Read Online Flash by Rachel Anne Ridge - Free Book Online Page A

towels, blankets . . . and a hair dryer. Back he went to the barn, and Flash shivered uncontrollably while Tom pulled the ice clods off him and blotted his matted hair with my good bath towels. Flash was soaked all the way to the skin   —and dangerously cold. With one hand around his thick neck to reassure him, Tom turned on the noisy hair dryer. Flash startled and tried to break free.
    “It’s okay, Flash. We’ve got to get you dry.” Tom began to work him over, inch by inch.
    Once he got used to the whirring sound, the donkey relaxed and let the warm air blow over him. Gently separating Flash’s hair, Tom massaged the animal’s body with his fingers. Flash clearly loved the attention, cooperating fully by turning thisway and that so that no part of him was missed. He chewed slowly on the hay, pausing whenever Tom hit a particularly pleasant spot. Just above the tail? Oh yes, please.
    By the time Tom finished the lengthy salon treatment, Flash’s hair felt soft and fluffy as it curled up along his back in shiny ringlets. Tom decided he was finally dry enough to drape with a heavy blanket (also one of my good ones) and leave for the night.
    “Feel better now, buddy?”
    Flash gave a deep sigh and pressed Tom’s jacket sleeve with his white muzzle. With eyes closed and hindfoot resting, he was the picture of sleepy gratitude.
    After one last noggin scratch, Tom returned to the house and shed his dirty jacket and hat. Cupping his hands under the hot water, he started to wash up as he gave me the report on our now-fluffed-and-warmed donkey.
    “I can’t figure out why he didn’t get out of the sleet this afternoon,” Tom said. “He could have been warm and dry this whole time, but it was like he didn’t know how to take shelter in the barn when it was right in front of him.”
    I took the kettle off the stove to fill a mug with hot cocoa. “What could possibly have been going through his mind? I thought his sense of self-preservation would keep him inside.” It was a mystery. “Anyway, thank you for getting him fixed up.”
    “Glad to do it.” Tom took the mug from my hands and sat down in his recliner. I was grateful he had taken it upon himself to make sure Flash was safe. It was beyond the kind of cold I wanted to face that night. Brrrr. I went back to my book, but a word Tom had said niggled at me. I thought for a moment. What was it?
    Shelter.
    That was it.
    It was the thing Flash had needed the most, and it had been available to him from the moment the storm hit. Just a few small steps would have taken him right inside, and he’d have been spared the dangerous misery he experienced as the ice and temperatures fell that day. I pictured him as he stood there, becoming coated with sleet, and yet unable, or unwilling, to seek shelter. I felt both sorry for him and puzzled by his behavior. I couldn’t understand it.
    Setting the book down once again, I suddenly had a vision of my own self   —in the darkest moments of my life   —standing outside, cold and alone, just as Flash had been. Oh sure, there had been many times I’d needed help and had been comforted by the shelter of God’s presence. But there had also been just as many times that I’d stood shivering in lonely misery. Could it be possible that in my own moments of deepest need I had been just that close to comfort and not realized it?
    Refuge   —true refuge in the face of life’s struggles   —can be found only in Him. I know that. So why was it that when times got tough for us, the first thing I wanted to do was go shopping for a new purse? And eat something completely decadent, like a molten death-by-chocolate dessert topped with gooey ice cream? It’s like I wanted to find comfort in the mall. Or more specifically, the food court of the mall. Or both.
    Sometimes my refuge du jour was losing myself online in Facebook and Twitter. Doing Google searches for red-carpet hairstyles or shopping on Amazon. I never got into alcohol,