Standing ankle-deep in a patch of ragged snow, she took in her surroundings. She set the emergency brake, left the engine running with the heat on High, and got out of the ancient station wagon she’d bought on credit years before. “Welcome to the real world,” Sierra replied. He didn’t normally give up so easily, but they’d just driven almost nonstop all the way from Florida to northern Arizona, and he was tired. “It’s not fair,” Liam said, yet he sounded resigned. Part of her knew it was irrational to think a visit to the cemetery could provoke an asthma attack, but when it came to Liam’s health, she was taking no chances.Ī brief stare-down ensued, and Sierra prevailed, but barely. “I want to see the graves, too,” he told her, and put a mittened hand to the passenger-side door handle to make his point. He fixed her with an owlish gaze, peering through the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses. ![]() “Stay in the car,” Sierra McKettrick told her seven-year-old son, Liam.
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