Sam was up by five the next morning sweeping cobwebs and leaves out of the canoe which leaned against the back of his house. He and Kathleen had used it a few times in Marblehead harbor since Sarah’s disappearance, but not this past year. He tried lifting one end and decided that with Jimmy’s help, they could get it onto the car top carriers.

The Newfy woman’s residence would be impossible to find by car. He had no idea which lane from which road would lead to her house on the Deerfield River, but he remembered clearly where he and Sarah had launched the canoe. An hour of leisurely paddling should bring him to the bend around which the Newfies had been playing. And should he miss it, the excursion would be a nice day’s outing for him and his grandson.

But that wasn’t why he was going. He wanted desperately to ask the Newfy woman about the pictures. The last picture, especially, where Sarah was wearing the silk robe he’d given her. It wasn’t only that she’d obviously spent at least one night and maybe more at the woman’s house. It was her expression of sheer joy. Throughout their thirty-four years of marriage he and Sarah had known some happy times, but never, not even in their love making, had he seen such gleeful abandon as Sarah with the Newfoundland dogs. He was envious that the woman, and not he, had shared those times with Sarah.

Since it was Sunday morning, he waited until eight to knock on Kathleen’s door. He didn’t want to appear too eager. Teresa opened it.

“What’s wrong?” were her first words.

“Can’t you say ‘Good Morning’,” Sam replied. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s a beautiful day and I thought I’d take Jimmy canoeing.”

She looked at him as if he’d suggested elephant riding, then asked him into the house. “Kathleen and Naomi are still asleep,” she announced. “I’m scrubbing the kitchen floor.”

Jimmy, in his pajamas, sat on the sofa where he slept. He was changing channels with the TV remote. “Nothing but church,” he complained from the living room.

“Now what’s this about canoeing?” Teresa asked. “Is it safe?”

“Sure. I’ve been doing it all my life. And Jimmy will be wearing a life jacket.” It was essential that Jimmy go with him because he needed someone to help put the canoe on the car. And he didn’t want to ask Kathleen. That would require too many explanations.

“Just around here?” Jimmy’s mother asked.

She’s worried, Sam thought. I’ve got to word this right. “Too many big boats in the harbor. I was thinking of a shallow river where we could drift and take it easy. Maybe take a picnic lunch. We’d be back about five.”

When he mentioned a picnic lunch, her demeanor, like toggle switch, shifted from negative to positive. “It sounds like Jimmy would have fun. Anyway, Russell’s coming by at noon. He was going to take Jimmy and me to Plum Island for a picnic, but it might be better if it was just him and me alone. Will you promise to put sun block on him every three hours?”

Sam knew he had her now. “I promise.”

“Sit down, then. Read the Sunday Globe. I’ll make you a picnic lunch.”

* * *

Three and a half hours later Sam and Jimmy arrived at the launch site on the Deerfield River in western Massachusetts. Sam got out and stretched. The drive had been more tiring than he remembered, and now he faced an hour of paddling against the current. He wasn’t sure he was up to it. Jimmy got out of the car, screwed up one side of his face and stood awkwardly by the door. His shoulders drooped and his arms hung down as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Sam’s resolve to canoe up the river was growing thin, and Jimmy’s defeated expression wasn’t helping.

“Come on,” Sam said with forced enthusiasm, “let’s get this canoe in the water.” He slid the stern off the car top carrier and told Jimmy to hold it while he got the bow. The boy clutched the bulky curve of the upside-down stern, holding it until Sam pulled the bow off the car. Then Jimmy lost control and let the canoe roll out of his grasp and fall to the ground.

“I’m-sorry-sorry,” he shuddered as if expecting a slap, and twisted up the side of his face again.

“No harm done,” Sam said with a sigh. “Just a little scratch on the roof. Come on. Let’s carry it down to the water.” Sam lifted the front and Jimmy the rear, half carrying and half dragging the canoe to the bank. Lifting and leaning to the side at the same time, pulled on Sam’s back. Twice he had to set the canoe down and change sides.

When they reached the water, Sam sat on a rock, took a deep breath and looked at Jimmy. “Good job,” he said to the boy. A strained smile touched the corners of Jimmy’s mouth and his hands found his pockets.

Sam rubbed sun block on his grandson and then on himself, helped Jimmy into the life jacket, plopped a Sox ball cap on him and a straw hat on himself, stowed the lunch and a back pack which held the pictures, and they were on their way.

The river was low and the current sluggish, but the paddling strained muscles Sam had forgotten he had. Even his incision scar began to hurt. After fifteen minutes of nudging the canoe up the river, they found a shady spot on the bank and stopped for lunch. They finished eating and Jimmy tossed stones into the river. Sam lay back on the grass and fell asleep.

He awoke to the sound of the river rippling over rocks. In no hurry to get up, he lay there looking at the sky, smelling the warm earth and listening to a cardinal singing in a nearby tree. He found himself thinking again about the night he and his father had stayed at the CCC camp, and the more he thought, the more he remembered. After their dinner by the river they’d gone into a big tent and slept on hard army cots. In the morning, shivering, he’d stood with his father in a line at the mess tent. He could still picture the mist as it hung over the river and the sun as it touched the tops of the hills beyond. After breakfast, the two of them had hiked up the hill above the camp, while a CCC mechanic repaired the Ford. When they reached the top, his father looked out across the valley and said, “Someday I’m gonna build a house out here.” Sam said he’d help him.

Each fall his dad took the family driving through the Hampshire Hills and repeat his dream to build a house, but it never came to pass.

The laughter of people tubing down the river brought Sam out of his reverie. He got up, brushed the grass from his back and said it was time to get going.

When the water was shallow, they dodged rocks, and when it was deep, they dodged people floating toward them in inner tubes. But the day was sunny and the people they met on the river were pleasant, joking with them as they floated by. Jimmy was in front doing his best to follow Sam’s instructions, but twice he lost the paddle and several times he sent a cascade of water onto his grandfather.

Approaching the spot where he remembered seeing the Newfies, Sam’s mind raced ahead. What if Sarah were actually living with the Newfy woman? Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? Excitedly he pulled hard on his paddle.

Around the bend he found the dock and they beached the canoe. Sam got out and, pressing both hands into the small of his back, surveyed the scene. Sarah’s photographs came back to him as he looked at the house: those were the steps on which she’d sat in her straw hat; and there was the porch table where the picture of her in the silk robe was taken.

A new sound reached out to him — Une Belle Die from Puccini’s Madame Butterfly.

“Hear the music, Jimmy? Somebody’s home. Let’s look out back.” They walked around the side of the house to the rear where a large fenced area filled with gravel testified to the existence of dogs. Beyond that was a garden, both flower and vegetable. On one of the fence posts sat a portable stereo from which the plaintive voice of Madame Butterfly sang longingly for the return of Lt. Pinkerton.

His eye caught a rustling movement in the garden among the day lilies. Someone was there, bent over and hardly visible. He walked along the fence toward the garden. As he drew near, the flowers parted and he saw a wide-brimmed straw hat with a blue ribbon. Staggering, he leaned against the fence. His heart fluttered irregularly, his head grew light. The hat moved again as the person crawled through the lilies.

“Sarah?” Sam called hesitantly. “Sarah? Is that you?”

The person beneath the hat rose to her feet and turned toward him. Surprised and a little fearful, she said, “Hello, I didn’t hear you come up.”

It wasn’t Sarah — too short, too stocky — but Sam continued to lean against the fence for support. He swallowed hard and said, “I thought . . I thought you were someone else.” And then he recognized the Newfy woman. “I’m Sam Langley. I met you about three years ago when I was here with my wife.”

At that moment, there was a crash from the direction of the house as a dog door slammed opened and two huge black, bear-like animals surged across the fenced area and out its back gate in the direction of Sam and Jimmy. Deep tuba-barks filled the air as they bounded toward them, drool flying from slack jowls. Their feathered tails fanned the dry grass, and waves of long, thick curls along their backs and sides shimmered in the sun. Jimmy ran behind his grandfather as the hundred and thirty pound dreadnoughts sailed around the corner of the fence.

“Molly! Maggie! Come here!” the woman ordered. The dogs changed course, veering away from Sam and Jimmy, and walked up to the woman as if that is what they intended all along. They put their paws on her shoulders and licked her face, then walked with her, one on each side, as she approached Sam and Jimmy.

“They’re a bit overwhelming at first, but they’re very gentle. They just want to say hello.”

The onslaught of the dogs had delivered Sam from his confusion and he relinquished the fence. Jimmy, however, remained behind him, peering around his side and gripping Sam’s belt with both hands.

“I’m Annie Haas,” she said shaking his hand. Then she stepped back and looked at him. “Sam. Now I recognize you. It’s good to see you.” Annie looked at him with a smile that remembered good times. Much shorter than he, she stood solidly on strong legs. Below her shorts, her knees were smudged with dirt from the garden. Her blue work shirt, which was all she wore on top, was unbuttoned to her waist revealing beads of sweat on her chest and barely covering her breasts. “I’m afraid you caught me trying to stay cool,” she said without embarrassment, and buttoned her shirt. Her sleeves were rolled high and he could see the muscles in her arms working as her fingers attacked the buttons. There was no loose skin anywhere, neither on her square face nor her neck. The only soft things about her were her gray eyes and warm smile.

“Would you mind saying hello to Molly and Maggie? They like visitors. A rub on the head will suffice.” Sam put out his hands and the dogs approached, first Molly, then Maggie. They smelled his hands then put their muzzles under them and flipped them onto their heads. He rubbed the prominent brows and velvety ears.

Sam introduced his grandson. “This is Jimmy.”

“Hi, Jimmy. They’re really very gentle, but take your time if you want.” Then to Sam, “Come up to the house for some iced tea. And Jimmy, I’ve got Coke too, if you don’t like tea.”

Molly and Maggie led the way through their fenced yard and into the small two-story house. The second floor was hidden beneath a broad slanting roof where dormers marked what were probably two bedrooms. They entered through the kitchen into a large living room with a fireplace, Annie leading them out the front door which faced the river and onto a porch. While she got the drinks, Sam and Jimmy sat on the bench of a picnic table under the watchful eyes of the dogs. He realized he was sitting in the same seat where Sarah had sat in the picture.

“Sam,” Annie said as she joined him at the table, “You called me Sarah in the garden.”

“I know. I got confused.” He looked at her sheepishly. “It was the hat. Sarah had one like it. I thought . . I don’t know what I thought.”

“Of course. And you’re right. It’s Sarah’s hat. She left it the last time she was here.” She touched his hand. “She didn’t come with you?”

Sam looked at her bewildered. Then he realized Annie didn’t know that Sarah had disappeared. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m afraid she’s gone. It happened two years ago. She was on a trip and never came back. The police searched for her but found nothing.”

Annie looked at him stunned. “Oh Sam, I’m terribly sorry. I can’t believe the world has gone on for two whole years without Sarah in it. She was such a warm and vital person.” Annie was quiet for a moment, then said, “If it’s not too hard for you, will you tell me what happened?”

Half an hour later they were still sitting on the porch, their iced tea glasses empty. Jimmy, hanging on to a porch post, swung leisurely back and forth. Sam was saying, “That last year she went on several trips with her company, where I don’t know.” He stopped to think. “At least I assume it was with her company. Maybe it wasn’t. I thought she been here only once, but apparently she’d made two other visits I didn’t know about. I found the pictures she’d taken on the succeeding visits.”

“She didn’t tell you about coming here?” Sam shrugged. “How strange. It never occurred to me she wouldn’t be telling you.” Sam searched Annie’s eyes to see if she were telling the truth. Annie noticed his incredulity. “Honest Sam, I didn’t know.”

“Why would she hide it, though? And if she didn’t tell me about her visits here, what else didn’t she tell me?” He made a mental note to talk to someone from her company and find out what trips she’d made prior to her disappearance.

“Knowing her,” Annie said, “I can’t believe she was deliberately keeping something from you. But I can see that she might have wanted to treasure the experience just for herself. Did you ever ask where she’d been?”

“No. I guess if she’d wanted to tell me, she would have.” Sam thought for a moment. He was surprised he was being so open about personal matters with this woman he hardly knew. “The truth is, there was a lot of distance between us those last few months. Not that we didn’t love each other — at least I loved her — but we didn’t talk much.”

“You mentioned the pictures she’d taken. She always promised to show them to me, but never did. I thought she might be saving them for a book.”

“Would you like to see them now?”

“I’d love to.”

“Jimmy,” Sam said. “Run down to the canoe and get the big envelope in the plastic case. It’s in my pack.”

“Okay,” he said, happy to have something to do. When he went down the steps, the two dogs got up and followed. The boy froze on the bottom step.

“They won’t hurt you, Jimmy,” Annie said. “They want to go with you to be sure you’re okay. Walk slowly and you’ll see.”

He looked at her as if she were sending him to his death, but warily set out for the river’s edge, one dog on each side of him.

“The pictures are the reason I came. I had to ask you about Sarah’s visits.”

“I understand,” Annie said. “She came here, let’s see, five or six times.”

“That many?” Sam asked, surprised.

“Yes, and once she stayed a whole week helping me with a new litter. They’re so fragile when they’re tiny. Someone needs to be with them all the time and Sarah helped. I assumed you knew.”

“A whole week? When was that?”

“Let’s see. It think it was March two years ago. I could look it up in my birthing records.”

“Don’t bother. It just seems strange that . .” He stopped. “March. I remember now. It was one of the few times she told me where she was going. Said some kind of a company retreat in Maine.” The hurt of realizing she’d deceived him showed on his face.

Jimmy came up the path from the river with one hand holding the envelope and the other resting on Molly’s back. Maggie led the way. The boy was smiling broadly. “We got ‘em,” he proclaimed.

“Thanks,” Sam said, pleased to see him smiling.

The pictures were laid out on the table and Annie examined each one. Before starting the second folder, she went to the kitchen for Kleenex and returned blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. When she finished, she said, “She was such a dear person. I loved her Sam. I think if she hadn’t died she would have quit her job and started raising Newfoundlands. She had such a knack with the babies. I remember once, coming into the room and finding her lying beside Molly, the two of them deep in a conversation.” She wiped her eyes again. “But here I am, going on. What a loss it must be for you.”

Sam nodded. “They never found her body, so I’ve had a hard time accepting that she’s gone.”

“Gramp,” Jimmy said, pointing toward the west. “Look at how dark it’s getting.”

The two adults got up and walked to the edge of the porch. The western sky looked as though a muddy sheet had been stretched across it. Above the darkness, a white cloud anviled upward. At that moment lightening streaked though the gray wall, and fifteen seconds later thunder rolled across the valley.

“Storm’s coming,” Annie announced. “We’d better pull your canoe up and turn it over. Then you can help me roll down the porch awnings.”

The three humans and two dogs hurried to the river, Molly and Maggie assuming this was some kind of game they’d been invited to play. Sam and Annie dragged the canoe twenty feet up the bank and turned it over. Jimmy stuffed the life preservers and paddles under it. Returning to the porch, Annie and Sam unrolled canvass awnings on the west end of the porch and one on the front.

“Ohmygod!” Annie said. “The stereo.” She ran through the house and out to the garden. When she returned she set the CD player on the table and replaced the Madame Butterfly CD with Freddy Groffey’s Grand Canyon Suite. She looked at Sam with animation. “I love to play the section called Storm when a real storm’s coming.”

“Hadn’t we better go inside?” Sam asked.

“Oh no. It’ll be more fun out here.”

Thunder followed the lightning at closer intervals. The air was heavy and damp. Then it hit — huge, individual drops of rain striking the porch roof like small stones. Within seconds the staccato became a roar and the awnings billowed like sails on a square rigger. Annie turned up the volume on the stereo until the kettle drums in the CD matched nature’s thunder. Jimmy stuck his hand around the edge of the awning and laughed at the pressure of the driving rain. Annie shouted, “Isn’t this great?”

“Yeah, wonderful,” Sam said without enthusiasm.

A corner of the awning came loose and rain poured though the opening. As Sam reattached it, the memory of his boyhood sleeping porch flashed through his mind He had loved rain storms then, and would lie in his bed and peak through the cracks between awnings at the raging storm. Was I that boy? he wondered.

“Sam,” Annie called. “Look at this.” She was pointing to the path which had become a swirling stream heading toward the river. “Can you believe it?” Annie’s excitement combined with the memory of his own sleeping porch caused him to smile. Maybe standing on a porch in a rain storm wasn’t such a dumb idea.

Jimmy loved it. Without asking permission, he went down the steps and into the pelting rain. The dogs joined him and the three of them slipped and slid around the yard. “Annie,” Jimmy yelled, “come on down.” And she did, down the steps and out into the rain. She took the boy’s hands and they danced in circles, their raised arms becoming a London Bridge for the dogs to run under.

“You gotta try it, Sam,” she called.

He shook his head, looking at them uncomfortably. But he was happy to see Jimmy laughing.

They came back to the porch, arms stretched out like wet wings, water dripping from their finger tips. The dogs stood as close as they could to Sam, then shook, spraying him with water.

“Come with me, Jimmy,” Annie said still laughing. “We’ll get dried off.” He and the dogs followed her, leaving Sam alone on the porch. In the back of his mind, the young boy who used to hide from the rain on his sleeping porch, wished he’d run out into the storm.

Two hours later, the storm had passed and the sun was touching the tops of the tree covered hill to the west. Jimmy, in an adult tee shirt that came to his knees, sat at the porch table eating a hot dog. Annie was dressed in a caftan. Sam was helping her dry and comb the two dogs.

“She’s so soft,” he said as his fingers probed the thick fur of Molly’s neck. He clutched handfuls of her silken hair, and felt her skin roll over her powerful muscles. He grunted an amazed laugh. “Once you start, you can’t stop.”

“I tell you, Sam, Newfies are magical.” She was pulling a grooming comb through Maggie’s hair. Mesmerized by their task, they combed and stroked the dogs in silence. Then Annie said, “You mustn’t try canoeing back tonight, Sam. It’d be dark before you reached your car.”

“I know. I was wondering if there’s a motel near here.”

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “It’s called Annie’s By The River. Very good rates.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up as he realized what she was saying. “Do you mean we could stay here, Annie?”

“I hope you will.”

Sam was tired out and quick to accept. “You sure we wouldn’t be putting you out?”

“I’ve got an extra bedroom for you and a couch for Jimmy.”

“I’ll have to call his mother,” Sam said. Annie brought him the cordless phone from the kitchen and Sam dialed Kathleen’s apartment.

“Teresa’s not back yet,” Kathleen said. “Where are you?”

Sam explained they were staying with an old friend of his and Sarah’s named Annie Haas and would be returning the next day. “We’ll be back about noon or a little later depending on traffic.” He asked her to tell Teresa that Jimmy was fine and that they’d had a lot of fun, but it was too late to try to return that night.

Kathleen didn’t sound too pleased about telling Teresa. “I hope she doesn’t shoot the messenger.” They said good bye and Sam told Annie they’d be staying.

“Good,” she said. “Now, about our dinner. Jimmy’s got his hot dog and for us I’ve got two steaks I’ll defrost. You can start a fire in the grill.”

“We’re staying?” Jimmy asked. Sam said yes and the boy yelled, “Whoopee!” Annie offered him a piece of blueberry pie with ice cream for desert.

The charcoal took its time getting hot in the damp grill and Sam and Annie were on their second scotch, when Sam asked, “How did you wind up here raising Newfoundlands?”

“I grew up around here, in Greenfield, actually. After the Viet Nam war — I was in the Army — I met this guy who owned this house. He had a so-so business renting kayaks and tubes here on the river and did some carpentry on the side. We lived together for a while, then got married. That was ‘79. A few years later I saw my first Newf and fell in love. I bought a female puppy and when she grew up, started raising puppies. Well, Buck, that’s my ex’s name, got jealous of the dogs. Said I loved them more than I loved him. He was right. We split and I got the house.”

“Can you make a living raising Newfoundlands?” Sam asked.

“No. I do it for love. What I get for the pups goes for stud fees, dog food and vet bills. I work as a physical therapist in Greenfield. I’ll be going there in the morning. What do you do?”

Sam told her about his “almost” career as a novelist, and she said publishing two books was a lot more than “almost”.

“I guess so, but I can’t seem to get started with number three.”

Annie sipped her scotch, then asked, “How did you and Sarah meet?”

Sam told her about Sarah being an intern and coming to his ad agency when she was still in college. Then about her success with Elite Design and her rise in the company ranks. “She loved photography and design, but she was such a competent manager they put her behind a desk. When the company expanded to the west coast, she spent half her time on the road.”

“I admire you both for sticking together all those years. There’re so many divorces. Like me.”

“It’d be thirty-six years if she were still with us.” He thought for a moment, then said, “They were good times. Not that we didn’t have problems. The last few years her work took more and more of her time. And when she was home, she had to compress two weeks of house work into a couple of days. I tried to maintain the home front while she was away, but it was hard.”

“What’d you do for fun? Sounds like you were working all the time.”

“Not all the time. Each of us had three weeks of vacation and we took them together. After the kids were out of college we could afford to travel. We took tours of Russia, Kenya and Egypt. Once we went on a Mediterranean cruise and stopped at Greek Islands.”

Annie put her finger across her lips, then pointed to Jimmy. Sam looked down. The boy was curled up with Maggie, his head lying on her huge chest and his arm around her neck. Both were sound asleep.

Sam whispered, “I’ve never seen him so happy. He’s like a different child out here.”

“So was Sarah,” Annie said. “She used to fall asleep with Maggie just like that.”

“I can’t imagine that,” Sam said wistfully. “I never saw her relax.”

“And I never saw the Sarah you’ve been describing.”

Sam turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“As soon as she’d arrive, she get out of her city clothes and into an old shirt and jeans. Then out to yard with the dogs. Maggie was a pup and I had another female named Cleopatra. She’s gone now, passed on. The two dogs knew her and climbed all over her saying hello. Then off to the river they’d go, Sarah running into the water, clothes and all. She was a free spirit. At night we’d sit like this, drinking scotch, telling dirty jokes, singing old songs. I’d never had a girl friend like Sarah.”

“I wish I could have known that side of her. We were so caught up in the busy-ness of our lives. It was always getting this or that done, where she was going, when she’d be home, getting the car inspected, which bills to pay. I don’t mean we had separate beds. We’ve always loved each other. I think we just forgot how to play.”

Sam got up and walked down the steps to the grill. “Coals are dying. Do you want to cook now or should I add some charcoal?”

“Add some more. I’ll get us one more drink.”

When they were seated again, Sam said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but after two drinks, it seems the right thing to do. I’ve had a some strange things happen lately. I’ve tried to put them out of my mind, but I can’t.”

“What kind of things?”

“In a nutshell. I think I saw Sarah.” Sam turned to look at Annie who’s eyes and mouth had opened wide. “It sounds crazy and maybe it is, but it’s so real I think it just might have happened. The first time I saw her, she was standing In the pouring rain looking at my house. As I watched through my window, she brushed her cheek like Sarah used to do.”

“I’ve seen her do that too,” Annie said.

“There’s more. On the Fourth of July, I saw her twice. I’m sure it was Sarah by the way she stood, the way she held her head. It was at two different locations, as if she were tracking me down. When I tried to get to her, she disappeared in the crowd.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Yes. A good friend and his wife, but not my kids. They already think I’m getting senile. The trouble is, it was just surreal enough so I don’t know if it happened or if I made it up. Sometimes I think I am getting senile.”

Annie was shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this.”

“You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

“If you are, then I am too.” She took a swallow of scotch and said, “A couple of months ago I was at a dog show in Connecticut. I was sitting in the sliding door of my van. Molly and Maggie were there beside me sniffing the air and watching other dogs. We were waiting for the Newfs to go on. I looked down the line of other breeders with their vans and campers, all with their dogs waiting like I was, when I noticed someone taking pictures. She was wearing one of those safari type jackets with all the pockets and an Aussie hat. An extra camera was slung over her shoulder. For an instant I thought she looked like Sarah, but I couldn’t get a good look because of the hat.” She paused for a moment. “Sam, I can’t tell you how much I wanted her to be Sarah. It’d been over a year since I’d seen her. All of a sudden Maggie leaped up and bolted off in the direction of the person taking pictures. Molly chased after her. They never do that. They always lie right by my side even when other dogs walk by.

“I ran after them, in and out of the campers and RVs, calling to them. Dogs were barking, owners were yelling. In the distance I saw them catching up to the photographer and knocking her to the ground. I couldn’t believe what they were doing. That was when I tripped over a tent stake and twisted my ankle. I couldn’t get up. It hurt like hell, and I was desperate to find the dogs. After a few minutes the barking stopped and Molly and Maggie trotted up to me, delighted to find me. They were all over me, licking me and making their soft talking sounds.

“A man came up and helped me back to my van. The show was over for me. I could hardly walk.”

“Annie,” Sam warned, “don’t even start thinking it. It’ll drive you crazy.”

“I know and for a long time I put it out of my mind. But after what you’ve told me, maybe she was Sarah. Maggie thought so.”

Chapter Nine