Read When Sparrows Fall for Free Online Page B

darted to the front door and flung it open.
    “I have to find my—” Cold air flooded in. Gabriel’s feet thudded across the porch and down the steps in the dark. He reversed the process and hurtled inside clutching a slingshot. “Got it!” He slammed the door so hard that Jack cringed.
    “Now your feet are filthy,” Timothy said, pointing. “You need another bath.”
    “No.” Rebekah slipped between them. She marched the half-naked boyinto the kitchen and knelt to wipe his feet with a kitchen towel. “There. Clean all over. Off to bed, Gabriel, and say your prayers. Good night.”
    “G’night.” Slingshot in hand, he stormed through the living room and up the stairs.
    Rebekah stayed on her knees like a nun at her devotions, her habit made of denim. After a moment, she rose, slinging the dirtied dish towel over her shoulder, and walked toward the bathroom.
    Jack guessed what she would do. Ten years old, she would play mom to her brothers. She would wipe the wet floor, tidy the towels, pick up the shed clothing.
    Dazed, he thought of the pricey Glenlivet he’d bought the week before. If he’d had it with him, once the kids were out of his hair, he would have exercised his right to unwind somewhere in peace and quiet. Except, if Miranda didn’t allow caffeine in her house, there was no hope whatsoever for a good Scotch whiskey. Demon alcohol.
    He turned to Timothy. “Gabe’s quite a handful.”
    “His name is Gabriel.”
    Nicknames were against their religion too? Jack kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help thinking of the changes he would make if the kids were his. Lord willing, they never would be. But he was responsible for their welfare. He had to know where each one slept, at least. If the house ever caught fire.…
    He climbed the creaky, steep stairway. It was narrow, with a wobbly handrail. God only knew the condition of the electrical system and the furnace, if there was one, and he’d seen no sign of smoke alarms or carbon monoxide detectors.
    He gained the second floor, half the size of the main floor and dimly lit by night lights. One of the bedrooms held two sets of bunk beds. In plaid pajamas, Michael and Gabriel huddled in the top bunks and argued softly with each other. Jonah was sound asleep in the bottom bunk on the left. Crowded close to the safety rail, he clutched a quilt to his chin. He was sucking his thumb, his mouth moving around it like fish lips.
    “Good night, gentlemen,” Jack said quietly.
    “G’night,” the archangels echoed in unison. They resumed their subdued argument without missing a beat.
    The other bedroom held two twin-size four-posters, two dressers, and two school desks, all painted in pastel colors that glowed ghostly in the half light. Martha was sacked out, hugging the Seuss book he’d found in the grocery store down the street from Slades Creek’s little hospital. It was the closest thing to a bookstore that he’d found.
    She smiled in her sleep.
    Jack grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels. Martha was already a book addict like her worldly uncle. A taste of Green Eggs and Ham would be good medicine for a literalist.
    In his brief conversation with Miranda’s attorney, Alexander Whitlow, Jack had learned that a guardian was required to abide by the parents’ religious convictions for the children but had some freedom to make choices about their education. He hadn’t asked Whitlow if a ban on Seuss would be called a religious conviction or an educational decision. It was a moot point anyway; Miranda’s authority hadn’t been transferred. Jack was simply Martha’s uncle who happened to pick up a book to entertain her while her mom recovered.
    Whitlow had not revealed why Miranda had changed her will, nor who the previous guardian or guardians had been, if any. He’d cited client confidentiality.
    As Jack reached the bottom of the stairs, Rebekah emerged from the downstairs bedroom, carrying a wicker laundry basket heaped with bedding.
    She