The Sparrow Found A House (Sparrow Stories #1)

by Jason McIntire

  Chapter 16

  Dear Grandma

  Grandma Stortz normally visited the Riveras twice during the summer – once at the beginning, and once at the end. This was the only convenient time of year for her, as she was a full-time teacher, and busy with other grandchildren during the major holidays. In her June visit, the first thing she wanted to do was analyze the children’s report cards from the previous year. In August, her first stop was the school, to look over their upcoming classes and work. Because of this near-obsession with academic achievement, it was obvious to everyone that Grandma’s next visit would not be nearly as pleasant as her last. To avoid an explosion in person, Mom had already informed her by phone that the family, except for Jessie, had decided to start homeschooling. Her reaction was predictable.

  There was a family meeting the night before. Jessie didn’t come. For the first time, no one invited her. She knew what they were saying, anyway, plotting their strategy to present a lovely picture to Grandma. Jessie knew she could screw that up nicely if she wanted, but decided instead to be on her best irreproachable behavior. After all, she already had what she wanted – she was starting back to public school in less than a week, and next summer was a blessed eternity away.

  When Grandma arrived the next day, they all turned out to greet her in the living room. Pointedly, she headed straight to the one “sane” member of the family – Jessie – and hugged her fiercely. The little ones got a hug too, as they were too young to help themselves. To Chris she gave a curious look, and to Mom, her youngest daughter, a glare that could stun an elephant. She didn’t look at the Sergeant at all, and only spoke the vaguest reply when he greeted her. This was definitely not going to be good.

  The children were dismissed as the three grownups squared off in the living room. Sitting upstairs, Jessie decided to do something she had never done before. She sneaked out in the hall to eavesdrop.

  “The children seem quiet enough,” she heard Grandma observe. Jessie recognized that condescending tone; she had used it herself. “What do you do?” continued Grandma, unable to hide the biting edge. “Beat them?”

  The room went silent for a moment. Jessie had never heard another adult confront her stepfather before, and wondered how he would react.

  “By the way....” His voice was pleasant, almost casual, as he bypassed the challenge. “That black eye Chris had last spring? I don’t recall you ever asked about it.”

  “Boys get black eyes.” Jessie could almost hear her shrugging. “Unless, of course, you did it to him?”

  “He got that black eye,” the Sergeant told her, “from two fellow students, on his way home from school.”

  Another pause. “I trust something happened to those students as a result?”

  “Yes it did,” the Sergeant answered. “They were expelled. Chris’s eye was still black, though. And if another student hadn’t intervened to save him, I expect his arm and a few other things would still be broken too. So no, I haven’t touched any of your grandchildren. On the contrary, I’m trying to take them out of a system that puts them in real danger.”

  “I’ve given my life to the public school system,” Grandma sniffed irately. “I don’t appreciate you speaking of it as if it were something evil.”

  “Schools and teachers are one thing,” the Sergeant allowed. “The system is another. Many teachers are very dedicated, wonderful people, and some public schools are still reasonable places. Ultimately, though, the whole system emanates from the Government, and its core philosophy is dominated by a God-denying humanist worldview. It confiscates our kids from our homes, and teaches them things we wouldn’t mention in polite conversation – let alone lay down as life principles. We don’t want our kids exposed to that kind of influence anymore, or to the physical dangers inherent to a situation like that of public school.”

  “You’re a little new at this to be calling them yours....”

  “I’m not, Mother,” put in Mrs. Sparrow. “And I agree with everything Glenn just said.”

  “Now you would, wouldn’t you? There’s a name for that kind of agreement, I think you know....”

  Back and forth they went, with Grandma’s tone rising at every exchange. On the other side, the Sergeant’s steady voice was occasionally supplemented by an entreaty from his wife to her mother. But soon, words like “legal rights” and “truancy” were echoing through the house. Deciding she’d heard enough, Jessie went back to her room. It was amazing how much uglier those threats sounded coming from someone else’s mouth, than they had going around in Jessie’s head the other night. Just hearing them spoken aloud made her feel insecure.

  Suddenly the bedroom door opened, and in swept her grandmother, cheeks still pulsing red with fury. “I’m leaving now,” she said with a visible effort to shift back into nice-mode, “but I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye to you, dear. Hold it steady.” Again that rather possessive hug. “Whatever you need, I’m there for you. Now listen, my cell phone number is 721-1941.”

  Jessie automatically reached for a pencil.

  “No need to write it down.” Grandma glanced back furtively at the closed bedroom door. “You’re a smart girl, and you can remember it – 721-1941. If you turn the first three numbers around, that’s the date of Pearl Harbor. Say it to yourself a couple of times and you’ll have it. Goodbye, dear – I’ll stop by your school sometime.”

  Then she was gone, leaving Jessie wondering why Grandma wouldn’t let her write down the number, and how far she would go to carry out those threats. She also wondered what “Pearl Harbor” was.

  That night, the Sergeant called yet another family meeting, and this time Jessie was asked to be there. “You kids need to know what the situation is,” said Mr. Sparrow with a sober look. “When your grandmother was here today, she threatened to do some things, and those things could potentially have some effect on us. In particular, I think she’s going to send someone from the county to pay us a visit, probably after the school year starts.”

  “You mean Child Protective Services?” Chris asked with a mixture of contempt and dread.

  “Something like that. Now, I want you all to remember that we have done nothing wrong and we have nothing to be ashamed of. This person from the county will probably show up unannounced, but I don’t want you to be scared or act guarded. Just speak when spoken to and answer questions honestly. Do not, however, do anything that they ask you to do, unless Mom or I say that it’s okay. In this house, we are in charge, not them.

  “Also, Chris and Jessie, if you answer the door for this person, do not let them in the house. Regardless of what they say, they have no right to enter our home without our permission.”

  The Sergeant fell silent, as he realized that Katie was crying. Mom drew her into her lap and asked her what was wrong. “I’m not being very courageous,” she confessed, upset with herself. “But I’m just scared they’ll take us away or something.”

  “I’m scared too,” Moe admitted. “I’ve heard stories.”

  “No one’s going to take you away,” Mom assured them. “Jesus won’t let them.”

  “That’s right,” the Sergeant agreed. “Let’s learn a Bible verse tonight.” He thumbed through to Hebrews 13 and read, “The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.” He had the twins say it together with him to learn it, and then he said he wanted to tell them a story about the war. Fright momentarily forgotten, they scooched up next to him on the couch expectantly.

  “It was in Iraq,” he began, “during the invasion. Part of my unit, just three guys and me, got separated and cut off by a large number of Saddam’s Republican Guards. They had two tanks. We had nothing but a shallow hole in the ground and a half day’s supply of ammunition. To all appearances, we were in a desperate, desperate fix. But we really weren’t all that scared. Do you know why?”

  “Because you’re brave,” Katie admired.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” the Sergeant chuckled, “but I
don’t think anybody’s that brave. We weren’t scared, because we knew something the Guards didn’t. There was somebody backing us up, and they had no idea he was there.”

  “Was it an angel?” asked Moe, wide-eyed.

  “It sure seemed like one at the time,” the Sergeant said. “It was the biggest, blackest, most beautiful Apache helicopter you ever saw in your life.”

  Moe looked even more impressed than he had been with the thought of an angel. “And it flew you away to safety,” he prompted.

  “No,” said the Sergeant, “the Apache is a gunship – made to attack, not rescue. In this case, it was made to defend. The pilot hovered behind some trees where he’d be safe from ground-based Stinger missiles. When the enemy tried to attack and overrun our position, we radioed him and up he popped. The chopper blasted the enemy infantry with machinegun fire, and destroyed both tanks with missiles. The Guards all ran away in confusion, and we just stayed in our hole and never had to fire a shot.”

  “That’s like Jesus being our helper and protecting us,” Katie observed, proud of herself for discerning the moral.

  “You’re right,” the Sergeant agreed. “But instead of calling Him in with a radio, we pray to Him. And don’t get me wrong; He doesn’t always blast our enemies or fly us away to safety – but He is always with us, hovering right there above the trees, watching and listening for our call. Even when bad things happen, we know that they only happen by his permission. So, He must be allowing those bad things in order to do something really good for us in the long term, because He loves us so much. Shall we commit this situation to Him right now?”

  As they bowed their heads, Jessie slipped quietly from the room. She wasn’t a part of this.