Читать книгу Shelter of Hope - Margaret Daley - Страница 5

Chapter One

Story:

I should be angry. At the very least wallowing in self-pity.

But I’m not.

With the top down on her Mustang, Susan Fayard relished the wind tossing her hair about. She’d been in New Orleans to celebrate her ex-boyfriend’s engagement to a friend she’d introduced him to. It was for the best. She wouldn’t have been the right wife for Garrett. He didn’t need her.

No, Garrett wasn’t for me. Sarah will make him a good wife.

Susan exited Interstate 10 and headed toward Hope, Mississippi. She would focus on work at Davidson Construction Company. It wasn’t like she didn’t have enough of it to do since the hurricane had hit Hope last year. The town was still rebuilding, and her boss, Zane, was in the thick of that reconstruction. She liked being there as the people of Hope, and the people all along the Gulf Coast, put their lives back together. They needed her help.

With her resolve firm in her mind, she’d decided to come back early from New Orleans, taking Zane and his wife, Kim, up on their invitation to spend Labor Day with them on their boat. She’d celebrate her new direction with them—giving more to Hope. The thought cheered her.

Until she saw a black-and-white dog dart out in front of a car and get hit.

The person driving the beat-up vehicle kept going, leaving the animal in the middle of the road. Susan’s mouth dropped open as she slowed; she watched the car speed away, but the license tag was too dirty to read its numbers. She couldn’t believe the driver hadn’t stopped.

What kind of person would leave—

The injured animal tried to get up. Failed and lay back down on the road. She pulled over to the side of the highway and gripped the steering wheel so tight her hands ached. Her heart cracked at the sight of the medium-size dog lying on the pavement, his chest rising and falling.

Scrambling from her Mustang, Susan tried to think where Kim’s cousin, the vet, lived. His farm was on a road off this one about a mile closer to Hope, she thought. As she hurried out onto the highway, she prayed that no one would hit her or the dog.

Kneeling next to the dog, she murmured, “You’re gonna be all right. Help is close by.”

The dog turned its head toward Susan and whimpered, the sound sending a shiver down Susan’s length. She kept whispering reassurances while she slid her arms under the animal that was at least part border collie, then lifted it gently and struggled to her feet.

A car sped by, going in the opposite direction, as Susan laid the dog on the backseat of her Mustang. In the driver’s seat again, she pulled out onto the highway. Now to find Nathan Grayson’s farm.

Please, Lord, he’s got to be home.