The Rain Sparrow

  His gaze slid over her. “From the way you’re dressed, you look to me as though you’d smell of cotton candy.”

  “Thank you, but actually it’s chocolate chip.” She pushed the package of cookies in his direction. “Here. Save me from myself.”

  “No, thanks,” Reed murmured and headed toward the living room.

  “Don’t go in there,” Ellen cried, swinging her legs off the chair and coming abruptly to her feet.

  Reed’s hand was on the kitchen door, ready to open it. “Don’t go into the living room?”

  “Derek’s got a girl in there.”

  Reed continued to stare at her blankly. “So?”

  “So. He’s with Michelle Tanner. The Michelle Tanner. The girl he’s been crazy about for the last six weeks. She finally agreed to a date with him. They rented a movie.”

  “That doesn’t explain why I can’t go in there.”

  “Yes, it does,” Ellen whispered. “The last time I peeked, Derek was getting ready to make his move. You’ll ruin everything if you barge in there now.”

  “His move?” Reed didn’t seem to like the sound of this. “What do you mean, ‘his move’? The kid’s barely nineteen.”

  Ellen smiled. “Honestly, Reed, you must’ve been young once. Don’t you remember what it’s like to have a crush on a girl? All Derek’s doing is plotting that first kiss.”

  Reed dropped his hand as he stared at Ellen. He seemed to focus on her mouth. Then the glittering green eyes skimmed hers, and Ellen’s breath caught somewhere between her throat and her lungs as she struggled to pull her gaze away from his. Reed had no business giving her that kind of look. Not when he’d so recently left Danielle’s arms. And not when Ellen reacted so profoundly to a mere glance.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “And as for that remark about being young once, I’m not exactly over the hill.”

  This was ridiculous! With a sigh of annoyance, Ellen sat down again, swinging her feet onto the opposite chair. She picked up her book and forced her eyes—if not her attention—back to the page in front of her. “I’m glad to hear that.” If she could get a grip on herself for the next few days everything would be fine. Reed would leave and her life with the boys would settle back into its routine.

  She heard the refrigerator opening and watched Reed pour himself a glass of milk, then reach for a handful of chocolate-chip cookies. When he pulled out the chair across from her, Ellen reluctantly lowered her legs.

  “What are you reading?”

  Feeling irritable and angry for allowing him to affect her, she deliberately waited until she’d finished the page before answering. “A book,” she muttered.

  “My, my, you’re a regular Mary Sunshine. What’s wrong—did your boyfriend stand you up tonight?”

  With exaggerated patience she slowly lowered the paperback to the table and marked her place. “Listen. I’m twenty-five years old and well beyond the age of boyfriends.”

  Reed shrugged. “All right. Your lover.”

  She hadn’t meant to imply that at all! And Reed knew it. He’d wanted to fluster her and he’d succeeded.

  “Women these days have this habit of letting their mouths hang open,” he said pointedly. “I suppose they think it looks sexy, but actually, they resemble beached trout.” With that, he deposited his empty glass in the sink and marched briskly up the back stairs.

  Ellen closed her eyes and groaned in embarrassment. He must think she was an idiot, and with good reason. She’d done a remarkable job of imitating one. She groaned again, infuriated by the fact that she found Reed Morgan so attractive.

  Ellen didn’t climb the stairs to her new bedroom on the third floor for another hour. And then it was only after Derek had paid her a quick visit in the kitchen and given her a thumbs-up. At least his night had gone well.

  Twenty minutes after she’d turned off her reading light, Ellen lay staring into the silent, shadow-filled room. She wasn’t sleepy, and the mystery novel no longer held her interest. Her thoughts were troubled by that brief incident in the kitchen with Reed. Burying her head in her pillow, Ellen yawned and closed her eyes. But sleep still wouldn’t come. A half-hour later, she threw back the covers and grabbed her housecoat from the end of the bed. Perhaps another glass of milk would help.

  Not bothering to turn on any lights, she took a clean glass from the dishwasher and pulled the carton of milk from the refrigerator. Drink in hand, she stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the huge oak tree in the backyard. Its bare limbs stretched upward like skeletal hands, silhouetted against the full moon.

  “I’ve heard that a woman’s work is never done, but this is ridiculous.”

  She nearly spilled her milk at the sudden sound of Reed’s voice behind her. She whirled around and glared at him. “I see there’s a full moon tonight. I wonder if it’s safe to be alone with you. And wouldn’t you know it, I left my silver bullet upstairs.”

  “No woman’s ever accused me of being a werewolf. A number of other things,” he murmured, “but never that.”

  “Maybe that’s because you hadn’t frightened them half out of their wits.”

  “I couldn’t resist. Sorry,” he said, reaching for the milk carton.

  “You know, if we’d stop snapping at each other, it might make life a lot easier around here.”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed. “I will admit it’s a whole lot easier to talk to you when you’re dressed.”

  Ellen slammed down her empty glass. “I’m getting a little tired of hearing about that.”

  But Reed went on, clearly unperturbed. “Unfortunately, ever since that first time when I found you in your bra, you’ve insisted on overdressing. From one extreme to another—too few clothes to too many.” He paused. “Do you always wear socks to bed?”

  “Usually.”

  “I pity the man you sleep with.”

  “Well, you needn’t worry—” She expelled a lungful of oxygen. “We’re doing it again.”

  “So, you’re suggesting we stop trading insults for the sake of the children.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said with an involuntary smile, “but you’re right. No one’s going to be comfortable if the two of us are constantly sniping at each other. I’m willing to try if you are. Okay?”

  “Okay.” A smile softened Reed’s features, angular and shadowed in the moonlight.

  “And I’m not a threat to your relationship with Danielle, am I? In fact, if you’d rather, she need never even know I’m here,” Ellen said casually.

  “Maybe that would’ve been best,” he conceded, setting aside his empty glass. “But I doubt it. Besides, she already knows. I told her tonight.” He muttered something else she didn’t catch.

  “And?”

  “And,” he went on, “she says she doesn’t mind, but she’d like to meet you.”

  This was one encounter Ellen wasn’t going to enjoy.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Ellen brought down her laundry and was using the washing machine and the dryer before Reed and the others were even awake.

  She sighed as she tested the iron with the wet tip of her index finger and found that it still wasn’t hot, although she’d turned it on at least five minutes earlier. This house was owned by a wealthy engineer, so why were there only two electrical outlets in the kitchen? It meant that she couldn’t use the washer, the dryer and the iron at the same time without causing a blow-out.

  “Darn it,” she groaned, setting the iron upright on the padded board.

  “What’s the matter?” Reed asked from the doorway leading into the kitchen. He got himself a cup of coffee.

  “This iron.”

  “Hey, Ellen, if you’re doing some ironing, would you press a few things for me?” Monte asked, walking barefoot into the
kitchen. He peered into the refrigerator and took out a slice of cold pizza.

  “I was afraid this would happen,” she grumbled, still upset by the house’s electrical problems.

  “Ellen’s not your personal maid,” Reed said sharply. “If you’ve got something you want pressed, do it yourself.”

  A hand on her hip, Ellen turned to Reed, defiantly meeting his glare. “If you don’t mind, I can answer for myself.”

  “Fine,” he snorted and took a sip of his coffee.

  She directed her next words to Monte, who stood looking at her expectantly. “I am not your personal maid. If you want something pressed, do it yourself.”

  Monte glanced from Reed to Ellen and back to Reed again. “Sorry I asked,” he mumbled on his way out of the kitchen. The door was left swinging in his wake.

  “You said that well,” Reed commented with a soft chuckle.

  “Believe me, I was conned into enough schemes by my sister and brother to know how to handle Monte and the others.”

  Reed’s gaze was admiring. “If your brother’s anything like mine, I don’t doubt it.”

  “All brothers are alike,” she said. Unable to hold back a grin, Ellen tested the iron a second time and noticed that it was only slightly warmer. “Have you ever thought about putting another outlet in this kitchen?”

  Reed looked at her in surprise. “No. Do you need one?”

  “Need one?” she echoed. “There are only two in here. It’s ridiculous.”

  Reed scanned the kitchen. “I hadn’t thought about it.” Setting his coffee mug aside, he shook his head. “Your mood’s not much better today than it was last night.” With that remark, he hurried out of the room, following in Monte’s footsteps.

  Frustrated, Ellen tightened her grip on the iron. Reed was right. She was being unreasonable and she really didn’t understand why. But she was honest enough to admit, at least to herself, that she was attracted to this man whose house she occupied. She realized she’d have to erect a wall of reserve between them to protect them both from embarrassment.

  “Morning, Ellen,” Derek said as he entered the kitchen and threw himself into a chair. As he emptied a box of cornflakes into a huge bowl, he said, “I’ve got some shirts that need pressing.”

  “If you want anything pressed, do it yourself,” she almost shouted.

  Stunned, Derek blinked. “Okay.”

  Setting the iron upright again, Ellen released a lengthy sigh. “I didn’t mean to scream at you.”

  “That’s all right.”

  Turning off the iron, she joined Derek at the table and reached for the cornflakes.

  “Are you still worried about that math paper you’re supposed to do?” he asked.

  “I’m working my way to an early grave over it.”

  “I would’ve thought you’d do well in math.”

  Ellen snickered. “Hardly.”

  “Have you come up with a topic?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to the library later, where I pray some form of inspiration will strike me.”

  “Have you asked the other people in your class what they’re writing about?” Derek asked as he refilled his bowl, this time with rice puffs.

  Ellen nodded. “That’s what worries me most. The brain who sits beside me is doing hers on the probability of solving Goldbach’s conjecture in our lifetime.”

  Derek’s eyes widened. “That’s a tough act to follow.”

  “Let me tell you about the guy who sits behind me. He’s doing his paper on mathematics during World War II.”

  “You’re in the big leagues now,” Derek said with a sympathetic shake of his head.

  “I know,” Ellen lamented. She was taking this course only because it was compulsory; all she wanted out of it was a passing grade. The quadratic formula certainly wasn’t going to have any lasting influence on her life.

  “Good luck,” Derek said.

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

  After straightening up the kitchen, Ellen changed into old jeans and a faded sweatshirt. The jeans had been washed so many times they were nearly white. They fit her hips so snugly she could hardly slide her fingers into the pockets, but she hated the idea of throwing them out.

  She tied an old red scarf around her hair and headed for the garage. While rooting around for a ladder a few days earlier, she’d discovered some pruning shears. She’d noticed several overgrown bushes in the backyard and decided to tackle those first, before cleaning the drainpipes.

  After an hour, she had a pile of underbrush large enough to be worth a haul to the dump. She’d have one of the boys do that later. For now, the drainpipes demanded her attention.

  “Derek!” she called as she pushed open the back door. She knew her face was flushed and damp from exertion.

  “Yeah?” His voice drifted toward her from the living room.

  Ellen wandered in to discover him on the phone. “I’m ready for you now.”

  “Now?” His eyes pleaded with her as his palm covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Michelle.”

  “All right, I’ll ask Monte.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a smile of appreciation.

  But Monte was nowhere to be found, and Pat was at the Y shooting baskets with some friends. When she stuck her head into the living room again, she saw Derek still draped over the sofa, deep in conversation. Unwilling to interfere with the course of young love, she decided she could probably manage to climb onto the roof unaided.

  Dragging the aluminum ladder from the garage, she thought she might not need Derek’s help anyway. She’d mentioned her plan earlier in the week, and he hadn’t looked particularly enthusiastic.

  With the extension ladder braced against the side of the house, she climbed onto the roof of the back porch. Very carefully, she reached for the ladder and extended it to the very top of the house.

  She maneuvered herself back onto the ladder and climbed slowly and cautiously up.

  Once she’d managed to position herself on the slanting roof, she was fine. She even took a moment to enjoy the spectacular view. She could see Lake Washington, with its deep-green water, and the spacious grounds of the university campus.

  Using the brush she’d tucked—with some struggle—into her back pocket, Ellen began clearing away the leaves and other debris that clogged the gutters and drainpipes.

  She was about half finished when she heard raised voices below. Pausing, she sat down, drawing her knees against her chest, and watched the scene unfolding on the front lawn. Reed and his brother were embroiled in a heated discussion—with Reed doing most of the talking. Derek was raking leaves and didn’t seem at all pleased about devoting his Saturday morning to chores. Ellen guessed that Reed had summarily interrupted the telephone conversation between Derek and Michelle.

  With a lackadaisical swish of the rake, Derek flung the multicolored leaves skyward. Ellen restrained a laugh. Reed had obviously pulled rank and felt no hesitation about giving him orders.

  To her further amusement, Reed then motioned toward his black Porsche, apparently suggesting that his brother wash the car when he’d finished with the leaves. Still chuckling, Ellen grabbed for the brush, but she missed and accidentally sent it tumbling down the side of the roof. It hit the green shingles over the front porch with a loud thump before flying onto the grass only a few feet from where Derek and Reed were standing.

  Two pairs of astonished eyes turned swiftly in her direction. “Hi,” she called down and waved. “I don’t suppose I could talk one of you into bringing that up to me?” She braced her feet and pulled herself into a standing position as she waited for a reply.

  Reed pointed his finger at her and yelled, “What do you think you’re doing up there?”

  “Playing tiddlywinks,” she shouted back. “What do you thi
nk I’m doing?”

  “I don’t know, but I want you down.”

  “In a minute.”

  “Now.”

  “Yes, sir.” She gave him a mocking salute and would have bowed if she hadn’t been afraid she might lose her footing.

  Derek burst out laughing but was quickly silenced by a scathing glance from his older brother.

  “Tell Derek to bring me the broom,” Ellen called, moving closer to the edge.

  Ellen couldn’t decipher Reed’s response, but from the way he stormed around the back of the house, she figured it was best to come down before he had a heart attack. She had the ladder lowered to the back-porch roof before she saw him.

  “You idiot!” he shouted. He was standing in the driveway, hands on his hips, glaring at her in fury. “I can’t believe anyone would do anything so stupid.”

  “What do you mean?” The calmness of her words belied the way the blood pulsed through her veins. Alarm rang in his voice and that surprised her. She certainly hadn’t expected Reed, of all people, to be concerned about her safety. He held the ladder steady until she’d climbed down and was standing squarely in front of him. Then he started pacing. For a minute Ellen didn’t know what to think.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look as pale as a sheet.”

  “What’s wrong?” he sputtered. “You were on the roof and—”

  “I wasn’t in any danger.”

  He shook his head, clearly upset. “There are people who specialize in that sort of thing. I don’t want you up there again. Understand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. You do anything that stupid again and you’re out of here. Have you got that?”

  “Yes,” she said with forced calm. “I understand.”

  “Good.”

  Before she could think of anything else to say, Reed was gone.

  “You all right?” Derek asked a minute later. Shocked by Reed’s outburst, Ellen hadn’t moved. Rarely had anyone been that angry with her. Heavens, she’d cleaned out drainpipes lots of times. Her father had died when Ellen was fourteen, and over the years she’d assumed most of the maintenance duties around the house. She’d learned that, with the help of a good book and a well-stocked hardware store, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t fix. She’d repaired the plumbing, built bookshelves and done a multitude of household projects. It was just part of her life. Reed had acted as though she’d done something hazardous, as though she’d taken some extraordinary risk, and that seemed totally ridiculous to her. She knew what she was doing. Besides, heights didn’t frighten her; they never had.