Page 3 of A River of Crows

“Goodbye, Liam.” She ended the call and threw the phone onto the floorboard. The road blurred through her tears. Liam always said her eyes were prettier when she cried. That they brightened to emerald green, like a sky changing colors during a storm. With all the crying she’d done recently, they had to be glowing like the Emerald City by now.

Sloan riffled around in her purse, searching for the cassette. It would only make her feel worse, but she needed it. She carried the tape around like an alcoholic stashing an emergency bottle of whiskey. Sloan’s hands shook as she slid it into the tape deck, the only part of the old clunker that somehow still worked perfectly. Keith Whitley’s “I’m Over You” began right on cue. Of all the songs to start on. When Sloan couldn’t stop her tears fast enough, she pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed. She could pretend it was for Liam, but these tears were really for the first man to break her heart, Jay Hadfield, her father.

Chapter 2

Mallowater, Texas, 1988

Sloan Hadfield cared little for crows. So, while her mom and brother talked birds, Sloan opened her copy of The Egypt Game and tried to ignore them.

“Is it time for the night roosts again?” Ridge asked. He sat across from Sloan—floppy blonde hair obscuring his eyes as he studied the tattered bird encyclopedia in front of him.

As Mom stirred hamburger meat around in a pan, the spicy aroma of paprika tickled Sloan’s nose. “Pretty soon. It’s almost fall, and breeding season is over,” her mother answered.

Sloan said a silent prayer Mom wouldn’t go into any more detail about crow breeding. She already knew more about birds’ mating habits than any twelve-year-old should. Daddy said her mom was once a brilliant scientist, the kind that studies birds. Said she gave up some fancy internship to come to the middle of nowhere Texas to be with him. Seeing as how Sloan’s father worked as a traveling salesman for the Fuller Brush Company, that part of the story never made sense to Sloan. Why didn’t Daddy move to New York to be with the woman he loved? Didn’t people in New York need toilet brushes and kitchen degreasers too?

“What’s your favorite bird, Sloan?” Ridge asked.

Sloan kept her eyes on her book. “The phoenix.”

“That’s not an actual bird.” He pushed the book towards her. “You can look in here.”

Sloan shoved the book across the table. “When’s dinner going to be ready?”

“Soon.” Mom tossed Sloan an apple from the counter. “Have this while you wait.”

Sloan caught the apple, then dropped it on the table and resumed her reading. Ridge reached across and grabbed for it. “Hey!” Sloan snatched the fruit back up. “That’s mine.”

“You weren’t even going to eat it.” Ridge’s face reddened to the same shade as the apple.

“Yes, I was!” Sloan chomped into the fruit. “Get your own.”

“Both of you, stop.” Mom pressed the meat down with a wooden spoon, and the grease sizzled. “Do you realize how lucky you are to have one another? Have I ever told you about the special relationship between brother and sister crows?”

“No.” Ridge turned his chair away from the table and toward his mother. “Tell us!”

Sloan rolled her eyes. Here we go again.

Mom approached the table. “Well, in most bird species, once the bird leaves the nest, that’s it. They go off and find their own way. But not crows.” Mom’s eyes brightened. “Crows stay with their family for years, sticking around to help protect younger siblings. They even help bring the momma bird food for the baby.” She raised her eyebrows at Sloan.

Ridge slowly turned back to the table. “Sorry I tried to take your apple, Lo.”

Sloan looked back at her book but felt her mom’s eyes boring into her.

The screeching sound of the screen door granted Sloan a reprieve. She jumped up, dropping the book on the floor. “Daddy!”

“Lo! Come give your old man a hug, will you?” Sloan charged and wrapped her arms around her dad’s chest. He smelled like aftershave and pine. He lifted the bill of her Detroit Lions cap. “I missed the game Sunday. How are the Lions looking this season?”

Sloan grimaced. “Well, they only lost by one touchdown.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Lo. I think we may need a new team to root for.” He handed Mom his briefcase, kissing her cheek. “Hey, we’re missing one. Where’s my boy?”

“Hi, Dad.” Ridge waved from the kitchen doorway.

Daddy walked over and ruffled Ridge’s hair, then stuck his head farther into the kitchen. “Something smells delicious.”

“Tacos,” Mom said.

“Perfect! That’s just what I’ve been hungry for. There’s not a restaurant in the entire state of Texas that can hold a candle to your cooking.”

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