A Nest of Sparrows

by Deborah Raney

  Suddenly knowing what he needed to do, Wade went downstairs and out to the garage. Shouldering his load back upstairs, he set the stepladder up in the corner by the bedroom door, then reached for the paint can. The lid was stuck tight, but he pried it off and carefully set it aside. The pungent smell that drifted to his nostrils brought memories of that terrible day careening back. But a spirit of resolve came over him, and he pushed away the awful images. He plunged a flat wooden paint stick into the can and stirred until the paint was the texture of thick cream.

  He climbed the ladder and began to apply thick strokes of yellow over the moss-green words that crept around the top of the wall. He had to slap the paint on thick to cover the craft paint she’d traced her penciled calligraphy with. At first it pained him to be obliterating what Starr had meant as a surprise for him. To destroy her meticulous work of love. But with each stroke of the brush, he felt the wound in his heart lessen, and healing begin.

  After an hour of steady work, painstakingly blending the new coat of paint with the old, he climbed down to move the ladder again. Looking up at his work, he read what remained on the wall. The best is yet to be…

  His breath caught in his throat at the promise Starr had unknowingly left for him. The best is yet to be… It was as though God had made the words of the poem brand new, infusing them with meaning that was for him, right now, in this season of his life.

  He thought of the Scripture that promised a day when God would wipe away every tear, when there would be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. How he longed for that day. Maybe this was what “the best is yet to be” meant for him. Maybe it wasn’t to be on this earth. But suddenly it didn’t matter. Whether on this side of heaven or the other, it was a promise he could grasp, a promise to live by.

  He scooted the ladder to the next wall and began to brush paint over the words in long, smooth strokes. He didn’t need them on his wall as a reminder, for now they were imprinted on his heart.

  Tomorrow, he would plane the closet doors and re-hang them, then wire the new light fixtures Starr had selected. He would ask Pete to help him move the queen-size bed down from the attic. He would bring his things up from the den and make this room his own. It was time to move on.

  Maybe the best was yet to be.

  Wade turned and watched the sun peek over the hedgerow to the east. Dee would be here with the kids in a few minutes, but before they arrived, he wanted to load some tools he’d borrowed from Pete into the pickup.

  He went to the garage and lifted the heavy old door. He hoisted Pete’s mitre saw and sawhorses into the truck bed, then backed the truck out onto the drive.

  He’d tried to put the significance of this day out of his mind. But it barreled back over him like a steamroller. Today would be his last visit with the kids before the final hearing. His last time with Dee.

  In less than a week the judge would announce his decision and grant custody to him, or to Darrin Parnell. Either way, Wade’s life would be forever changed. He faced it with an odd mixture of peace and trepidation. For the children’s sake, it was time for this to be over. Though they’d proven remarkably resilient, it couldn’t be easy on them living in a temporary home, and bouncing between visitations with him and Parnell every week.

  A longing for Dee rose in his chest, an ache that was almost physical. He hoped he might have a chance to talk to her today, to again express his appreciation for everything she’d done. And to let her know how much he had come to care for her. Of course, he couldn’t exactly come out and say those words without violating the boundaries of propriety as far as she was concerned. But he thought––he hoped––she could read between the lines.

  When this whole, ugly custody thing was over, he hoped Dee would still be a part of their lives. Or a part of his life. If his worst fears came true, and he lost the children, he hoped it wouldn’t mean he’d lost Dee, too.

  She was always cautious when they talked about anything related to the custody hearings, but he sensed that she feared the worst for him.

  Wade parked the truck at the side of the house and went to close the garage door. He breathed in the long-forgotten scent of rain. The October day held a crisp promise that autumn might actually visit Kansas after all. The summer had been one of the hottest and driest on record, but an overnight rain had rinsed the dust from the trees and given everything a sheen of newness.

  He walked to the end of the long drive for the morning paper, glad to have to sidestep several puddles. Shadow pranced beside him, stopping to lap murky water from each pool.

  Wade picked up the paper and started back to the house. Behind him, Shadow’s deep bark pierced the air, and Wade heard the crunch of tires on gravel. His heart soared, even as it ached. And a smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he hurried to greet the people––the four people––he loved most in all the world.

  Chapter 41

  The theme song for the ten o’clock news played over the credits. Wade switched off the television and checked the locks before heading upstairs to bed.

  Five minutes later, he crawled into the big old bed and lay staring at the ceiling. It was quiet and peaceful in this upstairs room. He’d slept surprisingly well since moving up here. But tonight sleep eluded him. All day long he’d tried to put tomorrow’s hearing out of his mind, not wanting to think about what might happen.

  Tomorrow he would know. One way or the other.

  He lay awake for a long time, praying for the kids. Praying for God’s will to be done in the courtroom tomorrow. Praying for Dee.

  Downstairs, the clock in the foyer chimed eleven times. Feeling a strong compulsion, he threw off the covers and eased his legs over the side of the bed. He dropped to his knees and rested his elbows on the bed, his head in his hands.

  “Father,” he whispered into the dead quiet of the room. “In my heart, I only want what you want. I want your will done in my life. And in the kids’ lives. I honestly do. But, Lord, I can’t believe it could be your will for Darrin Parnell to get my kids. Maybe he’s changed, Lord. Maybe I’m judging him wrong. But even if that’s true, it doesn’t seem right for the kids to be uprooted from everything they know and love here. Show me if I’m being selfish, Lord. Give me your peace. Please, Lord. I can’t do this alone.”

  He prayed until the hardwood floors made his knees ache and his back scream for relief. Finally, he crawled back into bed. He waited for peace and felt numb instead. Oh, Father. Give me strength.

  It had been a long time since he’d taken to his knees. Only when Starr died had he felt as strong a need to pelt heaven with his prayers. But that had been different. Then, he had not expected even his most fervent prayers to bring Starr back.

  Tonight, he hoped his prayers would turn a judge’s heart.

  As Frank Locke led the way to the front of the courtroom, Wade glanced around the nearly empty gallery. Pete and Margie were there near the front, behind where Wade would sit. Sophie was there, too, beside Margie. Sophie caught his eye and gave a soft smile, nodding almost imperceptibly. He knew they were all petitioning heaven for him and the kids, and he felt their prayers like a warm blanket around him.

  Dee was seated on the other side of the gallery near the aisle. She was deep in conversation with Betty Graffe and didn’t look up as Wade walked by.

  After a few minutes, the scraping of chairs and rustle of papers gave way to sudden silence when Judge Paxton entered from the door behind the bench and ascended to take his seat. Somewhere in the back of the room, a clock ticked off the seconds.

  As in past hearings, the judge made preliminary introductions and acknowledgments. Then he cleared his throat. “I shall precede my decision today by saying that I can sympathize with the difficulties the county attorney and social workers had in making a recommendation in this case.”

  He glanced at the stack of papers in front of him. “It appears Darrin Parnell has satisfactorily demonstrated his commitment to his children. By all appearances, he has made every e
ffort to do what’s necessary to be a good father. He has completed various training to that end and has gone to great lengths to attend each and every visitation.”

  Wade had to remind himself how to breathe. He drew a shallow lungful of air––a slow, strangely conscious effort, as if holding his breath could influence the outcome of this hearing.

  The judge slipped off his glasses and looked out over the gallery. “In spite of a rather rough start, it appears that Mr. Sullivan has made an admirable effort to provide the Parnell children with a home after the death of their mother. Under the circumstances, I believe he has done a very commendable job.”

  Judge Paxton shifted the papers on his desk and continued. “However, another important consideration for this court, given the young ages of the children, is the fact that Mr. Parnell’s fiancée has shown a willingness, indeed an eagerness, to be a mother to the children. This is something Mr. Sullivan––granted, through no fault of his own––is simply unable to offer.”

  Beside him, Wade heard the air go out of Frank Locke’s lungs.

  In that moment, he knew he had lost.

  He strained to hear the judge’s final words over the blood pounding in his ears.

  Judge Paxton looked from Wade to Darrin Parnell. “It is the studied opinion of this court that, whenever possible, children belong with their biological parents. Therefore, this court grants full custody of Beau Parnell, Lacey Parnell, and Danica Parnell to their father, Darrin Parnell.”

  Wade’s shoulders sagged under the crushing weight of the decree. His neck suddenly seemed unable to support his head. He put his face in his hands and leaned against the hard table. He had a strange sense this was all a dream. It couldn’t really be happening.

  But the judge wasn’t finished. “It is my strong recommendation,” he continued, “that Mr. Sullivan be given generous visitation rights. However, given that Mr. Parnell lives in Minneapolis, and because of the financial hardship it might cause either party to do so, this court will make no legally binding ruling to that end. The details are to be worked out at Mr. Parnell’s discretion.”

  The judge’s voice droned on with words Wade couldn’t make sense of. He sucked in a breath and felt as though he were breathing water. He was vaguely aware of Frank Locke’s hand on his shoulder. He forced himself to sit up straight.

  The court was apparently dismissed, for the room became a quiet buzz of activity around him. Wade rubbed his face and turned to find Pete and Margie standing behind him. Pete patted his shoulder, consoling without words. Margie seemed to be in shock, her face ashen and slack.

  Wade could only nod and remind himself to breathe. Suddenly, he remembered Dee’s promise. “I’ve got to find Dee Thackery,” he told Locke. He turned, searching the gallery frantically for her.“ She said I’d be able to talk to the kids before…before he takes them.”

  “I’ll find her,” Locke said, starting up the aisle.

  Where were the kids? Had they been brought to the courthouse, ready to go home with whoever was decreed the winner?

  He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Sophie. Even through the haze of his grief, he could see the peace etched in her features.

  “I’m so sorry, Wade,” she said. “But I know God will work everything out.”

  He didn’t know how to respond, how to tell her that everything had already been “worked out.” It was over. He’d lost his children. Didn’t she understand that?

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Parnell and his fiancée heading out the door with Parnell’s attorney. He had to get to the kids before they took them away.

  Sophie squeezed his arm. “It’ll be okay, Wade. God has everything under control.” She hesitated and glanced toward the door that led to the corridor. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  She slid past Pete and Margie, hurried up the aisle, and disappeared through the wide doorway.

  The door swung open again, and Dee appeared with Frank Locke behind her. She walked down the aisle toward Wade, her face grim.

  “Just a minute.” Wade excused himself and hurried toward her.

  “I’m so sorry, Wade,” Dee whispered when they met in the middle of the aisle that split the gallery.

  Though it was obvious she was near tears, Wade brushed off her sympathy. “Where are the kids? You said I could see them.”

  She nodded and held up a hand. “Yes, we’re trying to work it out. Mr. Locke is talking to Darrin Parnell right now.”

  “I have to see them. I can’t just let them go without explaining what’s happening.”

  “I know. We’re working on it. Karen Xavier will answer their questions. And the guardian ad litem will be talking to them soon. But we’re doing everything possible to make sure you get to see them.”

  “Where are they now?” He heard the panic rising in his own voice.

  “Karen is on her way here with them.”

  “They still have stuff out at my place. They’ll get to take their things with them, won’t they?”

  “I’m sure someone will make arrangements for that.” Her voice was measured and steady, as though she were speaking to a small child.

  And indeed that’s how he felt––stunned and confused, his mind spinning out of control. His knees felt ready to buckle. He grabbed on to a bench and doubled over, struggling for breath.

  Dee bent to look into his face, her voice low and laced with concern. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down for a minute?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

  “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll go see if Karen’s here with the kids yet.”

  Sophie stepped into the corridor and turned to look both directions down the hall. There they were, near the entryway, laughing and celebrating. Darrin and his attorney stood with their backs to her. Carma Weist sat on a bench along the wall, looking dazed, as though she were just beginning to realize what this ruling meant for her.

  As Sophie studied her, Carma stood and whispered something to Darrin. He nodded, obviously distracted, and she started toward the women’s restroom midway down the corridor.

  Sophie waited until she’d gone in, then followed her. Carma stood at the mirror, applying lipstick to already ruby lips. The three stalls stood open and empty. Good. They were alone.

  Sophie cleared her throat, and Carma glanced up, lipstick poised. Their eyes met in the mirror. Carma looked away quickly, replacing the lid on the tube of lipstick and tossing it into her purse. She turned to leave, but Sophie stepped into her path.

  “I want to talk to you about something,” Sophie said, surprised at how steady her voice was.

  Carma flounced a shoulder. “There’s nothing you have to say that I want to hear,” she said. But she didn’t try to leave.

  Either Carma knew who Sophie was, or she was merely aware that Sophie was somehow a part of Wade’s camp. Sophie tipped her head and studied the prim, well-dressed woman in front of her. A woman so different from Starr.

  Even though they were alone in the restroom, Sophie lowered her voice. “I don’t know if he’s started hitting you yet or not. It didn’t start with my sister until after they were married.”

  Carma narrowed her heavily shadowed eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ask him about the visit from the police the night of Beau’s third birthday. Ask him how many times he put Starr in the hospital. Ask him––”

  “You’re crazy! I don’t have to listen to this.” Carma huffed out a breath and pushed past Sophie.

  Sophie followed her and ducked between her and the door. Carma’s flawlessly made-up face was just inches from hers. Sophie started, as the light above the door cast one side of Carma’s face in shadow, while brightly illuminating the other. Beneath the layers of cosmetics on the high, porcelain forehead, Sophie thought she saw the greenish-yellow ghost of a bruise.

  She stared pointedly, a wave of sadness coming over her as she remembered what Starr had endured. “Don’t be a fool,�
� she whispered. “It only gets worse, Carma. I can promise you that. It will only get worse.”

  “Get away from me. Let me through.”

  Sophie opened the door. But she stayed firmly planted in front of it, refusing to let the woman pass yet. She lowered her voice. “Carma, I am begging you. Get help. For yourself and for my sister’s kids. Get help before it’s too late.”

  Carma gathered herself to her full height and spoke between clenched teeth, her eyes spitting fire. “I love those kids, and I would never, ever let anything happen to them.” Her eyes narrowed further. “And I’d say you have plenty to worry about in your own life without worrying about mine. Now let me through.”

  Sophie felt anger rise in her chest. She pointed a finger and shoved it in Carma’s face. “If he ever––if either of you ever lay one hand on those kids, I will personally see to it that you pay, and pay dearly.”

  “Get out of my way!”

  Sophie moved aside. Carma brushed past her and hurried down the corridor to where Darrin Parnell still stood, talking with his attorney.

  Sophie stepped into the hallway and let the door swing shut behind her. She watched as Carma glided to Darrin’s side, a smile pasted on her face as though nothing had happened. They made a handsome couple.

  Sophie leaned her head against the cool marble wall outside the women’s room and let out a deep breath. Her hands trembled like leaves in a breeze. She wanted to fall to the floor and weep. Maybe she should have had more compassion on Darrin’s fiancée. Starr had been infatuated just the way Carma was––before she knew the truth about Darrin Parnell. And even after he started abusing her, Starr had made excuses and continued to claim she loved him.

  Sophie shook away the memories. She didn’t understand why God had allowed the judge to hand down the decision he had today. It made no sense. There was nothing just or fair about it.

  But the amazing thing was the peace she felt in the face of it. Even now, peace washed over her like a comforting shower. She had never known such a feeling before. No drug, no relationship––nothing she’d ever tried had offered the serenity she felt now. And somehow she knew that, no matter what happened, God was in control. Of her life. And of Beau’s and Lacey’s and Dani’s.