by Elizabeth Rowe

Kelly's mother told her when she got home from school:  "Pepper's gone. Old man Hunnicutt got him."

"Maybe he just got lost."

"No, he's gone, and it's your own fault. I told you to keep him out of that old fool's yard. Now go on outside and play. Go on, get out from under my feet."

Kelly sat on the back steps and wept. The bouncing white terrier had been her only companion in this new town for the long summer before fourth grade started. She laughed and laughed when he dug up her mother's petunias and then tried to look innocent with mud coating his body up to the elbows. Pepper hadn't been afraid of anything. Kelly had been startled when the brisk wind snapped her mother's bedsheets on the clothesline, but Pepper jumped and grabbed the corner and held on, even when the gyrating wire picked him up and swung him. He was such a brave little dog, and now he was gone. It just wasn't fair. Old man Hunnicutt didn't have any right to hurt her dog. He had no right, and Kelly was going to tell him so. She dried her tears with her fists and marched along Mr. Hunnicutt's pole fence to his front gate.

At the gate, though, she stopped. Her mother had absolutely forbidden Kelly to go into Mr. Hunnicutt's yard. He kept roses and azaleas and who knew what all, and her mom didn't want any trouble over Kelly and the dog causing damage. They'd stayed on their own property all summer long. They'd been good. It just wasn't fair. Kelly squared her jaw and opened the gate.

A rush of rose scent hit her, so strong it made her eyes water. Beside the gate stood a group of tall canes covered in nodding roses so dark a red that they were almost black. Beyond it lay bright green grass, much finer than the yellowish tufts in her own yard. A white gravel path made a circle around a birdbath and then led up to the front steps. On the stoop Mr. Hunnicutt was standing, a pair of gardening shears in his hand.

"Hello, there," he said. "Are you the little girl who lives next door?"

"What did you do with my dog?"

"That little white scamp? I haven't seen him. Is he lost?"

"My mom said he's gone. She said you got him."

"Your mother told you that?"

Kelly nodded. Mr. Hunnicutt set his shears aside and pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

"What's your mother's number?"

Kelly stood in the old man's yard while he spoke into the phone, smiling as if her mother was standing there with him. She watched as his smile faded, and his troubled eyes found hers. He put the phone away, and sat down on the steps.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You didn't do it, did you?"

"No. Sweetie...."

Kelly closed her eyes and the scent of roses swept over her, so powerful that it was not just a smell, but a roaring in her ears and a bright light that blotted out everything else. She turned and ran. The gate slammed behind her and she took two huge breaths of fresh air, and then swayed and fell to her knees. Mr. Hunnicutt came to the gate, but he didn't speak as Kelly struggled to her feet and turned and walked, head high, back to her own place.

The End