Bill Boyd is on his front lawn pulling weeds from the border of lilies. As soon as she spies him Shelby feels like turning the car around. He sent her candy on her birthday one year. He sent a card that said she could come visit anytime, but she never responded. It’s too late to leave. She’s already pulled over to the curb and the window is open and the dogs start barking when they see Mr. Boyd. He turns and stares at the 4Runner. Shelby can tell he’s squinting to see if he recognizes the driver. Clearly he doesn’t. How could he? Shelby’s a grown woman with a car filled with dogs, not the girl who used to sleep on a rollaway cot in ­Helene’s bedroom.

“Hey, Mr. Boyd.” Shelby waves. Helene’s father walks to the edge of the lawn, still staring. Zero recognition, so she calls out, “It’s me. Shelby.”

She half expects Mr. Boyd to cross the street and spit on the ground. As he approaches, she gets out of the car and steels herself for whatever happens next.

“Shelby? Is that you?” Mr. Boyd looks old. Shelby must have been in his house a thousand times, and yet she barely recognizes him. “You look exactly the same,” he remarks.

Shelby almost smiles. “No, I don’t.”

“You do!” Mr. Boyd gazes past her into the 4Runner. “Geez. You’ve got a lot of dogs, kiddo.”

“Only three.” Shelby laughs. It’s an insincere, nervous laugh. “I had four, but I lost one.”

“Maybe they need to pee,” Mr. Boyd says.

“They probably do.”

“Come on. You can let them out in the backyard.”

“Are you sure? They’ll pee on your grass.”

“That’s the point, Shelby. They look like they could use a run.”

Shelby clips leashes on Pablo and Buddy and lets them jump out. Then she lifts the General up. The General doesn’t need a leash. He’s a leader, not a follower.

“Any more in there?” Bill Boyd jokes. The General goes right over, as though Mr. Boyd were an old friend. “Hey there, pal,” Bill says.

Shelby follows Mr. Boyd and the General across the street, then up the driveway to the back gate. She feels dizzy. She’s not sure what constitutes a miracle. Will Helene rise from her bed? Will the roses on the wallpaper bloom and bees stream in through the windows? Shelby’s heart is beating so fast she stops in her tracks.

“It’s okay,” Mr. Boyd says when he sees her hesitation.

Pablo takes the opportunity to urinate on the wishing-well decoration at the side of the driveway. It’s where pilgrims drop little slips of paper with their wishes written down.

“Geez,” Mr. Boyd says. “He pees like a horse.”

“He’s a Great Pyrenees.” Shelby’s eyes are burning. “Mr. Boyd,” she says, and then she just clams up.

“It’s okay, Shelby. I know you’re sorry. I never held you accountable. Well, maybe that first night, but I think I went crazy then. Come on in the backyard.”

Shelby follows Mr. Boyd through the gate. She lets the dogs off their leads. They’ve been in the car all morning and are happy to explore. She still misses Blinkie, and sometimes, in the middle of the night, she thinks she feels him beside her.

“I always wanted a dog,” Mr. Boyd says.

“So did my mother. She got Buddy four months before she died. He’s the poodle. She made me promise I’d take him after she was gone.”

“Oh, I know Buddy,” Mr. Boyd says. “Your mom used to bring him with her to visit Helene.”

“I didn’t know that,” Shelby says.

“I’m sorry about your mom, Shelby. You couldn’t find a nicer lady.”

They are quiet for a moment, thinking about Shelby’s mother and Helene and how unfair the world can be.

“So what happened to you?” Mr. Boyd says. “Afterward.”

“I had a nervous breakdown. Then I moved to the City and worked in a pet store. Then I went to college. Now I’m moving to California to go to vet school.”

“Seriously? No kidding! That’s a surprise.”

“I know. To me, too.”

“I don’t mean it that way, it’s just that you were always so squeamish. I once had to take a splinter out of your foot after you girls walked around town barefoot. You screamed your head off. I thought one of the neighbors was going to call the police. Now you’re going to be doing surgeries. That is quite a switch.”

Shelby remembers the splinter incident. Mrs. Boyd gave her an ice-cream sandwich afterward, but she was crying so hard she couldn’t eat it. Now Diana Boyd is at the back door watching them.

Mr. Boyd waves to his wife. “She probably thinks the circus came to town and dropped off a dog act.”

“Let me get them back into the car,” Shelby says.

“I don’t mind them. They add some life. After the accident everything just stopped here. Helene’s in her bedroom, so her mom thinks she’s still here.”

“Maybe she is.”

“If you’re going to be in medicine, then you know what her situation is.” When Shelby makes a funny little sobbing sound, Mr. Boyd pats her on the back. “Don’t go choking on me now.”

“Do you think Mrs. Boyd would mind if I went in to see Helene?”

Mr. Boyd calls to his wife. “It’s Shelby Richmond. She’s here to visit Helene.”

“Shelby. Come on in.” Diana Boyd motions to her. “But not with those dogs.”

“I’ll throw a tennis ball around for them,” Bill Boyd says. Shelby looks at him, mutely. She feels a sort of terror inside her. Mr. Boyd misinterprets her hesitancy. “I’ll take good care of them.”

When Shelby goes inside, Diana Boyd hugs her. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I recognize Buddy out there.” They both gaze out the window to watch the poodle chase a tennis ball. “I used to visit her when she was getting her treatments and I’d take Buddy for walks when I could. At least a couple of times a week.”

Shelby is surprised by how little she knows about her mom’s day-to-day life.

Mrs. Boyd smiles wanly. “Your father had already taken up with that nurse.”

“He married her. They moved to Florida.”

“I know, dear. Mr. Boyd and I went to the wedding.”

“There was a wedding?”