More Than Sparrows: The Larkspur Valley Series, #1

By Connie Keenan

Welcome to Larkspur Valley, a rustic little town nestled in the Appalachians. The night of the Blizzard of '61, Penny Stringfellow, a frightened, unwed teenager, anxiously awaits her grandfather at the bus station. Farmer Henry Gordon has agreed to open his home to her, and he is a gentleman of his word. This is going to be an incredible year, not only for them, but for other members of Pastor MacMackin's congregation. Among them are Ruth Beverly, the waitress at the local diner, a divorced mother raising her daughter alone…Terry Flynn, the young former serviceman whose heart belongs to Penny…and Timothy, Henry's son, who has not been home for many years.

Big changes are coming to the people of Larkspur Valley in this 20th Century historical novel about the power of love, the special bonds of family and friendship, and lives that are supernaturally transformed by faith. A Christian novel by the author of GLIMMERS OF HEAVEN.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Connie Keenan
• Release date: Feb 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301419883

Connie Keenan

Connie Keenan, who has also written under the pseudonym Consuelo Vazquez, is the author of more than twenty-five novels and novellas and over one hundred short stories. With many more works to come, she's mostly written Christian fiction and sweet contemporary romance. She loves hiking, discovering fun little shops, trying out new recipes, and spending time with her family. Connie and her husband Bill live in North Carolina with a spoiled German Shepherd and two sassy Chihuahuas.

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MORE THAN SPARROWS

Connie Keenan

Copyright © 2012 by Connie Keenan

Cover art and photo by Bigstockphoto.com, KarolinaL, CreativeOtter

All names, characters and events featured in this novel are imaginary. They are not inspired by any individual person, incidents or events known or unknown to the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

Glimmers of Heaven

’Twas the Spy Before Christmas

Dimension

Champagne Taste

The Cop & the Mermaid

In memory of

Pastor Nunzio Leggio

CHAPTER ONE

For a moment, it seemed almost certain that the old bus would tear through the wooden railing on the bridge and plunge into the icy waters of Lake Connor below. Although less than a week ago, Penny Stringfellow had been contemplating ending her life, she now whispered that God would spare hers as well as everyone else’s onboard.

She was close enough to the driver that she could hear him swear under his breath right after his quick maneuvering righted the rust-ridden vehicle. The passenger in the aisle seat beside her, a soldier in uniform on his way home from the service, had woken up briefly, then dozed off again. Penny wished she could have slept, too, even if it was only a catnap. Instead, she’d been awake throughout the drive, all eight hours of it. Awake, hungry, and more afraid than she’d ever been in all of her seventeen years.

With nothing else to do with herself, she stared out the window to her left. It had begun to snow over an hour ago, and now the white flakes were coming down harder. It was a blizzard, or so someone had claimed in the seat behind her. She’d overheard the same woman telling her sister that the weather report had called for flurries, not a full-scale snowstorm worthy of the Arctic. Through the window, the trees and farms and fences passed along the way could barely be seen, with the lights from streetlamps and houses burning brightly in that Pennsylvania winter night.

Maybe her grandfather wouldn’t come for her. Maybe, with the road as treacherous as it was, he’d leave her there, with only one suitcase at her side at the bus station. Worse—maybe he’d completely forgotten about her, and never come for her at all.

That was what Mother said he’d do, right before she slammed and locked the door behind Penny. She didn’t even want to imagine what her life would be like if her grandfather refused to show up that night. Pure and simple, she had nowhere else to go. She was homeless.

And so was the little one growing inside her belly.

Instinctively, she let her hand travel down to her stomach. It was cold enough during the bus ride that she’d opted to keep her coat buttoned for most of the way, opening it only during intervals when she’d felt warmed up enough. Through her clothing her stomach felt solid and round, about the size of a child’s rubber ball. For the first few months she’d managed to hide the baby, but now that she was going into her sixth month—and skinny, because Mother said that skinny girls showed more than fat girls did—there was no hiding her pregnancy any longer.

That was when people had started to stare and shake their heads. She was asked to leave school because she was deemed a bad influence on the other students, and besides, girls who had babies didn’t need to go to school anymore. All of that had happened, and more, and then her mother had thrown her out of the house.

Last stop, Lake Connor! the bus driver bellowed, sounding even more tired than she was.

Hallelujah, came a sigh from one of the passengers.

You getting yourself knocked up is disgusting. You brought shame to the family, Penny. And I won’t have you bringing another mouth to feed into this house.

No matter how hard Penny had tried to keep her mother’s words from resurfacing in her memory, they continued to drift back to her during her trip. Inevitably, she recalled them now as she waited her turn to get off the bus. Ironically, she was both anxious and terrified to step off that vehicle. Anxious, because she wanted to make sure her grandfather would be waiting for her; terrified, because she was afraid to find out he’d abandoned her, just like her mother had. She had no one else except this grandparent she’d known only from pictures and the occasional times her mother had spoken of her father. Mother had never had a kind word to say about the man.

Another mouth to feed. Your brat, your problem, not mine. I told you to get rid of it. This is my house, my rules. You will obey them or I’ll put you out on the street.

That street, tonight, was freezing.

Penny would have slipped on the pavement beneath her feet, had it not been for the serviceman, who caught her by the arm and righted her. She blinked a couple of times, discovering that her eyes were stinging, either from the cold or fresh tears waiting to be shed.

Looking up into a face almost as young as hers, she mumbled a quick, Thank you.

The bus driver, as exhausted as he was, worked wearily but diligently to unload his passengers’ luggage. Penny waited patiently in the crowd, taking note of her surroundings. The bus station was apparently located in the central part of town, and she guessed the building and platform itself was old, perhaps from the early 1900s. She could see vending machines within walking distance, one that sold soda, another which sold cigarettes. In the near distance was what appeared to be the town square, with a quaint fountain at the entrance of a park, right across the street from a pretty white church set beside a row of tiny shops.

Other than her coat, she wasn’t dressed for the snow, which was now deep enough that it covered her shoes. No boots, no gloves, no hat, no scarf. She must have looked like a ragamuffin to her fellow passengers. She couldn’t figure out if some were staring at her and shaking their heads because she was so poorly dressed for a blizzard or if they were reacting to her noticeably bulging belly. She chose to pretend she didn’t notice and shoved her hands into her pockets to warm them. That did nothing to protect her face and eyes, which were repeatedly getting pelted by the snow, now falling sideways, blizzard-style.

Some of the passengers took their suitcases and headed into the station, where they were met by friends or family. Some left on their own, which Penny guessed meant they lived there in Larkspur Valley, perhaps not far from the station. They were all headed to comfortable homes, to someone waiting for them, to loved ones.

Where was her grandfather?

Maybe he, like the other people, was waiting for her in the station. With her suitcase finally in hand and her heart heavy, Penny threw her weight against one of the building’s heavy entrance doors to open it.

At least once inside, she could get away from the cold and the smell of fuel that seemed permanently fixed to the air. She hadn’t even been outside for that long, and already her fingers were shaking and turning pink. From somewhere in the building a radio could be heard, with the lovely voice of Margaret Whiting singing, A Tree in the Meadow. Penny looked around, taking longer than necessary to pick a spot on one of several empty wooden benches to sit and wait.

The old song was hard to listen to, especially when she felt alone and on the verge of tears. That night, it didn’t seem like anyone would love her, much less to the end of their life. From out of her purse she drew a stick of Juicy Fruit, her last piece. It was something sweet to chew on, even though it would only last a few minutes and it wouldn’t satisfy her hunger. Over the course of the last two weeks, she’d been hungrier than she’d been during the whole pregnancy. The last thing she’d eaten was a Hershey bar, purchased for a nickel. That left her with the grand total of seventy cents in her wallet.

Seventy cents wouldn’t take her very far at all.

"Hey, uh, excuse me…miss? Miss?"

Penny looked up, startled to realize that salutation was directed at her. Standing, she turned fully to face the serviceman, who gallantly removed his hat in her presence.

Me? she asked, feeling silly, since there was no one else in the room, aside from the bored-looking man in the ticket booth.

Yeah, you. I just wanted to make sure… The soldier licked his lips. You do have somebody picking you up, don’t you?

Oh, oh—yes, I, yes, I do. Managing a smile, she looked from him to the older gentleman in the expensive-looking coat behind him, watching them from the doorway. My grandfather should be here any minute. He’s coming for me.

All righty, then. My pop and I didn’t want to see a girl here by herself at this hour. He gave a sharp, efficient nod of his head. But, okay. As long as somebody’s coming for you.

They are. Thanks.

His hat looked almost too big for him when he replaced it on his head. He looked kinda…cute, Penny thought, though he was a handful of years older than her and most likely already had a steady girl waiting for him. She sat back down and forced herself not to watch as he and his father walked out of the building together.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she noted she’d been at the station for almost twenty minutes now. From the time the bus had pulled in, counting the time until the driver found her suitcase and now, almost twenty minutes had passed. She swallowed hard, trying not to notice how hard she was shaking inside.

He wasn’t coming. Her grandfather had changed his mind about taking her and the baby in. Penny took the gum from her mouth and put it in the wrapper, unable to hold back her tears any longer. Even if she’d accepted the ride from the serviceman and his father—strangers to her—she didn’t even have an address to give them. Mother hadn’t given her his address. She’d only told her he’d paid for Penny’s bus ticket to Larkspur Valley, and that he would be allowing her and the baby to stay with him.

For how long that would be, she had no idea. She only knew she had nowhere else to go but her grandfather’s. Could he have changed his mind, even after paying for her bus ticket? Maybe he’d decided to count the expense as a loss, rather than to sink himself for the greater expense of taking in his pregnant granddaughter and her unborn child.

Once more the door opened behind her. Hearing the approaching footsteps, she quickly wiped her tears away with her hands.

Penny?

Instantly, she recognized him from his pictures. He was older now, his face more lined with age, but he still resembled the man in the photographs. Mother didn’t have many of them, but remembering the few she had of her father in an old photo album, Penny could tell that was him.

Yes—I’m Penny, she replied.

Penny. You go by Penny, right? Not Penelope? he clarified.

I go by Penny. Yes.

She was afraid to approach him, fearing he’d be as cold as her mother. She needn’t have worried; he offered her a hug in greeting, one that was sincere if a bit awkward. That wasn’t a man who was accustomed to giving, and possibly even getting, hugs.

I’m sorry I’m late, he apologized.

No, that’s okay. I didn’t wait long. Smiling, she waited for him to give her bad news.

For him to tell her he was sending her back to her mother in a few days. For him to say he’d changed his mind. That she wasn’t welcome. That he was a poor farmer and he couldn’t afford her. All the same, she couldn’t help but gaze at him, actually excited to meet him at last.

He was in his fifties, fifty-four or fifty-five, she couldn’t remember, exactly. He’d been young when her mother was born and, ironically enough, her mother hadn’t been much older than her when she’d given birth to her. Tall and slim, his lanky frame hovered over her. Not a bad-looking man, even with his hairline receding and the silver in his temples.

I would’ve gotten here sooner if it wasn’t for the storm. Here… Pausing, he reached for her suitcase. Let’s get you home. The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get out there.

Home. He’d said that word so easily, so tenderly. She rose to her feet.

Okay, Grandfather. What—what should I call you?

Penny’s heart was pounding, though she relaxed at those kind, powder-blue eyes that regarded her as he placed a hand on her back and guided her around the end of the long bench.

‘Grandpa’ would be nice, he said softly.

Henry Gordon was proud of his car, a bright orange-red 1960 Chevy Impala, which he’d only had for a year. The last thing he wanted was to wreck it in an accident, but he was even more afraid of his pregnant granddaughter being injured. Driving in inclement weather had always made him nervous.

So he drove slowly, both hands gripping the steering wheel, his eyes fixed to the road, while the all-news radio station droned on with details of the storm. An historic storm, they were calling it. Those four miles from town to his farm might as well have been a hundred and four miles, for how long it was taking him, but with the Lord’s help he’d get them home safely.

The girl hadn’t said much along the way. That was fine, since he had to concentrate on his driving. She’d been crying, too. He had to grin when he thought back to a few minutes ago, how she’d smiled and quickly dried her face, though her red eyes gave her away. The little girl was trying to be brave, and he respected that in someone so young. Henry knew his daughter; he knew what Vera must have put that poor child through before casting her out of her own home.

Gratefully, he pulled into the familiar long driveway. To cut through the silence, he announced, Well, Penny, honey, we’re home.

Are we? I’m glad. She turned to him shyly, her voice trembling in spite of her smile. Home sweet home.

Pleased, Henry chuckled. Yes, that’s right. Home sweet home.

He wanted to admit to her that it would be sweeter now that the place wouldn’t be quite so empty anymore. Naturally, it was also about to get a lot less quiet in that old house, too. As a man who was up and about at the crack of dawn, it would be an adjustment for him, having a little one crying and fussing at all hours of the night.

But that was all right by him. Henry was no stranger to babies. He’d fathered six children in all; three had been stillborn, the fourth—a boy—had died during the night at the age of two months. His beloved wife, Opal, had always been of delicate health, and she was the never the same after finding her infant son dead in his crib that terrible morning.

Time, like people said, heals all wounds. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten all that. Tonight, for him at least, was a happy occasion. Still, emotionally speaking, he was keeping a bit of a distance. Just in case Penny, like her mother, wouldn’t want that to be her home at all.

Easy. Careful, he advised as he helped her out of the car. Is that all you have, girl? Just those shoes? You don’t have any boots?

She looked down at her feet. That’s all I have. And an old pair of bedroom slippers. They won’t do me any good in this snow, but—

Some of the boys who’ve worked for me are about your age. I think I can find their old boots in the stable. They’re not pretty boots, but they’ll do better on the snow and ice.

"That’d be good. Thank you, Grandfather…Grandpa."

He retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, then helped her up the snowy path to the front door. You hungry?

Yes, but I don’t want to be any trouble. I can wait till tomorrow to eat something.

Well, no, you can’t. You’re a mama now, eating for two, he corrected her firmly. I can make you a sandwich. Won’t take but a minute and you won’t have to go to bed hungry.

Willingly, she accepted the offer at that point. Okay.

Lots of things in the house needed fixing. What house over half a century old didn’t? Still, Henry had to admit that his home looked almost picturesque on such a white, wintry night such as that one. The sideways-falling snow had blown onto the plain porch, leaving a thick layer of snowflakes on the four old rockers that were there year-round.

Once inside, he watched Penny’s reaction. Long before her mother was her age, she couldn’t wait to leave the old farmhouse. Penny, on the other hand, immediately surveyed the house with one sweeping glance. Curiosity filled her eyes as she looked around at the sparse furnishings, her gaze resting on the fireplace set in a wall of rock.

That’s a real fireplace! she exclaimed.

Yep. Sure is.

We don’t have one. We have this little furnace-type thing in the apartment. Or we did.

The fact that her voice had trailed off forlornly didn’t escape him. Henry studied his granddaughter, who at seventeen was at that crossroads in her life, not a little girl anymore but just embarking on young womanhood. Some would consider her plain, but he thought she had an honest kind of beauty. He suspected her light auburn hair, tamed back in a single long braid, could be a