A Nest of Sparrows Read online

  “Going home?” he asked, leaning forward in the high-backed vinyl chair.

  “Yep. Going home. Got to pick up my kids from school.”

  “What’s that?” he said, cupping a hand to his ear.

  It was the same conversation they had every night before her shift ended. She suspected he’d heard her just fine the first time, but she played along and went across the room to sit down beside him. She repeated her comment, louder this time.

  “Well, you ought to bring those kids by sometime,” he said.

  “I don’t know, Jake… They’re a pretty rowdy bunch.”

  He looked around the dayroom at the three elderly women dozing by the window. “This place could use a little injection of rowdiness,” he harrumphed.

  Starr laughed and patted his arm. “Oh, I think you probably give us about as much as we can handle,” she teased.

  “I do my best.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “And what about that young fella of yours?” he said. “I haven’t seen him around for a while. He hasn’t gone and called off the wedding, has he?”

  “Oh no.” She laughed, making a mental note to tell Wade he’d been dubbed a “young fella.” He’d be tickled. “He wouldn’t dare call it off.”

  “Well, tell ’im he’d have me to reckon with, if he did,” Jake said.

  “I’ll tell him.” She eased from the chair and looked pointedly at the clock over the nurse’s station. “Well, I’d better run. You have a good night. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “If I’m still here, you will.”

  She tried not to play favorites with the residents, but the spark in Jacob Pedersen’s rheumy eyes made it difficult not to hold him in a special place in her heart.

  “Oh, you’ll be here,” she told him, surprised at the catch in her throat. “This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  He waved her away. But he was smiling.

  Fifteen minutes later she had a car full of noisy kids and no idea what she was going to feed them for supper, let alone after school snacks. Maybe she could talk Wade into picking up a pizza and joining them for dinner. She would be so glad when they could quit shuffling between two houses and make a home together.

  She parked in front of the apartment building and herded the kids inside.

  Dani tugged on the hem of Starr’s uniform top. “Mama, can I play outside?”

  “Not unless Beau or Lacey go with you, baby.”

  “I’ll go,” Beau said.

  “Do you have homework?”

  “Just one page of math. I can do it later.”

  “Nope. You know the rules.”

  “Aw, Mom––”

  “Don’t even start with me Beau Andrew. If it’s only one page, you can finish it and still have time to play before supper, right?”

  He huffed and stomped his feet, and looked like he was going to argue with her. But instead he unzipped his backpack and flopped his math workbook on the table in the tiny kitchen.

  This apartment had been a haven to her and the kids when they’d left Minneapolis for Kansas––fled Minneapolis was more like it. But she was so thankful her children were going to spend most of their growing-up years at Wade’s house in the country.

  No, our house in the country, she corrected herself. She still had to pinch herself to believe it was true. The old farmhouse had needed a lot of work. Wade and Pete had all the jobs they could handle in their contracting business, and the contractor’s house was apparently like the proverbial shoemaker’s children. It had been slow going, but the remodeling was coming along, and by the time they were married, it would be plenty livable.

  Of course, a cardboard refrigerator box with Wade Sullivan would be plenty livable. She smiled at the thought and went back to her bedroom to change out of her uniform.

  Chapter 2

  Starr pulled into Wade’s driveway just as the sun was rising over the hedgerow of red cedars. The instant she turned off the ignition, the kids freed themselves from their seatbelts and scrambled out of the car. Hauling backpacks and McDonald’s bags, they raced one another to the back door. Shadow, Wade’s black Labrador retriever, romped to meet them and trotted behind, sniffing the brown paper bags bearing the golden arches.

  “Mama got you a Egg McMuffin, Wade!” Danica shouted into the crisp March air.

  Starr grabbed the tote with her painting supplies, and the paper sack that held Wade’s breakfast, and started up the brick walk. Her gaze lifted to the second floor of the house she and Wade were restoring. She sure would be glad when August came and she could wake up in this house every morning beside the man she loved.

  He stood holding the screen door open for her, looking droopy-eyed and disheveled––and handsome as all get out.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” she said, standing on tiptoe to receive his kiss. She took in a whiff of the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen. “Oh, good. I was hoping you made coffee. I didn’t buy any. Here…” She held out the McDonald’s bag. “Breakfast is served.”

  Wade peeked into the bag and inhaled an appreciative breath. Starr started up the back stairs to the kitchen where she could hear the kids fighting over their favorite juice cup. But Wade caught her elbow and pulled her back down. “Come here, you.” He drew her into his arms, and she melted into his embrace.

  “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Mmmm, who needs breakfast,” she whispered into his cotton shirt. “How are you this morning?”

  “Much better now,” he said, pulling away and looking into her eyes.

  A piercing screech came from the kitchen. “Mo-ommm!”

  Starr let out a low growl and disentangled herself from Wade’s arms. “I’d better go mediate.”

  She stomped up the stairs and into the kitchen. “Okay, what is going on in here?”

  “I had the blue cup first, and Beau grabbed it right outta my hand,” Lacey accused.

  “She did not,” Beau shouted. “I called it before she even saw it.”

  “Beau, get your muddy shoes off the table! Good grief, were you born in a barn? Look at that mud.”

  “I had it first, Mom. I swear.”

  “We don’t swear, Beau. And quit changing the subject. Feet. Down. Now.”

  Lacey took advantage of the diversion to pounce on her brother and wrest the coveted cup from his grip. Unfortunately, it had orange juice in it, which spewed across the table and splashed Danica full in the face. She opened her mouth and let out a high-pitched wail.

  Starr grabbed the offending cup from Lacey’s hands. “Give me that!” She stormed to the sink, dumped out the rest of the juice, and ceremoniously tossed the plastic cup into the trash can under the counter.

  Danica’s crying stopped instantly. All three children gasped as one. It was all Starr could do to keep a straight face.

  “That was Wade’s!” Beau said, mouth still agape. “You can’t throw it away!”

  “You just don’t worry about the cup, buster. Now go get a towel and help Dani clean up.” A dull ache started behind her eyes, and she rubbed her temples hard. “Lacey, get the dishcloth and wipe off the table. Don’t miss any spots, or it’ll be a sticky mess. And wipe up the mud from Beau’s shoes while you’re at it.”

  “What? Why do I hafta clean up his mess?”

  “Just do it.”

  Wade appeared in the doorway. “What happened?” he asked over a bite of Egg McMuffin, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his kitchen was in total chaos.

  “Mama threw your blue cup in the trash,” Lacey tattled, hands on hips.

  “Oh, she did, did she? Well, good for her. I’m tired of hearing you guys fight over it all the time.”

  Another collective gasp.

  Wade winked at Starr over the top of the three towheads. She turned away, rinsing out the dishcloth Lacey had used, fighting to curb her laughter.

  Wade clapped his hands. “Come on now, guys. Eat…hustle up! I’ve got to get to work. Preferably sometime today.”

  Wade
Sullivan had the patience of Job. Starr stood at the sink and watched this soon-to-be-former bachelor attempt to round up her three children and herd them out the door.

  With teeth brushed and faces washed, the kids lined up for their ritual kiss.

  “’Bye, kiddos. Have a good day at school.” She kissed each cheek, waved and ducked upstairs, anxious to get started on the project that was to be a surprise for Wade.

  Halfway up she heard Lacey whine. “I can’t find my backpack.”

  “It’s probably out in the car, Lace,” Starr hollered down the stairwell. “Did you bring it in with you this morning?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on up and walked into the bedroom she and Wade would soon share. She pried open a small can of moss green paint and stirred it with a paint stick bearing the Coyote Lumberyard logo.

  She heard Wade’s heavy footsteps on the stairway and quickly put the paint down and went to greet him in the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her.

  He cocked his head and tossed a suspicious look over her shoulder. “What are you being so secretive about in there anyway?”

  She brushed a speck of lint from his T-shirt and let her hand rest on the broad plane of his chest. “Never you mind. If you guys would ever get out of here, I might get something done today and then I could show you my surprise.”

  “Okay, okay…we’re going.” He covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze, then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. “Have a good day, babe. Don’t work too hard. This is supposed to be your day off, remember?”

  “Don’t you worry about me. I’m having fun.”

  “You have a weird idea of fun, woman.”

  She gave him a playful shove. “Get. Go on. I’ll see you tonight.”

  The screen door slammed one last time and a heavenly silence descended on the old house. Starr sighed and smiled to herself. She touched the warm place on her lips where Wade’s kiss still lingered. Then she went back into the bedroom and set to work.

  Two hours later Starr heard the clock downstairs strike ten. She kneaded her stiff neck, then wiped the last drips of paint from the narrow brush and balanced it across the top of the paint can. Climbing down from the ladder, she surveyed her handiwork. The uneven plastered walls of the bedroom wore two smooth coats of buttercream––the exact shade of the sunlight streaming in the windows on this March morning. And now her graceful calligraphy flowed in moss green across three walls, the lines from Robert Browning’s poem awaiting her painted embellishments of dainty violets and ivy.

  She scooted the ladder forward a few feet and swept a strand of hair away from her face. She loved this house. Loved everything about it––even in its naked, half-finished state.

  She loved the keen of the Kansas wind as it whistled through the door sashes, and the way the old pipes clanked and sang after the hot water had run out. She loved the high ceilings and the way the rippled window glass left wavering patches of sunlight on the hardwood floors, like a mirage on desert sand.

  Maybe it was all a mirage. This house, her life, everything. Maybe she would wake up tomorrow and it would all be gone. She’d be working like a dog and never making ends meet. Trying to explain to the kids why they were having hot dogs for dinner again. Why they couldn’t go to the movies or skating or to a friend’s birthday party––or anything––because there wasn’t any money for tickets or skates or presents.

  Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow morning to find that Wade Sullivan had been a figment of her imagination. That the man who loved her and adored her children had existed only in her sweetest dreams.

  But the strong, sun-baked arms she’d felt slip around her this morning, the pale blue-gray eyes that held a certain spark whenever he spotted her across a crowded room, were too real, too concrete to be a mere dream. And even in her wildest imaginings, she’d never dreamed up anyone like Wade.

  No, he was real all right. And the fact that he wanted to marry her made her want to fall to her knees in gratitude right here in the middle of this room––this room that would soon hold their bed, their love.

  Oh, Father. Thank you. I love that man so much it hurts. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for a real daddy for Beau and Lacey and Dani. The tears came then, as they did every time she thought about her blessings, about the glorious turn her life had taken after so many years of struggle.

  Even if it wasn’t for this stupid cold she was fighting, her head would probably still ache from all the tears she’d shed. It seemed funny that tears of joy would cause such pain. She pressed her fingers to her temples and kneaded the soft flesh beneath them. She couldn’t seem to shake this headache. She’d found some sinus tablets in Wade’s medicine cabinet downstairs and had been popping them for two days. She had taken one first thing this morning and another one about an hour ago, but, if anything, her headache was worse. Right now it felt the way it did when she ate ice cream too fast. Starr eased herself to the floor and leaned her chin on the low sill of the double-paned window, resting her forehead against the cool glass. As it always did, the view beyond took her breath away. The backyard was a lush green carpet that rolled down the gentle slope and disappeared into a copse of cottonwoods and elms lining the banks of the Smoky Hill River. Summer was a breath away. And this would be the most special summer of her life––the summer she would become Mrs. Wade Sullivan.

  Throbbing pain crawled through her brain to the back of her head. She made a cap of her hands and pressed her fingers hard against her skull, grimacing. Something wasn’t right. She’d never had a headache like this. Maybe it was a migraine. She’d never had one that she knew of, but she’d heard they could almost knock a person out.

  Or maybe the paint fumes were getting to her. Wade was always nagging her about proper ventilation when she worked with the paints and stains they used on the house. She tried to raise the sash, but she had no leverage from where she sat, and no strength in her hands.

  She tried to stand and immediately slumped back to the floor. The ceiling spiraled overhead. She forced her eyes to focus on the fancy calligraphy she’d begun to paint around the perimeter of the room.

  The poet’s words expressed her love for Wade Sullivan so beautifully. Wade’s face floated in her mind and she felt the corners of her lips rise in a wan smile. She loved that man so much…so very much…

  She tried to get to her feet again, but the room spun as though she were seeing it from a carousel. She sank to the floor. Why was she so dizzy? Why couldn’t she stand up? Knifelike pain screamed through her head, excruciating now. A soft moan escaped from deep in her throat and for the first time, she was frightened by the raw power of her pain.

  Then, as suddenly as it had come on, the headache left. Her heart fluttered weakly, and like a feather on a summer breeze, she had the sensation of being afloat, dancing on the updrafts, rising slowly toward the ceiling.

  It didn’t seem the least bit odd to be gazing down upon her own still, earthly form.

  Oh, Father…be with my babies. Help Wade…

  She turned away, and in the space of a breath, her spirit defied the bounds of the room’s four walls, the roof of the house, then the limits of earth and the boundaries of the heavens themselves.

  She became aware of a holy presence, surrounding her, embracing her. And a beloved voice that spoke a name she did not know, yet somehow recognized as her own. She moved closer, into the arms of the One who beckoned. And in that moment she knew.

  She was home.

  Chapter 3

  Wade shifted his weight to his left knee, laid down his roofer’s hatchet, and pulled a bright red bandana from the back pocket of his dust-caked blue jeans. Looking over the town from his vantage point on the peak of the roof, he mopped at his forehead, failing to halt a rivulet of perspiration before it stung his eye. The sun on his back reminded him that come June it would be hotter than blazes up here.

  He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket and flopped another shingle into position. Fishing a handful of
roofing nails from a pouch in his tool belt, he loaded them in his mouth. With the hammer end of the hatchet, he drove home half a dozen nails in rapid succession.

  The shrill ring of the cell phone clipped to his belt spoiled his steady rhythm. Laying the roofer’s hatchet down again, he rocked back on his heels and punched Answer. “Sullivan,” he barked over the racket of his partner’s hammering.

  Wade heard the laughter of children in the background, then Beau’s little-boy voice cracked over the line. “Wade?”

  “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

  “Mama’s late again. Can you come and pick us up?”

  “Did you try calling her cell phone?”

  Wade could almost hear Beau wagging his blond head at the phone. “She didn’t answer. I left her a message.”

  He glanced at his watch and frowned. School had been out almost forty-five minutes. Well, this wasn’t the first time Starr had gotten so caught up in her painting that she’d forgotten to pick up the kids. “Tell you what,” he said into the phone. “I’ll call Aunt Sophie and see if maybe she can come get you. If she can’t, I’ll come myself. You tell the girls to wait outside with you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Wade disconnected and dialed Sophia Braden’s number. She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Sophe. The kids need a ride. Apparently that sister of yours is in La-La land over at the house. I’m kind of tied up right now… Would you mind––?”

  “Yeah, I can pick them up. You want me to take them out to your place?”

  “No…just go ahead and take them home. Starr’ll probably beat you out there. If not, call me back. Thanks.”

  Wade hit End and dialed Starr’s cell phone. It rang half a dozen times before her sweet voice came on the line. “This is Starr. Can’t take your call just now, but leave a message, and I promise I’ll get back to you quick as I can.”

  He turned the phone off before it could beep at him. That crazy woman. When she got a notion in her head, everything else just flew out the window. He could picture her now, balancing on the top of the ladder, her tongue tracing the path of her paintbrush, her mind a thousand miles away. In a few minutes she’d hear the clock chime in the foyer and she’d gasp, look at her watch, and suddenly remember she had three children who got out of school at the same time every day of the week. She’d say a few choice words, scramble down the ladder, dash out of the house, and drive like a maniac into town.