The Sparrow Sisters Read Online Free

people, accidents, and car wrecks at the hospital. Both were right, although his heart had broken far from Boston.
    Hunger drove Henry back outside. He set aside his papers and slipped on the blue sweater. He was more susceptible to the cold since his return. The tree peepers seemed to echo the insistent buzz of pain in his leg. He walked slowly, trying to make his gait as even as possible. He was used to the way people’s eyes flicked to his leg when he walked through the hospital or into his own waiting room. But, he realized now, Patience hadn’t lowered her gaze, not even for an instant, as she stood with her arms full of damp flowers. Henry stuck his hands in his pockets as he rounded Main Street, glad that the lights of Doyle’s were bright.
    He took a seat at the bar. Frank Redmond approached, drying his hands on a stained white cloth.
    â€œWhat’ll you have, Doc?” he asked, and Henry snorted.
    Frank looked at him, eyebrows raised.
    â€œIt’s just that you’re so welcoming and I just had a run in with . . . I have no idea what.” Henry laughed. “Pretty tight, this town.”
    â€œWell now,” Frank said, already pulling a pint for Henry. “There’s some who might take offense at that, coming from an inlander.”
    â€œOh, I’m sorry”—Henry raised his hand—“I only meant that nearly everyone I’ve met is . . .” He stopped. “Just, I’m sorry.”
    Frank was chuckling as he watched Henry fumble. “Shit, Henry, I’m just messing with you. Inlander, like that’s even a word.” He handed Henry a menu and moved off, still smiling.
    Henry looked at the menu, not really seeing any of it. He’d have a grilled cheese and leave it at that. What Henry was seeing was Patience: the way her hair stuck to the dampness at her neck, the smudge of dirt over her eyebrow, the spark of anger he’d drawn from her even as he suspected that the last thing he wanted to make her was angry. Henry thought that making her smile would be wonderful, and he felt his own lips twitch.
    â€œSo?” Frank was back. “See something you like?”
    â€œOh yes,” said Henry and shook his head to clear it of the springy green scent that seemed to cling to Patience, even in memory.
    When his sandwich came, he ate it in silence, listening to the chatter of the locals who were Frank’s bread and butter until the summer season got underway. He wiped his mouth and reached for his wallet, shifting on the stool until he had to slide off to keep his balance. He landed harder than he meant to on his bad leg and grimaced, dropping the wallet.
    â€œA quart of the chowder, Frank.” Patience stood at the endof the bar, an old hoodie over her tee shirt. The stretched hem came to the middle of her thighs; she looked naked beneath it, but her dirty boots and slouchy socks dismissed that image with an oddly childish look.
    Henry paused, his head just below the bar, his wallet halfway to his hip pocket. Damn it, he thought. It felt as if his little reverie had called Patience to Doyle’s long before he was ready to see her again.
    â€œHow’s Nettie?” Frank asked.
    â€œShe’s better,” Patience said shortly.
    Frank lowered his voice, and Henry had to strain to hear him.
    â€œShe went to the new guy, didn’t she?”
    â€œYeah,” Patience said. “She gets nervous, you know.” She shuffled through some bills as Frank brought the soup.
    â€œNo charge, P,” Frank said. “I still owe you for Claire’s migraines.”
    â€œThanks.” Patience shoved all but a couple dollars back into her pocket. “See ya.”
    â€œYup.” Frank turned back, and Henry stood up slowly, careful not to look toward the front door as it swung shut behind Patience.
    â€œWhere’d you go there?” Frank asked.
    â€œI dropped my wallet,” Henry answered and opened it to