Leave It to Chance

by Sherri Sand

  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.

  Th
ursday 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.

  “Tomorrow I’ll call Stella,” Sid said, “and see if she has any relatives that’d be happy to go honeysuckle hunting for you.” Sierra smiled at him.

  He clapped his hands. “Now let’s have some of that lemon mang pie!”

  Friday night, after a near silent dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup with crackers, Sierra cleared the table and piled the dishes in the sink. Her mom would be horrified, with the empty dishwasher a mere foot away. But Sierra wanted to hurry. The children had been moody all day, and she wasn’t about to sit around and do nothing about it.

  She hastened into the living room where the kids sat zombielike, watching a movie. “I need you guys to get in the van.” Her keys jangled as she pulled on her coat.

  Braden’s eyes didn’t leave the TV. “Where are we going?”

  She hesitated. “Dad’s.”

  Three pairs of eyes zoomed to focus on her. Excitement entered Braden’s voice. “We’re going to Dad’s?”

  Sierra flipped her hair out from under the heavy collar of her jacket. “I need to talk to him.”

  Emory’s face grew worried. “We’re not staying the weekend?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Please get your coat and shoes.”

  Braden hunched down in the couch. “I don’t want to go.”

  Sierra squatted in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. “I don’t blame you, bud. It hurts when people don’t keep their word.”

  His scowl didn’t lighten, but he got his shoes on and stalked out to the van.

  When Sierra turned into the upscale neighborhood, a panicky note entered Emory’s voice. “What if he wants us to stay? I don’t have any of my stuff.”

  Sierra kept her voice even. “Your overnight bags are in the back of the van.”

  She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Braden look over into the cargo space. When she pulled up and parked behind the black Lexus in Michael’s driveway, he dragged his overnight bag into his lap.

  The Tudor-style home had a fancy white wooden “For Sale” sign in the grass next to the sidewalk.

  “You guys wait here.” Sierra hurried up the flagstone walkway.

  Michael opened the door before she knocked. “What are you doing here, Sierra?”

  “You broke their hearts Tuesday night, Michael. They don’t understand when you make promises and then don’t show.” She glanced toward the van. “Have you thought about how they felt, waiting on the porch, jumping every time a car went by?”

  The lines in his cheeks were taut and his eyes had the bloodshot look of someone surviving on little sleep. He leaned his head back and exhaled. “Things are complicated right now. My practice isn’t doing well….”

  Conflicted emotions stormed through her. Part of her grieved that his business was tumbling apart. She’d been a part of the dream to open the practice so many years before. But those feelings were only a tiny sliver of emotion compared to the anger and sadness she felt at the pain he was causing their kids.

  “I know things are complicated, Michael, but the kids miss you.” She studied him, trying to find that connection between them that was their kids. If she reached for it, maybe he’d listen, soften. Go back to being the dad the kids adored.

  He slanted a hard gaze at her. “I can’t take the kids this weekend.”

  She crossed her arms, her voice harsher than she intended. “Why not?”

  His mouth parted, but then his gaze shot over her shoulder and his brow drew together. She turned. All three kids were walking tentatively up the sidewalk, overnight bags in their hands.

  Once they realized they’d been discovered, the kids ran for the entrance.

  “Hi, Daddy.” Trevor dropped his bag and Michael swooped him up, holding him close a moment.

  Michael set him down and pulled Emory into a tight side hug, then reached for Braden, who hung back for one long second. Head down, their eldest gave his dad a lukewarm embrace.

  Trevor turned toward her. “Hug, Mom.” She bent down and squeezed him. His little arms snaked up around her neck, gripping tight and her heart broke. He leaned back and his thumb-bucked teeth gleamed in a giant smile. Then he ducked past Michael and ran into the house, his bag and stuffed animal forgotten on the porch.

  Emory and Braden hesitated, more sensitive to the tension in Michael’s stance.

  “Sierra, this isn’t a good time.”

  “Kids, run inside. Your dad and I need to talk.” Emory gave her a quick look, blue eyes wide with worry, then darted into the house. Braden stuffed hi
s hands into his pockets as he stared down in front of him.

  Her fingers brushed Braden’s shoulder. “Go in the house, sweetheart.” He looked at her, his expression so lost, so hurt. She nodded, wanting nothing more than to shuttle him back to the van and home to safety. “It’ll be okay.” He turned, shoulders drooping, and moved into the house.

  Michael spoke over his shoulder. “Just for a few minutes, guys.”

  “I know about the bankruptcy,” Sierra said.

  He leaned his arm up against the doorjamb, looking irritated. “It doesn’t remove my child support judgment if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Braden needs vision therapy. It’s three thousand dollars.”

  “Why don’t we go for the whole works and get him into braces, too.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of stress right now. I know I haven’t been there for the kids like I need to be, but it’s just not a good time.”

  “He needs this therapy, Michael. The doctor said school will remain incredibly difficult for him without it.” She paused. “The divorce decree states that you pay sixty percent of medical procedures.”

  His brow drew down. “I know what the decree says. There’s nothing I can do to help right now. Maybe later … I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “Can they stay?”

  He straightened and stuffed a hand in his pocket. “Gina just isn’t up for it right now.”

  “Why not?”

  His eyes steered clear of hers. His voice was lower, but gained strength, as if he refused to feel defensive. “She’s pregnant.”

  The sucker punch slipped past her stomach and went straight for the heart as a whirlwind of thoughts pummeled her. She wanted to cry for her children who would remain on the periphery. Removed. Stepchildren. Half-siblings. The thoughts swirled and tore at her emotions.

  “She’s not feeling well. And the noise. It makes it hard for her to sleep.”

  “All of your children need you, Michael.”

  A flicker of guilt rippled across his face, and he dragged one hand down his cheeks. A gesture so familiar to her. It was the one he used when he knew what was right but was torn by pressure from other directions.