Leave It to Chance (13 page)

The next afternoon, Sierra grabbed her keys and the directions to Braden’s vision appointment. “Guys, come on. We need to go.”

Braden came in and set the cordless phone on the counter, his expression dark.

“Did you get a hold of your dad, honey?”

He shrugged away from her hand. “No. Can you take me over to work with Ross?”

“We have your eye appointment in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but we need to leave right now.”

Trevor’s finger woodpeckered Sierra’s thigh with impatience. “I can’t find my shoes.”

“They’re right there by the door.” Braden flung the words in a tone that stated Trevor was stupider than stupid.

“Nuh-uh.” Trevor lowered his head like a little bull, shaking it back and forth. “Those aren’t mine.”

“They are too, Trevor.”

“No, sir—”

Sierra picked up her purse. “Boys!”

Braden glared at her then stormed outside and slammed the door.

She stared after him. Part of her wanted to run out there and wring his neck. The other part, the part that saw through to the hurt, wanted to gather him close and tell him it was going to be okay. But nothing was okay at the moment. She hadn’t gotten a return call from Michael either, and she’d left messages at his home and office.

She stuffed her keys in her pocket, found Trevor’s shoes, squeezed them over his socks, then herded him and Emory out the front door.

An hour and a half later, Trevor squirmed in her lap while they waited for the ophthalmologist to return. Diplomas and medical certificates lined one office wall, while a bookcase held all sorts of medical journals and little glass knickknacks.

“Are we done?” Braden turned, and she grinned at the dime-sized black pupils that nearly swallowed the brown irises.

“She’ll be here in a minute, honey, then we’ll go see Chance.”

With a grunt, Braden plopped on the floor and pulled out a Sudoku puzzle from the much-used wicker basket in the kids’ corner. Emory sat in an armchair and read
The Little Princess
. And after repeated warnings not to touch Dr. Remina’s decorative glass turtles, Trevor was spending a little jail time on her lap. She hoped the smallest turtle had already been missing one of its blue beaded eyes.

The door opened with an authoritative rush of air. With brisk steps the young doctor, her dark hair in a tight ponytail, crossed the room and settled into the leather chair behind her desk. The manila folder in her hand looked ominous. Suddenly the comfortable room felt stark, foreboding.

Dr. Remina opened the file and gave Braden a warm look before turning her attention to Sierra. “Braden has binocular dysfunction, which is a hindering of the ability to accurately aim his eyes at a target and keep it single, as well as derive meaningful cues as to spatial location and speed of movement of distant targets.” She gave Sierra a patient smile, the kind that said she was used to translating doctor jargon to baffled parents. “In other words, it’s inefficient eye teaming. What this signifies for Braden is that he likely has difficulty with intermittent blurring, errors when copying school work, double vision, and poor depth perception, which would create difficulties in activities such as catching a ball.”

The eye doctor continued, “Of course, eye strain and headaches are common—as well as needing extra time to complete assignments.”

Hot shame washed over Sierra. Braden told her he got headaches when he did his homework, but she’d thought it was an excuse.

Dr. Remina closed the folder. The woman linked her fingers and rested them across the folder. “Braden will need to wear an eye patch for a while and do some vision therapy, but unfortunately glasses will not help his condition.”

Sierra felt overwhelmed by the information. She glanced at her son, who had a confused expression on his face.

Dr. Remina smiled. “The patch will be short term, until the muscles in his eyes get stronger. But without treatment children become defeated and their overall performance suffers.”

“How long is the treatment?”

“At least a year.”

An avalanche of questions rushed through Sierra’s mind, storming from every direction. What did the therapy entail? What was the success rate? How would it affect his schooling? And what would it cost?

“And of course, it’s important that he get plenty of rest and eat well. It’s amazing how a lack of sleep impacts our body functions.”

Sierra nodded even as her throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. And she
needed
to swallow or she’d start crying. Her mind settled on the phrase that loomed the largest.
Binocular dysfunction?
She pictured her eleven-year-old son, eye patch covering one eye, walking the halls of middle school. The spasm in her throat grew.

Sierra tried to sort all the information and asked the one question she could speak without crying. “How much will it cost?”

“The vision therapy is three thousand dollars. And, let me see,” Dr. Remina flipped through Braden’s file, stopping at a blue sheet. She wrinkled her nose in a grimace. “Your insurance doesn’t cover this type of treatment.”

It was a double-headed hammer blow. Braden’s self-esteem on one side, the unexpected cost on the other. Six months ago, Michael might have been willing to help pay, but now….

Sierra parked next to Ross’s barn and the kids hopped out. The slam of a pickup door made her turn toward the house.

Ross walked around the bed of his pickup and came toward her, a warm grin easing over his face. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you this early.”

“We had a doctor’s appointment, so we, um, decided to feed Chance now.”

His brow drew together slightly. “Everything okay, I hope.”

She shrugged. “Just an eye appointment for Braden.”

He nodded then gestured toward the pasture. “I found another spot in the fence where it sagged pretty bad. Lucky that Chance didn’t get tangled in it when he got loose. I’ll fix it tonight and turn him back out.”

“Thanks, that’s great. I know you’re busy.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I better get in there before they start racing Chance around bales of hay.”

He laughed, the white tan lines from countless hours of squinting in the sun, disappearing. “Yeah, you better.”

She bit the corner of her lip, then smiled. “Bye.” She jogged toward the barn; hopefully the kids had stayed
outside
the stall.

“Hey, Sierra,” Ross called.

She turned.

Ross walked backward toward his house with the same warm look. “Could you come up to the house before you go? I need to talk to you about something.”

Her heart did a little flip, and she nodded.

Chapter 13

“You kids keepin’ that old horse happy?”

Sierra recognized the boom of the rough voice and turned. “Kids, this is Mr.—?” She still didn’t know his last name.

“Sid.” He rested a hand on the stall. “Call me Sid.” He poked the ever-present stub of straw toward Chance’s enclosure. “I ain’t never seen a horse as handsome as that one. You kids ought to be mighty proud. He’s a dandy.”

The kids beamed. Trevor looked up at the older man. “You can pet him.”

“I jist might do that.”

“I’ll get his brush.” Braden raced for the tack room.

Her heart started hammering as the kids jostled each other to be nearest the opening when Sid unlatched the stall door. Emory hurried inside to pet the big gray head while Braden moved a soft brush along his neck. Trevor hung back and didn’t seem to realize that he’d wrapped an arm around one of Sid’s skinny legs.

After the kids “introduced” Sid to their horse, and they’d petted and brushed Chance sufficiently, the older man closed the stall door and maneuvered over to Sierra with a keen look in his eye. “You ought to get these kids into 4-H.”

Her voice squeaked, and she tried again. “4-H? With Chance?” The picture of her kids in a ring leading that giant horse by themselves sent a shiver up her spine.

He leaned a wiry arm against the stall. “It’d be the best thing for them and that horse. Ross joined 4-H when he was about Braden’s age on a horse named Rocket. ”

Braden said, “Can we, Mom?” He cast his sister an excited glance.

Emory grasped her arm and tugged on it. “Please?”

“Um.” She looked toward Sid for help, but he was watching Trevor play with two of his Star Wars action figures on a bale of hay.

She swallowed hard and gave them a brave smile. “We can look into it.”
What was she saying?

Sid rolled the piece of straw in his mouth, proud approval in the nod he gave her. “You sure are a good mother, Sierra. Not many moms would do what yer doin’ for these kids.”

She gave him a stern look, but her voice was playful. “It’s going to be your fault if 4-H pushes me over the edge, and the kids come home from school and find me curled in the fetal position.”

He laughed. “You do paint a picture, Sierra.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose. “When I was coming across the field, I saw you and Ross talkin’.”

She gave him a teasing smile. “And you thought he was giving me Chance’s eviction notice, didn’t you?”

He chuckled as Trevor sidled up beside him. “That horse eats any more of his prized bushes and you jist might get one.” He rubbed the top of her four-year-old’s head and bent toward him. “You’ll need to come over to my house and see the ponies there.”

“How many do you have?” Trevor asked, his eyes curious.

“I’ve got eight now. Just got a new one last week. Can you see the field through those doors down there?” Sid pointed to the doors that led out to the corral, and Trevor nodded. “Well, I don’t know if you can see him, but there’s a black horse at the right up near the fence.”

“I see him.”

“Well, that there’s Traitor. We have to keep him separate. He’s not too keen on the other horses.”

Sierra peeked through the doors. The black horse pranced in a nervous fashion back and forth along the fence line. It made her shudder just to see the pent-up energy. He made Chance look like a lap dog. She pulled her gaze away. “Sid, how long have you lived here?”

He whistled a long, low note and his eyes crinkled in thought. “Oh, I’d say about thirty-five years. Moved here from Kansas after my wife and daughter were killed in a car accident.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “It was tough. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. ’Bout killed me to be in that house, all alone except the memories. Finally sold it and came out here.”

“What made you pick Oregon?”

He grinned and settled back against the stall, picking at his teeth with the piece of straw. “Well, Kyle’s grandpappy, he and I grew up together till his folks moved out here when we were in high school.” The white grizzle of whiskers rippled with his chuckle. “Figured I might as well move where I knew somebody.”

It struck her.
Kansas. Kyle. Ross and Kyle were cousins. Could …?
She gripped his arm.
“Sid! Do you know if that honeysuckle was from the homestead where Kyle’s grandparents lived? I mean, if it was the same side of the family?”

Sid scratched his chin as he considered. “Could be,” he said.

“Could you find out where Ross’s great-grandmother’s homestead is? If it’s still there, I mean.” A bubble of hope swelled. “And if it is, maybe the honeysuckle is there too.”

He worked his lips back and forth in a grimace that set his cheeks to moving. “I don’t know. I guess it’s worth a shot. Ross’ll have to ask his mother—”

“No! I don’t want Ross to know what I’m doing.”

He nodded smugly, as if enjoying being a coconspirator. “I’ll call Kyle’s mom and see what I can find out. We might need to do some of that online stuff Ross is always talking about. Ross set up a computer at the house for the pony business, if you don’t mind coming over.”

“Sid, you’re the one doing me a favor.”

“Well, now that you mention it, we probably need to talk about payment.”

Sierra stared at him, disappointment curling in her gut. He had seemed so helpful, even if he had pushed her with Chance. She held back the sigh. But he
was
helping her out. Maybe Elise could loan her a small amount. “How much are you thinking?”

Sid looked everywhere but at her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good home-cooked meal.”

Sierra burst out laughing. “You old conniver! I would
love
to cook you a meal.”

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” He rubbed his belly, a look of anticipation and hope on his leathery features.

“Five o’clock, your place?”

Delight smoothed out the creases on his face. “The door will be open.”

Trevor was following Braden up to the hayloft. She lifted her voice. “Let’s go, boys. Em. We’re leaving.” She grinned at Sid again. “I better get them out of here.”

He nodded and headed for the door. “Yeah, I better git.”

“Oh, Sid.” He turned, anticipation still lighting his grin. “I hope you’re partial to rutabagas and sauerkraut.”

The startled look on his face was priceless.

Ross had been waiting for the knock. When he opened the door, Sierra turned from watching the kids explore the pasture behind her. Glimmers of a smile clung to the dimples in her cheeks, and he felt his own lips starting to turn up. He shifted his stance and looked down.

Her voice was warm and inviting. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck and stepped out onto the front porch. His collar chafed and he rubbed the back of his neck again. There wasn’t an easy way to start a conversation he didn’t want to have, so better jump right in. “I’m looking for a bookkeeper. Sid normally does it, but he doesn’t have time right now.” The words trailed off.

“Did you want me to place an ad for you?”

He chuckled. “No, I wanted to see if
you
had bookkeeping experience.”

It took her a moment to catch up. “Really?” Then her whole face lit up and she nearly bounced on the front step. “Truly? You mean, like a job?” Then immediately she dipped her head and tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear, seeming to try for nonchalance. “Or just some help to pay off the, um, honeysuckle.”

“A job.”

She laughed. “Seriously?”

He nodded, unable to hold back a grin.

“I could just hug—” She dropped her eyes as a smile of embarrassment crossed her face. She glanced back at him, cheeks pink. “When do I start?”

“So you can process accounts payable?”

She flashed a beautiful smile. “And the receivables, if you need me to.”

He scratched his head. “Okay, well, I need to talk to Sid and find out where he’s at with it before I can put you on it. How about Monday?”

The smile turned shy. “Thanks, Ross. You have no idea what this means to me, for my family.”

As she gathered the kids and skipped back to her van, Ross shook his head, his eyes lingering on her. He had a pretty good idea what it meant to her family, but what exactly did it mean for him?

That night in her mom’s quiet house, Sierra lay on her stomach in her pajamas, phone in hand, and pressed in Elise’s number.

Her friend answered on the first ring. “So, has Michael called you back?”

“No. But yesterday I went downtown and signed up for the child support program. Did I tell you it will take two to three months to process? Then I drove by his office. His car was there, so I know he’s alive at least.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“I’m going to.”

“When?”

“Friday.” Even if she had to camp in his driveway to do it.

Thursday evening Sierra pulled the oven door open and the delicious smell of stuffed pork chops wafted over her.

The front door slammed and Braden came tearing into the kitchen. She turned toward the window and caught a glimpse of Ross’s blue pickup backing out of the driveway. Tearing her eyes from the retreating vehicle, she set the pork chops on top of the stove and turned to lean back against the counter. “How’d it go?”

“Awesome.” His grin turned sheepish. “But it was hard. Ross had me stack a bunch of bricks on a trailer and then I got to drive the tractor and pull the bricks to where the guys were working.”

She straightened. “You drove a tractor?”

He gave her a look. “Ross drove with me.”

“Okay.”
Leave out the pertinent details until after your parent has a heart attack.

“I’m going to call Dad and tell him.” He picked up the cordless phone and pressed the buttons as he wandered toward the living room.

Sierra stretched plastic wrap over the salad and tried not to listen for conversation from the other room.

Braden stomped back into the kitchen and dropped the phone on the counter.

“Dad wasn’t there?”

Braden ignored her and turned to leave the room.

“Honey, we’re taking dinner to Sid’s. Could you wash the dirt off your hands and carry this bowl of potatoes to the van, please?”

He scowled and trudged over to the sink.

“It was nice of Ross to pick you up and bring you back. Is he planning on doing that every day?”

“I dunno.” He grabbed the bowl of potatoes. “He said when it works out.”

“Careful, honey.” Her voice came out sharp when the bowl tilted, and she tried to soften it with a grin. “You don’t want to have to tell Sid you dropped his dinner in the driveway.”

Braden didn’t smile.

She wanted to hunt Michael down that minute and let him see the damage on his son’s face.

Sierra popped the last bit of roll into her mouth and glanced around the table brimming with the remains of the dinner she’d brought to Sid’s.

The older man set down his fork with a sigh. “Now that was dee-licious! You could give Ross some lessons.” He leaned close to the table with a rascally grin. “Best rutabagas I’ve ever had.”

Sierra laughed. There hadn’t been a rutabaga in sight. Sid’s table had been laden with stuffed pork chops, garlic and bacon green beans, fluffy mashed potatoes and rich pork gravy, along with homemade rolls—her mother’s recipe—that could make a starving man cry. Trevor ate more rolls than anything. Raspberry jam had smeared a ghastly grin around his mouth. Sierra wiped his face with her napkin and leaned down to pick his wadded one up off the floor.

“Mom, made lemon mer—” Trevor looked to her for help.

“Meringue.”

“Lemon mang pie for dessert!” Her youngest beamed the news.

Braden reached across Emory and plucked another roll off the platter. She pushed her brother’s arm away, and Braden shot her a dirty look.

Sierra addressed him, “Braden, ask next time, and we’ll pass it to you.”

Sid ruffled Braden’s hair. “When you’ve got a man-sized appetite, you don’t want to wait.” Her son gave him a sheepish grin. The older man leaned back and rubbed his belly. “Now, that’s what I call a meal!”

The kids helped clear the table without any complaining, then moved into the living room to watch a DVD.