CHAPTER 42

Birdie stood at the kitchen window, watching the rain trickle down the glass. She pictured Bailey—wet and frightened and hungry—somewhere out there in the darkness.

“Oh, please let me see her again,” she murmured, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Lord, please keep her safe. Please let her find her way home. I’ll do anything to have her back home.” She felt as if her heart would break if she never saw her sweet dog again, and she blamed herself. She blamed her foolishness . . . her selfishness. . . and her complete lack of self-control. What in the world was wrong with her? If she’d just gone with David, or stayed home and behaved like a normal person—making dinner or taking Bailey for a walk—it wouldn’t have happened. Now, she’d give anything to be able to take her dog for a long, meandering walk again. They’d walk slowly and she wouldn’t be impatient . . . and she’d let Bailey stop to sniff every lovely scent she could find along their quiet road.

“Hey,” David said softly, coming into the kitchen. “Do you want some supper—some scrambled eggs, maybe?”

Birdie wiped her eyes and shook her head.

“How about a cup of tea?”

She shook her head again. “No . . . no, thanks,” she whispered.

David put his arms around her. “We’ll find her,” he said softly. “I’m sure she’s fine—she’s probably curled up in someone’s warm kitchen right now.”

Birdie shook her head. “If someone has found her, they would’ve called—she has her collar on . . . she has a chip. They would’ve found our number and called to tell us she’s okay.”

David was quiet. Birdie was right—if someone good and caring had found Bailey, they would have called. They would have known she belonged to someone who was missing her very much, and they would’ve wanted that person to know she was safe.

Birdie looked at the empty dog bed and the untouched bowls. “I just want to see her again,” she cried. “I just want to hold her in my arms and tell her everything’s okay. I can’t bear the thought of not finding her . . . of never holding her head in my hands and looking into her sweet eyes. . . .”

David pulled her closer, his own eyes filling with tears. Birdie was right—the thought of never again seeing Bailey’s sweet brown eyes gazing up at him with all the love in the world was unbearable. “We’ll find her,” he whispered.