.

  Dad squeezed my hand. Mom too.

  I swallowed. “I think he was Charlie.”

  53

  MERRY CHRISTMAS

  We gathered in the living room on Christmas morning. Mom passed out our presents and we took turns opening them. It was a happy celebration, mixed with a tinge of sadness. It was time for us to move on, but that didn’t mean we weren’t still missing Jack, especially after seeing his unopened package sitting under the tree by its lonesome.

  We were on our last gifts when we were interrupted. The knock on our door was unexpected, but the surprise on the other side was perfect timing.

  “Who in the heavens could that be knocking on our door on Christmas morning?” Mom said to no one in particular. She sighed in exasperation as she got to her feet and went to check.

  The rest of us sat and waited for her to return before continuing with the unwrapping.

  “Oh my goodness!” Mom exclaimed after peeking through the window to see who it was.

 

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