Leave It to Chance

by Sherri Sand

  Sierra asked the question slowly. “Honey, does Daddy talk about the baby much?”

  Emory’s eyes lit and she nodded emphatically. “We talk about the baby all the time. I can’t wait to see if I get a little sister!”

  Trevor had followed them in and wasn’t about to let his opinion go unrecognized. “I want a boy!”

  “What does Braden want?” Sierra carefully watched the reaction of her two kids.

  Trevor walked over and opened the lower cupboard door where her mom kept the kids’ cups. “I’m thirsty.”

  Emory remained silent and lowered her face to stare at the floor.

  “Em? What does Braden say about the baby?”

  Emory lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, her expression fragile. “He and Daddy fight all the time.”

  Sierra kept her voice calm. “What do you mean, they fight?”

  “Well, Braden was rude to Gina and said he hated the baby, which made Gina cry.” She looked up, a shadow in her blue eyes. “Daddy yelled at him and told him to apologize.”

  Sierra sensed this moment was pivotal for her daughter. She sifted the words from a minefield of choices. “Braden should apologize. What he said was wrong.” She bit her bottom lip. “We can’t always change how we feel, but have a responsibility to keep those thoughts to ourselves if they are disrespectful or unkind.”

  Emory looked down at her lap and whispered, “So it’s okay for Braden to hate the baby?”

  I could use some help here. Sierra sent the plea as if God were actually listening. She waited…. Nothing drifted down from the heavenlies bearing gold-wrapped wisdom.

  “I don’t think Braden hates the baby as much as he hates the hurt he has inside.”

  Emory looked up, her nose wrinkled in confusion.

  “Remember how mad you were when Brenda Steeples pushed one of the kindergarteners at recess and then called you a tattletale for telling the teacher? Did you hate her, or did you hate how it made you feel?”

  Another shrug. “I guess the way it made me feel. But Brenda Steeples doesn’t like anybody. And today Mrs. Miller gave her two pink slips for hitting Tommy Stevens.”

  “So do you see that Braden isn’t mad at the baby as much as he’s hurt that Daddy doesn’t live with us anymore?”

  “I guess.” She tossed the banana peel in the garbage. “Can I go watch a video?”

  Sierra walked over and gave her a quick hug and kiss. “For a few minutes. Then you need to brush your teeth.”

  Now to corral a boy who needed some loving.

  Ross stepped through the door of his dark house, flipped on the lights, and headed straight for the office. A sigh of relief and a good portion of frustration whooshed from his chest. That afternoon, he’d called every vendor he could think of and asked them to fax over his outstanding bills.

  His fax machine was loaded with them. His stomach growled. Food first. He stormed out to the kitchen and dug through the fridge for sandwich fixings. Armed with a pastrami sandwich and a Pepsi, Ross dropped the mayonnaise knife in the sink and started back toward his office, but not before he turned the coffee maker on, pouring in extra grounds. It was going to be a long night, and he needed to attack this mess with double-strength java.

  Braden was no longer in the living room, so Sierra went up the stairs and nudged his door open, not sure what to expect but certain he wouldn’t be tackling his homework. He lay against his pillows, a Game Boy propped on his knees, tinny noise from the headphones that were pressed to his ears leaking into the room.

  “Hey,” she said the word gently.

  He grunted, the scowl on his face darkening. His fingers pressed the buttons rapidly.

  “Can we talk?”

  His voice was flat and loud. “I don’t want to talk.”

  Sierra stepped over his backpack and navigated a mound of clothes to pull the desk chair closer. She would have liked to sit on the bed next to him but gave him his space.

  “How are things at your dad’s, honey?”

  He shrugged. “Not that great.” He flipped the headphones down but didn’t turn them off. The game rested next to him on the bed. He stared at his knees, one hand picking at the fringe of his thermal blanket.

  She said the words carefully, “Emory said you’re having a hard time with Gina’s pregnancy.”

  He wound the blanket tighter around his finger. A tear ran down his face and he wiped it with a quick movement of his wrist.

  “I know it’s hard that your dad and Gina are having a baby. But it doesn’t change how your father feels about you.”

  Braden lifted his head. His eyes were filled with misery. “You don’t know that, Mom.”

  “I know your dad, honey. He loves you very much. Daddy’s just been going through a rough time. I’m sorry he’s not been very dependable for you lately. Grown-ups make terrible mistakes sometimes. But that doesn’t change the love he has for you.”

  Braden picked up his Game Boy. “Thanks.”

  Sierra hesitated. She wanted to wrap him in her arms, pour some of the love he so desperately needed from her own heart into his. “Do you want a hug?”

  He shook his head.

  She squeezed his shoulder. “I love you, bud.”

  He didn’t lift his eyes from the Game Boy. “Love you too, Mom.”

  In the backyard, under the stars, Sierra’s thumb hovered over the cell phone’s keypad. She needed to tell Michael how much their son was hurting. But what if Michael yelled at Braden for talking to her? Her son would feel betrayed. She flipped the phone shut and walked slowly back to the house. Near the door, she paused and looked up at the inky sky with its brilliant sprinkling of cosmic lights. Her mom used to say there were holes in the pavement of heaven and the stars were God’s light shining through. She aimed the thought toward those lights. Please protect my boy’s heart.

  The next afternoon Sid lay napping on the couch when the light rap on the front door came. Sierra peeked through the living room window and saw Ross on the front porch. Good. At least he knew better than to walk in like usual. She grabbed the doorknob and swung it open.

  He stood looking at her for a moment, then grasped her arm and pulled her gently outside and shut the door behind them.

  She pulled her arm free and wrapped both of them around her waist. “What could you possibly have to say now?”

  His face was weary and he ran a hand over the back of his head, his gaze gliding over the porch before reaching her. “I did a lousy job explaining myself in the pickup yesterday. You haven’t done anything wrong, Sierra. What I was trying to do was ask—”

  “It’s over with, Ross. Don’t worry about it.” She gave him a tight smile. If only her emotions would get over it as easily as the words that flowed from her mouth seemed to imply.

  He pressed his lips into a tight line and looked down, nodding. When he raised his head, his eyes were warm, and she backed up, her heart pounding. Didn’t he need to get back to work?

  He stepped forward and looked into her eyes. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

  She looked away.

  He touched her cheek with a gentle finger. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was upset the day I kissed you, then with the job … and Sid. I just needed some time to sort things out.”

  She moved her head away from his hand and slowly took in his disheveled appearance. Whiskers that hadn’t been shaved, hair that needed a brush to mind the damp curls back into place. At least he’d taken a shower.

  That was what started the whole mess, his frustration over Sid moving. “Isn’t that what your backing off was really about? You’re upset that Sid might do something for himself for a change, instead of staying here and keeping you company?”

  He crossed his arms, and the fire banked in his eyes started to smolder. “I want what’s best for Sid. And trust me, Kansas isn’t best.”

  “Really. And what is?”

  “Staying here. Where friends who are closer than family can look after him. Help him
get around. Keep him from getting lonely.”

  She studied this man and felt a wave of compassion for him, and it irritated her.

  “I’m sorry, Ross.” Maybe she understood him because she saw the same pain in Braden’s eyes. She wanted to touch Ross’s arm, tell him it was going to be okay.

  There was a fragile honesty to his words. “I don’t want him to go.”

  “I know.”

  His gaze caught hers and held for a moment, rousing all her earlier feelings for him—and doubts too. An apologetic smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner.”

  She wasn’t that ready to forgive him, not when his kiss had opened her heart to hope and then rejection. “That’s what friends do.”

  The lines around his eyes sharpened and his gaze swerved to her mouth. His eyes rose slowly to hers, and his voice was grave. “I guess I didn’t have friendship on my mind at the time.”

  She fidgeted and looked away. “Is that all you wanted to tell me? Because I need to get dinner started….”

  “I know you worked your tail off balancing my books, and then I acted like a jerk and didn’t come get the checks.” He gave her an endearing grin. She folded her arms and his grin lessened. “Will you keep doing my bookkeeping?”

  He stood, looking like a lost boy, his face gloomy, but with the faintest flicker of hope. The tiniest breath would blow it out. “I would deserve it if you said you wouldn’t help me, Sierra.”

  She dropped her arms. “Okay. I’ll do it, but you’re on probation.”

  The synapses must have fired slowly, because it was a long moment before her words seemed to register. A tired but grateful smile thanked her. “I had a few more bills arrive this morning. I thought maybe you could take a look at them when Braden and I are putting Chance through his paces.”

  Hearing her son’s name paired with the horse still gave her a chill, but she was doing better. God seemed to be holding up His end of the bargain, at least. “That’ll be fine, I’m sure my mom can get Emory and Trevor ready for bed.”

  “I appreciate this more than you know.” And his grin caused all sorts of butterflies to take off in her stomach.

  Chapter 22

  Ross and Braden were working with Chance in the barn while Emory and Trevor watched cartoons in Ross’s living room. With her mom visiting a friend in the hospital, it was the best she could do and still help Ross get the rest of his bills paid on time.

  Sierra sat on the floor of Ross’s office finishing his checks. A neat stack of newly arrived invoices, sorted by vendor sat in front of her. She clipped the last unsigned check to a bill and set it with the others, then shut the adding machine off.

  Feet pounded down the hall toward her. “Mom!” Emory’s face was white, her eyes huge and filled with terror and tears. “Braden’s hurt. Chance fell—”

  “What?” Sierra scrambled up, horror clutching at her chest and throat in waves. She tore past Emory, her breath coming in hiccupping gasps. Braden! Was he all right? Where was Ross?

  Emory ran at her heels crying. “I was watching out the window. Chance fell, and—” She cried harder.

  Sierra shouted the word that ended in a wail. “What?” Oh, God. Keep him safe! You were supposed to keep him safe.

  “Braden didn’t get up.” Emory sobbed as Sierra ran outside into the dusky evening.

  Sierra ran around the house and saw Chance in the pasture, grazing off to one side and Ross’s dark shape crouched over—

  “Nooooo!” The wail burst from her as she climbed the fence, dropped to the other side and fell to her knees. Getting up, she staggered forward and with stumbling steps made it over to her son.

  Blood covered Braden’s face and his eyes were closed. Ross had stripped his shirt off and held it pressed to Braden’s cheek.

  “Is he breathing?” The high-pitched shriek sounded like someone else’s voice.

  Ross nodded. “Yes. I called an ambulance.”

  “Is he okay, Ross?” She couldn’t stop the flood of panic. Braden’s arm was warm. But Molly’s had been warm for a week, until technology could no longer thwart the ebbing of life.

  “He’ll be fine.” But his voice held worry, and he wouldn’t look at her.

  She rubbed her son’s arm gently, but the words were fearful, harsh sounding. “Braden! Wake up!”

  “Sierra, stop!” Ross was breathing hard. “Look at me.”

  She panted, short gasps that made spots dance in front of the still form of her son.

  “Look at me!” He barked.

  She wrenched her eyes up and started to cry, great heaving sobs that came from her chest.

  “He. Will. Be. Fine.” He nodded once, his eyes locked on hers. “Okay?”

  She heard an ambulance in the distance, gradually growing louder. After an eternity the flashing vehicle turned up Ross’s drive. She jumped up and opened the gate, then motioned them straight to her boy.

  Sierra sat by the hospital bed and watched her son’s face. If she looked away she might miss something. A grimace, a flutter of eyelashes. That sweet, sleepy smile he always gave her when she woke him up for school.

  She felt the air stir as the large wooden door pushed open, but still Braden didn’t move.

  “Oh, honey. Is Braden okay?” Tears quavered in her mom’s voice.

  Sierra nodded, wiping a finger under her eye. “Uh-huh. He’s fine.” She brushed the hair off Braden’s forehead, careful to avoid the bandage covering the ten stitches on his cheek. “He’s going to be fine. Aren’t you, baby?”

  “Is he sleeping?” Her mom moved around to the other side of the bed and laid a hand on Braden’s arm above the IV.

  “Mmmhmm. Just sleeping.” Sierra kept smoothing his hair back.

  The door moved the air again. Sierra dashed another tear away and wiped her wrist under her nose. A masculine hand settled on her shoulder. She reached up and it clasped hers, its warmth encircling her palm. She felt the gentle kiss on top her head and Ross’s whispered words of apology and comfort. She leaned forward and rested her chin on the rail, her eyes never leaving Braden’s face.

  Ross watched the unconscious boy lying in the big hospital bed. Sierra’s heart had been hammered to smithereens, and he could have prevented it. He’d known it was getting too dark to keep practicing, but Braden was so eager, so determined to cut his time down.

  “What happened?” Sierra’s voice sounded strained.

  Ross cleared his throat. “He leaned too soon for the flag and his foot slipped out of the stirrup. The track around the barrel was slick and Chance lost his footing and nearly fell. Braden came down on the barrel. I think the coffee can sliced his cheek.” Her shudder came up through his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sierra. I knew it was getting too late to keep practicing. Next time—”

  She slipped her hand from his, her voice hollow. “There won’t be a next time.”

  He squeezed the muscles in her shoulder gently. “Okay.”

  The door shushed open, and her fur-coated friend Elise bustled into the room, eyes only for Sierra and the boy in the bed. “Oh, hon. How is he?”

  Sierra dropped her head in her hands and wept for the first time since they’d left the pasture. Her shoulders convulsed under Ross’s hand, but the sobs were gut wrenching despite their quietness. Ross tightened his grip on her shoulder, willing her pain into his own body. Lord, heal that little boy.

  Elise’s shoulder brushed his and a swirl of something floral and exotic drifted to his nose. The words were so low he could barely hear them. “Is he going to be okay?”

  He leaned toward her ear. “The tests didn’t show any bleeding on his brain, and he has some stitches on his cheek. But the doctors can’t figure out why he hasn’t woken up yet.”

  Sierra went to a place deep inside where blackness closed in around her. She spoke into the darkness. You were supposed to keep him safe. I entrusted him to You.

  No warm assurances drifted to her, no heavenly arms offered com
fort. She heard the cracking of her heart and the pouring out of hope. But nothing else.

  Elise rubbed her arm, her soft prayers flowing nonstop. Sierra wanted to tell her to shut up, to stop putting her son before a God who didn’t care. She held Braden’s hand, her fingertips stroking the inside of his palm, moving over the callused bumps on the fleshy pad at the base of each finger. She leaned closer and pressed his hand tight between hers. He was her son. If only she could will her strength, her health into this young body that had once received all its nourishment from her.

  Michael! She half-rose in her chair. “I forgot to call Michael.”

  Abbey gave her a teary look and patted Braden’s arm. “I’ll go call him, honey.”

  Sierra turned to Ross, her brain starting to process other important details. “Where are Emory and Trevor?”

  “I took them to Sid’s and called my mom. She’ll stay with them as long as we need.”

  She nodded as she sank back into the chair and continued to watch her son. He appeared to be resting so peacefully. Please, wake up, honey.

  Fifteen minutes later, the door sprang open and Michael rushed in, Gina right behind him in a tan raincoat that made her look bigger than her five months. Michael’s eyes were frantic as he filled the space next to Abbey. “Is he okay?”

  Sierra nodded, then looked back at Braden. She wanted to explain, tell him everything the doctor said. That their boy should wake up. But her throat closed and another sob built in her chest.

  Ross’s fingers moved minutely on her shoulder as he shifted behind her. “The doctors said there’s no bleeding on his brain.”

  Michael’s hands relaxed their grip on the bed rail, and his voice softened. “When will he wake up?”

  No one spoke, so Ross said, “They don’t know.”

  At midnight it was just Michael and Gina in the room with her. Sierra’s mom had left earlier to take the kids home and put them to bed. Ross had gotten her a sandwich at around ten before he left, but it sat on the tray next to the window.

  Gina had fallen asleep in a chair, so Sierra and Michael waited … and waited.