The Rain Sparrow

by Debbie Macomber

  Fall for these two beloved stories about life, love and second chances

  LOVE BY DEGREE by Debbie Macomber

  When Ellen Cunningham decides to go back to school as a mature student, she knows that money is going to be tight. She also knows she’s lucky to find inexpensive lodging in a house near the campus, but she didn’t count on having to live with three college-aged boys—or deal with the bad-tempered landlord, Reed Morgan. Reed has no patience for college-boy antics, but the chemistry between him and Ellen might warm him up to his new tenants...

  THE RAIN SPARROW by Linda Goodnight

  Renowned yet private, thriller writer Hayden Winters lives a life colored by lies. As he is deeply ashamed of his past, his hunger for an honest relationship and dreams of starting a family remain unsatisfied, and he can trust no one with his secrets—until he meets Carrie Riley. When they discover a vulnerable young boy hiding at the inn where Hayden is staying, the two are compelled to help him, and soon they’re drawn into a centuries-old mystery that will either bring them closer together—or tear them apart.

  Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author

  Debbie Macomber

  “Beloved author Debbie Macomber reaches new heights in this wise and beautiful novel.... The timeless wisdom in these pages will stay with you long after the book is closed.”

  —Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on A Girl’s Guide to Moving On

  “Macomber fans will leave the Rose Harbor Inn with warm memories of healing, hope, and enduring love.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “A Girl’s Guide to Moving On is Debbie Macomber’s finest novel.... I absolutely loved it!”

  —Dorothea Benton Frank, New York Times bestselling author

  “Debbie dazzles! A wonderful story of friendship, forgiveness and the power of love. I devoured every page!”

  —Susan Mallery, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  Praise for New York Times bestselling author

  Linda Goodnight

  “The second of Goodnight’s Honey Ridge novels [The Rain Sparrow] is an aching, absorbing, yet uplifting read.”

  —Booklist

  “The Memory House is a beautiful, rich, unforgettable story filled with tenderness and heart.”

  —New York Times bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne

  “Goodnight’s prose is elegant.”

  —Booklist

  Also available from Debbie Macomber

  Blossom Street

  The Shop on Blossom Street

  A Good Yarn

  Susannah’s Garden

  Back on Blossom Street

  Twenty Wishes

  Summer on Blossom Street

  Hannah’s List

  The Knitting Diaries

  “The Twenty-First Wish”

  A Turn in the Road

  Cedar Cove

  16 Lighthouse Road

  204 Rosewood Lane

  311 Pelican Court

  44 Cranberry Point

  50 Harbor Street

  6 Rainier Drive

  74 Seaside Avenue

  8 Sandpiper Way

  92 Pacific Boulevard

  1022 Evergreen Place

  Christmas in Cedar Cove

  (5-B Poppy Lane and A Cedar Cove Christmas)

  1105 Yakima Street

  1225 Christmas Tree Lane

  The Dakota Series

  Dakota Born

  Dakota Home

  Always Dakota

  Buffalo Valley

  For a complete list of books by Debbie Macomber, please visit www.debbiemacomber.com.

  And from Linda Goodnight

  The Memory House

  The Rain Sparrow

  and don’t miss

  The Innkeeper’s Sister,

  coming soon!

  DEBBIE MACOMBER

  LINDA GOODNIGHT

  The Road to Love

  Table of Contents

  LOVE BY DEGREE BY DEBBIE MACOMBER

  THE RAIN SPARROW BY LINDA GOODNIGHT

  LOVE BY DEGREE

  Debbie Macomber

  To all my friends at the Vero Beach Book Center—

  Chad, Cynthia, Sheila, Debbie, Jamie and Rose Marie.

  Thank you for all you do to support my books.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE MELODIOUS SOUNDS of a love ballad drifted through the huge three-storey house in Seattle’s Capitol Hill. Ellen Cunningham hummed along as she rubbed her wet curls with a thick towel. These late-afternoon hours before her housemates returned were the only time she had the place to herself, so she’d taken advantage of the peaceful interlude to wash her hair. Privacy was at a premium with three men in the house, and she couldn’t always count on the upstairs bathroom being available later in the evening.

  Twisting the fire-engine-red towel around her head, turban style, Ellen walked barefoot across the hallway toward her bedroom to retrieve her blouse. Halfway there, she heard the faint ding of the oven timer, signalling that her apple pie was ready to come out.

  She altered her course and bounded down the wide stairway. Her classes that day had gone exceptionally well. She couldn’t remember ever being happier, even though she still missed Yakima, the small apple-growing community in central Washington, where she’d been raised. But she was adjusting well to life in the big city. She’d waited impatiently for the right time—and enough money—to complete her education, and she’d been gratified by the way everything had fallen into place during the past summer. Her older sister had married, and her “baby” brother had entered the military. For a while, Ellen was worried that her widowed mother might suffer from empty nest syndrome, so she’d decided to delay her education another year. But her worries had been groundless, as it turned out. James Simonson, a widower friend of her mother’s, had started dropping by the house often enough for Ellen to recognize a romance brewing between them. The time had finally come for Ellen to make the break, and she did it without guilt or self-reproach.

  Clutching a pot holder in one hand, she opened the oven door and lifted out the steaming pie. The fragrance of spicy apples spread through the kitchen, mingling with the savory aroma of the stew that simmered on top of the stove. Carefully, Ellen set the pie on a wire rack. Her housemates appreciated her culinary efforts and she enjoyed doing little things to please them. As the oldest, Ellen fit easily into this household of young men; in fact, she felt that the arrangement was ideal. In exchange for cooking, a little mothering on the side and a share of the cleaning, Ellen paid only a nominal rent.

  The unexpected sound of the back door opening made her swivel around.

  “What’s going on?” Standing in the doorway was a man with the most piercing green eyes Ellen had ever seen. She noticed immediately that the rest of his features were strongly defined and perfectly balanced. His cheekbones were high and wide, yet his face was lean and appealing. He frowned, and his mouth twisted in an unspoken question.

  In one clenched hand he held a small leather suitcase, which he slowly lowered to the kitchen floor. “Who are you?” He spoke sharply, but it wasn’t a
nger or disdain that edged his voice; it was genuine bewilderment.

  Ellen was too shocked to move. When she’d whirled around, the towel had slipped from her head and covered one eye, blocking her vision. But even a one-eyed view of this stranger was enough to intimidate her. She had to admit that his impeccable business suit didn’t look very threatening—but then she glanced at his glowering face again.

  With as much poise as possible, she raised a hand to straighten the turban and realized that she was standing in the kitchen wearing washed-out jeans and a white bra. Grabbing the towel from her head, she clasped it to her chest for protection. “Who are you?” she snapped back.

  She must have made a laughable sight, holding a red bath towel in front of her like a matador before a charging bull. This man reminded her of a bull. He was tall, muscular and solidly built. And she somehow knew that when he moved, it would be with effortless power and sudden speed. Not exactly the type of man she’d want to meet in a dark alley. Or a deserted house, for that matter. Already Ellen could see the headlines: Small-Town Girl Assaulted in Capitol Hill Kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in her sternest voice.

  “This is my home!” The words vibrated against the walls like claps of thunder.

  “Your home?” Ellen choked out. “But... I live here.”

  “Not anymore, you don’t.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded a second time.

  “Reed Morgan.”

  Ellen relaxed. “Derek’s brother?”

  “Half-brother.”

  No wonder they didn’t look anything alike. Derek was a lanky, easy-going nineteen-year-old, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. Ellen would certainly never have expected Derek to have a brother—even a half-brother—like this.

  “I—I didn’t know you were coming,” she hedged, feeling utterly foolish.

  “Apparently.” He cocked one eyebrow ever so slightly as he stared at her bare shoulders. He shoved his bag out of the doorway, then sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair. Ellen couldn’t help making the irrelevant observation that it was a dark auburn, thick and lustrous with health.

  He looked tired and irritable, and he obviously wasn’t in the best frame of mind for any explanation as to why she was running around his kitchen half-naked. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she offered congenially, hoping to ease the shock of her presence.

  “What I’d like is for you to put some clothes on.”

  “Yes, of course.” Forcing a smile, Ellen turned abruptly and left the kitchen, feeling humiliated that she could stand there discussing coffee with a stranger when she was practically naked. Running up the stairs, she entered her room and removed her shirt from the end of the bed. Her fingers were trembling as she fastened the buttons.

  Her thoughts spun in confusion. If this house was indeed Reed Morgan’s, then he had every right to ask her to leave. She sincerely hoped he’d made some mistake. Or that she’d misunderstood. It would be difficult to find another place to share this far into the school term. And her meager savings would be quickly wiped out if she had to live somewhere on her own. Ellen’s brow wrinkled with worry as she dragged a brush through her short, bouncy curls, still slightly damp. Being forced to move wouldn’t be a tragedy, but definitely a problem, and she was understandably apprehensive. The role of housemother came naturally to Ellen. The boys could hardly boil water without her. She’d only recently broken them in to using the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine without her assistance.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she found Reed leaning against the counter, holding a mug of coffee.

  “How long has this cozy set-up with you and Derek been going on?”

  “About two months now,” she answered, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Although she rarely drank it she felt she needed something to occupy her hands. “But it’s not what you’re implying. Derek and I are nothing more than friends.”

  “I’ll just bet.”

  Ellen could deal with almost anything except sarcasm. Gritting her teeth until her jaws ached, she replied in an even, controlled voice. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. Derek advertised for a housemate and I answered the ad. I came to live here with him and the others and—”

  “The others?” Reed choked on his mouthful of coffee. “You mean there’s more of you around?”

  Expelling her breath slowly, Ellen met his scowl. “There’s Derek, Pat and—”

  “Is Pat male or female?” The sheer strength of his personality seemed to fill the kitchen. But Ellen refused to be intimidated.

  “Pat is a male friend who attends classes at the university with Derek and me.”

  “So you’re all students?”

  “Yes.”

  “All freshmen?”

  “Yes.”

  He eyed her curiously. “Aren’t you a bit old for that?”

  “I’m twenty-five.” She wasn’t about to explain her circumstances to this man.

  The sound of the front door opening and closing drew their attention to the opposite end of the house. Carrying an armload of books, Derek Morgan sauntered into the kitchen and stopped cold when he caught sight of his older brother.

  “Hi, Reed.” Uncertain eyes flew to Ellen as if seeking reassurance. A worried look pinched the boyishly handsome face. Slowly, he placed his books on the counter.

  “Derek.”

  “I see you’ve met Ellen.” Derek’s welcoming smile was decidedly forced.

  “We more or less stumbled into each other.” Derek’s stiff shoulders relaxed as Reed straightened and set the mug aside.

  “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  Momentarily, Reed’s gaze slid to Ellen. “That much is obvious. Do you want to tell me what’s going on here, little brother?”

  “It’s not as bad is it looks.”

  “Right now it doesn’t look particularly good.”

  “I can explain everything.”

  “I hope so.”

  Nervously swinging her arms, Ellen stepped forward. “If you two will excuse me, I’ll be up in my room.” The last thing she wanted was to find herself stuck between the two brothers while they settled their differences.

  “No, don’t go,” Derek said quickly. His dark eyes pleaded with her to stay.

  Almost involuntarily Ellen glanced at Reed for guidance.

  “By all means, stay.” But his expression wasn’t encouraging.

  A growing sense of resentment made her arch her back and thrust out her chin defiantly. Who was this...this man to burst into their tranquil lives and raise havoc? The four of them lived congenially together, all doing their parts in the smooth running of the household.

  “Are you charging rent?” Reed asked.

  Briefly Derek’s eyes met Ellen’s. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? This big old house has practically as many bedrooms as a dorm. I didn’t think it would hurt.” He swallowed. “I mean, with you being in the Middle East and all. The house was...so empty.”

  “How much are you paying?” Reed directed the question at Ellen. That sarcastic look was back and Ellen hesitated.

  “How much?” Reed repeated.

  Ellen knew from the way Derek’s eyes widened that they were entering into dangerous territory.

  “It’s different with Ellen,” Derek hurried to explain. “She does all the shopping and the cooking, so the rest of us—”

  “Are you sure that’s all she provides?” Reed interrupted harshly.

  Ellen’s gaze didn’t waver. “I pay thirty dollars a week, but believe me, I earn my keep.” The second the words slipped out, Ellen wanted to take them back.

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Ellen was too furious and outraged to speak. How dared he barge into this house
and immediately assume the worst? All right, she’d been walking around half-naked, but she hadn’t exactly been expecting company.

  Angrily Derek stepped forward. “It’s not like that, Reed.”

  “I discovered her prancing around the kitchen in her bra. What else am I supposed to think?”

  Derek groaned and cast an accusing look at Ellen. “I just ran down to get the pie out of the oven,” she said in her own defence.

  “Let me assure you,” Derek said, his voice quavering with righteousness. “You’ve got this all wrong.” He glared indignantly at his older brother. “Ellen isn’t that kind of woman. I resent the implication. You owe us both an apology.”

  From the stunned look on Reed’s face, Ellen surmised that this could well be the first time Derek had stood up to his domineering brother. Her impulse was to clap her hands and shout: “Attaboy!” With immense effort she restrained herself.

  Reed wiped a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps I do.”

  The front door opened and closed again. “Anyone here?” Monte’s eager voice rang from the living room. The slam of his books hitting the stairs echoed through the hallway that led to the kitchen. “Something smells good.” Skidding to an abrupt halt just inside the room, the tall student looked around at the somber faces. “What’s up? You three look like you’re about to attend a funeral.”

  “Are you Pat?” Reed asked.

  “No, Monte.”

  Reed closed his eyes and wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “Just how many bedrooms have you rented out?”

  Derek lowered his gaze to his hands. “Three.”

  “My room?” Reed asked.

  “Yes, well, Ellen needed a place and it seemed logical to give her that one. You were supposed to be gone for a year. What happened?”

  “I came home early.”

  Stepping forward, her fingers nervously laced together, Ellen broke into the tense interchange. “I’ll move up a floor. I don’t mind.” No one was using the third floor of the house, which had at one time been reserved for the servants. The rooms were small and airless, but sleeping there was preferable to suffering the wrath of Derek’s brother. Or worse, having to find somewhere else to live.