Leave It to Chance

by Sherri Sand

  He peeked to his right. Sierra opened her eyes slowly and picked up her fork. Then set it down. She picked up the lettuce bowl and passed it to the right. “Salad?”

  Sid took it from her and placed a mound of it on his plate.

  Ross spoke the words before he had a chance to think them through. “Do you believe in God, Sierra?” And when he saw the look on her face, he wished he hadn’t.

  She held the tray with the sliced french bread suspended above her plate, her eyes wide on his. She turned and passed the bread to Sid, then adjusted her napkin in her lap. “Even the demons believe, isn’t that what the Bible says?”

  Sid piped up. “Yessir, it does.”

  Ross caught her gaze again. “I shouldn’t have asked something so personal.”

  “No, it’s fine.” She reached for the salt and pepper, held them a moment, then set them beside her plate. Her next words seemed carefully measured. “I believe in God.”

  Sid tipped his head. “Now there’s a difference between believing and believing.”

  She didn’t look at either of them, just made tiny divots in her pasta with the fork tines. “I would be the first one.”

  Sid patted her arm. “Nothin’ wrong with that, Sierra. Nothin’ wrong at all.”

  She gave Sid a tiny smile, though Ross thought her eyes glistened.

  Chapter 19

  Sierra closed her mom’s front door and heard feet pounding down the stairs.

  Braden flew toward her, his mop of brown hair bouncing. “Mom, you should have come to 4-H tonight! We learned the different parts of a horse, and Mrs. Vaughn said she’d teach me pole bending with Chance!”

  Emory ran from the kitchen. “I want to do barrel racing, but Grandma thinks Braden should train with Chance, and she and I can save for my own horse.”

  Sierra kept her expression bland. “Really?”

  Braden rested a hand on her arm, his smile growing wider by the minute. “There’s a 4-H clinic in four weeks. Mrs. Vaughn said I could enter some of the games.”

  Her chest tightened. “Games?” She regretted not taking the kids to the meeting herself. One meeting was all she’d promised.

  Braden beamed. “Yeah! With Chance! Mrs. Vaughn said she has room in her horse trailer for him.”

  Abbey followed from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and wearing a proud smile.

  Sierra tried to smile back but felt it list toward dread. “Wow. You’ve been busy.”

  Her mom patted Emory and Braden on their backs. “You would have been proud of them, Sierra. They were so well mannered and listened attentively when Mrs. Vaughn was talking.”

  Of course, her mother would focus on the behavior. Did she know about the 4-H clinic and the games? Sierra said, “In four weeks, they’re, um—?”

  “Mrs. Vaughn is the sweetest thing. Offered to trailer Chance to the clinic with her horse.”

  “Mom—”

  Her mom gave her a squeeze. “The kids are going to be just fine.”

  “Games on horseback, Elise. With Chance.” Sierra sat on her bedroom floor, arms draped over her knees, and stared at the mahogany bureau.

  “Take a deep breath, hon, and blow it out.” Elise exhaled. “There. Now remember how scared you were of childbirth when you were pregnant with Braden? You got through it and nothing could wipe the smile off your face.”

  “You’re comparing childbirth to this?”

  “Picture it this way. It’s like you’re pregnant with the kids’ expectations, and the fear that’s freaking you out is just the labor. You need to breathe through it and keep pushing.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes and leaned back against the bed. “Elise, that’s gross!”

  “Hon, you gotta do this for them.” She switched tactics. “What’d the kids think of 4-H?”

  Sierra picked at the blue carpet. “They’re on top of the world.”

  “When’s the last time you saw them this excited, not counting when you got Chance?”

  “I don’t know. Before the divorce maybe.”

  “Mmmhmm. You gotta keep pushing, baby.”

  Sierra chuckled. “Do you keep a scorecard for every time you’re right?”

  “Top drawer of my desk! Bye, hon.”

  Sierra clicked off the phone, crawled into bed, and turned on her side to stare into the darkness. Her mind went back to the thoughts of Ross that had lingered all evening. He’d prayed for protection for her kids. She pulled the blankets up under her chin. The way he said it, as if releasing all fear and worry into God’s hands, bewildered her. No begging or pleading, but a simple trust, as if he knew God would do it. She flopped on her back. But that’s what it came down to. Trust. And she didn’t have much.

  Ross tossed and turned in Sid’s upstairs guest room but couldn’t get a pair of big cinnamon eyes out of his head. She believed but didn’t believe. What did that mean? And what did it mean to him. Lord? The Bible was clear on many things, and this was one of them. He finally drifted off, seeing the shadow of shame in her eyes when he asked about her faith.

  Five o’clock came early. Ross crept down the stairs and tiptoed past his snoring friend on the way to the kitchen. At the counter he grabbed the last apple from the basket of fruit Sierra usually kept stocked. Must be grocery-shopping day.

  He headed toward the mudroom for his work boots but noticed Sid’s Bible on the table. Better set it by the couch so the older man didn’t have to wait for Sierra to arrive.

  He picked it up, but the apple slipped and he lost his grip on the book, which slid back to the table. A paper poked out from under the cover. He started to push it back in but stopped. It looked like … he pulled the glossy real estate flyer from the book. He slowly raised it, his eyes drawn to the smiling circled face of a realtor named Dick Reynolds.

  Ross’s truck rumbled down Alex’s driveway on his way to pick up more rock from the quarry. He glanced right, toward Sid’s. It hadn’t been the greatest afternoon with his thoughts ping-ponging between Sid and Sierra. Especially having seen that paper stuck in Sid’s Bible. At the end of the paved drive his foot held the brake while the blinker flashed left, as he considered. Maybe he should go visit his friend and have that conversation that had been playing through his mind all morning. He flipped the blinker right and drove the twenty yards to Sid’s driveway.

  Sid was watching The Discovery Channel when Ross stepped through the front door. “You’re here early.”

  Ross rubbed his hands to get some of the cold out of them. “Yeah, I need to talk to you.” He glanced around, not wanting an audience. “Where’s Sierra?”

  “Grocery shopping.” Sid muted the television. “What’s on your mind, son?”

  “What have you decided to do about your farm?”

  Where Ross had expected Sid to sour up and complain about his leg keeping him from the ponies, a look settled into the crags of Sid’s wrinkled mug, causing Ross’s stomach to knot.

  A look of peace.

  “The Lord and I have been having some long chats about that.”

  He waited, but Sid had apparently gone to the arena where those conversations took place, leaving Ross to sit and wonder in the stretching silence.

  Just when Ross was going to ask what he and the Lord had decided, Sid spoke. “I have a niece who’s been wanting a visit.”

  “Well, let her come, then Sierra wouldn’t need to stay here every day.”

  Sid cleared his throat. “She’s actually been wanting me to visit since before the accident.”

  “You’ve mentioned that. She’s in Kansas, isn’t she?

  Sid nodded, but a nervous pinching of his lips signaled that Ross was missing something important.

  “She wants me to move out there, actually.”

  “Move.” The word echoed in his mind. Sid had that look on his face. Like he knew something about Ross that Ross didn’t even know. It unsettled him. He felt as if he were fourteen again and Sid was about to render a decision. Mucking stalls for two summers ha
d made him the richest boy in Eugene, without being paid a dime—it had brought Sid into his world.

  “Son, life isn’t about keeping things comfortable.”

  “Sid—” He couldn’t be serious, could he?

  “We’ve got to listen with our hearts. Let the Lord lead in all the pastures of our lives. I’ve been holding the reins too long as it is, or I’d have done this years ago.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Ross didn’t mean for the words to sound so harsh, but hurt and—if he were honest—a large portion of panic had set in.

  Sid just looked at him, that knowing gleam in his eye.

  “Don’t blame this on me, Sid. I didn’t keep you here.”

  Sid sighed. “Ross, you’re like a son to me. I’ve done all I could to fill a father’s role in your life.” His head dropped a little lower, as though the weight of something heavy pulled it down. “I don’t know that I did right by doing that.”

  “Of course you did. Dad was never there.”

  Sid looked up, his blue eyes sure and steady. “But maybe he would have been if I hadn’t let you run to me with all your troubles.”

  Ross got up and paced to the window. “Is that why you’d move? So Dad and I can make up?”

  “Ross, I don’t have any business telling you what to do. You’re a grown man, and a fine one at that.” That look of peace settled back over his face. “I miss my family. I got great-nieces and nephews that I’ve never seen. It’s time to go back. To be near Rose and Caroline.” His wife and daughter who had been killed so many years before. Then a new thought struck Ross. Did he—was Sid dying?

  “Do you have cancer?”

  Sid erupted with a laugh. “No, I’ll be around for a good while yet.”

  “You don’t think it would be hard, being back where it happened?”

  Sid’s smile grew soft. “I’m homesick for them. I want to be close to where they’re laid.” He chuckled. “It’ll save you the cost of shipping me back there after the Lord’s chariot swings through to capture my soul.”

  “Sid—”

  “Sierra thinks it’s a fine idea.” Sid leveled bright blue eyes at him, utter sincerity in the gaze.

  Ross clenched his fists. “What does Sierra know? She’s hasn’t even worked here a week! I’ve never seen you to capitulate to a half-baked idea like this before.”

  Sid mouthed the word as if tasting it. “Capitulate.” He dragged his pad from under the crossword puzzle and sounded the word again as he wrote.

  “Come on, Sid.” He sat down in the easy chair across from him and leaned forward. “You’ve said yourself you’d never go back. Why now? Because Sierra’s convinced it’s the best thing for you? I can’t believe you’d let her and your niece pressure you into moving. Sierra doesn’t—”

  That was when the back door slammed.

  Ross and Sid jumped. Framed in the middle of the kitchen doorway stood Sierra, looking as if she’d been there long enough. A grocery sack sagged in each arm.

  She set the grocery sacks on the table and gave Ross a fierce look through the living room archway. He braced himself as she marched into the room. Ignoring Sid, she made straight for his chair.

  Her head jerked as she repeated the words, “Pressuring Sid into doing something he doesn’t want to do?”

  Ross stood. “Sierra—”

  She leaned forward. “Have you ever seen that man get pressured into anything? I couldn’t even get him to drink prune juice.”

  Ross gently grasped her arm and turned her back toward the kitchen. “Let’s discuss this outside.”

  She pulled her arm free and marched ahead of him to the back door. Sid’s chuckle resonated through the small living room, and Ross felt the tips of his ears burn as he shut the door behind him.

  Sierra clomped down the cement steps and turned to face him, her stance rigid in the ankle-deep grass. He really needed to bring his mower over. He dragged his eyes from the unkempt yard back to her face, where her eyes were shooting sparks at him.

  She crossed her arms in a protective manner. “I can’t believe you think I would try to persuade him to move.”

  He sighed and looked toward the barn roof. “Sid’s vulnerable right now. He’s cooped up in this house, feeling hopeless about his ponies. I’m sure Kansas looks pretty tempting. So when you and Leorna jump in and fill his head with ideas about moving—”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘fill his head’?” She drilled an outstretched arm toward the house. “That contrary old man is the one who’s been spouting all those ideas. Maybe if you weren’t so set on keeping him here, you’d pay better attention to what his needs are.”

  That brought his hands to his hips. “Listen, I didn’t bring you out here to make judgments about me.”

  “Of course, saying I pressured Sid isn’t making a judgment?”

  He dropped his arms. “Sierra, I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t know you would be eavesdropping from the kitchen.”

  She angled her head, her face tense. “Next time I’ll be sure to stomp my feet through the mudroom so you can stop slandering me before I get there.”

  “Never mind.” He marched past her toward the barn.

  The staccato crunch of gravel broke into his thoughts and Sierra caught up to him and grabbed his arm. She tugged as if to spin him around. He stopped but didn’t turn, so she stepped in front of him, toe to toe. Her finger was dangerously close to clearing his sinuses.

  Sierra sucked in a breath, hurt driving each frustrated word. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you cannot just walk off like that.”

  Ross didn’t say a word. Not a hint of what he was thinking showed in his face. He stared at her as if she were a weed in his flower bed.

  “I thought we were friends, Ross. But for you to assume that I would hurt you by persuading Sid to move—” Sierra felt a sting in her nose, and her eyes started to blur. That made her angrier. “You don’t have any right—”

  Then he kissed her. Hard. One arm holding her tight around the shoulders and the other pinning her waist to his. The cold zipper of his Carhartt jacket pressed against her collarbone as his mouth moved against hers.

  She gripped his shoulders to stay balanced as the warmth of his kiss filled all of her senses.

  He released her and took a step back, his gaze unfathomable.

  Her fingers touched her lips, a part of her wishing he would do it again. What was she thinking? She didn’t even like him right now. Except she did. Very much. “Why did you do that?” She wished for a post to lean against to keep the world upright.

  His breath was tantalizing. Spicy and something more. Something very male. The words were definite. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” He shifted his feet and his eyes dropped away, his face taking on a harder edge.

  She waited, but he wouldn’t look at her. She spoke quietly, “You’re still mad.”

  He sighed and raised a hand. “It’s not that simple. Sierra, I—” He dropped his arm, his eyes catching hers briefly. “I need to get back to work.” He turned and strode toward his pickup.

  Sierra wanted to walk back to the house with dignity, show him he hadn’t hurt her, but her legs were unable to manage more than shaky steps as she tried to walk up the back steps into the kitchen.

  Sid coughed. He was sitting in his wheelchair at a perfect angle to the large window overlooking the yard and barn behind it. A weathered hand stroked the bristle of whiskers on his cheek, not bothering to hide a wide grin.

  She turned her back on him and marched to the sink, snatched a mug from the cupboard, and filled it with water. Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. “Front row seat, huh? I thought the doctor told you not to get into the wheelchair without help.”

  She took two small sips and dumped the water into the sink. She wasn’t thirsty, but agitation demanded she do something with her hands now that she had an attentive audience.

  Why had Ross walked away like that? He’d kissed her, then … l
eft. She picked up the towel and wiped the mug. But it wasn’t like she had initiated the kiss. Maybe he’d seen something in her eyes and realized that he’d stirred emotions a little too strong for his taste.

  “You plan on rubbing the handle right off that mug?” Amusement glinted in the squint of his blue eyes, and she looked down at her hands.

  The damp dishtowel was twisted and tight in her hands. Heat washed over her as she set the mug down carefully on the counter.

  “It’s been a long time since Ross has shown interest in a woman.”

  Heat crept up her neck. “I think we have different definitions of interest, Sid.”

  “Sometimes it takes Ross a little time to get the hang of things.”

  She gave him a small smile. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Well, now, you could be wrong there. Like how he walked away out there, leaving you as forlorn as a foal without its mama. I bet he’s kicking himself over it right now.”

  She did not want to be discussing this with him. She reached for the bags of groceries on the table and walked past the box of Ross’s bills with their checks neatly written out. “I think I’ll start dinner.”

  A speculative look settled over Sid’s face. “Maybe you’re going about this wrong.”

  She set the package of pork ribs next to the stove. The sigh flowed out with the words. “And how’s that?”

  “It’s an easy habit to get into, doing things yer own way.”

  She interrupted. “Sid, I—”

  He held up a hand. “You don’t ask for help, just plow through, doing the best you can.”

  He adjusted himself in the wheelchair, easing his leg out onto a kitchen chair. “I’ve seen it in your eyes, how you struggle to do it all with those kids of yours. How do you think I got through the loss of my wife and daughter? There was many a night the shotgun in my closet called my name. But something kept beckoning me to live. To get me through that moment to the next one. And it weren’t natural.”

  A part of her was intrigued, wanting to hear how God got him through such a tough time. But she’d tried that and God hadn’t gotten her through. He hadn’t comforted her in the middle of the night when she was crying alone in bed, knowing her husband was across town in someone else’s. And where was He when her dad had driven to the coast, full of his own despair and anxiety.