Shelter of Hope. Margaret Daley

       Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Copyright

       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.

       Chapter Two

      Story:

      Nathan Grayson pounded the last nail into the fence of the new pen and then stepped away. Sweat dripped off his forehead. He mopped the back of his hand across it, then downed the rest of his now warm bottled water.

      Giggles floated to him. Carly’s laughter always brought a smile to him, especially now. For months his daughter had hardly smiled, let alone laughed. Her mother’s death last year during the hurricane had robbed them both of joy. His wife shouldn’t have died. If only he hadn’t insisted they move back to Hope, Caroline would be alive today. He had to live with that.

      Another bout of laughter sprinkled the air, coming from the barn behind him. Nathan put his hammer in his toolbox and strode inside to see what his young daughter was doing that was so much fun. He had been working for hours. He could use a break.

      In the dim interior of the barn he spied Carly rolling around on the dirt floor with the new litter of four puppies crawling all over her, licking her face, rubbing up against her, gnawing on her hand.

      “Your mama will be here soon to feed ya,” Carly said to the puppies, giggling as she tried to pull her finger out of one puppy’s mouth. “I am not her.”

      “Carly, come away from the puppies. I know a young lady who’s going to have to take a bath before we go to see Kim and Zane tonight.”

      Carly sat straight up, cupping one wiggly puppy against her chest. “I don’t want to give any of them away.”

      “What did I tell you about becoming too attached to the animals we take in?” He’d had to learn that the hard way. Becoming too attached hurt.

      “Not to… But, Daddy, that’s hard.”

      He knelt next to her and cradled one of the mixed-breed puppies in his hands. “I know, pumpkin. I have a hard time with it, too, but we only have so much room here. I have to find homes for them so if another dog needs our help, we’ll have a place for it. It’s easier to convince someone