The Language of Sparrows (33 page)

April leaned forward. “So do you think you’ll get your job back?”

“It’s hard to say. The TV special might strike the right note with someone in the district.”

“At the very least, all of Houston knows you lost your job for a good cause, and you’re the best teacher in town. You’ll have job offers from nearby districts.”

“Mr. Foster,” Carlos said, “all those kids lining up for you and that show on TV—there aren’t so many great teachers like that. The school has to pay attention.”

Sierra took his hand between both of hers, a smile on her face. Even Dad nodded.

“Maybe,” Nick said, trying to keep his expectations from running past reality

“You’re not just a good teacher, Nick. You’re a gifted one. You will have a job come fall.”

Golden words from the lady with the golden smile. Even the sun seemed to shine brighter at her words.

April picked up her purse, and Nick couldn’t shake off a wave of disappointment. He wanted her here. It was right to be surrounded by the four people in his living room. But Dad looked bone weary.

“I’ll drop you off at your house, Luca,” April said.

Dad didn’t respond.

Nick shot his father a worried glance. “Thanks for coming, Dad, and for your words. They meant a lot to me.”

Energy came over Dad’s face then, but it was a raw energy that set Nick back. “It was not enough. The words I said to you, Nicu, they were not enough.”

Nick moved to the ottoman across from Dad. “It’s all I ever asked.”

April motioned to Sierra and Carlos and started to ease toward the door, away from the private moment. But Dad called her back. “Please do not leave, April. I am only able to say what I say now because of you. You will help me if I go astray.”

April came closer and put her hand on Dad’s shoulder. Dad raised his hand to keep it there.

He turned to Nick. “I am not good at speaking. I want you to listen.”

“I’m listening.”

Dad’s eyes cleared. “I am very proud of the man you have become. You are a fine son, a fine teacher, and much more. But instead of telling you, I have driven you to anger. I am like the sparrows that live in my yard. They can sing only one song. I could only sing the song of death I learned as a young man. Even for my own son, whom I loved, I could not learn another song. I have sinned against you, Nicu, and I ask for your forgiveness.”

Nick drew in a sharp breath. He thought he was too old and sure of himself to need his father to say he believed in him. But the words rocked through him like a gale-force wind.

“Tată.”
The Romanian word slipped out. He had never called his father
Tată
. As a child he would have called him
Tati—Daddy.

Dad looked up at him, stunned.

Nick forced the words out.
“Tată,binenţeles că te iert.”

Sierra translated quietly for April and Carlos. “He said, ‘Dad, of course, I forgive you.’”

Dad looked at April. “My son,” he said. “My son has not spoken to me in Romanian since he was four years old. It is the only forgiveness I need.”

Chapter Forty-Five

April watched father and son together. Their blue eyes blazed at each other, a matching severity on their faces. To a stranger, it might seem they were locked in an argument. To April, it looked like love. She imagined capturing the image of anguish and forgiveness sorting themselves out with her camera. It would be a picture to be proud of.

She thought of her topaz book sitting at home with Luca’s story. She’d give it to Nick soon. He was ready to read it. And when he was done, she’d give it to Sierra. It would do so much for her to see what Luca went through. And here he was, right beside them, getting stronger every day.

Next to her, Carlos leaned down to Sierra with a heartbreaking smile. “You hungry, Brown Eyes?”

April felt a twinge of worry, just the normal thoughts of a mother with a teenage daughter—broken hearts and teenage hormones.

“Hey, Mom.” Sierra came to her side. “Can Carlos and I get something to eat?”

April put her arm around Sierra’s shoulder. “You did great, Sierra. You were brilliant, really. I’m so proud of you.”

This time, Sierra didn’t pull away. She put her arm around April briefly before slipping off to join Carlos.

“Have her home by ten, Carlos,” April said.

He smiled at April as though he guessed what she was thinking. “I’ll have her home on time, Mrs. Wright, safe and sound.”

The sun was setting, sending amber flames across the sky. April stood on the deck, letting father and son have a moment to themselves. After a few minutes, the door opened and closed behind her. She didn’t turn to see who it was. She knew by his step.

“Hey,” she said, as Nick joined her.

“Hey, yourself.” He leaned his hands on the railing.

She turned to look at him. He was still too thin, but that lost look in his eyes had been replaced by a gleam, a gleam that lit some place within her that had been dark for too long.

“How are you feeling about everything?” she asked.

“Those kids really came through for me. It’s the most hope I’ve had in weeks.”

April looked off into the pine trees. “There’s a lot of that going around lately. Hope’s a seductive thing.”

“I know what you mean.” He looked at her with a steady, searching gaze.

“Oh?” she said weakly.

“I laid some of my deepest wishes on God’s altar earlier this week. And when it looked as if He might be returning two of them to me—my job and my dad—it occurred to me He might just bless me with the third as well.”

Warmth crept up April’s neck and into her face.

He had a boy’s earnestness in his eyes when he looked at her. It felt as though the years were stripped from her and she was a girl again. For a fleeting moment they were two kids without decades of hurt and doubt behind them.

“April, am I wrong to hope?”

A pulse beat in her throat as two different answers fought it out. “Nick. It would break my heart if I brought ugliness into your life. It’s tempting to think I can open my hands and let Gary’s death flutter off like a bird in flight.” Her voice seemed to fade away into the evening air. “I’ve tried that though. It doesn’t work.”

He moved his hand beside hers on the railing, a finger’s width away. “I’m not asking you to put your grief aside, April. It’s too real to put behind you. I’m asking you if I can be part of your life while you heal.” He paused, and a remnant of his emptiness called out to hers. “I’m asking if you’ll be a part of mine while I put things back together with my dad and my job. Because I want you beside me, in good times and bad.”

She closed her eyes, wanting to believe, wanting so much to be whole enough to have something to give Nick in return.

Nick stroked the back of her hand. “I wonder how many years my father lost because no one coaxed his story out of him. He lost decades waiting for someone like you to help him face his past.”

She opened her eyes, finding Nick’s blue eyes focused on her, willing her to have faith in them.

“How long are you willing to spend swallowing your pain, alone, April?”

She had waited and waited for God to heal Sierra’s wounds and hers with a quick wash of His Spirit. She’d been so sure that places of pain and suffering were devoid of God’s blessings. But God had been with them right in the midst of their pain. Deep calling them into His depths. Today. These last months.

The sky softened to champagne clouds and the pine trees dimmed to silhouettes. How could she not believe? She opened her mouth to speak but could hardly find the words. It had been so long since she had said yes to anything. Nick stood before her, and that gave her the strength she needed.

“Truth or dare,” April said, steadying the tremor in her voice.

Nick tipped his head to her, his glasses slipping, and April pushed them back up for him.

“We’ve had enough truth for today,” he said. “How about a dare?”

He leaned down to her, and his arms, solid and strong, drew her to him. As his lips touched hers, the scent of sweet pine drifted up to meet them.

THE LANGUAGE OF SPARROWS

Published by David C Cook

4050 Lee Vance View

Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

David C Cook Distribution Canada

55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5

David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications

Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England

The graphic circle C logo is a registered trademark of David C Cook.

All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned, resold, or distributed by or through any print or electronic medium without written permission from the publisher. This ebook is licensed solely for the personal and noncommercial use of the original authorized purchaser, subject to the terms of use under which it was purchased. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

All Scripture quotations are taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN 978-0-7814-1048-9

eISBN 978-0-7814-1047-2

© 2013 Rachel Phifer

The author is represented by and this book is published in association with the literary agency of WordServe Literary Group, Ltd.,
www.wordserveliterary.com
.

The Team: Nick Lee, Tonya Osterhouse, Karen Athen

Cover Design: Nick Lee

Cover Photos: Shutterstock

First Edition 2013

Photo by Melanie Miller

As the daughter of missionaries,
RACHEL PHIFER
grew up in Malawi, South Africa, and Kenya. She holds a BA in English and psychology from Houston Baptist University and lives in Houston with her family. She blogs at www.rachelphifer.com.

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