Not a Sparrow Falls by Linda Nichols

Author:Linda Nichols [Linda Nichols]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781441260093
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

Nineteen

Samantha rolled over and opened her eyes. She looked at her clock, and then she remembered, and it was like something hard hit her. Dad was gone, and for just a minute she felt really sad, like she used to feel when she was a little girl and didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to him before he left for work. She had that same feeling now. Sort of empty and wishing she’d gotten to say stuff, and sort of scared that she might never get a chance to say it again. She blinked for a minute, then got a grip. You’re being totally lame, she told herself. She wasn’t five, she was thirteen, and Dad would be back in a week. Besides, he was totally a pain, and there wasn’t anything she wanted to say to him at all.

She rolled over and her eyes landed on the poster of The Misfits she’d bought at the record store. She should dye her hair black. Maybe she would. With Dad gone there’d be nobody to yell at her, at least not right away. She sat up and frowned. Somebody was singing. She could hear the voice, all chirpylike, coming up the heat vent from the kitchen. She clicked her tongue in irritation. Why couldn’t she live in a normal house instead of one where you could hear every single thing a person said?

She got up and went downstairs, purposely dragging her feet, liking the sound of her slippers flopping behind her. It drove Aunt Winifred nuts when she dragged her feet. Or slumped her shoulders. Or let her hair hang down into her eyes. But Aunt Winifred wasn’t here. Just Bridie, the hillbilly from Hooterville, and it was her singing, of course, some lame Christmas carol nobody’d ever heard of.

Samantha leaned against the kitchen doorway and listened to the words. They were totally moronic. Something about birds singing and the house full of friends and family and logs popping in the fireplace and carols sung off key. Well, that part was right at least.

Bridie looked up and stopped her singing. Cam and Bonnie were clueless as usual, playing with some toy over in the corner.

“What’s the matter?” Bridie smiled at her, which was even more irritating. “Don’t you like Christmas?”

“Sure,” Samantha said. “I like Christmas. I just don’t like Christmas on Walton’s Mountain.”

Bridie didn’t answer, just started humming and went back to whatever she was doing at the sink, which really annoyed Samantha for some reason. She narrowed her eyes.

“Do you see many friends and family gathered around the old Christmas tree?” she bit out. “Is there a birdie outside the window pecking out a happy song? Let’s just look and see if there’s a snowman in the yard.”

She went to the back door and peered out the window. It had snowed last night. Big deal, she told herself. She wasn’t some little kid who would go crazy making snow angels. “Nope,” she said. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and glared.

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