They kept going until the mutt turned down another road, and they saw his car. Dad walked a little farther, still sniffing. Once he was satisfied the kid had walked straight down the road—no side trips into their forest—he stopped and watched as the car’s taillights disappeared from sight.
Then, still silent, Dad walked over and motioned for Logan to take off his jacket. He prodded Logan’s shoulder as Logan squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry out.
“Can you lift your arm?” he asked.
Logan did.
Dad stepped back. “Do you know how lucky you are that I didn’t dislocate it? Or break it?”
“It would have served me right if you did.”
Dad gave a disgusted grunt. “Sure, that’s what counts: that you deserved it. It wouldn’t have bothered me at all. Break my son’s shoulder. No big deal.”
Logan dropped his gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten in the way.”
“That was just the last in a very long string of mistakes you made tonight.”
Logan could hear the anger in his father’s voice. Icy anger, pushed down deep, turning his voice bitter cold. Logan wished he would yell—lose his temper and snarl and shout. He did with others. Even with Mom. Especially with Mom, though they tried to hide it from the kids. But that was just anger. Two volatile tempers clashing, until one of them would stalk off into the woods and the other would follow, and when they came back, everything would be fine.
That’s what Logan wanted right now. For his dad to shout and snarl and get it out of his system. To be furious with Logan for doing something stupid, because it had scared him. That’s not what he saw, though. This was worse. It was disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to cry. “I’m really sorry, and I know everything I did tonight was stupid and—”
“We told you not to come into the woods. We told you why.”
“I-I thought … I didn’t think it was true. About the mutt.”
Dad pulled back, his blue eyes icing over even more. “You thought we lied to you?”
“N-no, I thought there was another explanation. I was absolutely sure there wasn’t a mutt out here.”
“You are nine, Logan. I don’t care how smart you are—you are not in a position to make that determination. If I’m not sure whether there’s a mutt, and your mother isn’t sure, then you aren’t, either.”
“I know. I’m—”
“Furthermore, I don’t care what you thought. It was an order. You do not disobey an order.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“No, Logan, I mean you don’t. Not that you shouldn’t. You don’t. You never do. So if you did tonight, then something is wrong, and you are going to tell me what it is, or we are going to spend a very long and cold night on this road.”
Logan swallowed. He closed his eyes, and steeled himself, and said, “I’ll show you.”
“No, you’ll tell me.”
“I-I …” He lifted his gaze. “Please. I have to show you.”
Dad gave a wave, looking tired and frustrated, and let Logan lead the way.
Dad followed behind Logan. Maybe watching for trouble. Maybe just not really in the mood to walk with him. When they were halfway to the fort, Dad’s hand fell on his good shoulder.
“It’s late,” he said. “Just tell me what—”
“I have to show you.”
“No, Logan.” He stepped in front of him, his face drawn in the moonlight, lines deepening around his mouth. “Tell me, because I need to get inside and talk to your mother.”
“It’s a puppy,” Logan blurted.
Dad went still. “What?”
“A puppy. In the fort.”
“You found a puppy in the fort?” Dad said slowly.
“No, in the ditch. There were two. In a bag. I thought they were dead, so I was going to move the bag before Kate found them, and I was carrying it across the road when I realized one puppy was still alive.”
“One was …?”
Logan nodded, and the look that passed over his father’s face … It was many expressions, all flickering fast, shock and surprise and anger and outrage, and then something like sorrow and regret as he said, “You were moving dead puppies for your sister.”
“I didn’t want her to see that.”
Dad’s expression said he’d rather Logan hadn’t seen that, either, but Logan started walking again, still talking. “At first, when I thought the puppy was hurt, I was going to take it to Jeremy. But then it was fine, and I … I put it in the fort.”
“The fort?”
“I wanted to give it to Kate for Christmas.” Again, he blurted the words before he could stop himself. Then he hurried on. “I mean, that was my first thought. I know I can’t now. It’s a bad time. But I didn’t know what to do with the puppy, and I was trying to figure it out while I was looking after it, which is why I went out tonight. I thought you didn’t smell a mutt this afternoon—just the puppy. I was sure that’s what it was. So I was going to feed it.” He took the bag of meat from his inside pocket. “Otherwise, I’d never have gone out.”
” Dad gave a slow nod. They were within sight of the fort when he finally said, “You wanted to give it to Kate. For Christmas.”
“I know I can’t, so I’m not asking. That isn’t fair.” “Isn’t fair?”
“To make you and Mom say no. Especially Mom. She wants a perfect Christmas, and a puppy would be, well, perfect. For Kate. So Mom would either have to say no and feel awful or say yes when she really doesn’t want to. That’s not fair.”
Dad’s hand fell on his good shoulder again, and before Logan knew it, Dad had pulled him into an embrace. Tight and brief and fierce.
“All right, then,” Dad said. “Show me your puppy. Before it breaks down that door.”
The puppy was indeed trying to break down the door, throwing itself at it as it yipped and howled. Logan opened it, and the puppy flew out. So did the stink of puppy poop, and Logan’s hand flew to his nose. The puppy jumped and leapt against his legs, yelping to be picked up.
“I’ll clean that up,” he said quickly.
“You look after your puppy,” Dad said. “I’ll handle the rest. I’ve changed plenty of diapers.”
Dad cleaned out the fort while Logan fed the puppy. He came out again as Logan was trying to get the puppy to eat more.
“Food first, then play,” he said to the puppy, dancing around his feet. He looked up at his dad. “It likes to play.”
“It?” Dad’s brows shot up. “You can’t tell if it’s male or female?”
“I haven’t looked. I don’t want …” Logan busied himself shoving the meat back into the bag. “It’s not important.”
Not important if they couldn’t keep it.
Dad scooped up the puppy in one hand. He flipped it onto its back. “Female.”
Logan nodded. Dad tried to put the puppy down, but it—she—climbed onto him, licking his face.
“Okay, okay,” he said, handing her back to Logan. “You haven’t named her, I’m guessing.”
“I didn’t want to form an attachment.”
Dad snorted, as if to say it was already too late. “Play with your puppy for a while. Tire her out.”
Logan wished he wouldn’t say your puppy. It meant nothing, but it felt like something. He pushed that aside, and he played with the puppy, and Dad did a little, too, feinting and chasing, the way he used to when Logan and Kate were little, wearing them out for their nap.