Sierra's Homecoming Read Free Page A

watch her moving about the kitchen.
    â€œCool place,” he observed, between bites, “but it’s haunted.”
    Sierra took a can of soup from a shelf, opened it and dumped the contents into a saucepan, placing it on the modern gas stove before answering. Liam was an imaginative child, often saying surprising things. Rather than responding instantly, Sierra usually tried to let a couple of beats pass before she answered.
    â€œWhat makes you say that?”
    â€œDon’t know,” Liam said, chewing. They’d had a drive-through breakfast, but that had been hours ago, and he was obviously starving.
    Another jab of guilt struck Sierra, keener than the one before. “Come on,” she prodded. “You must have had a reason.” Of course he’d had a reason, she thought. They’d just been to a graveyard, so it was natural that death would be on his mind. She should have waited, made the pilgrimage on her own, instead of dragging Liam along.
    Liam looked thoughtful. “The air sort of…buzzes,” he said. “Can I make another sandwich?”
    â€œOnly if you promise to have some of this soup first.”
    â€œDeal,” Liam said.
    An old china cabinet stood against a far wall, near the cookstove, and Sierra approached it, even though she didn’t intend to use any of the dishes inside. Priceless antiques, every one.
    Her family had eaten off those dishes. Generations of them.
    Her gaze caught on a teapot, sturdy looking and, at the same time, exquisite. Spellbound, she opened the glass doors of the cabinet and reached inside to touch the piece, ever so lightly, with just the tips of her fingers.
    â€œSoup’s boiling over,” Liam said mildly.
    Sierra gasped, turned on her heel and rushed back to the modern stove to push the saucepan off the flame.
    â€œMom,” Liam interjected.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œChill out. It’s only soup.”
    The inside door swung open, and Travis stuck his head in. “Stuff’s upstairs,” he said. “Anything else you need?”
    Sierra stared at him for a long moment, as though he’d spoken in an alien language. “Uh, no,” she said finally. “Thanks.” Pause. “Would you like some lunch?”
    â€œNo, thanks,” he said. “Gotta see to that damn horse.”
    With that, he ducked out again.
    â€œHow come I can’t ride the horse?” Liam asked.
    Sierra sighed, setting a bowl of soup in front of him. “Because you don’t know how.”
    Liam’s sigh echoed her own, and if they’d been talking about anything but the endangerment of life and limb, it would have been funny.
    â€œHow am I supposed to learn how if you won’t let me try? You’re being overprotective. You could scar my psyche. I might develop psychological problems.”
    â€œThere are times,” Sierra confessed, sitting down across from him with her own bowl of soup, “when I wish you weren’t quite so smart.”
    Liam waggled his eyebrows at her. “I got it from you.”
    â€œNot,” Sierra said. Liam had her eyes, her thick, fine hair, and her dogged persistence, but his remarkable IQ came from his father.
    Don’t think about Adam, she told herself.
    Travis Reid sidled into her mind.
    Even worse.
    Liam consumed his soup, along with a second sandwich, and went off to explore the rest of the house while Sierra lingered thoughtfully over her coffee.
    The telephone rang.
    Sierra got up to fetch the cordless receiver and pressed Talk with her thumb. “Hello?”
    â€œYou’re there!” Meg trilled.
    Sierra noticed that she’d left the china cabinet doors open and went in that direction, intending to close them. “Yes,” she said. Meg had been kind to her, in a long-distance sort of way, but Sierra had only been two when she’d last seen her half sister, and that made them strangers.
    â€œHow do you like it? The ranch