My stepmother gave away my childhood dog to buy her kids a new puppy. She told my father I asked for it, but my little sister was about to expose her dark secret.

In December, Bruno stopped halfway up the stairs.

I was behind him with a basket of laundry. He looked back at me, embarrassed somehow, then tried another step. His back legs shook.

“Dad!”

We took him to the vet that afternoon. She examined him, adjusted his medicine, and showed us a safer way to help him on the stairs. She said he could still enjoy walks, but he needed us to let him set the pace.

On the drive home, I sat beside Bruno and watched him sleep.

I had spent so much of the fall afraid that somebody would take him away. Now I had to face something nobody could stop: he was getting older.

Dad saw my face in the mirror.

“We’ll help him,” he said.

“I know.”

“You can be worried and still enjoy him.”

I looked down at Bruno’s paw resting against my leg. I took a picture so I would remember that day, even though I hoped there would be many more.

At home, Caleb built a ramp for the two steps down to the yard with Dad’s help. His first attempt was too steep. Bruno looked at it and chose the grass beside it.

Caleb went back to the garage.

The second ramp worked. Bruno walked down it slowly while the three of us watched. Caleb raised both arms like he had won a championship.

“Don’t make a big deal,” he told Ava. “He’ll get nervous.”

“You’re making the biggest deal,” she said.

I laughed. Bruno reached the yard and turned to see whether I was coming.

I was.

Vanessa’s visits with Caleb and Ava continued. She had found an apartment, and they spent time with her there under the plan Dad had arranged. Sometimes Milo went with them. Bruno stayed home with me.

One Sunday, Caleb returned looking troubled. He sat on the floor beside Bruno and ran a hand down his back.

“Mom asked how he was doing,” he said.

“That’s nice.”

“She asked if you were doing okay, too.”

I waited.

“I told her you’re drawing again. And that you and Tessa made that huge poster for school.”

“Thanks.”

Caleb picked at a loose thread in the rug.

“She said she hopes you’ll talk to her someday.”

“I might,” I said. “I’m not ready.”

“I told her that.”

He looked relieved when I didn’t get upset. I moved closer and bumped his shoulder with mine.

“You don’t have to carry messages between us.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you what happened.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Our school held an art show in January. I entered a drawing of Bruno and Milo asleep on opposite sides of the baby gate. By then, we no longer needed the gate every day, but I liked the picture. Both dogs were safe enough to sleep with their backs to each other.

Dad came. So did Leah and Tessa. Caleb and Ava spent ten minutes looking for my name on the wall and another ten telling strangers which drawing was mine.

Vanessa was there for Ava’s class display. I saw her across the room before she saw me.

My stomach tightened. Dad noticed and asked if I wanted to leave.

“No,” I said. “I worked on this for weeks.”

We moved to the next row of drawings. A little later, Vanessa approached with Ava beside her. She stopped several feet away.

“Your drawing is beautiful, Nia,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She looked as nervous as I felt.

“I won’t keep you,” she added.

Ava took her hand, and they went toward another display. I watched them go.

Dad waited until I spoke.

“That was okay,” I said.

“Okay is enough.”

After the show, we bought hot chocolate. I told Caleb his class project was better than he thought. Ava insisted we walk past her drawing twice so Leah could see the details.