Read When Sparrows Fall for Free Online

They were talking, laughing. Sunshine in the storm.
    He was kind. Sensible. He would keep the children safe.
    “Miranda.” His voice stroked her like a gentle hand on a cat in the sun, making her want to purr.
    He had to stay. He was her lifeline.
    “It’s all right. I’ll take care of the kids …”
    But he would make waves. He would upset … somebody. She couldn’t think who.
    She wanted to run. She wanted out. She wanted the sunshine.
    A white car pulled into her drive. The state seal.…
    Nausea rolled over her. She fought it. Consoling drowsiness curled in on her and pulled her into a soft pillow of black.

    Too close to the wood stove for comfort, Jack propped himself against the smooth-planed planks of the wall and waited. He’d already given all the kids the simple and optimistic prognosis, but with the two little ones in bed, it was time to give the older four a more detailed report. He had no intentions of addressing the issue of their mother’s psyche though.
    Darkness seemed to run in the veins of the Hanford men and in the veins of the women they married. Even Ava, for all her upbeat energy, had sometimes shown a streak of melancholy that had scared him half to death.
    Part of his mind occupied itself with counting the tight, spiraled rows of the braided rug. The other part stayed on Miranda’s battered face and petite frame. And on the contents of the plastic tote he’d brought from the hospital. It held her ruined clothing and her trashed, mud-caked Nikon. The camera was a serious piece of equipment. Film, not digital, it had a vintage look. It must have cost a bundle when it was new, or even more as a collector’s item.
    Rebekah herded Gabriel and Michael down the stairs and toward the decrepit couch. The couch was a tweedy brown that wouldn’t show dirt, which was fortunate, as the archangels had been in some kind of muddy trouble. They needed baths, pronto. All elbow jabs and jiggery pokery, they bounced their bottoms on the cushions. Their big sister, the peacemaker, squeezed between them.
    Timothy came in from the kitchen but remained standing, his lean face expressionless. If he’d worn a horned helmet, he could have been a ferocious young Viking.
    Knowing the smaller boys couldn’t sit still for long, Jack started right in. He’d already decided not to mention the collapsed lung; it sounded too scary.
    “Okay, here are the details. Your mom has a concussion, and she broke some ribs, messed up one shoulder, and tore up her right leg. She’s lucky though. Instead of falling straight down, she must have slid from one ledge to another. She was groggy when I stopped by, but that won’t last.”
    Gabriel’s forehead puckered. “What’s a concussion?”
    “That’s what they call it when you bang your head so hard that you black out. She’ll have headaches and be tired and dizzy and sick to her stomach for a while, but her doctor says that’s to be expected.”
    Timothy didn’t move a muscle. The other kids sat on the couch like big-eyed owls on a branch, staring.
    Jack was still trying to grasp the situation. “Who needs to know what happened? Family? Folks from church?”
    Michael scowled at the floor. “People from church don’t come around much.”
    Rebekah elbowed him. “There’s our pastor. His name’s Mason Chandler.”
    Jack wasn’t eager for help from that quarter, but he tucked the name away in his memory. “What about relatives?”
    Rebekah hesitated. “We don’t have any.”
    Hard to believe. It might explain a few mysteries though.
    “Isn’t there anybody who needs to know your mom’s in the hospital? Neighbors? Friends?”
    The kids regarded him in mute puzzlement.
    Jack asked more questions and learned that the children had never set foot in a school building or a McDonald’s or a mall. A trip to the grocery store was an unusual event. Miranda did most of her shopping by mail order or from a food co-op that delivered to their door.
    The kids had never