“If she feels the same.” Though he wanted it to be true, the possibility of her feeling differently shook his confidence.
“Wait. You’ll see.”
Her tender smile refreshed his courage. “I won’t rush into anything, but mothers are always right.” He chuckled. “Isn’t that what you’ve always told me?”
“Yes, and—”
Nick cell phone jarred her comment. He flipped the lid.
“It’s Steph.” A smile flew to his lips just reading her name, but when he heard her voice it faded.
“Nick, I came home and Fred’s gone.”
“Fred? Don’t you mean Hal?”
“Yes, he’s gone, too, but Fred’s missing.” Her last word sank beneath her sobs.
Missing. Nick’s heart thwacked against his chest. “Hang on, Steph. I’ll be there. He’s got to be nearby. I’m sure he didn’t run away.”
Hal. That’s the only thought that struck his mind.
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as Nick walked in, tears poured from Steph’s eyes, and her sobs distorted her words. “I’ve called everywhere. The police. The dog pound. I even called Time for Paws, hoping he found his way there.”
Nick’s vision blurred, picturing Fred wandering alone somewhere. “You didn’t take him with you today?”
She used her fingers to dab at her eyes. “I took in two new dogs, so I left him home. He gets a little jealous.” She shrugged. “You know.”
He did. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from her cheeks, then handed it to her. “Fred’s smart. He’ll find his way back.”
“But why did he go?” She sniveled again. “It doesn’t make sense.”
His mind popped. “Fred has an ID tag, Steph. Someone will call you.”
ID tag. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. “He did.” The weight of stupidity brought tears to her eyes. “I think it’s still in the pocket of my pants.” She told him about the day the tag had caught on the fence. “It has his name and my cell-phone number.” She brushed away her tears. “A lot of good it does me now.”
Nick shook his head. “That’s a bad break.”
She nodded, then motioned toward the side of the house. “The gate was open, too. I never leave the gate open.”
Nick fought to keep his thoughts covered. “I’m sure it was an accident.”
She sank into an easy chair. “Hal’s gone. Not even a note.” She lowered her head. “Last night I told him I wanted him out by today.”
Nick knelt beside her and clasped her hand. “I’m sorry about Hal’s problems, Steph, but at least he did what you asked.” His heart broke as he looked into her eyes.
Her head jerked upward as if yanked by a pulley. “Nick, you don’t think—” she shook her head “—no. Hal wouldn’t do that.” Her eyes grew distant for a moment. “You don’t think he would take Fred, do you? Just to get even?”
He had thought that, but he stifled the words. “Get even for what? You did everything for him. Cooked his meals, let him stay here and encouraged him.”
“And you offered him the chance for a job.”
Her head fell against the chair back. “He was drinking last night.” Her neck dropped forward. “And on my money. The bills he stole from my wallet. My own brother.”
Nick realized that Martin wasn’t so bad after all. At least he was honest. Too honest sometimes. Nick caressed Steph’s hand, his mind spinning with what to do. How could he help? What if Hal did take the dog? He could drop him off anywhere, and the dog could get…No. Stop thinking that way.
Steph slipped her hands from his. “I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.” She grasped the chair arms and pulled herself up.
Nick scooted on his knees to move out of her way. “Let’s make posters.”
She spun around. “Yes.” She snapped her fingers. “A photograph. I have some.” She darted to the computer, her fingers flying over the keys.
Nick watched her, amazed at her organization. Having a purpose, her tears vanished. She sat with her face pointed at the monitor, clicking on photographs.
“Steph, what can I do to help?”
Her arm swung like a mad woman, motioning to storage trays beside her computer. “There’s a pad of paper.” Instead of waiting for him, she grabbed the pad and tossed it at Nick.
He caught it, ripping the top sheet.
“Jot down the information I’ll need on the poster. I don’t want to forget anything.”
He kept his distance, wondering what she might throw next, yet admiring her determination.
In twenty minutes, Steph had a stack of goldenrod-colored posters clutched in her hand.
“Ready?” His eyes had opened as wide as grapefruit watching her work.
She halted, as if she’d awakened from a deep sleep. “Thank you.” She touched his cheek, then raised on tiptoes to kiss his lips.
Nick drew her closer, relieved to have Steph back in the real world, and while he held her in his arms, he prayed Fred would be back, too. He missed the crazy dog already.
Steph pulled into her driveway and sat a moment, finding the courage to go inside. Nearly two weeks had passed with no sign of Fred, and her heart ached when she stepped into the house without his greeting. She’d cried herself to sleep more nights than not. If she only knew what had happened, she’d at least have closure.
Closure? Closure wasn’t what she wanted. Steph wanted a happy ending. Every day, she looked out the front window waiting for him to come to the door or bark or maybe a car would pull up in answer to her posters all over the neighborhood. She’d go out, and Fred would be in the backseat.
Even Nick had spent hours with her in the evenings, driving through the neighborhood putting up the posters, and asking people along the way if they’d seen a border collie. She carried his photograph and extra posters just in case. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she turned off the ignition and stepped onto the driveway. Since Fred had gone, she couldn’t face the backyard or her stupidity.
She slammed the door and headed to the street for her mail. As she stepped between the houses, Martin stood at his mailbox. She hesitated, not able to bare his snide comments. Before she could move back, he saw her and waved. Trying to be genial, she waved back, then faltered when he came across the grass.
“I’m sorry to hear about Fred.”
Sorry? Steph bit her tongue to keep her sarcastic remarks at bay. “Thank you.”
His eyes studied hers as if he wanted to say more or expected her to say something else. They faced each other in silence.
Martin dug his hands into his pockets. “I know I haven’t been very friendly, but I would never wish anyone to lose their pet. I know how much he meant to you.”
The kindness was too much for her. Tears bubbled along her lower lashes, and she didn’t have the strength to wipe them away. “It’s been hard. I can’t imagine Fred running away.” She gestured toward the backyard. “Someone left the gate open.” Hal’s image pierced her mind.
“I thought about that when Nick told me.” He motioned to the house on the other side of hers. “The boy who lives there came into your yard around that time—I think about then—to retrieve a ball.”
“Next door?”
“I saw him and watched because I wondered what he was doing. Fred was outside. I’d heard him barking at a squirrel again.” He shook his head. “He and Suzette are two of a kind when it comes to those critters.”
“Squirrels?” She hadn’t thought of that. “Did you notice the gate? Did he leave it open?”
“I’m not certain, but he had a friend over, I think. The kid was hanging over the fence pointing to where the ball had gone. When I saw what they were doing, I walked away.”
“Thanks for telling me, Martin.” Hal? Could she be wrong? “That means a lot to me.”
He drew his hand from his pocket and gave her shoulder a pat. “I hope you find him.”
“Me, too, and thanks again.”
She shook her head, then told him about Martin’s visit and what he’d said about the neighbor boy. “I don’t know what to think.”
He slid his arm around her and gave her a hug, and again she fought her tears.
“Come in.” She beckoned him to follow, and inside she dropped her handbag on a chair and looked at him. “How are you doing?”
“Good. I can check the apartment tonight. If everything’s okay, I can move back this weekend.” He sent her a grin. “If you come with me, you can see my place.”
She managed a grin. “You don’t have an ulterior motive, do you?”
“Me?” He gave her a wink. “I would never ask you to help me put the place back together.”
“Sure.” She waved him away and headed into the kitchen. “I’m going to call my dad. I’ve been blaming Hal for Fred’s absence, and now I wonder after hearing what Martin said.”
“That’s a good idea.” He pulled out a chair and straddled it.
Before Steph lifted the phone, she spotted the voice-mail button blinking. She pressed the retrieval button and listened, and when she heard the women’s voice her heart rose to her throat. “Listen to this.” She started the message again.
“This is Marlene Landing. I saw a poster about your missing dog. A few days ago, I saw him wandering along a side street near my home and took him in, but he jumped the fence before I could do anything. Please call me.”
Steph’s heart dropped. “Fred got away again.” Her hands shook as she jotted down the woman’s telephone number. “If that’s so, then Hal didn’t take him.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Fred, Steph. Border collies can look alike.”
“I know, but—” she pressed her fist against her churning stomach “—I’ll call Dad first, then I’ll call her.”
She punched her father’s number, then looked at Nick’s serious face. He cared as much as she did. It made her feel twice as bad. The phone rang, and when her father picked up, she posed the question.
“No?” She shook her head and covered the phone. “No dog.” She pulled her hand away. “Dad, is he staying with you?”
She looked at Nick and shook her head again. “Good for you. So what happened?”
Nick rose and moved beside her, his arm around her shoulders as she listened to her father’s story, and when she hung up, she moved into Nick’s embrace. “Hal has a job. He found a studio apartment. Dad wouldn’t let him stay.”
“Good for your dad and for you. That’s what he needed.”
“All these years.” She lowered his head to Nick’s chest and stood a moment, getting a grip on her emotions and reviewing all that she’d learned.
Nick’s arms held her close, giving her comfort. She felt ready to give herself over to falling in love, and she hoped Nick felt the same. Between the fire and Fred, everything else had taken a backseat.
When her pulse had slowed, she drew her head up and looked at him. “I’ll call that woman, but it seems useless.”
“But you’ll know where Fred has been, and we could look around there. Maybe put up some more posters.”
“But I thought you wanted to go to the apartment today.”
He gave her a squeeze. “We can do that, too.” He tipped her chin upward and kissed her on the tip of the nose. “You need to get out of this house.”
The sorrow washed over her again. “I have Fred’s things in a pile in the garage, and I know I should throw them away. Every time I look at them I…” She couldn’t say the words without sobbing.
Nick didn’t speak. He held her close, and her mind filled with how life had chanced since he’d darted into her life to rescue her. But the rescue had gone beyond this life; eternity waited for her as her faith grew. He’d provided her with answers and most of all his gentle compassion.
“It’s a nice apartment, Nick.” Steph pivoted as she looked at the open floor plan. “It looks roomy.”
“But not as roomy as your place, and no pets here.” He winced, obviously sorry that he reminded her of Fred again.
“It’s okay.” She put his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles. “We put more posters now in the new area. Just maybe…”
He drew her into his arms and searched her face. “I know it’s been horrible for you, because I’m sick about it, and he wasn’t my dog. But don’t give up. Dogs have an instinct.”
“It’s been two weeks. It’s time to give up.” She drew away, unable to look at his sad eyes. She’d learned to read so much in their depths. She slapped her hands together, hoping to chase away their sadness. “What can I do to help?”
“I need to look around first, and if everything seems good, then I’ll put everything back. All my clothing and linens—everything—had to be cleaned from smoke damage. Even my dishes and pans.” He chuckled. “I do own a few dishes even though I don’t cook much.”
She grinned and followed him into the kitchen area. Everything gleamed and looked spotless compared to her kitchen.
“I bet you’re hungry. I am.” He tugged his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll order a pizza.” He pushed a button and grinned. “I have it on speed dial.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
After he made the call, Nick pulled two soft drinks from his refrigerator and snapped the tops. He handed her one. “I’d offer you a glass, but they’re still in boxes.”
“This is fine.” Her mouth had dried, thinking of the things she’d like to say to him. She took a sip and followed him as he beckoned her into the living area.
Nick motioned for her to sit while he chose his recliner. “It’s been a difficult couple of weeks, I know.”
“Yes, but I’ve also had time to think.” She gathered her thoughts, wanting to open her heart and prayed he could do the same. “We’ve both had a bad time. You with the fire, but it all turned out okay, and me…” The words wouldn’t come.
He nodded. “Be positive. I know it seems hopeless, but think of Lassie.”
Lassie. She laughed.
Nick waved away his words, laughing with her. “Forget it. Just think positive.”
“You’ve helped me do that, and I’m so grateful, Nick. So much of my life has…” She swallowed, longing to speak from her heart. “My life has been lonely. After Doug’s suicide, I felt responsible. When I saw how unhappy he seemed, I tried to talk with him, but he turned the conversation around to me. I needed to get a life. He had one. I needed to be more understanding. I needed to see a shrink. I drove him crazy.”
“Steph. You knew better.” Nick’s frown deepened.
“I did at first, but the worse things became, the more I began to doubt myself. I began to believe that I wasn’t a good wife. I didn’t meet my husband’s needs. Our finances seemed tight at times. Doug made excellent money, but we never seemed to have it. He paid the bills so I didn’t know what was happening.” The weight of the memories pressed against her.
Nick lowered his elbows to his knees and folded his hands between his legs, a gloomy look etching his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it made me stronger. Now that I’ve met you, I understand that my relationship with Doug wasn’t typical. He must have had problems before I met him, and I didn’t see it.” She lowered her feet to the floor. “I had nothing to compare it to. My mom led a lonely life, too. She and my dad weren’t partners. They seemed to just live in the same house. Do you know what I mean?”
He nodded, but she could tell he couldn’t comprehend what she’d said.
“In the book I’m reading, I learned that sometimes years later people who’ve lost loved ones to suicide—the book calls us survivors�
��have upsurges of grief even though they’d thought they had healed.”
Nick moved beside her. “Why?” He slipped his hand in hers.
“Something triggers it. An old song, a photograph, a souvenir from the past. It can be anything.” She couldn’t look at him, afraid he’d ask her more.
“What was it with you? Do you know?”
She felt her heart slip to her stomach. How could she tell him without setting herself up for hurt. “This is hard for me, Nick.”
He cradled her hand in his. “I need to understand so I can help you.”
She looked past him, searching for a simple way to say it. How could she say “because I fell in love with you”? “You opened my eyes to what a relationship should be. That was the first thing. We talked openly. We laughed. We enjoyed the dogs. Simple things.”
“And then?”
“Then I realized that if I ever wanted a serious relationship with anyone, I wasn’t capable. I wasn’t worthy.”
Nick drew her in his arms and held her tight. “You are so worthy. Worthier than anyone I know.” He drew back and captured her gaze. “Do you know how much you mean to me?”
“You enjoy my company.” Her pulse raced looking in his eyes.
“Enjoy? I love your company. I miss you when we’re not together. I think about you all the time.”
She closed her eyes, drinking in his sentiment.
“I think of you all the time.” She raised her hands and cupped his face in her palms. “You helped me find the Lord. Molly had worked on me for years, but meeting you and your mom finished Molly’s job. Now it makes sense and my faith is growing.” She swallowed. “But I still don’t understand why God cares about me. I denied him for so long.”
“Steph. Steph. Have you read any verses about the Good Shepherd?”
She’d read so much, the Bible and the book on suicide, but she was blank. “I’ve heard Jesus called the Good Shepherd.”
Nick’s eyes shone. “One of Jesus’ parables was about a shepherd who owned a hundred sheep, and one strayed away. He left the ninety-nine alone to search for one sheep. When he found it, he carried it over his shoulders and returned it to the herd, rejoicing that he’d found his lost sheep.” Expectation grew on his face as he looked at her and waited.
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