Leave It to Chance

by Sherri Sand

  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 fac
e 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.”

  He gave a self-conscious chuckle, then rubbed his thumb along the edge of the paper sticking out. “Just something I’m thinking about. I don’t want Ross knowing about it jist yet.”

  She zipped her fingers along her lips.

  He let out a chuckle and dug the real estate flyer out from behind his leg. “I have this yearnin’ to be close to my roots again. Then my niece, Leorna, keeps asking me to move back home.” His chin dropped toward his chest. “So, I’ve been thinking about it, but didn’t figure it’d happen for a few years yet. And now with this bum leg, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

  She sat in the chair across from the couch. “Except Ross.”

  He nodded once, a sad smile playing beneath his white whiskers.

  “So what now?” Sierra asked.

  “Leorna’s been keeping her eye out for a place for me.” His eyes pierced hers from under heavy white brows. “Just looking, mind you.” He chuckled. “Though Leorna calls every couple days to see if I’ve packed yet.”

  “Sounds like you’re more than halfway there.”

  He looked out the window. “I miss being home. Miss seeing all the nieces and nephews growing up.”

  “Why don’t you want Ross to know?”

  Sid sighed. “He’s got a lot going on with that Cranwell job. He don’t need more distractions.”

  Her horse was one of those distractions. An arrow of guilt hit.

  He poked a finger at a picture on the real estate page. “I was thinking about callin’ this fellow, Dick Reynolds, and seein’ what he thinks I can get for the place.”

  “Might be interesting to find out.”

  “Get me the phone, will ya?”

  Two hours later with Ross’s bills spread across the table and Sid napping on the couch, the phone rang. “Sid Barrows’ residence, Sierra Montgomery speaking.” She tucked the phone to her shoulder and matched a mud-encrusted packing list to a statement.

  “Oh, Sierra! This is Leorna. Sid’s told me all about you. I think it’s just wonderful how you’re taking such good care of him for us.”

  “He is a delight.”

  “How is he healing up? We are just tickled that he’s planning on coming home. I’ve been on him for years to move back.”

  “He told me about the plans you two are cooking up.”

  Leorna lowered her voice. “I know. Isn’t it just tremendous? He doesn’t have any grandchildren, you know, so I think it’s on his mind to get to know his great-nieces and nephews. And my, if there ar
en’t a slew of them.”

  “It sounds like a perfect opportunity for him.”

  “That it is. Is he available, by chance?”

  “I’m afraid he’s napping at the moment.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Is it anything I could help you with?”

  “Well, Ned, that’s my husband, just spotted the snuggest little place for sale just a few blocks from us. I have the realtor’s number if Sid wants to call on it.”

  “Why don’t I get the number from you and give it to Sid when he wakes up?”

  When Leorna had given her the number and finished chatting about her grandkids, Sierra hung up the phone and wandered back to the living room.

  Sid was awake and watching a documentary on the Cold War.

  “Leorna called.” She handed him the information and sat down. “I really think you need to talk to Ross about this.”

  He fingered the paper but didn’t look up. “I will when the timing’s right.”

  “The longer you put it off, the harder it will be on both of you.”

  Ross closed the front door and plopped into a chair as Sid adjusted himself on the couch. “Well, lookee what the cat drug in.” Sid glanced at the clock above the TV. “Dinnertime, isn’t it? Thought you might show yerself around this hour. How’s the job going?”

  Ross yawned. “Tiring. I’ve got extra crews working the swing shift. Did I wake you up when I left this morning?”

  “Nope. Didn’t hear you come in last night, neither.” A blaring commercial for detergent came on and he muted the TV. “Will you finish on schedule?”

  “I don’t know. It’s going to be tight.”

  “Must be tough with the new deadline.”

  “Yeah.” Ross nodded with a chuckle, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen where a pair of long feminine legs captured his attention.

  Sierra came to the doorway and caught his eye with a smile. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Now don’t that smell good?” Sid exclaimed as Ross wheeled him to the table, then sat down. “Ross, will you say the grace?”

  Ross looked at Sierra, but she’d closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, thank You for this meal and Sierra’s skill in making it. Continue to heal Sid’s body and let his recovery be fast. Bless and protect Sierra and her family. Watch over her kids and guide them as they grow. Amen.”