A Sparrow for Job
December 12, 2000. Bleeden, Texas
“It’s time.” With a grunt, Cheryl James rocked herself up to her feet from the worn, sagging couch. The words she'd been dreadfully waiting to say for nine months came out flat. There was no giddy excitement, no bubbly anticipation, just a terrible sense of finality.
Darrel grumbled at her.
Cheryl stood looking down at him, one hand on a hip, the other on her swollen belly. "I said, your son is about to be born."
Darrel didn’t move. He didn’t even take his eyes from the television screen. But he did take another swig of beer before scratching himself. “Can’t you wait until my show is over at least?” he said at last.
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“It does now.”
“C’mon. We have to go,” Cheryl screeched.
“Calm down, woman. Damn, you a
