The Last Sister (Columbia River)(74)

Emily yanked on the car door handle and stepped out, embarrassed at how bitter she had sounded. She waited for Zander, and they walked the brick-lined path to the front door, where he rang the bell.

A young girl opened it, and Emily caught her breath.

She looks exactly like Tara as a child.

The girl appeared to be nine or ten. Emily hadn’t thought to wonder if Tara had children. Or a husband. It had been shortsighted of her.

“Can we speak to your mom?” she finally managed to ask.

“Moooom!” the girl yelled over her shoulder. Her long, blonde hair was in a single braid, and she wore black jeans with ripped knees.

I have a niece.

The thought hit her like a semitruck, making her lungs seize, the oxygen gone.

Behind the girl the house had high ceilings and white wainscoting. An elegant staircase curved to the second level. The wood floors gleamed.

Footsteps sounded.

The woman who arrived was not Tara, but she looked at Zander and Emily expectantly.

“We’re looking for Terri Yancey,” Zander said. “Is she home?”

The woman’s face shut down. “She’s not feeling well.” Her manner was guarded, and suspicion hovered in her tone. She was twenty years too old to be Tara. “Can I give her a message?”

Emily and Zander exchanged a long look, and he nodded encouragingly. The decision was in her hands.

Should I?

I have a niece.

“Tell Tara her sister Emily is here,” she stated calmly, defying the drumbeat in her chest.

The woman took a half step back, her hand rising to her chest, her mouth in an O.

She knows.

The girl tilted her head, studying Emily with intelligent eyes. “Who?” She looked to the older woman. “Who is she?”

Emily said nothing, and the woman visibly pulled herself together. “Why don’t you come in?” With one hand on the girl’s shoulder, she stepped back and opened the door wider.

Emily caught Zander’s surprised expression. She shrugged at him. They’d come this far, she wasn’t about to stop now.

The woman led them to a formal living room and indicated for them to take a seat. “I’ll get her.” She vanished through the glass double doors, and her footsteps tapped up the arced staircase.

Tara’s daughter—Emily assumed—stayed, her expression watchful. She’d picked up on the unease among the adults.

“I’m Emily. This is Zander.” When the girl didn’t reply, Emily continued. “And you are . . .”

“Bella.”

Was Tara a Twilight fan?

Emily used to be.

“How old are you, Bella?” Zander asked.

“Why are you here?” Bella asked bluntly. “Why is Grandma upset?”

Zander leaned closer to Emily. “She’s definitely related to you,” he whispered.

“You’re being rude.” Bella tossed her braid over her shoulder and raised her chin.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry,” Zander said. “You remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“You don’t know her—but you will soon.”

Bella wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes at his nonanswer.

Emily lost her breath. The movement was like looking into a mirror. She’d trained herself not to use the eyeroll except around family, but the wrinkling of the nose was too hard a habit to break.

Female voices sounded. People were coming down the staircase. Bella left the room, but her question was audible. “Mom, who are they?”

Then Tara was in the doorway, one hand gripping the jamb for balance, shock opening her mouth. “Emily.” The name was faint.

Tara’s appearance jolted Emily. Her sister was now a brunette with chin-length hair. Emily had seen the brown hair in her license photo, but seeing the dark—and short—hair in person was a shock. As a teen Tara had always made a big deal over her long, blonde hair. Her sister was now bone thin and had deep circles under her eyes. She looked on edge, nervous.

That’s my sister.

All her confusion and questions evaporated. After twenty years they were in the same room. Nothing else matters. Emily stood and rushed across the room, enveloping her sister in her arms, her heart breaking at the sensation of the bones just under her skin. She pulled back to look Tara in the eye and struggled to see through tears. Emily wiped one eye, and Tara did the same.

“I’m sorry,” Tara cried. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over.



Zander watched the reunion, glad Emily had come with him. Once the sisters had gotten past tears, both talked nonstop. Madison. The aunts. Bartonville.

He’d noticed Tara had a slender face on her driver’s license, but in person the woman’s thinness looked unhealthy. She was unsteady on her feet, but that could be from the roller coaster of emotions the women were experiencing. The two finally moved to the couch and continued to talk over each other’s sentences.

“Wendy,” Tara said to the older woman, “can you take Bella in the other room so we can have a bit of privacy?”

“I want to know what’s going on,” the child stated firmly.

“I promise I’ll tell you later.”

“She said she’s your sister. You’ve said you don’t have any family.”