After lunch, Cass sat in her room by the fire, rubbing her thigh, glad therapy was over for the day. It had been grueling. Less from what she had been asked to do and more from her pushing herself. She had broken into a sweat and had clenched her teeth more than once not to cry out as pain had shot through her leg. Flora had warned her to slow down. It had been strenuous and stressful at best. Even her arm had resisted a couple of the exercises.

      Making matters worse was the discovery Cass had made that she had stamina issues. The hospital stay in traction had taken a lot out of her. She’d always been fit, had worked out regularly with ease. Now she just felt frustrated. Regaining her strength wasn’t going to happen fast enough.

      That morning she’d been up and dressed by the time Melissa, a staff member, had knocked on her door. She had slept well the night before. Sleeping in the hospital hadn’t been ideal. The peace and quiet of this country castle did have its appeal.

      She had on some of the few clothes she habitually kept packed in her to-go bag. The knit sweatpants and T-shirt would have to do for workout clothes. When she and Rufus had caught the transport plane to Eastern Europe, nowhere in her plans had she thought to prepare for weeks of being in a hospital or being in a physical therapy clinic in Scotland in the winter.

      Melissa had escorted Cass by elevator to the ground floor. There she had been led to the dining room.

      “I’ll return in a few minutes to show you to the physical therapy department,” Melissa had said.

      There hadn’t been anyone else in the room. Cass had been thankful for that. She’d gone to the buffet and helped herself to a boiled egg and a slice of toast. She had just finished her second glass of orange juice when the woman returned.

      “Flora’s ready for you.”

      After placing her dishes on a tray, Cass followed Melissa down a long hall off the main one. They entered an area that looked like a gym where exercise equipment faced a bank of three large windows. In another corner of the spacious room were mats. Two high padded tables sat in the middle.

      “You can have a seat on a table and I’ll let Flora know you’re here,” she’d been told.

      Cass scrambled up on the table with more effort than she liked.

      A leggy, dark-haired woman wearing what looked like the latest fashion in exercise clothes soon joined her. Dressed in a hot pink jacket over a black top and leggings that came to mid-calf she made Cass feel extra-frumpy in her outfit. The woman even wore makeup.

      She offered her hand, “Hi, I’m Flora McNeith. It’s nice to meet you, Cass. I apologize that I wasn’t here to meet you yesterday. I’m sure Lyle took good care of you.”

      “Who? Oh, yeah, the doctor.”

      She chuckled. “Most woman consider him more memorable than that. We should get started on your therapy.”

      Over the next hour Cass showed Flora the range of motion in her leg and arm. For the first thirty minutes they concentrated on her leg and the last half-hour on her arm. Flora applied a cold compress before working with either part of her body, then a warm one after.

      When they were through Flora said, “I’m sending you to the whirlpool for half an hour. After lunch someone will show you to your afternoon therapy at the canine therapy center.”

      She didn’t give Cass time to respond before she turned to another patient who had entered the room. Cass had no intention of going to the canine therapy center. She wasn’t ready to be involved with a dog again, any dog. Wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready. Why had her doctors in Germany insisted on sending her to this clinic when they knew her background? Maybe they had thought it would be what she needed since she had been a dog handler, but she wasn’t emotionally ready. She would just make it clear, without explanation, that she wouldn’t be going to the canine therapy center.

      As she walked toward the door marked “Whirlpool” Cass groaned. She almost cried with pleasure as she slipped into the hot swirling water. Today she had taken the first step towards her complete discharge and regaining her life. The one that didn’t include Rufus.

      After her trip to PT she’d stopped by the dining room long enough to grab a sandwich, leaving the soup behind. With food eaten, a warm shower taken and clean clothes on, Cass now had a nap on her agenda. She would be perfectly happy spending the rest of the day in her room.

      She woke with a start when there was a sharp knock on her door. “Coming.” Cass opened it to find a staff member there. This time it was a young man.

      “I’m here to show you the way to the canine therapy center.”

      “I’m sorry but I don’t feel like going.” What she really meant was she wasn’t going.

      The man studied her a moment as if he expected her to say more, then nodded. “I understand.”

      Cass settled back in the chair and looked into the fire. She knew her abilities and strengths. The wound of losing Rufus was too raw. Her emotions in general were stretched to snapping point. She couldn’t cope with the thought of interacting with a dog even if it was supposed to speed up her recovery.

      She loved her job, but could she ever return to it, ever get so involved with another animal that she risked reliving this almost unbearable suffering? What if it wasn’t a dog? Could she ever open up enough to anyone again to take the chance of losing her heart?