Later that afternoon the boys all left in their cars, so it was just Grant and Burke and me.

  My boy reached down to scratch my ears and I groaned. “Where did you get all the chairs?” he asked.

  Grant grinned. “A couple of them are rented, and we got some from garage sales, pawnshops, places like that.”

  “So you have been planning this for some time?”

  Grant nodded. “Yeah. How was it?”

  I turned my head to stare at Burke because a wave of emotion came off him as sudden and sweeping as the morning’s rainstorm. “Grant,” Burke said. Then he stopped, looking away for a moment, and then started again. “Grant, I have never been part of any team before, not ever. And to not just play, but to be the, the…”

  “You smoked us all. You were the best,” Grant said simply.

  “Thank you, brother.”

  Grant and Burke grinned at each other. The pull between the two of them in that moment was so strong I had to jump up, putting my paws on Grant’s chest, wanting to be part of it.

  I usually sat under Grant’s chair at dinner because he dropped more food than Burke. I was lying there when Chase Dad said, “I ordered new doors for the storm cellar. The ones we have now are so rotten you could put a foot through them. Tornado hits, not much good to have a shelter with doors falling apart. After we get done tomorrow, Grant, why don’t you see about getting the old doors off. The things weigh a ton.”

  Grant kicked his legs a little. “Sure. I’ll work all day and then work a little more.”

  “Watch your tone,” Chase Dad replied.

  “I can do it,” I heard my boy say.

  Grant made a snorting noise.

  “Grant,” Grandma pleaded quietly.

  “I’m serious. I’ll figure something out,” Burke insisted.

  There was a silence. “All right, Burke, you do that,” Chase Dad agreed.

  The next morning Burke seemed very interested in a pair of wooden doors lying on the ground. “This is going to work, Cooper,” he told me.

  I watched with absolutely no curiosity as he started tying ropes, running the line to a tree, where an object clanked as he lifted it. “See? With the hinges removed, I can pull the doors off using the block and tackle.”

  I yawned, then curled up for a nap. I was intrigued, though, when the slatted wooden doors were removed, revealing steps that went down into a space under the building.

  “Go ahead, Cooper! Check it out!”

  The steps were stone and no children were sitting on them. Whereas the barn was lofty and airy, the small room down there, the under barn, was dark and damp. I found nothing of interest in the cramped space: some soft blankets I could smell even though they were wrapped in plastic, some containers, a metal box reeking of burned wood. No sign of the barn animal. I trotted back up to where Burke was playing with the ropes. “Let’s not tell anyone how I did this,” he said to me.

  I went back to my nap.

  “How did you get the doors off?” Chase Dad asked Burke at dinner.

  “It was easy,” Burke replied.

  “Who helped you?” Grant challenged.

  “Nobody.”

  “Liar.”

  “Moron.”

  “Boys,” Chase Dad said in a firm voice.

  I listened mournfully to the sound of eating. There was beef up there on the table and none down here on the floor.

  “Burke, why don’t you invite Wenling to dinner some night,” Grandma said.

  The sounds of eating stopped. Grant’s legs kicked.

  “Uh,” Burke said.

  “Mom? Where did that come from?” Chase Dad asked.

  There was a long, long silence.

  “Why don’t you boys give your grandmother and me a moment to talk,” Chase Dad suggested.

  Grant and Burke left, but I lingered under the table because of beef.

  “I’m serious. What was that?” Chase Dad asked in low tones.

  “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. It’s Burke’s first girlfriend. What you have against her father is your own business, but it doesn’t have anything to do with your son.”

  “It’s not just that they’re robo-farmers. I don’t like the idea of her being a ‘girlfriend.’ How do we know what’s really behind it? What if she’s just dating him out of pity, or worse, if she just wants to be seen as the girl who is so, so generous, she is willing to go out with a disabled boy?”

  “Oh Chase.”

  “Oh what? I’m his father. I am just looking out for his best interests.”

  Grandma stood. I got up and shook myself, sniffing, watching her hopefully. “I think that when Patty left it made you so mistrustful of women you can’t just celebrate that your son is in love. Of course she’s going to break his heart, or he’ll break hers—they’re in high school, for heaven’s sake. But what you’re trying to do is avoid all emotional risks for yourself and for your sons, which means you’re not really participating.”

  “God, is this about Natalie?”

  “It’s about life. Don’t you think I miss your father every single moment of every day? But would I pass up the opportunity to be with him, to marry him and raise a family with him, if I knew that I would come home from the store one day and find him lying dead in the kitchen? No, because life is to be lived, Chase. Encasing your heart in stone doesn’t make it stronger, it makes it cold.”

  I could not remember Grandma ever doing an angry walk before. Chase Dad sat at the table for a long time after she shut the door to her room.

  Grant and Burke decided to visit the dock the next morning, but not to harass ducks. Grant took off his shirt and jumped into the water and Burke watched from his chair.

  Grant floated on his back. “You should come in.”

  “You know I can’t swim,” Burke replied.

  “You don’t think I’d save you?”

  “Why would I think that?”

  “Come on. Why’d you put on your swimsuit if you aren’t going to swim?”

  “Changed my mind.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Seriously? That’s the best you got?”

  “You know you want to.”

  I looked up at a noise, and at the same time caught the scent of Wenling. She was on a bicycle, standing on the pedals as she ascended the driveway. She didn’t look over at us and neither of the boys saw her. I wagged, anticipating her hands on my fur.

  “Cooper! Steady!”

  I alertly darted to my boy’s side. He gripped my harness, sliding down onto the edge of the dock.

  “Go for it,” Grant encouraged.

  With a sigh, Burke pushed himself off and landed in the water. I bounded forward and stared down into the green water, seeing and smelling him as he sank.

  And sank.

  And then he was completely erased from my sight. A tense silence fell in the still air. A duck chided another. Somewhere far off, a cow complained. Alarmed, I panted, willing my boy to reappear.

  “Come on,” Grant muttered.

  I gave an anxious whine. I glanced at Grant, then up at the house, where I could see Wenling talking to Grandma. Grandma pointed in our direction, and Wenling turned, putting a hand up to shade her eyes.

  I paced, my claws gripping the ends of the dock. Something bad was happening to my boy! Burke!

  With a splash, Grant dipped under the surface. I barked. Now he was disappearing! I had to do something!

  I launched myself over the side in utter panic, diving down into the depths of that pond, and as I descended something extraordinary happened: I remembered doing this before. I remembered swimming through gentle, warm waters. A voice came to me: Good dog, Bailey.

  Yet as powerfully as the recollection captured my mind, I couldn’t at all place where I had been. Or when.

  And then the boys bumped into me on their way up and the moment passed. I followed them to the surface. Grant was sputtering, holding Burke with both hands.

  Burke spat water in Grant’s face. “Gotcha.” Laughing, he pushed himself off his brother’s chest, while I swam in circles around them, so relieved I couldn’t stop the little yips that escaped my mouth.

  Grant wiped his eyes. “What?”

  “Of course I can swim, you idiot.”

  “Hi,” Wenling called from the dock. Both boys turned and gaped at her.

  “How did you get here?” Grant asked.

  “I’m happy to see you, too, Grant. I rode my bike. Did you know there are a lot of bumps in the road? My butt knows.”

  “Hey, want to come swimming?” Burke asked her, treading water.

  “Oh. I, uh, didn’t bring a suit.”

  “Huh.” Burke sucked in a breath and slipped under the surface.

  A moment later, Grant gasped and spun himself around. Burke surged up out of the water, throwing Grant’s bathing suit on the dock by Wenling’s feet. “Here! You can borrow Grant’s!”

  After a bit, Burke climbed out of the pond and I did Steady to help him back to his chair. Grant stayed in the water much longer, not emerging even when Burke, carrying Grant’s bathing suit, wheeled with Wenling back to the house. Finally Grant hauled himself onto the dock and ran really fast to the stairs down under the barn, emerging wrapped in a blanket.

  I just do not understand people sometimes.

  Later the three of them ate ice cream off sticks at the wooden outdoor table. I was enraptured. The boys were eating with crunchy bites but Wenling was licking hers in a way that made me almost dizzy. “So I had my first flying lesson,” she said.

  The boys stared. “Flying lesson?” Grant repeated.

  “You said you were working at the airfield, but you never said anything about flying lessons,” Burke added.

  “You’re like fourteen still,” Grant objected.

  “So wait, a girl is getting her pilot’s license, and it’s bothering the boys?” Wenling taunted.

  A drop fell off her stick and landed on the seat next to her. I stared at it.

  “Of course not,” Burke replied uncomfortably.

  “I can’t fly solo until I’m sixteen, but I can take lessons now.” Wenling grinned. “My father won’t let me drive until I’m eighteen, but it never occurred to him that I might fly. My mom knows, but she won’t tell.”

  That drop of ice cream was just sitting there!

  “Do you have a parachute?” Burke wanted to know.

  “Stop it. I’m going to get my pilot’s license before I even have a driver’s license. So.” She turned to Burke. “You want to come out and fly with me sometime?”

  “You mean leave the earth?”

  Wenling laughed.

  “I’ll go,” Grant offered.

  “Would there be flames?” Burke asked.

  “No, no flames. The instructor sits at the controls next to me.”

  “Oh, then there probably isn’t room for me. I was so looking forward to it.” Burke sighed.

  “I’ll go,” Grant repeated.

  “There’s room for both of you. Cooper, too,” she said.

  I heard my name and lunged, slurping up the ice cream splat in one lick.

  Many days passed by with no sign of Lacey. In my dreams, though, Lacey and I ran together, and sometimes she was the dark-faced, short-haired brown dog I first met and sometimes she was the yellow dog with the scraggly fur I knew now.

  Then one night she filled my senses so powerfully I woke up, and I still smelled her. I padded out the dog door and into the darkness. Her scent led me to the stone steps to the under barn. She was down there; her scent strong and constant.

  And something was down there with her.

  { FIFTEEN }

  I cautiously descended the cement stairs to the room under the barn. Lacey had pulled out a folded blanket and was curled up on it. She wagged her tail as I approached, but otherwise did not get up to greet me. She was panting in distress and I was frightened because something was going on and I did not understand. The area at the bottom of the stairs was very dark. I strained to see what she was doing.

  The air was rich with the presence of what I had assumed was another animal but now realized was coming from Lacey. I decided to examine her more closely and was shocked when she halted me with a growl, a warning from deep in her throat. She did not want me any nearer. What was happening?

  I stood awkwardly on the steps, peering at shadows, feeble light from the house providing the only illumination in the under barn. I heard Lacey licking and then, astoundingly, I heard a tiny peep, an animal sound. Lacey had just given birth to a puppy, and the dense odors told me another one was coming.

  Lacey had made a den down here. I needed to protect her. I was her mate.

  Yet when Burke whistled for me, I had to obey. I left reluctantly and lay on the floor in his room with my nose pointed toward the open window because his door was shut. I panted anxiously all night. When he finally let me out the next morning I dashed to the steps and could see my Lacey and several tiny puppies lying down there. She wagged when she saw me.

  My affection for her in that moment was overwhelming. I realized then that I not only needed to protect my new dog family—I needed to provide for them. I trotted back up to the house. My human family was sitting at the table. I went to my food bowl, but the first meal of the day wasn’t there yet.

  Chase Dad cleared his throat. “Almost time to start bringing in the zucchini, Grant. Let’s go out and check on them this morning.”

  “You sure, Dad?” Grant replied. “Wouldn’t it be better if I stayed and helped Burke with his model city?”

  There was a silence. I went to peer at my food bowl. Still nothing.

  “Grant, you’re just going to have to get glad in the same clothes you got mad in,” Chase Dad said, “because I’m going to need you out there every minute, and even then I think some of it’s going to wind up rotting. Used to be we’d have a hundred migrant workers coming up to help with the harvests, but not anymore.”

  I returned to my bowl, picked it up, took it to Burke’s chair, and dropped it at his feet, where it clattered. Burke laughed. “You hungry, Cooper?”

  I stared at him expectantly until he wheeled to fill my bowl. My dinner came from an open bag on the floor. I could stick my head in the bag, but I understood this was bad dog behavior and did my best to ignore its wonderful odors. As soon as the bowl was full, I ate greedily and quickly.

  When Grant and Chase Dad left I slipped out the dog door and anxiously followed them, hoping they wouldn’t go to the under barn. They were my people and harboring a secret from them made me feel like a bad dog, but I couldn’t help it—something told me that part of protecting the den was keeping it hidden. The two of them went off in the direction of the fields, so I padded down the cement steps.

  The scent of dinner still clung to my lips, and Lacey stood up to a chorus of squeaks from the tiny puppies pressed to her side. She nosed me and I held still, letting her inspect me. When she licked my lips, I felt a strange compelling sensation come over me, starting with my throat and working its way down to my stomach, and then everything I had just eaten came back up in a swift and neat regurgitation. Lacey began to feed.

  “Cooper! Come!”

  I tore myself away, racing out of the under barn and into the morning sunshine. Burke had wheeled himself out into the yard. “Where were you, Cooper?”

  Lacey’s scent was strong in the air and I was anxious to return to her, but my boy clearly expected me to remain with him. I finally sank down into the grass with a sigh. When I slept, I didn’t dream Lacey and I were running. I dreamed we were playing with puppies.

  Later Burke rolled to his room. When I abandoned him I felt like a bad dog. I creeped back to the little room behind the kitchen and seized the bag of dinner in my mouth. Then I froze: I could tell Grandma was lying down on her bed but wasn’t asleep. Slinking quietly, I dragged the food bag with me through the living room. A noise came from Burke’s room, was he coming out? I felt as if people were running at me shouting, “Bad dog! Bad dog!” I squeezed through the dog door, the bag catching on the frame. I walked backward, pulling, finally breaking free. Then I halted, listening guiltily. Was someone coming? My heart was making the same sort of noise as when Grant ran down the stairs.

  The bag bumped on my legs as I ran across the yard and down the steps to the under barn. Lacey did not get up, but I knew she could smell what was in the bag. I did not know if the puppies could, and they didn’t seem to be very interested in me at all.

  I was interested in them, though. They made tiny peeping noises, their eyes tightly closed, each face scrunched. I stared, learning every one by sight and smell. These were my puppies.

  I was back at the house when Chase Dad and Grant arrived for their dinner. I was very hungry and sat hopefully under the table.

  “The new storm shelter doors come yet?” Chase Dad asked.

  “No, sir,” Burke replied.

  “Not much of a storm shelter if it’s open to the elements.”

  “You planning to put the new ones back on yourself, Burke?” Grant asked slyly.

  “Maybe. I’ll bet you I could.”

  Chase Dad cleared his throat. “I think it will go better if we all help. The new ones are steel and probably weigh a ton. We’ll never have to replace them again.”

  Grant stealthily lowered his hand and gave me a tiny piece of bread. A good, attentive dog doing Sit, and that’s all I got, bread.

  The next several days I took up a post at the top of the stairs to the under barn. Lacey only emerged at night—she would head down to the pond to drink. I would stay and guard our puppies until she returned. Lacey smelled of delicious milk and of the tiny puppies in the den.

  I was shut in Burke’s room at bedtime—my nose up and attentive—when a feral animal smell arrived on the breeze. A growl formed deep in my throat.

  My boy stirred. “Go to sleep, Cooper.”

  Whatever it was, I knew it was out there stalking Lacey. I jumped off the bed and ran to the door and scratched it frantically.

  “Cooper!”

  I barked, my lips pulled back from my teeth. Burke sat up and blinked at me. “What’s going on?”