When Sparrows Fall by Meg Moseley

Author:Meg Moseley [Moseley, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-60142-356-6
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-03T07:00:00+00:00

Facing a cold breeze, Jack led Miranda’s brood out of the library and tucked her library card into his wallet. He’d picked up applications for the kids in the hope that she would sign them. If he’d thought ahead and brought proof of Miranda’s residence, he could have taken advantage of having the same surname and signed the forms himself.

Everybody climbed into the van. While the engine was getting its wits together, he turned on the heat, buckled his seat belt, and checked in the mirror. “Ready to roll, troops? Everybody strapped in?”

“Yes sir,” five young voices chorused, drowning out the irritating roar of the heater’s fan.

Jubilant with the success of his mission, he pulled the van out of the tiny parking lot. The vehicle was stuffed with kids and books. Lord willing, none of the books were godless trash, but it was hard enough to keep track of five kids without inspecting each selection.

He glanced at Timothy, riding shotgun. At the last minute he’d nearly stayed home, but he’d been unable to resist the lure of free reading materials.

“What did you find?” Jack asked.

“Science. History. Mostly history.”

“You want to be more specific?”

“World War II. Stuff like that.” Timothy conveniently neglected to mention the psychology and anatomy books between his feet.

Ah, the joys of adolescent curiosity. Jack could guess which chapters Timothy would read first, far from his mother’s supervision.

“I noticed you weren’t in the children’s section,” Jack said.

“The good history books are in the adult area. You have a problem with that?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t believe in the strict policing of reading choices, nor do I approve of censorship, for the most part. I believe in digging for the truth. If you earn it, you own it.”

Timothy nodded.

Encouraged, Jack went on. “My dad was a history buff, and I have dozens of history books that belonged to him. I’d be happy to share them, if you’re interested.”

Timothy shrugged.

“Uncle Jack,” Martha called. “I love going to the library, but it would’ve been more fun if we were in your pretty car.”

Jack looked in the rearview mirror. Hugging a brightly colored book, she sat in the middle seat with the archangels and smiled out the window at the passing sights.

“Y’all wouldn’t fit in my car, sweetie. It only holds four people, and the ones in the backseat had better not be very big.”

“Oh. But sometime I want a ride in your—” She shrieked. “Look! A palm reader’s sign. I hate palm readers.”

Jack laughed as he cruised through the intersection on the yellow light. She’d seen the red Don’t Walk hand.

“That’s not a palm reader’s sign, Martha. It’s connected to the traffic light, and it warns people on the sidewalk when the light’s about to turn red.”

“Oh. Good, ’cause palm reading is bad. That’s divination, and it’s wicked.”

How could a four-year-old know a word like “divination” but remain ignorant of basic sidewalk safety?

Down the street, she cried out again. “A blimp! I love blimps.”

A gray, blimp-shaped balloon flew high above a car dealership.

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