Flight of the Sparrows

by Annie Jones

  “Despicable, yes. Middle of nowhere?” Dud shook his head and squinted out over a scraggly bush near the cluster of trees. “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate held out her hand so that Paul could help her to her feet.

  “Come over here and see for yourself.” Dud pushed the branches of the bush apart so they could all get a good look down the hill into a flat spot where two barns and a white farmhouse sat. “I’ll wager that if we could get our hands on a map with the pertinent details on it, we’d discover that the place where somebody set that despicable trap—the spot we’re standing right now—is right on the edge of Artie Best’s land.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kate didn’t talk to Bonnie about the trap’s possible connection to Artie Best when she returned to visit her friend that evening in the hospital. She did tell her about finding the threads and apologized for not finding the rest of her scarf. She also filled her in on the discovery of the fishing line. Bonnie said that gave her a small measure of peace, knowing she didn’t imagine the whole thing. However, Bonnie did wonder out loud who would do something like that and told Kate that it set her thinking about what they should do next to deal with it.

  Kate had clucked and fussed over her friend indulgently and told her not to spend another minute dwelling on that, since they couldn’t do anything about it at the moment. She definitely didn’t want Bonnie to suffer any added stress on top of her ankle injury. Kate promised to mull over the whole situation and share her thoughts and insights with her friend when she returned to pick her up the following day.

  “Mulling over” might have been too mild a description, though, for the questions plagued Kate throughout that night. By shortly after five the next morning, when she finally arose, she had formulated a vague plan.

  She would go out and speak to Artie Best. He wasn’t a bad man, she thought, though perhaps he had made some bad choices. Kate couldn’t imagine that someone who cared so much for God’s creatures would try to hurt anyone. She would ask him...what?

  She went to the living room and sat in her favorite rocker in front of the fireplace that dominated one corner of the room.

  Soon it would grow cold enough to go to the trouble of ordering wood and having a blazing fire going each night and, not long after that, even first thing in the morning. Just as the last hints of summer were fading away, autumn would soon become winter.

  Having Bonnie in town had reminded Kate of how fast time went by. After spending only a short time with her friend, time had seemed to slip away, and sometimes Kate had felt like a student again. She smiled at how she had even raised her hand when she wanted to ask Bonnie a question.

  Kate also thought of Bonnie, who had given her life to the service of others. And now she found herself in retirement, facing the potential loss of purpose, a shift in the behavior of others who now treated her like an elderly person. Kate thought of Betty Anderson’s advice not to retire from life and how Bonnie had bristled at the EMT. Even the hospital staff dismissed her because of her age.

  It was a matter of respect. Kate would expect it. Bonnie was afraid of losing it. Artie Best deserved it.

  “You’re up,” Paul said, padding into the room in his slippers. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Kate stood and went to his side.

  “No I had to get up and get moving. Weather permitting, Lucas and I are going to fly this morning, remember?”

  She nodded. “I was just firming up in my mind what I want to ask when I go talk to Artie this morning.”

  “Talk to Artie? Kate, do you think that’s wise?” He took her hand in his and gazed into her eyes.

  She smiled reassuringly at him. “I don’t feel he poses any threat, if that’s what you mean. He’s been a part of this community for years. Everyone knows him.”

  “Everyone knows of him,” Paul corrected.

  “All right, I’ll grant you that.” She knew that her husband’s protective attitude came on the heels of Bonnie’s injury and finding the booby trap near Best Acres. “But in this day and age, for a man like Artie to be able to go into all the local schools and have scout troops come out for tours of what is basically his home, he has to have been vetted through some system.”

  “Like a background security check?”

  “I was thinking more like the local moms knowing everything there is to know about him.” She shook her head and shared a light laugh with her husband. “But, yes, he probably has had something like a background check run on him at some point, don’t you think?”

  Paul nodded slowly. “I suppose he has.”

  “And more than that, I’ve already met the man. For all his gruffness, I didn’t see a hint of malice or the ability to do harm to others in him.”

  He studied her a moment. “What are you not saying, Kate?”

  She pressed her lips together. If she told Paul what had really been going on in her mind, he’d tease her about being a big softie, but better that than having her go to the authorities to cast suspicion on an innocent man. “He has a story, Paul.”

  “He told you a story?”

  “No. His house did.” She turned and headed to the kitchen.

  He followed on her heels. “His house?”

  “He’s meticulous in the upkeep of his home.” Kate flipped on the kitchen light. Against the backdrop of darkness outside the window, the light created a warming glow. Kate looked around the tiny kitchen, taking in the yellow cabinets and her gleaming Mauviel copperware hanging from the rack on the ceiling. Kate had come to love this place, and she knew that reflected in her tone as she described the house of the lonely bird wrangler.

  “It’s so sweet and neat. Nothing like the roughness of his barns or the beat-up old truck he drives. The paint is fresh, and the yard is landscaped. Then there’s the gingerbread.”

  “He makes gingerbread?” Paul chuckled at his pretense of misunderstanding as he went to a cabinet and got down two coffee mugs.

  “The trim that you sometimes see on front porches, silly. All that fancy fretwork and spindles?” She wriggled her fingers as though drawing patterns in the air. “It’s so cute. No chipped paint or broken bits, either. Everything around his house is well maintained. I haven’t been inside, but I bet it’s the same way.”

  Paul lifted one of the empty mugs, as if offering a toast. His eyes softened with love and admiration. “Leave it to you, Katie, to observe something like that and deduce that there’s more to this fellow than meets the eye.”

  “I’ve heard it said that you can understand anyone if you only know their story.” She began preparations for breakfast. “A lonely man who lives in a house kept up as though it’s just waiting to be a family home? There is something more to him. And I think I owe it to him to let him know that people are concerned about what’s going on around his place.”

  “If he doesn’t have a good explanation for it, then will you contact Sheriff Roberts—or at least Skip Spencer—just to let them know what’s happened?” He opened the coffee canister and scooped out a spoonful of the rich granules. “We have to think about all those bird-watchers who will start arriving in the next few days, you know.”

  “You’re right.” She went to the refrigerator and got out a carton of eggs. “Though, even if Artie does give me a reasonable explanation, I think I should probably pay a visit to the Sparrowpalooza organizers. It would be wrong not to let them know that Bonnie was injured bird-watching and warn them about possible booby traps in the area.”

  “Yes. I agree with that. It makes more sense than rushing to get law enforcement involved.”

  “What all do you want for breakfast?” she asked.

  “Just coffee for now. I have to get dressed and dash out to the airfield.”

  “All right.” She exhaled in a long whoosh that played up her sense of relief. Then, as she got out a pot to poach some eggs for herself, she moved on to the next issue she needed to t
ackle. “Before you go, I need an opinion. Do I call ahead and make an appointment to see Artie or just stop in on my way to Pine Ridge?”

  “I vote stop in. You’re making a neighborly call, coming to visit him, not expecting a tour.”

  “That makes sense. Stopping in is friendlier, isn’t it?” She followed through on her husband’s thought as she filled the pot with water. “And if I just stop in, I think I may get a truer glimpse at the real man...maybe understand him better.”

  “Artie’s house may not be the only thing that tells a story. The way he acts when he hears about Bonnie and her injury may tell you much more than the words he uses.”

  She turned on the stove, then faced her husband. Kate smiled as she tapped the side of her head with her finger. “Paul Hanlon, I believe you’re beginning to think like me.”

  PAUL WAS STILL CHUCKLING over Kate’s comment when he met Lucas at the airfield just before daybreak. The men both had a busy day ahead of them, so they’d decided to take their flight early.

  “You’re in for a treat, Paul. Flying when the sky is still lit with the pinks and golds of sunrise is something you’ll never forget.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Paul said as he climbed into the seat.

  “And to taking the stick?” Lucas grinned at him as he began the preflight check. “Once we’re up, just for a few minutes of smooth flight. Nothing fancy. Not to really pilot the plane but to get the feel for it. How ’bout it?”

  Paul flexed his fingers, trying to imagine how that might feel. The power of a plane, the trust of two lives in his hands. Well, not entirely in his hands. In God’s hands, briefly under Paul’s direction. That made him smile. “Yes. I think I’d like that, Lucas.”

  “Great. Let’s do this, then.” He bowed his head, and the two men shared a short prayer.

  The engine sputtered to life. Lucas gave Paul a thumbs-up sign, which Paul heartily returned. They began to taxi down the runway.

  Though he’d flown before, this time Paul felt an extra surge of excitement over the prospect of actually getting a chance to fly the plane.

  The wheels left the runway. The engine made a strange sound—strange to Paul, at least. If he had to describe it, he’d have said it was something between a growl and a grind.

  Lucas didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, it didn’t seem to bother him.

  So Paul relaxed and decided he’d be better served by paying close attention to what Lucas was doing.

  “We’re going to swing even farther out toward Copper Mill this time and pull around wide for our return. I think it’ll show the landscape best and let us make a circle around Best Acres so good ol’ Artie can’t accuse us of flying over, trying to look down on his place again.”

  “He made a complaint?” Paul shouted to make the question heard.

  “A couple, according to the director of Joanie’s Ark. One from Artie and one from a woman who didn’t leave her name, but both of them specifically complained about a plane flying directly over Best Acres.”

  “Interesting.” Paul knew Kate would think so too.

  “I guess.” Lucas gave a one-shouldered shrug, then leaned closer to Paul, tapped the mechanism in front of him, and said, “So, you ready?”

  Paul took a deep breath.

  “Just take the tiller like you would a steering wheel.”

  Lucas’ calm tone prodded Paul to follow through. He grasped the upraised ends of the tiller. It looked much like an automobile steering wheel with the top lopped off.

  For a moment, Lucas kept his hands on the tiller in front of him, then gave the thumbs-up sign again, and Paul was on his own. He had seen these controls in countless TV shows and movies, but that hardly prepared him for the sensation of taking hold of the helm of a real plane sailing over a patchwork of countryside below. He loved it.

  But he also had a healthy respect for the risk involved and the training and money he would need to actually get a pilot’s license. Thrilled as he was with this first experience, he wasn’t completely sure he wanted to pursue something like that.

  “You need to correct your course.” Lucas made a motion with both hands, as if he were holding an imaginary tiller and moving it slightly to the left. “Gently, just a few degrees.”

  Paul gave it a try. The plane dipped briefly to one side.

  Lucas, still using the invisible steering control, showed him how to adjust for that.

  Success. A flood of pride and enthusiasm washed through Paul. He was just about to ask Lucas if he could do something else when the engine made that growling, grinding noise again.

  Paul looked at Lucas. “Maybe you should take over.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  “But that noise...?

  “It’s a twenty-seven-year-old plane.” He waved off Paul’s concern with good-natured nonchalance. “It makes noise sometimes.”

  “If you say so.” Paul pushed his shoulders back and looked straight ahead.

  The noise became louder this time.

  “Okay, we need to turn back soon, anyway. Why don’t I take it now?” Lucas firmly gripped the steering control in front of him, and Paul relinquished his hold on his tiller.

  They made a long, graceful curving turn, and in that instant, Paul felt at one with the sky and the machine. He could see why Lucas loved the hobby.

  Then the engine coughed. It seemed to go silent, as if catching its breath. It lasted only for a fraction of a second, but that was enough to make Paul’s heart rate pick up.

  He searched below for one of those clear spots Lucas had once said he liked to keep in sight in case he needed to make an emergency landing. The trees blocked his view. “Should we be heading over closer to the road?”

  “Why?”

  As if it sensed Paul’s concern, the plane gave a shimmy.

  “That’s why,” Paul shouted to make himself heard above the now-grating buzz of the engine.

  “No worries.” Lucas grinned and shook his head. “I keep this baby in perfect condition. She’s running a little rough today, but it’s no big deal. If the engine stalls, I can start it right up again.”

  “Stalls?” Paul wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “You think there’s a chance that it might—”

  Just then, the light aircraft dropped like deadweight. Not in a nosedive, just a drop. Paul’s stomach lurched.

  Lucas went into action to stabilize the plane. He got it level. “We just hit a little wind turbulence. It may get rough, so hang on.”

  Paul gripped the armrest. It seemed like a cliché that in moments of extreme duress, a person’s senses slowed down and focused on every minute detail. But that was exactly what Paul felt in those furious few seconds.

  Paul could smell the motor oil of the still-running engine. He felt the strain of an air current pushing down on the wings. They were no longer losing altitude, but they were flying awfully low.

  Below, where he had once seen a blur of colors melding into what he knew to be a spread of trees, he now saw the movement of the individual branches of those trees. In the quickly approaching distance, he saw a house and a car that he could actually distinguish as the one Dot Bagley had been driving when they found her in the field the other day.

  Paul was aware of Lucas skillfully working to keep the plane steady. Then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was all over. Lucas pulled back on the throttle, and they began to climb again.

  When they had regained all the air they had lost, Lucas crossed himself, as an Episcopalian priest would, sighed deeply, then let out a belly laugh. “And you were concerned about the engine!”

  Paul laughed too, as a great wave of relief washed over him. He looked below once more to find the sights he had noted seconds ago growing smaller and less defined. Then he noticed something he had missed in all the excitement. Or perhaps it was something he would only have seen from a little greater height. Here and there, dotting the open fields that surrounded Dot Bagley’s home, were small, rectangular object
s. What could they be? He’d have to mention it to Kate.

  He wasn’t so sure he’d tell her about almost dropping to his doom, though. At least not until he decided whether he wanted to go flying with Lucas again.

  Chapter Twenty

  The gate across the drive at Artie Best’s house was open when Kate drove up. But Artie’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Of course, she didn’t know if it might be parked in the garage on the side of the house or even in one of the barns. Kate stopped her Honda and turned off the engine.

  “Okay, I’ve made calls on hundreds of people over the years. This won’t be much different than that, right?” Kate told herself.

  She made a quick survey of her surroundings. She wasn’t afraid, but she did have a sense of needing to tread lightly. There was a story here. That house, the bird barns, the new policy about callers, the hope of spotting sparrows who had all but disappeared from sight, even Artie’s not being involved in one of the biggest bird events in many years—it all had to add up to something. She just had to get the pieces right.

  The way to get the pieces of her biggest mystery or her daily life together, she knew, was by going to God. With that in mind, she bowed her head for a moment’s prayer. “Father, I go boldly into the world because I know you go with me. I’ll do my best to reflect your love, your justice, and the gift of your salvation. Keep my mind sharp and my heart open as I meet with Artie Best today, and help me represent you to him.”

  Kate murmured an “amen,” then got out and walked toward the porch. She noticed alternating yellow and purple mums lining the walkway. Those had to be tended to, and to keep that many of them in good shape, Artie would have had to replant that fall. She’d seen all this on her first visit to the house, but not close enough to really take note of the details.

  She went onto the porch, thinking that the place looked more as if it was ready for sale than like the home of a gruff, reclusive fellow like Artie.