12 Chapter 12

“Get me the apples,” Dad said softly, as if the baby deer could hear us from inside the house.

“Apples?”

“Didn’t you pick up some at the market yesterday?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Quiet,” Dad commanded as my chair scraped against the tile floor.

I tiptoed to the fridge and pulled out a couple of the McIntosh apples I’d bought yesterday. I hadn’t realized they’d been for the animals, or else I would have got the cheaper brand.

“Grab more. At least seven.”

“Are we feeding the whole deer population?”

Dad ignored me. He opened the back door slowly and cautiously hobbled out onto the deck. I followed, my arms laden with apples.