Free The Sparrow Sisters by Ellen Herrick Page A

door. She braced one knee on the counter and pushed up to see the top shelf. A line of bottles stood near the edge of it. She recognized Rob’s blood pressure medicine and Matty’s Doxepin. The others were sleeping pills, antacids, and aspirin. As she climbed down, banging her shin on the counter edge, Patience was relieved that the medicines were out of Matty’s reach, that Rob did at least one thing to keep his kid safe.
    â€œOK, I won’t dose you, but make your dad do it tonight, please.”
    Patience reached to hug Matty, but he shook his head so she lightly touched his shoulder.
    â€œRight, see you, buddy,” Patience said.
    â€œSee you.” Matty stood at the back door and watched Patience pull out. He finished his milk and sat at the kitchen table until his father came home. They would have a stilted conversation about their days, and Rob would grimace as Matty recited the list of plants and their uses. Neither would see that Matty found the very same comfort at the Nursery that Rob found at the store.
    As Patience drove away from Matty, she decided to stop at Pete Markham’s liquor store before she went back to the Nursery for Sorrel. She had a taste for a cool gin and tonic, with lime sharp on her tongue. Also, she thought she might play for time so that she didn’t have to see Simon Mayo when he cameto collect the flowers. She had always liked Simon; she liked him now. But she knew his history with Sorrel (or thought she did), and she felt a little angry with them both. The Mayos had a habit of taking what they wanted through the sheer gift of privilege. Patience believed that’s what Simon had done with Sorrel, and that Sorrel had let him.
    Patience pulled over to the curb on Main Street and was digging in her backpack for some money when Henry Carlyle saw her. She had one foot up on the truck’s running board and was leaning over the bag on her knee. Her sundress was hiked up over her thigh, and her red hair fell across her face in a fiery wave that shimmered as she rummaged. Henry considered slipping away, but he felt emboldened by the lobster episode. Besides, he needed to know what the hell Ben Avellar had been talking about. He approached from the front of the truck, noting the bumper stickers that were obviously used as much to cover the rust spots as to voice an opinion: E AT L OCAL , and GPC : S ING I F Y OU L IKE C OWS .
    â€œHello,” Henry said. Patience’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice. She turned toward him and hit her cheek against the truck’s wing mirror.
    â€œOw, damn it!” Patience barked.
    â€œOh, God, I’m so sorry,” Henry said as he reached for her. He came around the hood with his hand out and was surprised when Patience stilled. Henry tilted her head and brushed his thumb over the rising bruise. “You should probably ice this.”
    â€œThen it’s a good thing I was going into Pete’s for somegin,” Patience said. She looked at Henry’s eyes. They were blue or gray and turned slightly down at the corners. Maybe those lashes weren’t too long after all.
    â€œWe need a do-over,” she said and slung her bag onto her shoulder as she stuck out her hand. “I’m Patience Sparrow.”
    Henry took it. “Henry Carlyle.”
    â€œThat’s better,” Patience said. “I’ll see you around.”
    She walked into the liquor store, leaving the doctor on the pavement, his left hand on the truck to steady himself. As the door swung shut behind Patience, Henry realized he hadn’t brought up Ben. He followed her in and found her paying for the gin, a lime, and a bag of ice.
    â€œI wanted to ask you about . . .”
    Patience cut him off.
    â€œNettie is fine,” she said. Enough gloating, she thought.
    â€œNo, not Nettie, Ben Avellar.”
    â€œIs he sick too?”
    â€œHe broke his thumb this afternoon,” Henry said. “He’ll need