A Winchester Homecoming. Pamela Toth

David grabbed the handle of the largest suitcase. “Honey bun, would you hold the front door open for me?”

      The brewing thundercloud on her face was replaced by instant sunshine. She was going to be a heartbreaker. As her oldest sibling, he would have to stay in shape just to keep the boys in line.

      The idea of testosterone-driven adolescent males sniffing around her at some point in the not-too-distant future was enough to make his head ache.

      “Sure thing,” she crowed, running up the steps.

      Jake opened his mouth, but David froze him with a warning stare. “Don’t lose my keys,” David told him, turning away.

      He might be a childless bachelor, but he’d spent enough time baby-sitting his half siblings to learn a few tricks, he thought as he noticed that his mother was waiting for him in the entryway.

      “Nicely done,” she said after he had thanked Cheyenne for holding the door and she had skipped ahead.

      “You taught me all I know,” he replied, shifting the bag on his shoulder. A fresh flower arrangement sat on a side table, no doubt from her own garden. Adam and Kim had gone into the spacious living room. “I’d better get these right up to sis’s room, in case she needs them in the next couple of minutes.”

      His mother smothered a chuckle. “Behave yourself,” she scolded softly. “And you know the two of you aren’t actually related.”

      “Thank God,” he muttered back, leaning down to peck her cheek. He rolled the suitcase across the tiled floor. “I’ll come back for this.” Once he had, he planned to sneak out through the kitchen.

      He would have liked to say something encouraging to his mother, since he knew how hard she worked at being the perfect stepparent. It burned him to no end that she blamed herself for coming between Adam and his daughter and sending her away. It wasn’t true.

      “Kim!” Adam exclaimed from the living room, the urgency in his voice drawing both David’s and his mother’s attention.

      He turned in time to see Adam struggling to his feet as Kim slid gracefully to the floor.

      “Is she dead?” Cheyenne shrieked as David dropped the suitcase and ducked around his mother.

      “No, dear,” Emily replied calmly. “I think she’s fainted.”

      Adam’s frustration at his temporary limitations was easy to read on his contorted face. “Kim!” he shouted again.

      When David bent over her, she was as pale as milk, but already her eyes were beginning to flutter open. The others gathered around to see if she was all right as David bent down and scooped her into his arms. Compared to bucking hay bales and wrestling livestock, lifting her was easy. He was surprised at how little she weighed. No wonder she’d gone down like a heart-shot buck.

      “I’m fine,” she insisted, already starting to struggle. “Put me down!”

      He was about to make some smart-alecky comment in order to lighten the tension when he got a look at her face. He’d expected to see confusion, embarrassment, perhaps even annoyance at the proprietary way he had hauled her up. What he read instead in her wide green eyes made him set her carefully back onto her feet.

      In the instant before she managed to hide it, her face had been filled with fear.

      Chapter Two

      “I told you calling a doctor wasn’t necessary.” The irritation in Kim’s tone when she spoke to her father was a ruse intended to cover her embarrassment. “She said all I need is a nap.”

      Emily had gone back downstairs to show the doctor out, and Kim’s father sat on the edge of her bed, his crutches propped up next to him and his callused hand covering hers.

      “You fainted. What Dr. Wilson actually said was that you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself, so you’re dehydrated and probably exhausted.”

      His tone was bland, but the concern in his eyes only increased Kim’s guilt. He probably deserved an explanation, one she wasn’t yet ready to give. She had gotten herself into this mess and it was her fault, all of it, but what she wanted to do right now was to regroup in the familiar surroundings from her youth.

      “Like I told you,” she replied, “a rest and some water will fix me right up.”

      She jutted her chin, gaze daring him to argue. For a moment she thought he’d push it as he assessed her.

      The unyielding expression on his weathered face brought back so many memories of her frustration in dealing with him, of rebellious youth butting up against parental authority, of tears and tantrums on her part and refusal to bend on his.

      Then he patted her hand, positioned his crutches and pulled himself to his feet. Just coming upstairs must have been a real struggle for him, she realized with a stab of remorse.

      “I’m glad you’re here, Kimmie,” he said as he found his balance.

      “Me, too.” Relief washed over her. Eyes misting, she managed a shaky smile, hoping it would ease his concern. “Thanks, Daddy.”

      “Anytime. You know that,” he said gruffly. “Emily’s bringing you up some soup. If there’s anything else you need…” His voice trailed off, an open invitation for her to confide in him, but she wasn’t ready to lay out her mistakes.

      “I’ll be fine, really,” she said.

      Still he hovered. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” He frowned at his leg as though it had deliberately let him down by allowing itself to get broken. “Emily won’t let me come back up here tonight.”

      As if on cue, his wife appeared in the doorway carrying a tray.

      “I feel useless,” he grumbled when he looked at her.

      “Knock it off,” she responded cheerfully. “That hangdog expression isn’t fooling anyone, and I know you’d whisk the tray right out of my hands if you could.”

      Husband and wife exchanged meaningful glances that told Kim they’d be discussing her later. She hoped they wouldn’t tell her aunts and uncles that she had collapsed in the living room.

      It was bad enough that her stepbrother had been here to see her swoon like a Victorian maiden, worse that he was the one to lug her up the stairs with no more concern than a bag of feed. As her head cleared, she’d become too aware of his strength and her own vulnerability. The big show-off hadn’t even been breathing hard when he’d laid her on the narrow bed with its ruffled coverlet, but their gazes had locked for an instant before he straightened to flash her a mocking grin.

      “I knew you were faking,” he’d whispered.

      Now Emily set the tray across Kim’s lap. “How are you feeling?” she asked brightly.

      “Better, thank you.” Kim glanced down at the steaming bowl of soup. As the appetizing aroma teased her nostrils, her mouth began to water.

      “It’s homemade chicken and noodle,” Emily said as she transferred a small pitcher of ice water and an empty glass to the nightstand. “I had some in the freezer and I remembered that you liked it the last time you were here.”

      That was surprising, since Kim hadn’t been home in five years. “It was nice of you to fix it for me.”

      Emily glanced over her shoulder at Kim’s father, who hovered in the doorway. He must be waiting for Emily to help him down the stairs. Knowing how independent he usually was, Kim was surprised that he hadn’t just barreled ahead without assistance, even if it meant falling on his hard head. Risk had never slowed him down before, not that Kim could remember, but he’d sure blown up when he caught her riding on the back of David’s motor scooter, even though she had been wearing a helmet.

      Emily clasped her hands together and leaned closer. “This is your home, dear,” she said quietly. “It