Linda Goodnight - The Rain Sparrow

A stranger’s arrival in a small Southern town stirs up old secrets and new dreams in this beautiful story full of hope and haunting mystery, and with the power to win your heart

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. He’s determined to outrun his personal demons, but the charming old Peach Orchard Inn and a woman whose presence is as gentle as a sparrow’s song stops him in his tracks.

Carrie Riley is afraid of everything from flying to thunderstorms, and pretty much of life itself. But meeting the enigmatic writer staying at the inn emboldens her to learn everything about him. When they discover a vulnerable boy hiding at the inn, Hayden is compelled to help Carrie protect him. Soon they’re led to a centuries-old mystery that haunts Hayden’s sleep, and his only safe haven is Carrie. As the secrets of the past and present cause their lives to become entwined, all that’s left to come to light is love—if the grim truth doesn’t tear them apart first.

Praise for Linda Goodnight

“This is a story of painful emotions, loss, grief, love and redemption. It’s loaded with angst but it’s quiet, smoldering angst not in-your-face, slap you upside the head angst.”

—Dear Author on The Memory House

“These characters struggle to help themselves and others, and their journeys culminate in a most satisfying resolution.”

—Bookreporter on The Memory House

“This is the final installment in the Redemption River series, a truly inspiring story of overcoming trying circumstances and discovering personal strength.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Last Bridge Home, 4½ stars

“From its sad, touching beginning to an equally moving conclusion,

A Touch of Grace will keep you riveted.”

—RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars, Top Pick

“The Heart of Grace, by Linda Goodnight, is a wonderfully poignant story with excellent character development.”

—RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars

www.mirabooks.co.uk

In memory of Travis Goodnight and with gratitude for the time we had. Though your life was far too short, you made a difference in so many others, especially in those of your family. We miss your larger-than-life personality, your brilliance and wisdom, your giant laugh, and your bigger heart. Love you forever and always.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise for Linda Goodnight

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

1

I’m tired, boss...tired of bein’ on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain.

—The Green Mile

Present Day, Honey Ridge, Tennessee

Brody hated Fridays.

He knew what would happen if he went home. So he didn’t. He hung out at the library until it closed, and then, wishing he had money for a hamburger, he wandered down to his spot on Magnolia Creek. It was a pretty good hike, a couple of miles out of town past the Griffin sisters’ peach orchard and through a hundred yards of tangled weeds, but at eleven, he was up for it. He could have run that far and not been out of breath.

When the night surrounded him and clouds gathered in the inky sky, he once more contemplated going home. He was hungry, but food wasn’t always worth the trouble. He wasn’t afraid of the dark or of being alone deep in the country. Home was a whole lot scarier.

Stretched out on the cool earth with his hands stacked behind his head, he listened to the peaceful night sounds, the sawing rhythm of katydids that sometimes grew so loud he felt as if they were inside him, and the splash of bullfrogs diving from the nearby bank.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. It was probably somewhere far off, clean over in the mountains. He wouldn’t worry about that. He didn’t mind a little rain. If he had to, he could hightail it past the inn to the abandoned gristmill, even though the place was kind of spooky.

The mill was probably haunted. That’s what his buddy Spence said. The last time they’d gone there to explore, Spence had heard something and freaked out, so Brody would rather not go to the mill unless he had to.

Would the old man be passed out by now? Or would he be waiting with clenched fist and a hankering to take out his hatred of life on the good-for-nothing son of the good-for-less woman who’d left them both so long ago the boy had forgotten her? Mostly. Somehow it was Brody’s fault that his mother had left, and the old man never let him forget it, though he never gave a reason. Brody was pretty much clueless about his absentee mother. His angry father he understood, but thoughts of his mother left him lonely and nursing guilt he didn’t understand. He must have done something really bad to make her up and leave that way.

A mosquito buzzed somewhere in the humid darkness. He listened close while the pest came in for a landing, waited until the sound stopped and then he swatted. A few bug bites was better than the alternative.

He didn’t like killing anything, even bugs, but as the old man would say, “It’s a dog-eat-dog world. Eat the dog before he eats you.”

Something about that didn’t sound right to Brody, but what did he know? That’s what the old man always said. A punk kid like Brody didn’t know nothing.

He sighed at the moon and closed his eyes.

Better catch some z’s and wait awhile longer. The old man was a bull, and once enraged, he had blood in his eyes. Clint Thomson was seldom anything but enraged on payday, especially when it came to his good-for-nothing son.

2

It was a dark and stormy night, a cliché Hayden Winters dearly loved. These broody, moody nights of lightning and thunder and violent wind fueled his imagination like no other. A man intent on committing murder...

The storm had moved in around midnight, interrupting his original plans to sleep. He could never sleep on a night like this. Didn’t want to, especially here in a house filled with memories and secrets.

Everyone, he believed, had a secret, and the South was filled with them. That’s why he’d come.

Hayden had a secret, too, a psychological cankerworm. One that was eating a raw, black hole in his soul. Not that he’d ever let anyone see inside to know that much about him. To the world, Hayden Winters was a winner, a success, a man who brushed problems away with a charming smile. He was a man invited to the best parties he seldom attended and who gave rare but coveted interviews. A man with a charmed life.

But on these dark, moody, broody nights the demons danced around the edges of his fertile mind. He wondered at his sanity, and he knew it was only by a merciful God that he was strong of constitution and could keep the demons in their rightful place. Most of the time.