Leave It to Chance (20 page)

“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 … left. 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.

Sid continued, “God had other plans.”

She ripped the plastic off the package of meat. “Don’t you ever think God is just too big to get caught up in the minuscule details of our lives? I mean there’s war, Sid. And famine. Big things for Him to worry about.” She shrugged. “Or ignore. I don’t think He’s too concerned about me and my kids.”

Sid leaned forward, an intent look on his face, tufts of hair sticking up on end. But the words were gentle, kind. “That’s where you’d be wrong. Who do you think brought you into this world? Your mother? You think you and your husband could just form those three little kids on your own? You don’t think a Creator was involved in that? And that if He was involved enough to create your life, He’d be pretty invested in its outcome?”

Sierra bit her lip, a part of her longing to believe that what he said was true. But there was too much evidence against it. She arranged the ribs in a pan, keeping her back to him. “I believe in God. I did the whole ‘asking Jesus into my heart’ thing when I was thirteen.” A pang struck as the flash of remembrance slid over her like a wool blanket that had grown too scratchy. The easy relationship she thought she had with God, comfort and security wrapped in a loving heavenly Father, had died along with her dad. She brushed the past aside. She’d grown up since then. Gotten married, had kids, been betrayed … God hadn’t seemed to care enough to keep up with her, just kind of drifted back to His heavenly places.

“He lost interest in me long ago.” She gave him a quick smile over her shoulder. “But I’m glad your faith helped you through a tough time.”

“So what are you going to do about Ross?”

“There’s nothing to
do
about Ross.”

Humor deepened the lines around his mouth. “You were just hanging on to make him feel better?”

Embarrassment burned her skin from the inside. Sierra shoved the ribs into the oven and set the timer. “I’m going to make some biscuits. Do you need help getting back to the couch?”

Sid’s laugh loosened the knot between her shoulders, and she gave him a wry grin. “Sid Barrows, you’d better hightail it, or I’ll short-sheet your bed.”

His laugh deepened. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you did. Wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

Chapter 20

Ross tossed a sack of mortar next to where one of the retaining walls would go. Why had he been such an idiot and kissed her? Because he wanted to, that was why. And it was the stupidest thing he’d done in a long time. Especially when he was still mad at her. He tried to ignore the memory of her pressed close to him, holding on and kissing him in return.

He grabbed another sack and lobbed it on top of the first, and the guilt he’d been trying to avoid hit him. He’d no business kissing her in the first place, not knowing if her heart belonged to God or not. He paused, the heavy sack resting against his thigh. But he didn’t know that for sure. She’d prayed with them at dinner.

Stop it, Ross.
Things may not always be clearly black and white, but he wasn’t going to start blurring the lines.

Abbey’s green Honda pulled up and parked. Braden jumped out and ran over to him with a big grin. “Need any help?”

He sure loved the boy, but that only complicated things with Sierra.

“I believe I do. You want to start offloading those rocks from the trailer and stack them right here?”

“Sure.” Braden headed for Ross’s pickup cab where his gloves were stored. “Hi, Big Red.” The boy waved to the tall redheaded crew boss, who was orchestrating the planting of some shrubs.

Dusk set in a couple hours later, and Ross wiped his sleeve across his forehead.

Braden stood next to the rocks he’d stacked, one shoulder slumped lower than the other. Dirt and dust covered his dark jeans, and he wore a tired smile.

“You ready to quit yet?” Ross asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hop in and I’ll take you home.”

In the cab, Braden stuffed his gloves back in the pocket on the bottom of the passenger door. “Ross?”

“Yeah?” He looked over. Braden was staring down at his feet.

“We’re doing 4-H and there’s a clinic coming up…. I don’t know how to do any of the games.”

“What games are you talking about?” Ross wished he had the time to teach him, but until this job was done, he just couldn’t.

The boy’s white teeth flashed in a grin. “I think the keyhole and the flag race sound the funnest.”

“Those were my two favorites.”

“Yeah, Sid told me.” He looked out the side window. “I asked my dad, but he doesn’t know anything about them and he’s too busy right now anyway.” He turned toward Ross. “You’re busy too, so if you can’t teach me, that’s okay.”

Ross stared out the windshield—Alex Cranwell pulling from one side and a pair of vulnerable brown eyes in the face of a lost boy pulling him from the other. “I won’t have much time, but we can probably fit some training in right before dinner every day and after church. What do you think?”

“Cool! Thanks, Ross.”

Ross pulled into the driveway behind Sierra’s van and idled the truck.

Braden grabbed the door handle. “You want to come in?”

Part of him was tempted and his hand reached to shut off the ignition, but he saw Sierra glance out the window and then walk away. He sighed. “Not tonight.”

Probably not for many nights.

At eight-thirty, working under floodlights he’d rented a week ago, Ross watched the gold Mercedes pull up to the garage. Alex got out and sauntered over, resting his foot on a bag of grass seed next to the shipment of arborvitaes and rhododendrons. He rubbed his chin in a way that didn’t bode well for the crisp evening.

Ross nodded. “I see you made it back.”

Alex twisted to look out over the valley. “Yeah, flew in this afternoon. Got another contract lined out with a Seattle retailer that bought some property on the west side of town.”

The dangling carrot was meant to make Ross salivate, and it did.

He surveyed the yard. “Frankly, I was disappointed when I pulled up. I thought you’d be a lot further along.”

Ross felt the muscle in his jaw flex, and he shifted his stance.

“You see,” Alex went on, “when you’ve got the potential to get some lucrative contracts, you want to make sure those contracts don’t go away. And to do that you need to make sure everyone is happy. And right now, Ross, I’m not happy. What do you think? Do you think I’m going to be happy come Christmas?”

“I’m certain you will be.” The words came out flat.

“I sure hope so.” Alex straightened, flashing porcelain caps. He clapped Ross on the shoulder on his way back toward the house. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

Ross seethed. Alex knew why he wasn’t further along. In the past few weeks, Marie Cranwell had created six change orders, all with Alex’s okay. The last one required them to rip out a mortared flagstone border that curved along the south side of the new English garden. The border had taken three weeks to install, but Marie decided she would prefer a powder-coated wrought iron fence instead.

“Alex.” The man turned and Ross walked to meet him. “I’ve mailed a couple invoices for the change orders, but haven’t received payment.”

Alex shook his head, as if he’d figured all along it’d head in this direction. “Ross, let me be straight with you. You bid this job, and I expect you to complete it based on the price you gave me.” He placed an arm across Ross’s shoulders, walking him back toward the arborvitaes. “When I bid a job I do everything in my power to make my customer happy. And my customer is happy when he gets what he asked for, and pays what we’d agreed on.”

Ross stopped and Alex’s arm slid off his shoulders. “You agreed to pay the change orders out of pocket.”

Alex looked at him hard, like a father who was disappointed when his son just didn’t comprehend something. After a five-beat pause, a grin wiped the look away. “Ross, I like you. I think you’ll go far in commercial landscaping.” He shook his head, his eyes boring into Ross’s. “Don’t let anything get in your way.”

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, honey.”

Sierra gave her mom a smile. “Long day, I guess.” The kiss and the way Ross had walked away from her today were too much on her mind. And the conversation with Sid kept creeping back. Were people like Sid and Elise deluded, or had they discovered the key to trusting God that seemed to evade her? Her hand faltered as she reached to pick up one of Trevor’s LEGO toys. Or did God just have an easier time loving them?

Sierra tucked the kids in bed then headed to the kitchen. The warm, buttery smell of popcorn wafted to her. “Yum.”

Her mom turned. “I thought you looked like you could use some popcorn.” She pulled a mug from the microwave. “And hot chocolate.”

A soft laugh pressed through. “You take such good care of us, Mom.”

Her mom waved a hand, but her smile was pleased. “Oh, honey. That’s what moms are for.”

Sierra plopped at the table and dug a handful of popcorn out. “Mom, how do you know that God cares?”

“The Bible tells us He does. What else do we have if we don’t have God?”

“I don’t mean the nebulous knowledge that there is a God out there in the universe somewhere that
loves
you. I mean in the day-to-day. When Dad died, when Michael left. When Braden started getting so angry. Where was God’s love then?”

Her mom wiped her napkin in a tiny circle and gave her a tight smile. “You just know it’s there, honey. I’ll get us some waters.”

In bed, Sierra held her cell phone, the silver case slick under her thumb. She paused, then pressed Elise’s number.

“Hi, hon. See anymore of Mr. Sizzle?”

“Um, a little too much.” She knew Elise’s eyebrows were rising. “But I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

She ran her thumbnail down the side of the silk piping on the creamy antique comforter. “Elise, you said God was talking to me when I got the job with Sid. What did you mean?”

“I meant that He’s showing you that He cares.”

“He seems pretty unreliable. I mean, how can you trust a God that helps you sometimes, but not others, especially when it comes to the big stuff?”

“Hon, He doesn’t say that nothing bad will happen if you trust Him. Just that you will never be alone again.”

Sierra drew her knees up to her chin and smoothed a finger over a shiny maroon toenail. “But I’ve felt pretty alone.”

Elise sighed. “Yeah. Feelings can be the toughest roadblock. Hon, look at it like this. If your world is a paperback, God’s truth is always on the same page. You can open the book, shut it, flip the pages, turn it upside down, but the truth remains right where it always was. Feelings, they’ll jump all over. You’re never going to find the same one anywhere. Feelings change, truth doesn’t. You have to decide which you are going to trust.”

“You and your analogies.”

“I know; it’s a gift.” Elise paused. “I’m going to church tomorrow if you want to check it out.”

“Church leaves me feeling dry.”

“Hon, nothing against your mom’s church, but mine doesn’t have the yawn factor hers does.”

Sierra laughed. “Shouldn’t you be worried about a lightning bolt or something?”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. God adores my sense of humor.” Elise laughed, but Sierra could tell she meant it. Sierra’s mom would be running for cover if she’d heard Elise.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“Just so you know, God isn’t a destination. He’s the transportation.”

The next evening Sierra had just put Sid’s plate on the table when she heard knocking on his front door. She hurried from the kitchen. It’d be just like Sid to try to get up and answer it.

Trevor’s cupped face peered into the living room window to the right of the front door. Emory’s joined his.

Sid chuckled. “I think the herd has arrived.”

Sierra opened the door. “Hi guys!”

Her mom ushered the kids in and looked toward the couch with a smile. “We were passing by and wanted to stop in and meet you.”

“Sid, this is my mom, Abbey. Mom, this is Sid.”

Her mom shook his outstretched hand. “It’s good to meet you. I hear you’re partial to prune juice and rutabagas.”

He slapped his good leg with a chuckle. “That girl of yours sure knows how to fix a meal, and I hear she learned it from the best.”

Her mom beamed, Emory at her side. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Abbey said, “but I do love to cook.”

Sierra heard Ross’s pickup come rumbling toward the house, and she glanced out the window to see Braden fling open the passenger door and run up the steps and into the house. After a quick hug, he said, “Ross needs to talk to you.”

“About what?” Her heart started to beat harder. She hadn’t seen him since the kiss yesterday. Not that she thought about it much. Except, of course, when she was cooking, eating, trying to sleep, or breathing.

Braden’s eyes slid toward his grandma. “About helping me work with Chance for my 4-H clinic.”

Panic zinged up her spine and her heart started pounding. “I don’t think—”

A spark in his eye, Sid leaned toward Braden. “What is he gonna teach you?”

Braden brightened. “The keyhole and the flag race.”

Sid slapped his leg. “His best events. He’ll teach you all the tricks.”

Braden’s grin grew wider, then he turned for the front door. “I’m going to wait in the pickup.”

“Wait, I—” Sierra said.

Braden’s shoulders sagged and he looked at her, the old sullenness shadowed in his eyes. “What, Mom?”