Linda Goodnight - The Rain Sparrow

Hayden placed a hand on top of the book. “Could we talk a minute before we start on homework?”

Uncertainty flitted across Brody’s face. He fidgeted. “What about?”

I want to know if your old man is knocking you around. I want to know if your mother calls or visits.

Instead, Hayden kept the conversation neutral. “You know your way around Honey Ridge pretty well—don’t you?”

“Lived here all my life.” Brody sounded as if he was ancient instead of eleven.

“I’m new to Honey Ridge, so maybe you could tell me about your town.”

Brody looked bewildered. “Like what?”

Hayden had the fleeting notion that he was about to jump off into uncharted territory. He didn’t get involved, certainly not with kids that reminded him too much of himself. He donated to causes, to literacy, to poverty programs, but he never got involved. Not personally and never more than necessary. He observed, he pried into other people’s business to get what he needed for his books and felt no guilt for refusing to allow them to pry in return. Then he quietly disappeared to write his stories.

Involvement was temporary and surface only. Involvement danced too close to the fire of revelation.

He studied the boy and had a painful flashback of being ten years old and feeling completely alone in the world.

Dora Lee had gone somewhere with her latest boyfriend, which was always a relief to Hayden. Boyfriends tended to dislike Dora Lee’s bookish brat.

The trailer had no heat, no food, and he’d slept huddled inside a sour-smelling quilt between the mattress and box springs for warmth. His gnawing belly kept him awake.

He’d never told a living soul of those cold, hungry days alone. It had been Christmas.

He suppressed the urge to ask the hard questions, knowing Brody would lie the same as Hayden would have. Protect the guilty because they were all you had.

One person, one calm oasis in a world of chaos, could change everything.

Brody needed an oasis.

But Hayden was no one’s savior. He didn’t have the hero gene. His time in Honey Ridge was limited. Brody’s situation, if there was one, was like a knife pressed too close to the bone.

Do the right thing, Hayden.

What if Mr. Franks had been a coward? Where would Hayden be today?

With an inward sigh and confident he’d live to regret the decision, he said, “I have a proposition for you.”

“What’s a proposition?”

“A deal. I need a guide to show me around town sometimes. Got any ideas for me?” Not that he actually needed a guide any more than he needed to get involved with a boy from a troubled home. Potentially troubled, as Carrie had reminded him.

Hayden felt compelled to find out one way or the other. He didn’t need a shrink to know the reasons.

The boy tilted his head and squinched his face. Nose freckles consolidated into a patch of tan across his cheekbones. “The Sweat twins know everything, but they’re really old. They might not have the energy.”

Carrie reappeared. She didn’t say a word, but Hayden felt the quiet freshness of her presence. Brody looked up. “Hi, Miss Carrie.”

She smoothed a hand down the back of the boy’s head. Hayden felt her touch all the way to his toes. Pathetic that he should still long for what he’d never had. He, a man with everything he ever wanted. Except that.

Steeling himself against the bizarre thoughts, he turned his attention back to the boy. “I was thinking about you.”

There. He’d done it. Jumped into the deep, aware that he was projecting his own sorry past and angry parent onto Brody.

Being wrong was acceptable. Being right and doing nothing wasn’t.

Brody lit up. Sitting up straighter, he tapped a hand against his chest, expression equal parts incredulous and excited. “Me?”

“Why not? You can do the job, can’t you?”

“Sure. I guess. I’m not doing anything anyway. And I know everybody in town. Mostly.”

“Great. We have a deal, then. After school on the days you’re not too busy with homework and while your dad is working, I’ll pick you up at your place and you can show me around.”

Brody’s mood darkened. “My dad might not like it.”

“I’ll talk to him first and explain that you’d be doing me a favor and getting paid at the same time. How about that?”

Brody shook his head. “I come to the library every day after school anyway. We can meet up here. My dad won’t have to know.”

That worked for Hayden. Sometimes keeping your mouth shut was the safest way.

Carrie’s soft voice intruded. “Not a good idea, Brody. Your dad would worry if he doesn’t know what you’re doing or who you’re with.”

“Nah, he don’t care about that. He just gets mad if I bother him about stupid stuff that don’t matter to him.” Then, as if he’d said too much, Brody slunk down in his chair and went silent, arms crossed tightly over the raptor logo.

Hayden huffed a frustrated breath. This was between him and Brody. Carrie should stay out of it.

He shot her a warning look and then said to Brody, “Is your dad working tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing for dinner?”

“I don’t know.” The words were mumbled.

“Can you recommend a good burger place?”

Brody’s head came up. “Plenty of them around here.”

“I’m starved. Let’s grab a burger and talk this over. We’ll figure out something.”

The boy looked to Carrie. Her lips had thinned as if she was annoyed with Hayden for pushing. But pushing was how he’d gotten to where he was. No risk, no reward.

Soften a kid up with food and they’d tell you things. He knew about that, too.

“I guess I can do my homework later.” Brody jammed the English book back into the bag.

“You should do your homework first, Brody.” Carrie glared at Hayden with those soft eyes now glittering with annoyance.

Hayden held up both hands in surrender. “I guess you’re stuck, Brody. We don’t want to make Miss Carrie mad. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to need this library over the next couple of months.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Miss Carrie’s usually real nice.”

Teeth bared, Carrie flared her fingers like claws. “They don’t call me the dragon lady for nothing.”

Hayden offered his most charming smile, wanting back on her good side. “The dragon lady wins. Homework first, Brody, my man. We’ll hang around until closing time and feed Miss Carrie a burger, too. Maybe some ice cream. Sweeten her up.”

“The library doesn’t close until five,” she said.

“Which gives my pal and me time to wrestle out the English assignment. Then we can drive around Honey Ridge, and you can show me the sights.”

Carrie shook her head. The light caught the pearly luminescence of her earrings. “We already have breakfast on Thursday.”

“You only eat once a week?”

She huffed, amused. “I have books to drop off after closing. Shut-ins that live up on the ridge.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

She blinked, puzzled. “Why would you want to?”

Because you intrigue me. All buttoned up, neat and tidy, and fresh as a flower. When his curiosity was roused, he never backed off until it was satisfied.

If he was truthful, he felt a connection with Carrie, whether because of Brody or their obvious shared love of books or something else. He wanted to know her better.

“Research,” he lied, smooth as warm butter. “I need to get the lay of the countryside anyway.”

“Oh, right.” Her eyes twinkled. “A place to commit murder.”

His smile was intentionally diabolical. “Exactly.”

“In that case, you’re staying across the road from the creepiest place in Honey Ridge. You should check that out first.”