The next morning, Annie called. “Sam, Maggie had her pups last night. We lost one but seven survived. I sure could use some help.”

“I’m on my way,” Sam said. And to himself, Russ and Teresa will just have to solve their own problems. I’ve got a life, too.

Annie’s dining area had been transformed into a whelping room. The table and chairs had been moved against the wall opposite the kitchen to make room for the whelping box. The box was about six feet square with twelve inch walls and an eight inch shelf around the top, like a small porch roof, under which the pups could huddle so Maggie wouldn’t roll over on them.

Annie was sitting on the floor by the box. Under the watchful eyes of Maggie, she picked up one of the pups and rubbed the nipple of a plastic baby bottle around its nose. A little bigger than the palm of her hand, the baby jiggled its head around until its tiny mouth found the nipple and latched on.

“Maggie’s dairy is still kicking in, so I’m supplementing with bottles every so often.”

“They’re like little rats,” Sam said.

Annie shot him a disapproving look. “They’re baby Newfies. Don’t ever call them rats.” The seven little creatures in the box squirmed toward Maggie’ nipples, the stronger ones pushing aside the weaker ones, heads bobbing until they’ve found their goal. Their eyes were still shut.

“What can I do to help?” Sam asked.

“Just sit and watch for a while. I want Maggie to get used to your being here before you touch her babies.”

“I wish I could relieve you. You look exhausted.”

“I am. I haven’t stretched out in my bed since yesterday. I think I catnapped on the sofa, but I’m not sure.”

“I had no idea it’s such a big job,” Sam said. “I thought it’d be easy like a cat having kittens.”

“Not Newfoundlands. They’re completely vulnerable at this age. The temperature in the box should be around seventy degrees, and even then we have to have a heating pad for them to lie on when Maggie’s not with them. We check the pups weight every day to make sure they’re not weakening. And I have to give Maggie water every so often because I can’t leave the bowl in the box. But most important, when Maggie gets back into the box, we need to see that she doesn’t accidentally lie on one of her babies. She’s a hundred and thirty pounds and they’re a little over a pound.”

Sam gazed at Annie as she worked. She could have been a mother with her newborn the way she cradled and fed the pup. From time to time her head would drop and she’d fall asleep. Then it would jerk up and she’d catch the bottle that had fallen into her lap.

“If you’ll tell me what to watch for,” Sam said, “I’ll do it and you can lie down on the sofa.”

“Just as soon as I finish with this one.” The puppy’s mouth had slid off the nipple and he was making no attempt to find it again. Annie touched his mouth with the nipple and he sucked a few more times. “Thanks for coming so soon. The woman who usually helps me moved away unexpectedly. How long can you stay?”

Sam hadn’t given much thought to his length of stay. He’d brought two changes of underwear and socks and an extra shirt in case it was more than overnight. “How long do you need me?”

She gave him a wan smile and said, “Three weeks, but I’d settle for one. By then some of the pressure’ll be off and I can probably find someone else.” Carefully she laid the puppy on the heating pad under the protection of the shelf at the inside edge of the box. Maggie was standing up, freeing herself from her brood and looking at Annie.

“Wanna go outside?” Annie asked. The dog stepped through an opening on one side of the box and went to the door.

Sam opened it for her, then turned back to Annie. “A whole week, huh? I hadn’t quite figured on that.”

“Well, whatever you can manage.”

Sam went to her and gave her his hand. “Here, let me help you up.” She accepted his hand and went to the sofa.

“I’ll stay awake until Maggie comes in and settles in the box. If I do sleep, check the temperature every so often and make sure Maggie doesn’t lie on them. If something doesn’t look right, wake me.”

Maggie came in through the open door and lay down on the floor next to the sofa. ”She’s okay here, but wake me if she heads for the box or if her babies start crying. I don’t want her getting in there and crushing them.”

Sam said he would and Annie laid her head on a pillow. She was asleep before he could pull up a chair beside the box.

This wasn’t at all like Sam had planned. On the drive to Deerfield River he’d anticipated spending time with his new friend while getting away from the problems at home. He thought he’d be playing with puppies during the day, then sitting on the porch drinking scotch with Annie in the evening. And here he was, nursemaid to seven puppies. He checked the box temperature. It was seventy-two. He looked at the puppies curled into one big lump under the shelf. They all seemed to be sleeping, so he went to the porch and sat on the top step where he could still see the whelping box in the dining room.

The day was warm with hardly a leaf quivering. At the end of the yard, the river drifted slowly by. Occasionally a group of laughing people floated by on inner tubes. After they disappeared round the bend, silence would return interrupted only by the call of a bird or the distant sound of a truck on the highway. Sitting there his thoughts turned to Russ and Teresa. Now that he was here, he felt guilty that he’d left them to their own devices. In fact, left them without even telling them where he was going. Should he have stayed home where he’d be available if they needed him? And why had he been so quick to rush to Annie’s side, a woman he barely knew who raised these seemingly fragile, giant dogs?

A few minutes before, when Sam arrived, the other dog, Molly, tail wagging, ran to greet him as he got out of the car. But she remained on the porch when he went inside the house. He’d seen her peer into the whelping room while he was sitting by the box, but a growl from Maggie caused her to retreat. Now Molly joined him on the top step, pushing her massive head against his chest for an ear rub. He obliged, then put his arm around her and pressed his cheek against her face. With his other hand he buried his fingers in the thick fur of her chest. He’d stick it out for three days at least, then he’d think about going home.

The sound of whining from the box brought him into the room. Maggie heard it too and was getting up to join her babies. Sam knelt by the opening in the side of the box as Maggie approached, waiting to see if she would accept him. Maggie regarded him for a moment, her eyes tired, then walked into the box. I guess that’s a yes, Sam thought, and observed her turn around twice, then lie down. From the shelter of the shelf, the puppies smelled her and began to unwrap themselves. They swam — pulling themselves with their front paws — across the towel-covered floor of the box toward their mother. As they arrived, she licked their behinds and washed their faces. Fortunately, they all found a teat, so Sam didn’t have to wake Annie.


By the end of the second day, Sam was helping Annie with all the chores. Maggie allowed him to touch her puppies, so he was able to feed them the supplemental bottles and to move them aside if Maggie was about to roll over on them. Every few hours either he or Annie would weigh the pups to determine if they were fading away or on a healthy course of growth. The day he’d arrived, each weighed about a pound and a quarter. Now each had added a quarter pound except one. For some reason she’d begun to lose weight. Annie tried every trick she knew to bring her back, sugar water to relieve dehydration, massaging to stimulate her little organs, giving her to Maggie for the dog’s medicinal licking. About midnight the puppy died in Annie’s hands. Sam took the limp body to a part of the yard reserved for burials, and buried her. When he returned he sat beside Annie on the sofa and held her while she wept. “They’re so little, so fragile,” she cried, “always at the very edge of life or death. Who knows why she died?”

The third day Sam’s guilt got the best of him and he called Kathleen to let her know where he could be reached. He made a point to call when she was at work so he could leave the message on her machine without having to talk to her. This assuaged his guilt without his having to give a long explanation of where he was.

Relieved, Sam returned his attention to the puppies. The six remaining were gaining weight and Maggie was managing to keep them fed without the supplemental bottles. The puppies’ eyes were still closed, but their stronger legs allowed them to swim across the floor of the box to Maggie with more determination. Sam was fully a part of Annie’s routine now. They worked side by side or took turns working and sleeping, Annie in her room, Sam in the guest room.

The end of the fifth day Sam came downstairs from a nap to relieve Annie. She raised her eyes to him and laughed. “You look like hell. Feel your chin.”

Sam ran his hand over a five day’s growth of beard. Raising an eyebrow he gave Annie a critical look. “Have you combed your hair in the last week?”

She ran her hand through her hair. Her fingers stuck in the tangles. “Okay,” she said, “You shave and I’ll comb my hair. Meet you on the porch in half an hour.”

Showered, shaved and wearing one of Annie’s tee shirts and the same pants he’d arrived in, he joined Annie on the porch. They agreed to have one drink but no more in case they had to face an emergency. Annie’s hair was combed and she was wearing her caftan. They sat together on the swing that hung form the porch ceiling and pushed with their bare toes.

“I feel like I’ve walked through a magical door,” Sam mused, “like C. S. Lewis’s wardrobe or Louis Carrol’s looking glass. Marblehead seems a million miles away and a thousand years ago.”

“I can’t imagine it’s been very pleasant the last few days. We’ve done nothing but work.”

“But it’s not like any work I’ve done. Helping those little things hang on to life — it’s been good.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Back in Marblehead all I do is put out one fire after another. I just get one of my kid’s problems settled and another one is knocking on my door. If it’s not the kids, it’s a leaky water heater, or a broken air conditioner or a neighbor complaining about my old maple that might fall on her house.”

“I hate to disillusion you, but things like that happen here too. This house’s over a hundred years old. Floor joists need shoring up. Shingles blew off in a storm last spring. And my boss thinks I ought to work twice as much as I do. I’m contract, but still she has a fit every time I take off for a litter of pups.”

“I didn’t mean you don’t have problems. The difference is, you’ve got your puppies to look forward to, two or three litters each year. I used to have writing, but I don’t even have that now.”

“Sam,” she said smiling and shaking her head, “take off the rose colored glasses. It’s lonely here. The dogs are great companions and the puppies are adorable, but they’re also a hellava lot of work. The best thing about having you here this last week has been having someone to talk to. Not that I haven’t appreciated your help. I don’t know how I could have done it without you. But it’s you’re being here that’s meant the most.”

Sam laughed softly. “I’ve felt the same way. I can talk to you in a way I can’t to my kids.”

For several moments they pushed with their toes and swung back and forth without speaking. Sam folded his hand over Annie’s and rubbed it gently.

Annie broke the silence. “Have you noticed that we haven’t once mentioned Sarah since you’ve been here?”

“Huh. I hadn’t until you mentioned it. When I was here with Jimmy, she was all we talked about.”

“I’ve thought a lot about that photographer, the one Maggie said was Sarah.” She turned so she was looking squarely at Sam. “I’ve decided she was wrong, because Sarah would never do that. Not the Sarah I knew. If she were alive, she’d visit me. These sightings that you’ve had must have been someone who looked like Sarah. Sam, she wouldn’t do that to you and she wouldn’t do it to me.”

“I don’t suppose so, unless . .” He stopped.

“Unless what?”

“Unless her life with me had gotten so hard that she saw her chance to escape and took it.”

Annie shook her head. “That might work for you, but not for me. When she was here with me and the dogs, she was finding her life. I really believe that.”

Sam looked at the river while he thought, then said, “I hadn’t planned to tell you this, but now I want to. You can make of it what you want. Sarah had a saving’s account with a lot of money in it. A few months before she disappeared, she withdrew the entire amount as if she were planning to start off on her own. She kept this a secret. I learned about it a few weeks ago from a friend at the bank.”

“That still doesn’t mean she ran off somewhere. She may have invested it in stocks and bonds to get more interest.”

Sam sighed, but didn’t respond. They swung in silence for a minute or two, then Annie said, “Sam, if she is alive, how would you feel toward her?”

Her question caught him by surprise, and he took some time pondering it. He thought about the times he'd imagined seeing Sarah and how much he’d hoped she were alive. “What a question,” he said. “I’ve always just assumed I’d be ecstatic if I knew for certain she were alive. Now that you’ve asked, I’m not so sure. I guess I’d be happy, but if she were all right and not hurt or anything, I’d be damned mad at her for leaving.”

“It’s amazing that a person who isn’t here, who probably is dead, can get us so worked up. Maybe her ghost is floating around trying to tell us something.”

Sam laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about that.” He paused, embarrassed. “This sounds a little hokey but sometimes I think I hear Sarah in the house and sometimes I even hear her talking to me, telling me what to do.” He looked at Annie to see how she was taking this.

She laughed. “That’s not crazy. My mother still criticizes me and she’s been dead for ten years. When we live with someone for a long time, I think we absorb so much of their spirit, good and bad, that there’s a lot left over after they die. That’s why we feel they’re still around.”

Sam wondered what part of Sarah’s spirit he’d absorbed. “It was like I lived with two Sarahs. She was twenty-two when we got married, twelve years younger than I. In the beginning, she reminded me of a graceful young doe, full of fun, inquisitive, adventuresome. And when things got too much for her, she’d come running to me for protection.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam! I hope you never said that to her.”

“Annie, for God’s sake, it was another time. People thought like that.”

“Nobody I knew.”

“Well, maybe you’re right.” Sam laughed. “You know, I can’t believe I said that. I sounded just like Torvald in the Ibsen play.”

“Never heard of it,” Annie snarled. “Bet it was a flop.”

“Frankly, I didn’t much like it myself.” Then he went on. “She changed after she started working. In no time she was moving into management. I admired her, but to be honest, I was scared. I was growing older and she was becoming more beautiful and self assured. I was afraid she’d see me for what I was and leave me for a younger guy who could keep up with her.”

“Did she ever give you any indication she was looking around?”

“No. I guess it was more how I felt about myself than anything she did. She used to tell me what was going on at work — company gossip, politics, things like that — until the last couple of years when she kept things to herself. So it wasn’t what she said that worried me. It was the silence.”

“That was the time I got to know her. Out here she was like a kid, full of fun, willing to try anything.”

“Sounds like the Sarah I first knew.”

The phone rang. Annie said, “Damn,” and got up to answer it. She returned, phone in hand. “It’s for you.”

“Where the hell are you?” Kathleen demanded, immediately raising Sam’s ire.

“Ever try saying hello?”

“Don’t get smart with me, dammit. Russ just called from the emergency room at Salem Hospital.”

“Oh lord, what’s happened?” Guilt fell on Sam like a landslide. He never should have left home.

“He’s got a broken nose, two broken ribs and a dislocated jaw. I could hardly understand him.”

“Did he have an accident?”

“Yeah. Ran into a fist. It all started when he called here about five asking if Teresa was here.”

“She went to her parents, didn’t she?” Sam said.

“That’s what I told him. Then he said, she’d cleaned him out. When he got home from work most all the furniture was gone. She’d left him a bed, a table, a couple of chairs, and a note saying she was filing for divorce.”

“How’d he get beat up?”

“As best as I can tell — he wasn’t speaking too clearly — he went to her house demanding to talk with her. Instead, two of her brothers came out and beat him up. Somehow he managed to drive himself to the hospital. Now he wants someone to come get him tomorrow morning.”

“Can you do that?”

Bitterly, she said, “Goddamit, it’s not my job. I’ll do it, but I’m not bringing him here to my place. I’m taking him to your house. Stay where you are as long as you want, that’s none of my business, but just know that Russ’ll be lying in bed at your house.” She hung up.

Defeated, Sam looked at Annie. “I’ve got to go home.”