Page 112 of Our Little Secret

Frantically, Brooke brushed the cobwebs from her hair as she hastened up the half flight to the kitchen.

“What?” she asked, rounding the corner from the kitchen to the foyer.

Leah was in the hallway, her hair wet from the rain, her eyes shining.

Next to her, bedraggled and muddy, Shep shook himself before galloping up to Brooke.

“Oh my God,” Brooke cried, falling to her knees. Her heart cracked as she petted the wet dog, who eagerly washed her face. “I missed you too,” she said, her throat thick, tears burning her eyes. “Marilee!” she yelled. “Marilee!” Then, still petting the dog, she looked up at her sister. “Where did you find him?”

“In the park. On my way back from the deli.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I might’ve missed him, but some guy yelled at me and asked if I was looking for a dog.”

Brooke’s insides congealed. “What guy?”

“I didn’t get his name. He was far away, straddling a motorcycle at the curb. I guess he heard me calling for Shep, you know. I yelled back that I was searching for Shep and he said he saw one and pointed in the direction of the gazebo. And there he was, his leash caught in one of the benches, which was weird because I’d been by there not five minutes before.”

“And you didn’t get the guy’s name? Or see who he was? Get the license plate of the motorcycle?”

“Are you kidding? It was raining like hell, my damned hood fell off, and I wouldn’t have recognized him anyway. He was wearing a helmet and before I could say anything, even thank him, he took off.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Or lucky!” Leah said. “Who cares who he is? The important thing is that Shep’s back.”

“Right, of course,” Brooke said, but her emotions were roiling and she did care; she cared a lot. Straightening the wet dog still dancing at her feet, she yelled up the staircase to her daughter, “Marilee! Come down here.”

She heard a thump and then slow footsteps.

A few seconds later her daughter, disheveled and squinting, a blanket wrapped around her, glowered down the stairs. “What?” she demanded crossly before her gaze landed on the dog. “Shep! Oh! Oh!” She dropped the blanket and as she ran down the stairs, Shep bolted up, dripping water and mud. The two met at the center of the staircase. Marilee, almost bowled over, knelt down and embraced the wriggling mass of dirty fur.

“Shep, Shep,” she said, burrowing her face into his neck as he whined and wiggled in excitement.

Tears streamed down Marilee’s face and Brooke’s heart melted. No matter how angry, worried, and downright scared she’d been the night before, she felt nothing but joy and relief seeing her daughter and her dog together.

“Thank you,” she said to Leah.

“Don’t thank me, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Thank the guy who found him.”

“If only I could.”

“What? I thought you found him,” Marilee said to her aunt.

“I did, but I had help.” Leah brought Marilee up to speed as she peeled off Brooke’s jacket and hung it in the closet. “As I told your mother,” she said, shutting the closet door, “the important thing is that Shep is back and unhurt. So I guess it doesn’t matter.”

But she was wrong, Brooke thought.

It mattered.

It mattered a lot.

And it had to end.

Now.

“Hey, what’s this?” Marilee asked as she fumbled with Shep’s collar. The dog yipped as she yanked something free.