Wings of a Dream by Anne Mateer Read Free Book Online Page A

interested.
    “In France, like your daddy.”
    “He knows Daddy?” Dan said.
    “No, I don’t think so.” But I smiled, imagining these children’s father—Frank, was it?—crossing paths with my brother, Will. What if they met? Became friends?
    “Hush now and let Bekah read.” Ollie tapped the book before poking Janie’s thumb between the baby’s rosebud lips.
    The fire crackled, warming the room. Janie fell asleep in a bundle on the floor while Heidi’s world stole all thoughts of grief from the rest of us. The fire died a bit. We read on until my stomach rumbled loudly.
    James sat up. “I’m hungry, too.”
    A soft knock at the back door destroyed the last vestige of our peaceful tableau.
    James raced from the room. I followed, stepping over sleeping Janie at my feet.
    “Why’re you here, Sheriff? Nobody did nothin’ wrong.” James’s little-boy swagger carried from the kitchen.
    I arrived as Sheriff Jeffries ruffled the wispy curls on top of James’s head. “I’m glad to hear it, son.” But when the sheriff raised his gaze to me, his eyes lost their twinkle. “How are you?”
    “Fine.” His simple question stirred a nervous twitter in my belly.
    He glanced down at James, and I breathed in relief. Of course. He’d have heard about the nosebleed yesterday and come to check on us. Mr. Crenshaw had said someone would.
    “We’re fine. Really we are.” I watched his hat spin beneath his fingers. “May I pour you some coffee?”
    The sheriff nodded and threw one leg over the bench at the kitchen table, his hat slapping the flat surface. He pushed back his damp hair and rested his head in his hands. Another tingle of uncertainty sailed through me. I had enough on my hands with the children. I didn’t need a melancholy sheriff, as well.
    The coffeepot sat on the warming shelf at the back of the stove, but little heat radiated from the dying fire, and the remaining coffee had thickened since morning. Dared I throw it out? Mama always said waste was a sin. I swirled the sludge at the bottom of the pot and shrugged. From the look of things, Sheriff Jeffries probably wouldn’t notice anyway. The thick liquid dribbled from the spout into the cup, and I carried it to the table.
    He didn’t look up, just lifted the cup to his lips and sipped the tepid drink without complaint. “We never thought it would come here.” He cradled the cup in his hands, even though I knew no warmth seeped into his fingers.
    “Didn’t think what would come?” I glanced at James, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Scoot, now. Let me talk to Sheriff Jeffries.”
    James hurried from the room. I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat.
    “Never seen anythin’ like this flu before.” He pulled a newspaper from his coat pocket and slid it across the table to me. “Got your mail out of the box. Didn’t figure you had time to think of it yesterday.”
    The Dallas Morning News. My heart danced. Dallas had to be nearby if they received its newspaper. I tried to keep the excitement from my voice. “Does this come every day?”
    He nodded, drained the last of his coffee. “Frank liked to keep up with things beyond the Junction Sentinel. ” He clanked the cup back on the table. “I guess I’d best be going.”
    He stood, as did I, but I kept one eye on the newspaper, greedy to drink in the words of the place I longed to be, the place Arthur lived.
    “I’ll come check on y’all as often as I can,” he said.
    “Thank you.” I patted the newspaper, as if to assure myself it would still be there when I returned from seeing the sheriff to the door.
    His boots clomped across the floor, his hat twirling in his hands. I felt sorry for him, though I wasn’t sure why. A wail rose from inside the house.
    “I have to—” I gestured toward the sound.
    “I understand.” He jammed his hat on his head and hurried across the yard.
    “Wait!” I ran outside, heedless of cold or rain or mud. “Can you tell me