The Rain Sparrow

by Debbie Macomber

  “But, Ellen, he isn’t going to be there.”

  “Reed isn’t the reason,” she assured him. Undoubtedly, Reed would be spending the holiday with Danielle. She made an effort to ignore the flash of pain that accompanied the thought; she knew she had no right to feel hurt if Reed chose to spend Thanksgiving with his “almost” fiancée.

  “You’re sure?” Derek didn’t look convinced.

  “You could come and spend the day with my family,” Pat offered next.

  “Will you two quit acting like it’s such a terrible tragedy? I’m going to enjoy an entire day alone. Look at these nails.” She fanned her fingers and held them up for their inspection. “For once, I’ll have an uninterrupted block of time to do all the things I’ve delayed for weeks.”

  “All right, but if you change your mind, give me a call.”

  “I asked her first,” Derek argued. “You’ll call me. Right?”

  “Right to you both.”

  * * *

  THANKSGIVING MORNING, ELLEN woke to a torrential downpour. Rain pelted against the window and the day seemed destined to be a melancholy one. She lounged in her room and read, enjoying the luxury of not having to rush around, preparing breakfast for the whole household.

  She wandered down to the kitchen, where she was greeted by a heavy silence. The house was definitely empty. Apparently, Reed, too, had started his day early. Ellen couldn’t decide whether she was pleased or annoyed that she had seen so little of him since his return from Denver. He’d been the one to avoid her, and she’d concluded that two could play his silly game. So she’d purposely stayed out of his way. She smiled sadly as she reflected on the past few days. She and Reed had been acting like a couple of adolescents.

  She ate a bowl of cornflakes and spent the next hour wiping down the cupboards, with the radio tuned to the soft-rock music station. Whenever a particularly romantic ballad aired, she danced around the kitchen with an imaginary partner. Not so imaginary, really. In her mind, she was in Reed’s arms.

  The silence became more oppressive during the afternoon, while Ellen busied herself fussing over her nails. When the final layer of polish had dried, she decided to turn on the television to drown out the quiet. An hour into the football game, Ellen noticed that it was nearly dinnertime, and she suddenly felt hungry.

  She made popcorn in the microwave and splurged by dripping melted butter over the top. She carried the bowl into the living room and got back on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. She’d just found a comfortable position when she heard a noise in the kitchen.

  Frowning, she twisted around, wondering who it could be.

  The door into the living room swung open and Ellen’s heart rate soared into double time.

  “Reed?” She blinked to make sure he wasn’t an apparition.

  “Hello.”

  He didn’t vanish. Instead he took several steps in her direction. “That popcorn smells great.”

  Without considering the wisdom of her offer, she held out the bowl to him. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.” He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair before joining her on the sofa. He leaned forward, studying the TV. “Who’s winning?”

  Ellen was momentarily confused, until she realized he was asking about the football game. “I don’t know. I haven’t paid that much attention.”

  Reed reached for another handful of popcorn and Ellen set the bowl on the coffee table. Her emotions were muddled. She couldn’t imagine what Reed was doing here when he was supposed to be at Danielle’s. Although the question burned in her mind, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She glanced at him covertly, but Reed was staring at the TV as though he was alone in the room.

  “I’ll get us something to drink,” she volunteered.

  “Great.”

  Even while she was speaking, Reed hadn’t looked in her direction. Slightly piqued by his attitude, she stalked into the kitchen and took two Pepsis out of the refrigerator.

  When she returned with the soft drinks and two glasses filled with ice, Reed took one set from her. “Thanks,” he murmured, popping open the can. He carefully poured his soda over the ice and set the can aside before taking a sip.

  “You’re welcome.” She flopped down again, pretending to watch television. But her mind was spinning in a hundred different directions. When she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, she blurted out the question that dominated her thoughts.

  “Reed, what are you doing here?”

  He took a long swallow before answering her. “I happen to live here.”

  “You know what I mean. You should be with Danielle.”

  “I was earlier, but I decided I preferred your company.”

  “I don’t need your sympathy,” she snapped, then swallowed painfully and averted her gaze. Her fingers tightened around the cold glass until the chill extended up her arm. “I’m perfectly content to spend the day alone. I just wish everyone would quit saving me from myself.”

  His low chuckle was unexpected. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I already told you.”

  “I can’t accept that,” she said shakily. He was toying with her emotions, and the thought made her all the more furious.

  “All right.” Determinedly, he set down his drink and turned toward her. “I felt this was the perfect opportunity for us to talk.”

  “You haven’t said more than ten words to me in three days. What makes this one day so special?”

  “We’re alone, aren’t we, and that’s more than we can usually say.” His voice was strained. He hesitated a moment, his lips pressed together in a thin, hard line. “I don’t know what’s happening with us.”

  “Nothing’s happening,” she said wildly. “You kissed me, and we both admitted it was a mistake. Can’t we leave it at that?”

  “No,” he answered dryly. “I don’t believe it was such a major tragedy, and neither do you.”

  If it had really been a mistake, Ellen wouldn’t have remembered it with such vivid clarity. Nor would she yearn for the taste of him again and again, or hurt so much when she knew he was with Danielle.

  Swiftly she turned her eyes away from the disturbing intensity of his, unwilling to reveal the depth of her feelings.

  “It wasn’t a mistake, was it, Ellen?” he prompted in a husky voice.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No,” she whispered, but the word was barely audible.

  He gathered her close and she felt his deep shudder of satisfaction as he buried his face in her hair. Long moments passed before he spoke. “Nothing that felt so right could have been a mistake.”

  Tenderly he kissed her, his lips touching hers with a gentleness she hadn’t expected. As if he feared she was somehow fragile; as if he found her highly precious. Without conscious decision, she slipped her arms around him.

  “The whole time Danielle and I were together this afternoon, I was wishing it was you. Today, of all days, it seemed important to be with you.”

  Ellen gazed up into his eyes and saw not only his gentleness, but his confusion. Her fingers slid into the thick hair around his lean, rugged face. “Danielle couldn’t have been pleased when you left.”

  “She wasn’t. I didn’t even know how to explain it to her. I don’t know how to explain it to myself.”

  Ellen swallowed the dryness that constricted her throat. “Do you want me to move out of the house?”

  “No,” he said forcefully, then added more quietly, “I think I’d go crazy if you did. Are you a witch who’s cast some spell over me?”

  She tried unsuccessfully to answer him, but no words of denial came. The knowledge that he was experiencing these strange whirling emotions was enough to overwhelm her.

 
“If so, the spell is working,” he murmured, although he didn’t sound particularly happy about the idea.

  “I’m confused, too,” she admitted and leaned her forehead against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her open hand.

  His long fingers stroked her hair. “I know.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “The night you went out with Charlie, I was completely unreasonable. I need to apologize for the things I said. To put it simply, I was jealous. I’ve acknowledged that, these last weeks in Denver.” Some of the tightness left his voice, as though the events of that night had weighed heavily on his mind. “I didn’t like the idea of another man holding you, and when I saw the two of you kissing, I think I went a little berserk.”

  “I...we don’t date often.”

  “I won’t ask you not to see him again,” he said reluctantly. “I can’t ask anything of you.”

  “Nor can I ask anything of you.”

  His grip around her tightened. “Let’s give this time.”

  “It’s the only thing we can do.”

  Reed straightened and draped his arm around Ellen’s shoulders, drawing her close to his side. Her head nestled against his chest. “I’d like us to start going out together,” he said, his chin resting on the crown of her head. “Will that cause a problem for you?”

  “Cause a problem?” she repeated uncertainly.

  “I’m thinking about the boys.”

  Remembering their earlier buffoonery and the way they’d taken such delight in teasing her, Ellen shrugged. If those three had any evidence of a romance between her and Reed, they could make everyone’s lives miserable. “I don’t know.”

  “Then let’s play it cool for a while. We’ll move into this gradually until they become accustomed to seeing us together. That way it won’t be any big deal.”

  “I think you might be right.” She didn’t like pretence or deceit, but she’d be the one subjected to their heckling. They wouldn’t dare try it with Reed.

  “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Not as much as I will. But how are we going to do this? It’ll be obvious that we’re going out,” he mused aloud.

  “Not if we leave the house at different times,” she said.

  She could feel his frown. “Is that really necessary?”

  “I’m afraid so....”

  Ellen and Reed spent the rest of the evening doing nothing more exciting than watching television. His arm remained securely around her shoulders and she felt a sense of deep contentment that was new to her. It was a peaceful interlude during a time that had become increasingly wrought with stress.

  Derek got back to the house close to nine-thirty. They both heard him lope in through the kitchen and Reed gave Ellen a quick kiss before withdrawing his arm.

  “Hi.” Derek entered the room and stood beside the sofa, shuffling his feet. “Dad wondered where you were.” His gaze flitted from Ellen to his brother.

  “I told them I wouldn’t be there for dinner.”

  “I know. But Danielle called looking for you.”

  “She knew where I was.”

  “Apparently not.” Reed’s younger brother gestured with one hand. “Are you two friends again?”

  Reed’s eyes found Ellen’s and he smiled. “You could say that.”

  “Good. You haven’t been the easiest people to be around lately.” Without giving them a chance to respond, he whirled around and marched upstairs.

  Ellen placed a hand over her mouth to smother her giggles. “Well, he certainly told us.”

  Amusement flared in Reed’s eyes, and he chuckled softly. “I guess he did, at that.” His arm slid around Ellen’s shoulders once again. “Have you been difficult lately?”

  “I’m never difficult,” she said.

  “Me neither.”

  They exchanged smiles and went back to watching their movie.

  As much as Ellen tried to concentrate on the television, her mind unwillingly returned to Derek’s announcement. “Do you think you should call Danielle?” She cast her eyes down, disguising her discomfort. Spending these past few hours with Reed had been like an unexpected Christmas gift, granted early. But she felt guilty that it had been at the other woman’s expense.

  Impatience tightened Reed’s mouth. “Maybe I’d better. I didn’t mean to offend her or her family by leaving early.” He paused a moment, then added, “Danielle’s kind of high-strung.”

  Ellen had noticed that, but she had no intention of mentioning it. And she had no intention of listening in on their conversation, either. “While you’re doing that, I’ll wash up the popcorn dishes, then go to bed.”

  Reed’s eyes widened slightly in a mock reprimand. “It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, faking a yawn, “but I’ve got this hot date tomorrow night and I want to be well rested for it.”

  The front door opened and Pat sauntered in, carrying his duffel bag. “Hi.” He stopped and studied them curiously. “Hi,” he repeated.

  “I thought you were staying at your parents’ for the weekend.” Ellen remembered that he’d said something about being gone for the entire four-day holiday.

  “Mom gave my bedroom to one of my aunts. I can’t see any reason to sleep on the floor when I’ve got a bed here.”

  “Makes sense,” Reed said with a grin.

  “Are you two getting along again?”

  “We never fought.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Pat mumbled sarcastically. “And a basket isn’t worth two points.”

  Ellen had been unaware how much her disagreement with Reed had affected the boys. Apparently, Reed’s reaction was the same as hers; their eyes met briefly in silent communication.

  “I’ll go up with you,” she told Pat. “See you in the morning, Reed.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She left Pat on the second floor to trudge up to the third.

  It shouldn’t have been a surprise that she slept so well. Her mind was at ease and she awoke feeling contented and hopeful. Neither she nor Reed had made any commitments yet. They didn’t know if what they felt would last a day or a lifetime. They were explorers, discovering the uncharted territory of a new relationship.

  She hurried down the stairs early the next morning. Reed was already up, sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper.

  “Morning,” she said, pouring water into the tea kettle and setting it on the burner.

  “Morning.” His eyes didn’t leave the paper.

  Ellen got a mug from the cupboard and walked past Reed on her way to get the canister of tea. His hand reached out and clasped her around the waist, pulling her down into his lap.

  Before she could protest, his mouth firmly covered hers. When the kiss was over, Ellen straightened, resting her hands on his shoulders. “What was that for?” she asked to disguise how flustered he made her feel.

  “Just to say good morning,” he said in a warm, husky voice. “I don’t imagine I’ll have too many opportunities to do it in such a pleasant manner.”

  “No,” she said and cleared her throat. “Probably not.”

  Ellen was sitting at the table, with a section of the paper propped up in front of her, when the boys came into the kitchen.

  “Morning,” Monte murmured vaguely as he opened the refrigerator. He was barefoot, his hair was uncombed and his shirt was still unbuttoned. “What’s for breakfast?”

  “Whatever your little heart desires,” she told him, neatly folding over a page of the paper.

  “Does this mean you’re not cooking?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But—”

  Reed lowered the sports page and glared openly at Mo
nte.

  “Cold cereal will be fine,” Monte grumbled and took down a large serving bowl, emptying half the contents of a box of rice crisps inside.

  “Hey, save some for me,” Pat hollered from the doorway. “That’s my favorite.”

  “I was here first.”

  Derek strolled into the kitchen. “Does everyone have to argue?”

  “Everyone?” Reed cocked a brow in his brother’s direction.

  “First it was you and Ellen, and now it’s Pat and Monte.”

  “Hey, that’s right,” Monte cried. “You two aren’t fighting. That’s great.” He set his serving bowl of rice crisps on the table. “Does this mean...you’re...you know?”

  Lowering the paper, Ellen eyed him sardonically. “No, I don’t know.”

  “Are you...seeing each other?” A deep flush darkened Monte’s face.

  “We see each other every day.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  “But that’s all I’m answering.” From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Pat pantomiming a fiddler, and she groaned inwardly. The boys were going to make it difficult to maintain any kind of romantic relationship with Reed. She cast him a speculative glance. But if Reed had noticed the activity around him, he wasn’t letting on, and Ellen was grateful.

  “I’ve got a practice game tonight,” Pat told Ellen as he buttered a piece of toast. “Do you want to come?”

  Flustered, she automatically sought out Reed. “Sorry... I’d like to come, but I’ve got a date.”

  “Bring him along.”

  “I...don’t know if he likes basketball.”

  “Yeah, he does,” Derek supplied. “Charlie and I were talking about it recently and he said it’s one of his favorite games.”

  She didn’t want to tell an outright lie. But she would save herself a lot of aggravation if she simply let Derek and the others assume it was Charlie she’d be seeing.

  “What about you, Reed?” Derek asked.

  His gaze didn’t flicker from the paper and Ellen marveled at his ability to appear so dispassionate. “Not tonight. Thanks anyway.”

  “Have you got a date, too?” Derek pressed.

  It seemed as though everyone in the kitchen was watching Reed, waiting for his response. “I generally go out on Friday nights.”