Free When Sparrows Fall by Meg Moseley Page A

age.”
    Click . Timothy slapped his book shut. “Mother buys organic. She doesn’t want us eating junk, Jack.”
    “He’s Uncle Jack.” Martha stuck out her tongue at her brother. “And he’s nice. You’re not.”
    “Now, now. Don’t be ugly.” Jack handed her a tissue, then tossed the box to Rebekah so she could deal with Jonah’s snotty countenance. “Blow your noses, you little ruffians, and let’s get this show on the road.”
    Nobody argued. Not even Timothy. The children were so compliant and well organized that Jack was leading them to the van in only five minutes. Like the Pied Piper.
    That story didn’t end well for the parents.

    Walmart might as well have been Tiffany’s; the children, refugees from a third-world country. Dazzled, they stared at everything—and everyone—and their fellow shoppers stared back.
    Jack shouldn’t have cared. He didn’t know anybody in their neck of the woods, so he shouldn’t have minded being seen in the company of two girls in elf capes and four polo-shirted boys who might have escaped from 1960.
    There was a bit of gender discrimination afoot. The boys, in their store-bought jackets and jeans, blended in more easily than the girls did in their home-sewn dresses and voluminous capes. It hardly seemed fair.
    Jonah sat in the seat of the cart while Michael and Gabriel pushed it, shoulder to shoulder. Martha clung to Jack’s hand, her cape sweeping the leg of his jeans with every step. Rebekah and Timothy followed a few paces behind. Jack sensed that they’d taken up the rear so they could keep him under surveillance.
    So far, the cart held orange juice, three boxes of Frosted Flakes, bagged salad, and applesauce in individual plastic tubs. All Martha’s requests. Nobody else had asked for anything.
    Questionable items lurked throughout the store. To Miranda, nearly everything might have been questionable. Jack wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she objected to frozen dinners on general principles. He herded his flock toward the freezer section, anyway, and contemplated smuggling a portable microwave into the house at some point.
    But why should he have to smuggle it in? He’d be bold. He’d call it a science lesson.
    “What do y’all like best?” he asked. “Lasagna? Pizza? Burritos?”
    The resulting argument did his heart good. The kids had definite opinions.
    After stocking up on freezer meals, then two gallons of milk for the Frosted Flakes, he tried to direct the children toward the checkout. Martha spotted the meager book department first. She drew in an awestruck breath and yanked his hand.
    Jack let her tug him along. Her siblings followed and filled the aisle.
    Martha spied the early readers. She dropped his hand and sat on the floor as if she were in a public library and about to commence reading for free, for as long as she pleased. She started with The Cat in the Hat , a classic beloved by generations of kids for its anti-adult propaganda.
    On the other hand, Ava had said it taught her kindergarten classes that itwas okay to let a stranger into the house as long as they cleaned up the evidence before Mom came home. What Mom didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
    What Miranda didn’t know.… When she came home, though, she would know.
    Jack tugged the book out of Martha’s surprisingly strong fingers and replaced it with One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish . “This one’s better,” he said, hating himself for being a censor like Miranda.
    Martha started to argue, but the colorful fish snagged her attention. He replaced the first Seuss book on the shelf, above her eye level lest she be tempted again.
    Rebekah had picked up a historical romance. The cover art depicted a buxom, satin-clad lass who appeared to be fainting in the arms of a lusty highlander.
    Jack swiped the romance and replaced it on the rack, upside down and backward. “Why don’t you try …” The cookbooks saved him. “This!” He planted a Mexican cookbook