“I guess he remembers you,” Teo said. Janice, the blond trainer, walked by and saw me on the floor giggling with Bismarck. Her expression said “dogs are so forgiving,” but she couldn’t resist a little smile. Who can resist a happy dog?

As for Teo? I was still sorting through my feelings. He seemed at home on his new leg, no longer in pain, no longer fighting a futile battle to pretend he was exactly the same, but I wondered how long it would take me to feel at home with the change. Not because I found the prosthesis distasteful, but because I felt responsible. Teo had moved on, or at least a long way. But for me? This felt like the final assault.

I had caused this terrible injury and all the aftermath. And no matter how many times I told myself that John Quayle was responsible, the truth still breathed loudly in my ear.

Teo had promised to bring Bismarck to the town house in the afternoon with everything I’d need for the days or weeks I had him. We’d gone over simple commands and signals. But watching one of the trainers put another dog through his paces, I knew there had been nothing “simple” about turning Bismarck into the dog who had distracted John Quayle long enough for Teo to take him down.

The dog and the man who had saved my life. The man who had lost his leg and his profession because of me.

I shopped afterward to distract myself, stopping at the grocery store for supplies for tomorrow night. The girls and I were invited to my parents’ house, and I’d promised to bring dinner. I planned to enlist Holly and Noelle to help make a vegan meal we’d all enjoy.

Other than cooking, we had an entire weekend ahead of us. With that in mind, after lunch I stopped at a craft store and asked for recommendations. I emerged with red and green headbands to decorate, and instructions and supplies to make reindeer from colored paper and cardboard tubes. Christmas was around the corner. And Wendy’s town house needed signs a holiday was on the way.

My final stop was our local discount store, where I bought Frisbees, quick-fill water balloons and a nature bingo game. I hoped we were set.

At home I walked to the school to pick up the girls. The younger Mrs. English was out front making sure children went in the right directions. She smiled when I joined her.

“Holly will be out in a minute. She went back inside to get her sister. Noelle is taking her time this afternoon.”

“How’s Holly doing?”

“She’s not as tired, but she still seems worried.”

“I think children always worry when their parents are away. She’ll feel better after her mother comes home.” As would we all.

“She might benefit from some counseling. But I’d want her mother’s permission. Could you have your sister phone the school?”

I told the truth, just not all of it. “I doubt that’s possible. Wendy’s hard to reach. She’s traveling in remote areas.”