Leave It to Chance (18 page)

At five-thirty a chicken-and-rice casserole bubbled as she placed it on the hot pad in the center of the kitchen table. Canned beans and french bread rounded out the meal.

Sid searched the table. “Where’s the salad?”

“Well, I thought beans might be easier.”

“Easier to digest?”

“No. I meant easier on your teeth.” Her mom suggested she stay away from salad. Lettuce and dentures were a difficult combination.

“Never heard of lettuce being hard on your teeth.”

Sierra bit her lip. “I thought maybe you had dentures.”

He looked at her wide eyed, like she was crazy, then burst out laughing. “Missy, I’ve had these teeth over seventy years. And I like salad with my dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

He poked suspiciously at the dark glass of juice by his plate. “What’s that?”

“Prune juice.” Another of her mother’s helpful suggestions.

His eyebrows hunkered down. “That’s what I thought.” He spoke to the glass. “Sierra, I think we need to get a few things straight. I might look old but my plumbing works fine, and I got all my body parts including these here chompers.” He pushed the glass away. “So you go ahead and make my food just like you would for your family.” His eyes caught hers. “With salad.”

She nodded, warm humor budding at his serious expression. “You like salad.”

His nod was succinct. “I like salad. Didn’t have much lettuce growing up. Lived on beans mostly.” He eyed the green vegetable on the corner of his plate with distaste.

Two quick raps on the back door announced Ross’s arrival. “Hi. How did it go today?”

Sid gave a mournful look at the table. “Well, other than the prune juice and the beans, we got along tolerably well.”

Sierra swiped the dishtowel at him and turned to Ross. “I see what you mean by cantankerous.”

Sid laughed. “Now see here, missy. You’ve got cantankerous pointed in the wrong direction.
That
one’s standing right over there by the sink.”

Sierra grinned at Sid. “No, what I’m seeing is two peas in a pod.”

Sid herded his rice and chicken into a neat pile far from the beans. “Ross, sit down. There’s plenty of vittles.”

Ross walked to the sink and washed his hands while Sierra pulled down another plate for him. As she grabbed the utensils, she glanced at him with a straight face. “Prune juice?”

Ross laughed. “No, thanks.” After she set a fork and knife on the table, he glanced at Sid, then handed her a sheaf of papers. “I picked these up today when I was in town.”

She glanced at him “What … oh, 4-H.” The men were watching her, and she wasn’t sure how to react. “Um, I’m not sure if we’re going to do that.”

Ross gently took her arm and moved her to a chair at the table. He pulled his chair in front of her. “Sierra, your kids need this. Braden needs this.”

His eyes were kind, and she locked onto them. “Ross, you know why I can’t.”
Please understand.

He gripped her hands gently. “You’re going to lose Braden if you don’t start letting go.”

She pulled her hands free and leaned back. He rested his elbows on his knees and locked his fingers loosely between them. “I’m not trying to hurt you. You see, I understand what Braden’s going through.” He seemed to hesitate, then looked toward Sid.

Sid waved his fork at him. “You’re doing good. Keep talkin’.”

He glanced toward the side. “Growing up, my dad tried to mold me into what he thought I should be. He wanted his boys to make something of themselves, be different than the regular crowd who graduated and then went to work using their hands. I got pretty angry in high school and hated him for a while.” His eyes found hers. “And I see your fear pushing Braden down that same road.”

Sierra turned to Sid. “You think I should do this? Even after what happened to you?”

Sid nodded, setting down his glass. “I do. It’d be the best thing for them. What happened to me isn’t going to happen to yer kids.”

She stood, the papers wrinkling in her grasp. “I need to think about it.”

Ross rose and pushed his chair in. “I’ll walk with you outside.”

“Now don’t feel like you have to leave. Why don’t you get another plate, Sierra?” Sid raised his fork toward her.

“Thanks, but my mom probably has dinner ready for me, and I have to feed Chance.” She needed to get out of there to think without all the pressure.

“Well, part of the job is for you and those little ones to eat dinner here anytime. You got that?”

“You might regret that invitation after a couple of meals with the chatterboxes.”

Sid gave Ross a grizzly look, though his mouth twitched. “Might be a nice change around here.”

Ross shook his head with a shrug. “A man’s lucky to get a word in around your opinions, old man.”

Sid waved them toward the door. “You’ll be fortunate if I let you have any of this chicken.” He pointed his fork at Ross. “And don’t go running her off.”

Ross walked with her toward the door. “Not a chance.” Outside, he covered a jaw-popping yawn.

“You look exhausted.” She hadn’t meant to voice the thought, but fatigue clung to his face, sharpening the planes.

He rubbed his face. “I was up pretty early. This job is going to be the end of me.”

She walked toward the van. “Why don’t you hire someone to help with the horses? No one expects you to do it all.”

“Sid doesn’t trust anyone else with his ponies.” He shrugged and looked away as they reached her car. “It’s not a big deal.”

She dug her keys out of her purse. “You don’t want to find anyone, do you?”

He shifted his stance, his eyes on the barn.

She crossed her arms. “Ross, do you think you have to prove how much you love him by running yourself into the ground?”

He stared down at her. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Guilt.”

“Guilt for what?”

“That you didn’t hear him out in the field. That Chance escaped from the pasture and got in with Traitor. You feel responsible.”

Ross looked away, anger tightening his features. “Look, I don’t want to talk about that, okay? I just wanted to ask if you could start on my books soon. With Sid getting hurt, things have gotten crazy and I need to get some bills paid.”

She unlocked the van. “Just tell me when.”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.” And he stalked back to the house.

Her mom’s kitchen smelled wonderful when Sierra walked in. The pot of chili sat in the middle of the table, the two bowls across from each other. Michael had actually agreed to take the kids for another weekend to make up some lost time.

“Hi, honey. How’d it go?”

“Fine.” Sierra dropped her purse onto the counter and shoved her keys in the cubby next to it.

The buzzer went off and her mom pulled the corn bread from the oven. “Doesn’t
sound
fine.”

Sierra opened the fridge and got the butter. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Did your dinner turn out?”

“Yep. He loved it, except for the prune juice.” A small chuckle emerged when she remembered his face. “I think he was offended.”

Her mom covered her mouth. “Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, and the no-lettuce-denture-thing didn’t go over so well either. He has all his teeth.”

Her mom pressed a hand to her chest with a laugh. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

Sierra let the grin come out. “Yeah, last time I take advice from you!”

Her mom cut the corn bread, her eyes focused and sharp. “So what happened?”

Sierra sighed. Why couldn’t mom let it go when she didn’t want to talk? She set the salt and pepper on the table, and pulled the ladle from the drawer. “They think I should put the kids in 4-H.”

“What a marvelous idea!”

“
I
don’t think it’s so marvelous.”

“Well, I think it would be the best thing for the kids. Especially Braden. You need to think this through, honey.”

Sierra didn’t want to think it through. She wanted to be left alone and not pulled and prodded in directions she didn’t want to go. Her cell phone rang and Sierra jumped up and checked the number on the screen.

She bit her lip and headed for the living room. “Hello?”

“What numbskull doctor put an eye patch on Braden?”

Sierra hoped Braden was playing in another room and not hovering near his dad. “I talked to you about this last weekend. Dr. Remina should have sent you a copy of the paperwork.”

“I got it. But my son’s not going to wear some ridiculous patch like he’s cross-eyed.”

Sierra spoke in slow, measured breaths. “I’d be happy to go over the report with you. Dr. Remina said—”

“Gina tested his eyesight—”

“What?”

“She used to work in a pediatric office.”

“Doing what? Taking appointments? She is not an optometrist.”

“Oh, and you are?”

“Michael, I took him to an expert. His teacher recommended—”

“We have an appointment to have him tested with our optometrist. I researched binocular dysfunction and I’m not convinced that’s what’s going on. I think he needs to straighten up and give a little more effort than he does.”

“Have you considered that he’s worn out and frustrated with school because of his vision issues?”

“I’m not going to argue with you.”

Sierra ground her teeth. “Okay, please let me know what
your
optometrist finds.” After Michael said good-bye, she stormed into the kitchen and shoved the phone into its receiver.

“I dished up your chili.” Her mom wiped a few crumbs of corn bread into the sink. “Was that Michael?”

“Yes.” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.

“He doesn’t want Braden to wear his eye patch and thinks the diagnosis is ridiculous.” She glanced at her mom. “He had
Gina
give him an eye test.”

Her mom stated calmly. “I knew the day Elise brought him over that he was no good.”

Ah!
Sierra turned slowly toward her mom and pointed her finger. “That’s why you don’t like Elise, isn’t it? She introduced me to Michael.” She put her hands on her hips. “Mom, that is not fair to Elise.
I
married the man.”

Her mom’s movements were brisk as she wiped down a cupboard. “If you’d never met him, all this heartbreak would never have taken place.”

Sierra stared at her mom, who pushed too much but did it because her heart was so big. She walked over and gave her mom a hug. “I could have married anyone who made Michael’s choices. You need to let it go.”

Her words echoed back to her.
I need to let go too of the fear that keeps me from living.

Chapter 18

In her pajamas, Sierra rolled onto her back, phone to her ear, and dug a hand into the bowl of popcorn next to her. Her mom never let them eat in bed as kids, but she had brought this in to her tonight with a sweet smile, and an admonition not to get crumbs on her sheets.

Elise answered on the first ring. “What happened?”

Sierra rolled over onto her stomach. “Ross and Sid have decided that I need to put the kids into 4-H. And my
mother
thinks they’re right.”

There was a long pause, and Sierra groaned and let her face drop into her pillow, muffling the words. “Not you too.”

“What?”

Sierra raised her head. “Elise, I would die if something happened to my kids and it was my fault for letting them do it.”

“Hon, your fear is talking here. Let’s just send it to the parlor room for a little time out and shut the door on it. Okay, take a deep breath. Now pretend you’re Braden and tell me about Chance from his perspective.”

Sierra rolled on her back and covered her eyes. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Okay,
I’ll
pretend I’m Braden reciting a poem I—he just wrote.” Elise cleared her throat and lowered it. “
Chance.
By Braden Montgomery.”

Sierra groaned.

“I’ve got this horse named Chance,

But I never see him dance.

Cuz my mom freaks out

Whenever he’s about.

I wish I could be lucky

And watch him go bucky.

But I guess I never will

’Cuz she locks me to the grill.”

Sierra leaned up on her elbow. “Locks me to the grill?”

“It rhymed.” Elise paused. “How ya doin’?”

“I think Self-Pity is serving tea to his friend Fear in the parlor.”

Laughter burst over the line. “You’ll get there, hon. Hey, if my mom had been given a horse, she would have sold it the next day for two quarts of whiskey, so I think you’re doing pretty good.”

Sierra flopped back on the bed. “I wish I’d never met Miss Libby.”

Michael dropped the kids off Sunday night and was gone before their feet hit the front porch. Emory and Trevor clambered over each other to reach her hug first. She wrapped them each in an arm, smiling an invitation for Braden to join in, but he walked past them. Sierra gave the pair one more squeeze. “Okay, guys. Go put your backpacks away.”

Emory grinned, her dimples growing. “Sure, Mom.” She leaned in and gave Sierra a quick peck on her cheek then bounced toward the stairs.

Her mom walked into the living room. “Hi kids.”

“Grandma!”

Sierra’s heart swelled as Emory and Trevor rushed for her mom, who swooped them into a big hug.

“Grandma, look at the shirt Gina gave me.”

Her mom’s eyes shot to her before she painstakingly examined Emory’s light blue treasure. “That’s lovely, honey.”

Sierra felt the knot begin in her stomach.
No money for child support, but you can afford gifts?

Emory grinned at them. “It used to be hers, but now it’s too small.”

Oh
.

Her mom herded Emory and Trevor toward the stairs. “Let’s go unpack and put your things away.”

Braden ambled to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Don’t we have anything to drink? Dad and Gina let us have pop.”

I’m sure they do
. Glad to see Michael took his dentistry seriously. “Where’s your eye patch?”

A quick shrug. “It’s stupid.”

“Did your dad make you take it off?”

Braden glared at her. “I don’t want to wear it.”

She leaned against the counter. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s not an option.”

“You’re stupid!” Braden slammed the refrigerator door and raced past her for the stairs, his feet pounding up to his room.

Sierra stared after him, her heart as empty as the echo of his feet.

Braden walked into the kitchen the next morning and yawned. He dropped into a chair at the table.

“Hi, honey. Did you sleep well?” His grandma smiled and poured batter on the waffle iron. It closed with a hiss, creamy batter oozing out the edges.

“Yeah.”

She put a plate in front of him and scooted the syrup closer. “Did you get your homework done?”

“Yeah.” But he hadn’t. He squirted syrup on the waffle.

“Not too much, sweetie.” His grandma moved the syrup to the middle of the table.

His mom wandered in, in her robe, her hair messed up. She rubbed his head when she walked by.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom.” He liked it when she touched him. But he was still mad at her. She tried to make him do everything. Like wear that stupid patch. His dad said not to wear it until he went to Gina’s doctor.

A few minutes later, he stuffed the last bite into his mouth. There were three giant waffles in his stomach and he patted it.

“Boy, you were hungry.” His mom bumped his arm with a smile.

He grinned at her and burped.

She made a face and rolled her eyes. He could tell when she realized he wasn’t wearing the patch. The lines on her forehead squished. “Braden, honey— ”

He scooted back from the table and took his plate to the counter. He tilted the plate up until the fork slid off and clattered into the sink, then let the plate flop back to the counter. “What, Mom?”

She shook her head at him, but her lips were all flat, like she wanted to say something, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. It made him feel bad, like he should be wearing the patch. But Dad told him not to. Pressure built in his chest.

Grandma gave him a firm look. “Put your plate and fork in the dishwasher, honey.”

He jerked the dishwasher door open and grabbed his plate. A piece of paper stuck to the bottom and he pulled it off, shoved the plate on the bottom rack, and slammed the door shut.

He dropped the paper toward the counter, but it slid to the floor. He turned to go back upstairs. His grandma frowned at him. “Braden, pick that paper up and put it in the garbage, please.”

He rolled his eyes and reached for the yellow paper with the ring of syrup in the middle. “Geez.” He opened the cupboard door where the garbage was and stopped. The word
4-H
caught his eye and he read it. The meeting was tonight! For kids and horses!

He shook the paper toward the table. “Mom! Are we doing 4-H with Chance?”

Sierra’s eyes shot to her mom who shrugged, as if to say, “I didn’t leave the paper there.” Her heart felt pulled under by the joy and excitement shining from Braden’s face. “Um, I was thinking about it.”

He dropped into the chair beside her, his grin wide. “The meeting’s tonight. Can we go? Please?”

Was she wrong to keep him from it? Emory wandered in, dressed in jeans and Gina’s blue T-shirt.

Braden shot out of his chair toward her holding the paper in the air. “Look! Mom might let us go.”

Emory looked up at her brother, her voice catching some of his excitement. “What is it?”

“4-H. Remember at the barn? Sid told us about it.”

Emory whirled around to face Sierra. “Are we going?”

Sierra pressed her lips together, then released a breath. “We’ll go to one meeting.”

“Yeah!” Emory and Braden hugged each other and danced in a silly circle around the kitchen.

Her mom started laughing, as Trevor walked in rubbing sleepy eyes. “Why are they doing that?”

Sierra pulled him onto her lap. “They’re just happy.”

The bus pulled away, and Sierra grabbed her purse. “Trevor, get your coat. We need to get to Sid’s.”

“Honey, why don’t you just leave him here today? Trevor, you want to make cookies with Grandma?”

“Yeah!”

Sierra sighed. She wished her mom would let her answer before steamrolling ahead and getting the kids excited. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her mom folded her arms. “What about the meeting?”

Sierra groaned and set her purse down and ran back for the flyer on the table. She read it as she headed toward her mom in the living room. “It starts at five. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave Sid’s that early.” Guilt and relief flowed through her.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them.”

“Really?” Sierra let herself be pulled toward the door. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Mom.”

“Go feed that man. Maybe dried prunes would go over better than the juice, do you think?”

Sierra gave a weak laugh and pulled the door closed behind her.

Her phone rang when she pulled up to Sid’s house. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Ross’s rich voice came through the line, and she tried to ignore the way her blood pumped a little faster. She was still irritated with him for getting her mixed up in the 4-H deal. “When you fed Chance last night, did you open any gates?”

“No.” A chill worked its way over her skin. “Why?”

“Alex Cranwell called me at five this morning when he saw Chance in his backyard.”

Sierra slumped in the seat, then gathered her purse and opened the door. “I’m so sorry, Ross. What did he do?”

“He walked over fresh sod and newly blown bark, and took a potty break on the stone path next to Alex’s water feature. Nothing too damaging.” He sighed and his voice sounded weary. “Could you talk to the kids about the gates? I don’t think they’re getting them closed.”

Sierra stopped on Sid’s walkway. “Ross, they rarely have a reason to open—”

“Someone’s not getting them latched. Then the wind pushes against it or Chance bumps it. He’s probably learning to test them. He got out twice last week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What cou—it’s not a big deal. I put him back. I just need them to be more careful.”

“Okay.” The kids were
not
leaving the gates open—Sierra knew that much.

“I’ll bring my bills over this morning to Sid’s if that works for you.”

“That would be fine.” When he hung up, Sierra took a breath and shoved the phone back into her purse and opened the front door.

Sid was on the couch, the remote in his hand. “Did you know that global warming is melting the Arctic so fast it’s predicted to swamp the U.S. coasts by 2099?”

“You are watching way too much TV, my friend.”

He muted the educational program.

“How’d your weekend go?” Sierra asked.

Sid’s look turned mulish. “Stella sat with me. Wouldn’t feed me until I took my medicine.”

“Drill sergeant, was she?”

“Makes a nursing home look downright appealing.”

There was
rap-rap
on the door, then Ross walked in looking just as attractive in work jeans and a jacket as he did in the green sweater.

He set a large box on the living room floor and looked at Sierra. “Everything you need is in there; checkbook’s on top. I think we have a few days to get it sorted before the vendors start calling for their money.”

She stared at it and then at him. “Um, is there a system you want me to follow?”

“There’s a ledger with a record of all my past billings. Just enter the receipts and then write the checks.” He gripped the edge of the front door in his hand on his way out. “Call if you need me.”

Sierra caught him as he started up the walkway. “Hey.”

He turned, and she jogged down the steps to him. “Ross, I don’t mind doing the books, but your system seems pretty straightforward. Are you sure you want to pay me to just write out the checks? You could probably do it faster yourself.”

His eyes shifted to the horse barn and she sensed a barrier go up. “I’m dyslexic. I can’t pay bills or process payroll by myself.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

“I sent out a couple of urgent payments last week. Friday I had two messages waiting.” He sent her a sheepish grin. “I underpaid the nursery and overpaid the quarry.”

She laughed, then covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry. It’s not funny.”

He grinned at her, then started back up the walk. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Ross looked good from the backside, too. Her heart stuttered and she turned toward the house. Life didn’t stay in its designated cubbies when Ross crossed her radar.

Sierra came back through the door, and Sid quickly stuffed some papers between his leg and the sofa pillow. He flipped the TV back on and focused an intent gaze on it.

She gave him a dry look. “If you’d start whistling, I’d be thrown off the trail even more.”