So Fell The Sparrow

by Katie Jennings

  “Grace!” Ian’s voice broke through the haze of despair, but she didn’t have the strength to address it. Instead, she covered her face with her hands and gave in to the pain.

  More footsteps pounded over the ground as Alex and Jackie followed Ian to the dock, the three of them in shock at seeing Nellie’s lifeless form.

  “I’ll call an ambulance,” Jackie said before racing back to the house.

  Grace knew it was too late for that. Hell, she’d known the second she spotted the body. Death was something she had long been familiar with. Though she’d always thought she was protected from the emotional aftereffects of it—the sorrow, the anguish. Until death had claimed someone she cared about. That was when everything had changed.

  That was when she had changed.

  And this new loss hurt no less than the last one. She hadn’t toughened from the experience. If anything, she had only weakened. Weakened into a completely unrecognizable shadow of who she once was.

  Ian’s arms came around her as he lifted her to her feet. “Let’s go inside.”

  She had trouble getting her feet to function properly, her mind slow and thick. But she held onto him, letting his supporting arms give her comfort. She hadn’t realized just how badly she needed it.

  While Jackie and Alex dealt with calling the ambulance, Ian brought Grace upstairs to her room. He lowered her onto the bed and sat beside her, slipping his hand into hers.

  Soundless tears slid down her cheeks, her eyes wide open and glassy. She stared at the fog out the window, still in disbelief that Nellie was gone. That same, familiar grief trickled back into her soul, destroying her.

  One more person she cared about was dead. Lost to the world, lost to her. Even though she’d only known Nellie a few weeks, the woman had made an impression on her. She had burrowed her way into Grace’s life as though she wanted to be a permanent part of it.

  But now she wouldn’t be. Grace realized she was just one death closer to being all alone.

  Ian watched her, alarmed by her silence. If she was rioting with emotion on the inside, he couldn’t see it. All he saw was the shell of a woman who felt nothing. He thought he knew her better than to assume she wasn’t experiencing an explosion of pain.

  He could hear the EMTs arrive downstairs and Alex’s voice as he showed them outside.

  A flicker of pain passed over Grace’s face at the sounds, and Ian saw her marble façade begin to crack.

  “These things happen,” he said lamely, unsure how to help her. He tried squeezing her hand, but she only pulled away and got up, avoiding his eyes.

  “I know.” She wandered to the window, hoping to see them take Nellie away. The fog had cleared up just enough for her to see the ghosted figures of the men outside, and she gave herself the closure of watching the deed be completed.

  Ian rose as well, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’d like the three of you to leave me alone for now,” Grace said, the decision instant and final.

  Ian nodded. “Okay. We’ll go back to the library, do some more research.”

  “Don’t come back.” She wrapped her arms around her chest tightly to keep her body from shattering to pieces. Cold settled over her, but she embraced it. It was an old, familiar feeling.

  Ian’s brow creased in confusion. “Ever?”

  She let out a long, slow breath, unable to look at him. “For now. I can’t do this anymore.”

  He started to argue with her, to tell her she wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t being reasonable. But he held his tongue, knowing it wasn’t his place to force her. If she wanted him gone, he’d go. His pride wouldn’t allow him to beg.

  “Okay.” He slowly backed out of the room, hoping she’d change her mind. When she didn’t, he stood in the doorway and fought back the dark feelings of abandonment. “I’ll see you around, Doc.”

  She listened to him go and struggled to convince herself that this was for the best. That being alone was the one and only way for her to survive.

  Then the only death she’d have to mourn would be her own.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “You have my number. Call me if you need me.” Jackie raised her right hand in a salute as she climbed into her Jeep, Gatsby at her side.

  “Don’t you disappear on me,” Alex called out, waving goodbye.

  She sent him a wistful smile and a wink as she put the Jeep in drive and took off.

  Above, the clouds were ominous in the sky, threatening rain. Ian looked at the oncoming storm, feeling restless. “I got the last of our equipment from upstairs. We might as well hit the road. We can check out of the hotel tomorrow morning.”

  Alex turned to him. “You’re not serious about leaving town, are you?”

  “Of course I am.” Ian rounded the front of the van and hopped into the driver’s seat. When Alex joined him inside, Ian flipped on the radio and tapped the steering wheel with his hands impatiently. “She wants us gone. So, I’m out.”

  “She wanted us gone before and you insisted on staying,” Alex pointed out.

  Ian shrugged. “That was different. Death does things to people; it changes them. She said she wants to be alone, so I’m not going to force myself on her.”

  They pulled onto the road and drove the short distance to the hotel in silence. When they arrived, they left the majority of their equipment in the van, removing only their duffle bags of clothes.

  “I don’t know, man. I just don’t feel right about it,” Alex said as he plopped down on the bed he hadn’t slept in for days. He flipped on the television and stared at it blankly. His friend disappeared into the bathroom without a word and, within seconds, the hiss of the shower could be heard over the din of the television.

  Ian set out to scrub away all remnants of the Sparrow House, both physically and emotionally. He didn’t want to even hear the name Grace for the next few weeks. If he did, he knew he’d picture her face, and that would only irritate him.

  He’d made his decision to honor her wishes. That was the gallant thing to do. She should be eternally grateful to him for abandoning an investigation and granting her alone time when there was still evidence to capture and spirits to deal with. God knew she was going to have a hell of a time dealing with it all on her own.

  Thankfully, it was no longer his problem. He was determined to saddle up and move on to bigger and better things, and forget all about Dr. Grace Sullivan and those haunting eyes of hers.

  Hours later, he lay in bed staring at the popcorn ceiling of the hotel room, unable to rid his mind of her. Alex still had the television on, though he seemed distracted as well.

  When Alex spoke, it was clear he wasn’t going to let the situation go. “You need to go back there, man.”

  “No.” Ian crossed his arms, shielding himself with pride and anger.

  Alex faced him. “Don’t tell me you’re cool with leaving her all by herself in that house. After what we saw? After what we heard?”

  Ian grimaced, guilt seeping through his veins. “Why me? You can go.”

  “She’s closest with you.”

  “I’d say she never wanted to get close to any of us.”

  “Will you just go so I can get some fucking sleep?” Alex fired back.

  Ian looked at his friend. “Why can’t you just let it go?”

  “Because unlike you, I give a shit about other people.”

  Ian gave in to his own temper as he sat up. “If I go over there, I’ll just be wasting my time. She wants to be alone.”

  “Nobody really wants to be alone, Ian.” Alex shook his head tiredly, laying back on the bed and closing his eyes. “Just go. We’ll both feel better about all of this if you do.”

  “Fine.” Ian climbed out of bed and changed into a pair of jeans. “But if she chews me out, I’m blaming it all on you.”

  “Go for it.” Alex waved him off, already falling asleep.

  Grumbling under his breath, Ian slipped out o
f the hotel room and into the night. As he got into the van, a steady rain began to fall.

  “Great.” He sighed, flipping on the windshield wipers as he pulled onto the road.

  * * *

  For the first time in weeks, Grace found the courage to play her beloved cello.

  She dragged a chair up from the kitchen and dropped it on the floor of her bedroom, knowing it had to be there. If she was going to break free it needed to be in the one place that felt the most like home.

  Outside, the rain turned into a steady downpour, dripping down the window pane like mournful tears. She lit a few candles and scattered them along the floor around her, needing their ambient glow. Somehow, she knew it would inspire the music just itching to be released from her system.

  When she lifted the instrument from its protective case, she let her fingers trail over the glossy wood surface lovingly, reverently. She cradled it between her legs as she sat in the chair, one hand tenderly holding the bow, the other clutched purposefully along the strings. Raising her eyes to the rain, she began to play.

  Softly, at first. The old, familiar feeling slowly returned to her limbs, her mind recalling the movements. Her arm shifted right and left with a steady elegance that produced the richest, most soulful sound. It sang through her ears like magic, and her broken, damaged heart filled with joy.

  She felt a cool breeze circle around her, almost like a draft through a cracked window. Yet it seemed to have a mind of its own as it enveloped her in an almost comforting cocoon of energy, pulsating with life. The hairs on her arms stood up, goose bumps shivering along her skin. She stopped playing as her eyes widened, looking around the room wildly in search of what caused it. She saw nothing, but she certainly felt it.

  A soft, childlike hand caressed the bare skin of her shoulder affectionately. She nearly jumped out of her chair, but something held her back, told her it was okay. To not be afraid.

  She released an unsteady laugh as she clutched her cello, her heart racing with terror and exhilaration all at once.

  When a few strings of her cello were plucked, creating an odd little sound, Grace nearly fainted. “Oh, my God,” she gasped, shutting her eyes tight and biting her lower lip so hard it nearly bled. She had to keep from panicking; she had to remain calm.

  Hadn’t she wanted this? Hadn’t she wanted proof?

  “Sally…” Grace whispered, opening her eyes and staring around the room. She still saw nothing, but she knew she wasn’t alone. She felt a few strands of her hair lift off her head, and tears suddenly spilled from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. So sorry I didn’t believe in you…”

  She thought she heard the distant sound of laughter and singing, hollow and surreal, and it only made her weep more. Riding on the discovery, on the stunning confirmation of her darkest hopes and fears, Grace poured her soul into the music. She sought the refuge it offered, and somewhere deep inside she knew Sally wanted her to play.

  Somehow, she knew that Sally had always loved music.

  She gave in to the urgency and played with a vibrant fervor that took her beyond her own body, her own life.

  In those moments of such brilliant heartache, Grace became a believer.

  * * *

  When Ian arrived at the house, he paused before the front door. He started to knock, only to freeze as the door slowly swung open on its own. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as he gently pushed his way through, staring around the empty, dark entryway.

  “Grace?”

  That was when he heard the music.

  He let out the breath he’d been holding, relief coursing through him. He started to leave, figuring if she was feeling up to playing her cello then she must be okay. But something stopped him, pulled him back.

  The front door clicked shut as if pushed by an invisible force. Then he felt something tugging at the bottom of his shirt, urging him toward the stairs. Fear rose in his throat, but he pushed it away, somehow reassured that it would be all right.

  All he had to do was go upstairs.

  The old wood creaked under his weight as he ascended the steps, consumed by the music. It echoed loudly through the house, deep and vibrant and filled with a sorrow so genuine it tore at his heart.

  When he slipped into the bedroom and caught sight of her, he lost the ability to breathe.

  Her back faced him as she furiously played, her entire body shifting with the movement as the music poured out of the instrument she held. The light of the candles flickered hauntingly over her skin as the rain pounded against the window.

  He had never seen anything more powerful, more graceful, more emotionally charged than what he witnessed at that moment. She embodied all those things, and the fervor of her playing stunned him.

  So much strength and sorrow. So much undeniable passion.

  Her hair fell over her face as she let her head fall back, completely absorbed in the cello’s evocative sound. She vaguely heard the footsteps behind her, and knew instantly it was him. She’d know his presence anywhere. He had returned, after all.

  When his hand fell over her shoulder, she slowed her playing to a smoother, more soulful level. She heard Sally laughing once again and basked in the blissful sound of it as she brought the song she played to a close, ending on a soft, sweet note meant as a dedication to the little girl she never imagined she would believe existed.

  For a moment, she let her heart and her breathing settle to a quiet calm. Then she tilted her head back and looked at him. “You came back.”

  The fragility in her eyes said it all.

  Ian swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, unsure what to say to her as she rose to her feet and set her cello against the wall.

  “Will you sit with me?” she asked, motioning to the bed. He followed her and sat down, impossibly moved when she reached for his hand. She seemed so calm now, so open and vulnerable. The impact it had on him was extraordinary.

  “You play really well.”

  Grace smiled. “I’ve been playing since I was a teenager.”

  “Your parents must be proud.”

  Sadness filled her, but she embraced the feeling with a growing strength and sense of closure. At last, she knew she could face the truth of what happened without fear of looking weak.

  “They were…before they died.” She watched the regret flash in his eyes and was sorry for it. She didn’t want to burden him with the truth, but she knew he would want to hear it. “That’s the real reason I came here. The real reason I left everything I had—everything I was—behind.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her gaze shifted to the window to watch the rain. “I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I had enough of that in Chicago.”

  He knew he would have felt the same way. “What happened to them?”

  “Car accident.” She closed her eyes briefly, then faced him unashamed as tears trailed down her cheeks. “They were all I had. Then I came here, and Nellie sort of became my family. And now that she’s gone…I have no one.”

  “You have us,” he reminded her, slipping his hand from hers and wrapping his arm around her instead. She rested her head on his shoulder, grateful for him.

  For a while they said nothing, both enjoying the sound of the rain. When Grace spoke again, there was a deep regret in her voice. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”

  His brows knit together as he gently ran his hand along her arm. “What do you mean?”

  She pulled away from him, her eyes searching his. “Sally was in this room with me. She touched my shoulder and my hair, and I heard her laughing…Ian, I was so afraid, but I can’t deny what I felt, what I heard. She needed me to believe in her, and now I do.”

  He smiled. “Welcome to the dark side, Doc.”

  She laughed even as more tears fell from her eyes. Tears of stunned relief. “I know, I know. I’ve been so stupid.”

  “You’ve been a skeptic, there’s a difference.” He brushed aside one of the tears, his hand cradling her cheek. “A small o
ne, but a difference all the same. No one blames you for that.”

  “I do,” she decided, leaning against his hand. “I still need some time alone…but I don’t want you to leave for good.” She pressed her lips softly against his palm, the act one of humility, of tenderness. “Just don’t leave me tonight.”

  “I won’t.” He helped her lay down on the bed, cradling her in his arms. His mouth brushed over the back of her neck as he spoke. “Get some sleep.”

  She nodded, exhaustion overtaking her as her eyes fluttered closed. A soothing sense of contentment and relief washed over her, and she rode the wave of it into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  “Where have you been going lately? I haven’t seen you at all,” Dominic complained, grabbing Jackie by the arm and dragging her against him. He lowered his head to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

  “I told you, I’m helping my friends with a bad spirit.” Jackie tried to free herself of his grasp but found he wasn’t letting go. Her dark eyes shot to his in warning. “Let me go.”

  Dominic laughed and ignored her request. “You and your spirits, Jackie. When are you going to give up on that?”

  “The same day you throw out your needles.” Fire sparked in her eyes, her usually placid temper set aflame. “Now let me go. I need to sleep.”

  “They kick you out, and you come crawling back here and I’m supposed to just let you in? You don’t live here.” Dominic backed off, wiping his nose with his forearm. He shot her a bitter glare. “You come and go like you’ve always done, figuring old Dominic will be here when you need me. What am I to you, anyway?”

  She frowned, knowing in her heart that he was right. But then again, she was who she was. And she would change for no one.

  “You’re my friend,” she began, reaching out for his hand so he would turn to face her. When their eyes met, she fell back on the same old words she always said to him. “I belong to everyone and no one at the same time, darling. You know that I can never stay.”