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“I made it my personal mission to try and find her father. After we got them to safety, two of us went back out and searched for him.” Josh shook his head. “We found him.”
Poirot got up from his bed and limped over. He put his head on Josh’s lap. The dog’s perception of people’s emotions was astounding.
Josh petted Poirot’s head and sniffed. “It took a few days, and we had to wait for the water to recede, but we found him. He’d been gone probably since he fell from the roof.”
Chloe couldn’t eat any more. “That’s rough.” She set her not-quite-empty dish on the end table.
“For sure. But God used it to strengthen my faith in His sovereignty.”
Chloe turned a little more toward Josh. “How on earth? How does not being able to save someone like that make you see His hand being in control of all things?”
“Oh, how I wish I had an easy answer to that. I was a wreck after that. The whole trip was . . .”—his eyes grew wide—“I’m not even sure of the word. I saw so much death and struggle. I found that woman—her name was Wanda—and told her we’d found her father. She cried. But she took my face in her hands and thanked me. Told me that God knew what He was doing, and her father would be so much happier now to be in the Lord’s presence.
“I saw God working in people’s lives, even in the middle of all that death and destruction. When we’re walking with Him, we can endure. Even the valley of death.”
This was hitting too close. Unable to control her body, Chloe squirmed. How could God really be in control when people died senselessly? “But what about Peter? Was God really in control of him dying there in the woods all alone?”
“The callous answer is yes, but we have to remember that we don’t know and understand all that God does.”
“That’s too trite. I want a real answer.”
Josh set his empty food container on the floor and let Poirot lick it out.
“What if Peter had been sitting there praying God would save him when that heart attack hit?”
“Who’s to say that heart attack wasn’t God’s answer?”
She crossed her arms.
“I may be older, but I’m not sure I’m enough wiser to have all the answers.”
“You aren’t God.”
“No, but He does have all the answers. Even the ones we can’t understand.”
She really wanted to be mad at that statement, but Josh had cornered her in the truth. “I know, but . . .”
“Understanding and believing something doesn’t necessarily make it easier.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Poirot finished licking the container and came over to the corner of the couch he normally sat on and nosed Chloe’s leg.
“Is that your way of saying ‘excuse me’?”
Josh laughed. “With a name like Poirot, isn’t it something more like: ‘I beg your pardon’?”
Chloe chuckled. She scooted to the center of the couch, closer to Josh, and let Poirot have his spot.
She put her feet up on the coffee table but slid down too far on the sofa, so she put her hands on either side of herself and adjusted her body. Her hand bumped Josh’s.
He slid his under hers and lifted it. His touch was tender and electrifying all at the same time. “Chloe, it’s okay to not understand why things happen.”
“I guess it’s not faith otherwise, is it?”
His hand tightened around hers, and he nodded.
The urge to unlock a few of the padlocks on the door of her heart screamed in her mind. But along with that came the panic. Her breathing rate increased, and her hands felt extremely clammy.
