Endless Chain by Emilie Richards Page A

least three rental groups using the building, or I’d take you to my office.”
    “You live near the church?” She thought he’d told her as much.
    “Just far enough away that people have to think twice before dropping by for keys or casual conversation. The minister they built the house for made sure of that.”
    They drove the rest of the way in silence. He pulled up in front of a neat brick house with gray shutters and a matching wooden fence enclosing a shallow front yard. A felt banner in brilliant jewel tones hung from the front door.
    “Peace,” she read out loud.
    “The junior high school group made it for me last Christmas, and I can’t bear to take it down.”
    The front porch was a mass of blooms in different sized and colored pots. “You like to garden.”
    “Plants don’t talk back to me.” He got out and came around to open her door, but she had already let herself out.
    Sam unlatched the gate and waited for her to precede him. “I’ll warn you about my dogs.”
    She stopped, and he nearly ran into her. “You have dogs?”
    He skirted her so he was in front. “A problem?”
    “It’s just…” Her heart was pounding too hard. She took a deep breath. “No, it’s just…”
    “You don’t like them.”
    “No. I—” She shrugged. “I’m a little…I was attacked in…in my hometown. I had a full course of rabies shots.” She made a face. “I’m a little dog shy.”
    “I would imagine you are.” Sympathy was clear in both his face and words. “I can promise these dogs won’t attack. They’re not exactly well mannered, but they would only love you to death.”
    “Well, good.” She stood a little straighter. “I’ll be fine.”
    “I can put them in the dog run, if you’ll just wait here.”
    “No. I’d like to meet them.”
    He searched her face, then nodded. “Let me go first, so I can calm them a bit.”
    She did, waiting until he had unlocked the door and disappeared inside for a minute before she opened the door to join him.
    She was met with a blaze of color. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she certainly hadn’t expected this. The foyer was an extension of a dining area in the middle of the house, with walls painted a warm gold. The living room on her left—a nook more than a room—was a deep sage green. Beyond the dining area was a family room painted a stormy blue. Every wall was covered with photographs, posters and paintings. The mantel on the brick fireplace was crowded with keep-sakes.
    Sam was kneeling on the floor just in front of a small dining-room table, his arms around two huge dogs. If the breed had a name, the name was mutt. Both dogs had patchy fur, misshapen ears, long pointed snouts. A dog about one-tenth their size was leaping up and down, trying to lick Sam’s face.
    “I’ve got the big guys, but you’re on your own with the little one. That’s Abednego, Bed, for short.”
    Bed spied her at that moment and ran to greet her. Heart still pounding, Elisa stooped to pet the dog. Bed was white, with large black spots, a stump of a tail and a grin. Elisa fondled her ears, and the dog wagged her entire body in response. “Abednego?”
    “From the Old Testament. The Book of Daniel. Shadrach—that’s this one. Meshach—this one—and Abednego.”
    “My Bible skills are rusty.”
    “They were three Jews who refused to worship the golden idols of King Nebuchadnezzar, so the king had them thrown into a fiery furnace. Later, when he looked into the flames he saw four shapes there. Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego and a mysterious figure. Some say it was their guardian angel, and some say God himself. When the three men emerged, not a hair on their heads had been singed.”
    “Long important names for dogs. Even large dogs.”
    He turned his face from a long, licking tongue. “Shad and Shack are brothers. They barely escaped alive from a burning house and were badly singed, unlike their biblical predecessors. I took them when the owners said they