books. Old ones. They were the good ones like I had tried to collect. I reached out to pick up one of the books. Maybe I could smuggle it down to my room. Sequoia opened the closet door.
"These were David's things," she sighed, wiping her eyes.
"David?" I looked at a closetful of clothes about my size and turned so quickly that my arm knocked a framed photo off the top of the bookcase. I picked up the picture, glad that I hadn't broken the glass. Putting it back in its place I stared at it, amazed. There was a pretty Aunt Velma looking a lot like my mom. She had an arm around a boy with red hair and freckles like mine. Was that a "spitting image?" A big dog lay at the boy's feet. I sat down on the bed, all of a sudden, out of breath. "What happened to David?"
Sequoia sat down beside me. "I thought you should know, Stevie. This was David's room. He was two years older than me, but he used to let me come up here to play with him."
I felt kind of sick. I was sure that something terrible had happened.
She brushed away a tear. "Oh, Stevie, I'll never forget it. When David was ten, he had a birthday party here. Lots of kids. We were all having so much fun. After the party, my mom and I stayed to help Miss Velma clean up.
"David took his dog, Sam, down to the beach for a run without asking his mother. When she missed him and the dog, she was sure they had gone to the beach and ran down to the cliff to look for them just as a big wave knocked David down and pulled him out to sea with the undertow. Sam ran into the surf after him. I'll never forget Miss Velma's scream. It was awful. We heard it all the way up at the house. Everybody at the inn came running, but it was too late. David and Sam were never found."
I gulped, "So, she blamed the dog for what happened?"
"Yes," Sequoia said. "Miss Velma went kind of crazy. She wouldn't allow any dogs around here and didn't like to be around children. She locked up this room and left it just the way it was the day of the party. I've heard she comes up here, sometimes, but never changes anything." Sequoia shuddered. "People think she's the one who walks to the edge of the cliff when the moon is full. They say she is still looking for his body."
"The ghost!" I said. "Aunt Velma is the ghost?"
Sequoia nodded. "Yes, I think so. She wanted David to have a proper burial, but he never came back."
"Poor Aunt Velma," I sighed. "I guess I remind her of David and the dog made it worse. She's hurt inside. I know how it feels to be all hurt inside when you lose someone you love."
"You and Miss Velma need each other."
"That's impossible. I'd be willing to try, but she doesn't want me here."
We heard a car door slam.
"Oops!" Sequoia jumped up to look out the window. "My mom's back. Hurry or we'll get in trouble."
We locked the door and ran downstairs in time to be sitting at the chess board in the living room, pretending to play. After Sequoia and her mother left, I ran down to the basement to let the dog out, but I was too late. Aunt Velma's station wagon pulled up in front of the house. I heard her go up the steps and into the kitchen.
I heard a scream that sent me running up the stairs with the dog right behind me. The man in the dirty overalls had Aunt Velma backed up against the stove. He held the butcher knife at her throat. With his other hand, he emptied her purse on the table.
"Where's the rest of your money?" The man twisted the knife against her throat. "Come on," he demanded. "Your money or you die."
With a growl, Joker ran across the kitchen floor to sink his teeth in the back of man's leg. Yelling as he turned around, he slashed the dog across its chest with the knife. Blood spurted out as Joker slumped to the floor.
I ran to the stove, grabbed Nora's big frying pan and brought it down on the robber's head with all my might. He slid down beside the stove, the pan on top of him. Aunt Velma looked kind of faint. She leaned against the stove, taking deep breaths.
"Stephen," she gasped. "Call the sheriff and Dr. Jim. Hurry! The numbers are by the phone."
I stood next to the man feeling shaky. "Is he dead?"
"No, just unconscious, Stephen. He'll live. We need help right away."
I was able to reach the sheriff in Mendocino, but Dr. Jim couldn't come to the house because he had a flat tire. We'd have to bring Joker to his office. Aunt Velma sat at the kitchen table holding the knife, ready to defend us, I was sure, in case the man moved.
The poor dog was a bloody mess. I knelt down beside him. "Please don't die, Joker," I begged him. "Please be OK."
I looked up at my aunt. Her face was ashen. "Don't worry, Aunt Velma," I said, trying to be calm. "The sheriff is a few miles away on patrol. He'll be here in minutes."
"What about Dr. Jim?"
"Flat tire," I said. "We'll have to take Joker to his clinic in Mendocino."
She still looked a bit dazed, so I took her hand to help her up "Come on, Aunt Velma, you have to drive."
We carried the big dog to the station wagon and lifted him onto the back seat. I sat with him, his head on my lap, not caring about the blood all over. I tried to hold the edges of the cut together to stop the bleeding. The sheriff pulled into the parking lot, and we pointed to the kitchen. He nodded.
We sped down the highway towards Mendocino. Aunt Velma drove fast but carefully to avoid the bumps and potholes on the road.
"Hang on, Stevie," she said, as we entered the town. "We're almost there."
I was surprised when I realized she called me "Stevie."
Dr. Jim got Joker up on his operating table and gave him a shot of fluids with a big needle.
"Shock," he explained. "He needs fluid to help counteract the shock. An animal can die from shock. Now, we'll make him very sleepy so he won't feel any pain while I sew him together." He handed me a box of cotton swabs and bandages. "My assistant isn't here. I'll need your help."
Aunt Velma stood at the side of the table with her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. She looked close to tears.
I watched closely as he gave Joker another injection and shaved the heavy black fur away from the wound. I handed the doctor his instruments as he asked for them.
"I tried to hold the cut together on the way over," I told Dr. Jim.
He nodded, approvingly. "Very good, Stevie. That was the right thing to do." He gave me clean towels to mop up the blood around the cut after it was stitched closed. Then we lifted the dog off the table and put him on a blanket in a corner of the room.
"Your dog will be OK now." He patted my shoulder. "You're a brave boy."
I managed to smile, beginning to feel much better. "Thanks, Dr. Jim, but he's not my dog."
"That's right," Aunt Velma spoke up. "He's not Stevie's dog. He's our dog. We're going to keep him."
"What's his name?" the vet asked. "I have to fill out his chart."
Aunt Velma looked at me. "It's up to you, Stevie."
"Keeper," I said. "His name is Keeper."
"Keeper it is." She put an arm around me. "We're a bloody mess. Let's go home. The sheriff will be there."
Dr. Jim shook my hand. "You were a very good assistant, young man." He smiled at me. "I could a lad like you on week-ends and after school."
I looked at my aunt. "I'd like that very much, but I won't be here after the summer. I don't know where I'll be."
"You're a keeper, too, Stevie," Aunt Velma turned as she got to the door. "If you can forgive a bitter woman and look to the future, we'll start a new life together."
"Yes, Aunt Velma," I managed to say. "I think we need each other."
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