Chapter 1 Q


Soſt footsteps padding down the hall T


he day Sierra died, I lost my temper with her. Twice. Even at two and a half, she was a willful child. Maybe being in the middle had something to do with it. Or maybe it was be-


cause she was the only girl. All I knew was, with three kids—Scott, who was four, Sierra, and Jasper, nine months—my patience wore thin some days, and this was one of those days. Now resting my head on the back of the couch. I listened to the


silence, closing my eyes for a moment. Good, I thought. Maybe she’s finally asleep. For the past hour, I’d been trying to put Sierra down for a nap


without waking up Jasper, asleep in his crib. Sierra was at that stage where she still needed naps but didn’t


want to take them. She’d rather play with her big brother, Scott, who was tinkering quietly with his Legos in another room. Sierra didn’t know how to play quietly. A busy child, she tend-


ed to be loud, boisterous, full of energy. I could use some of her energy right now. I felt completely drained. Tat morning I had taken all three kids to a warehouse store. My husband, Peter, was running errands elsewhere. While Jasper


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