Leave It to Chance (8 page)

He wanted to ask what problems she meant, but the statement didn’t sound like an offer to share her thoughts. And if Mrs. Lassiter’s gossipy diatribe about Sierra’s ex-husband could be trusted, her problems were pretty obvious.

“It’s a good idea to check on him until I can do a thorough job of inspecting the fence. We wouldn’t want him to get out.”

Her countenance grew pinched, and she scanned the fence as if looking for holes. “He really could escape?”

“It’s not likely, as long as we supplement him with a little hay and grain. There’s some grass yet for him to graze on.”

Ross tilted his head, considering her. “Do you want to go pet Chance, try to get used to him? I could help you—”

She took a step back, closer to the car. “No, thanks. I’m fine right here. In fact, I need to get home.” She raised her voice. “Elise, we should go.”

The woman named Elise had lowered her face to the fence and was making cooing noises to the horse.

Sierra hollered louder. “Elise, if you don’t come, I’m taking the car and leaving.”

The large woman waved a hand at them. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

Ross watched Elise say good-bye to Chance. Good grief, she’d kissed the horse. Shaking his head, he shifted toward Sierra. “You’d really leave her?”

She slanted him a shy smile. “No, but it’s a good threat. Elise doesn’t let anyone drive her car.” She added with a tilt of her head, “But she’s very generous with everything else.”

“The best kind of friend.”

She nodded. “The very best.”

They were flying back along the highway. Sierra tucked her hands between her legs to try to warm them.

Elise tilted her head toward her, platinum curls whipping along the sides of the scarf. “Okay, he’s
so
dreamy.”

“I couldn’t believe you kissed him, Elise!”

“Not the horse, silly. The
man.
”

Sierra had been trying to put thoughts of the
man
out of her head. “Well, I still can’t believe you put your lips on that animal.”

“Hon, it’s the only thing male that’s touched these lips in a long time.”

Sierra shook her head. Only Elise would see that as a bonus.

Her friend flattened her palms on the steering wheel, maroon-tipped fingers straight. “Okay, I need to say something. When you take your kids out to visit their horse tomorrow, what are you going to do?”

Sierra nibbled a fingernail. “Drive by very slowly so they can throw carrots out the window?”

Her friend looked at her aghast. “You’d let them roll the windows down near that ferocious animal?”

Sierra moved to the next finger. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that Chance is such a teddy bear. If you’d just try to—”

Sierra gave her a piercing look.

Elise clapped a manicured hand over her mouth. “Oh, hon. I sounded just like your mother, didn’t I?”

“One Abbey Lassiter in my life is enough, thank you.”

“It’s just—”

“No more. I already went against good sense and kept the horse.”

Elise raised a hand into the rushing breeze streaming over them. “Not another word.” She gave her a naughty smile. “For today, at least.”

Sierra lifted her chin and let the wind plow through her hair, wishing it could lift her out of the car and away from tomorrow’s ordeal. She knew Braden would never be satisfied on the safe side of the fence.

Elise dropped Sierra back at her mom’s after they had spent a couple hours sipping cappuccinos in the solarium at Taco Pete’s. Odd place to find good coffee, but last year over a plate of enchiladas, they’d discovered that Pete was a java aficionado and his brew showed it.

Despite bribery by way of caramel flan, Sierra had not let Elise cajole her into talking about Ross. Yes, he was handsome—okay, gorgeous—
and
kind. But what did that say? Her instincts had failed before. Until she figured out where the defect lay—with her or with them—that was one pool she wasn’t eager to wade back into. Elise had just smiled.

But later that evening the image of the cute grin on his face when he’d teased her about climbing the side of the barn kept creeping back, even as Sierra placed the steaming pot of corn chowder on the table.

“Honey, I would have been happy to make dinner.” Her mom fiddled with the silverware and bowls, adjusting them for the third time.

Sierra slid the rolls into the oven. “I want you to rest, Mom. You’ve been waiting on us since we got here.”

Her mom waved an arm around the kitchen and plopped down in a chair. “It’s like letting somebody else drive your car.”

Sierra kept the smile to herself. Her mom would have a fit if she realized how alike she and Elise really were.

The front door rattled and the herd of kids tromped into the house just as the buzzer on the oven went off.

“Hi, guys!” Sierra didn’t have to look around the corner to know the living room was strewn with overnight bags and backpacks. According to her mom, The Motivator—though the name was a secret only Elise knew—was a work in progress. The backpacks would probably be a highlighted addendum. By the time they moved out, her mom would have two full pages of rules taped to the fridge. Maybe three.

“Hey, Mom. What’s for dinner?” Braden walked to the fridge and opened it. Definitely a male trait.

“Nothing.” He shot her a startled look, and she grinned at him. “We’re having corn chowder.”

The teasing earned her a half-smile.

She set the rolls on the counter and grabbed him in a hug and danced him around the kitchen. He tolerated her antics with the hint of a smirk. “Hey, mister, where’s my big ‘I’m so happy to see you’ smile?”

He shrugged and stepped out of the hug. “I dunno. I’m going to put my stuff away.” His fingers dragged along the table as he passed it. “Hi, Grandma.”

“Hello, Braden. Glad to see you noticed your old grandma sitting here.” Her eyes twinkled at him over the top of the hug Trevor had climbed up for. There was no other word to describe it. She adored her grandkids. Sierra tried to recall if her mom used to twinkle at her and Win.

Trevor climbed down from his grandma’s lap and ran for her hug. Sierra swung him up and pressed her head to his. “Hey, bud, I missed you.”

Over Trevor’s shoulder, she looked at her mom. “Do you see Em?”

Abbey glanced toward the living room. “No.”

Braden called from the stairs at the far side of the living room. “She’s in her bedroom.”

Trevor leaned back, his face filled with the importance of a newscaster. “Dad threw away Emory’s blanket.”

“What?” Her eyes swung to meet her mom’s gaze.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Lips pressed in a thin line, her mom shook her head and got up from her chair to stalk over to the counter and throw the cooling rolls into a bowl.

Trevor picked at the collar of her shirt. “She’s too old for it.”

“I’ll be right back, honey.” Sierra set Trevor down and jogged for the stairs. She tapped once on Emory’s door and stole inside. “Hey, Em.”

Emory lay on her stomach, drawing on a pad, ankles swinging in the air. “Hi.” She didn’t look up.

Sierra sat on the bed next to her. “Trevor told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

Her daughter shook her head, eyes on the paper. A gray horse stood next to three kids. A woman, with Sierra’s shoulder-length dark hair, stood a few feet away. On the far side of the page was a man with Michael’s hair color and eyes. A big black “X” had been crossed over him.

Sierra pointed to the man in the picture. “Is that Dad?”

Emory nodded once. “I’m not going back to his house.”

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

A flush started in her daughter’s soft cheeks, the first hint of tears. Emory looked up, heartbreak in the blue eyes. “He was so mean.” Her face crumpled and she climbed into Sierra’s arms.

After consoling Emory she marched down the stairs and straight to the kitchen. Her mom picked up the phone and handed it to her without a word.

“Thanks.” She pulled the back door closed behind her and dialed the number.

“Hello.” A woman answered. Apparently Gina didn’t recognize Abbey’s number on the ID.

“Gina, this is Sierra. May I speak with Michael, please?” She walked toward the back fence, the rain-laden grass squishing under her shoes.

“Oh. Just a second.”

Sierra could picture the phone in Michael’s house being passed like a hot potato. She and the former dental hygienist used to be friends. A long time ago.

“Hello?”

She should have calmed down before she called. A deep breath cooled her some. “Michael, can I get Emory’s blanket back, please?”

He sighed, and his voice held an edge. “Sierra, she’s way too old to be sleeping with a blanket like a two-year-old.”

She wished she could make him see that these crutches—Emory’s blanket, Trevor’s thumb—were
temporary
. Yes, they should have given up these habits long ago. But their world shifted when their family splintered and they held onto the one little thing that gave them a measure of security and comfort.

“I understand that you don’t agree with it, and she won’t bring it with her next time. I’d just like to get it back.”

“The trash collector picked it up this morning. She needs to start growing up, Sierra. The way you coddle the kids isn’t helping them.”

She ground her teeth. If she did coddle the kids occasionally, it was purely to compensate for his lack of empathy.

“Okay. Bye.”

She stalked back to the kitchen and the door slammed behind her harder than she intended. Her mom held out a hand for the phone.

“Well?” The phone went into its spot on the counter.

A sadness for the life her kids had swept over her. “It’s gone. He threw it away.” Just like he’d thrown their family away. Would the pieces of her family ever fit back together?

Chapter 9

Braden started walking up the aisle before the bus stopped. It felt strange to walk on something that was moving. Maybe that was what an airplane felt like. His dad said he’d take him on one some day.

“Please wait until the bus is stopped before getting out of your seat.” The driver looked funny with only his forehead and eyes showing in the mirror.

“Okay.”
Whatever.

He jumped from the second to last step to his grandma’s driveway, but kept walking when the driver spoke to him again.

Emory caught up to him and tugged on his backpack. “Braden! Mr. Hollister was talking to you.”

“So?”

“Remember, Mom said you need to be respectful to this driver. She said she won’t drive you to school the rest of the year.”

He shoved her away. “I don’t care.”

“Ow! Don’t push!”

“Then stay away from me.” Geez! What a crybaby. No wonder Dad threw her blanket away. The thought that had ridden with him all day came galloping back. Maybe they could go see Chance!

He ran up the front steps and into the house. “Mom!”

She came toward him from the kitchen with a big smile that made him feel warm inside. But at the same time it made a part of him feel bad too, like he was still mad at her for some reason.

He swung his backpack in his hand. “Can we go see Chance?”

She looked kinda worried and her smile got smaller, but she said, “Yes, but go change out of your school clothes.”

Yeah!
He pounded up the stairs to his room and threw the backpack on the floor. He ripped off his shirt and threw it at the hamper in the corner. Missed. His gaze snagged on the shoe box sitting on his bed and he raced to snatch it up. No way! Cowboy boots! Cool! He ripped the top off the box. Black! And they fit!

He ran back down the stairs and hugged his mom. “Thanks! Where’d you get them?”

She squeezed him extra tight. “You better go thank Grandma. She got them for you.”

He tore into the living room where his grandma was picking up Emory’s school bag. “Thanks, Grandma! I love ’em!”

She hugged him back, then put her hand on top his head. “You’re welcome! Now don’t wear them in the mud or they won’t stay nice.”

He pulled away from her hand. She still told him to zip his coat when it was raining too. “I won’t.”

His mom called. “Come on, Braden. We need to be back for supper.”

He grinned at his grandma. “We’re going to go see Chance. You want to come?”

She laughed. The folds around her eyes always crinkled when she did that. “No, I’m going to fix some spareribs and baked potatoes. You go have fun, and mind your mom.”

It didn’t bother him too much that his mom drove slow, but he couldn’t wait to see Chance. Maybe Ross would be there too. That’d be cool.

“Oh, Braden?”

He looked at the rearview mirror and could see his mom’s forehead, kinda like Mr. Hollister’s. “Yeah?”

“I made your eye appointment this morning. It’s in a week and a half. That was the soonest they could get you in.”

“Okay.” He didn’t want to go. Kids would laugh at him if he got glasses. Braden unbuckled before the car fully stopped. “Mom, can we ride him today?”

“I get to ride him first!” Emory tried to squeeze past Braden out the van door.

“Emory! Move!” Braden pressed against his sister and jumped out first. He ran for the section of fence close to the green metal gate next to the barn, pulling a carrot out of his pocket. Emory and Trevor ran up beside him. He searched every inch of the empty field.

“I don’t see him, Mom.” Braden slumped so his chest and arms hung over the top of the fence and let the carrot dangle. “Can I get some grain and go find him?”

His mom took a long time to scan the pasture. “Um, Braden, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He’s not really used to us yet.”

“Aw, Mom.”

He could tell she wanted to leave, but she rubbed her cheek and said, “How about you get some grain and stand in the enclosed fence area next to the barn?”

“The corral?” Ross had called it that when he showed them the barn.

Emory started to follow him. “I’ll get his bridle.”

“No, Em!” His mom looked freaked out again, like the day they got Chance.

It was so stupid to have a horse you couldn’t even ride. He found the light switch on the wall inside the barn. Cobwebs hung from the bare bulbs and wooden beams. It was like a cool haunted house.

Braden followed the stained concrete around to the small room where Ross said the grain would be. The lid was hard to pry off, but he got it. The grain smelled good. Sweet. He carefully scooped the seeds into a dented tin bucket and started for the two big doors that separated the barn from the corral. The wooden doors hung on rusty hinges way above him and didn’t look like they’d been closed in a long time. He walked through them and back into the sunlight, swinging the bucket.

His mom still looked nervous and had one hand on top of the chipped green gate and the other holding Trevor, who wanted to climb between the metal bars. “Honey, you’re spilling the grain.”

He wanted to roll his eyes, but he was afraid she’d make them leave if he did. He stopped swinging it and started around toward the back of the barn, banging the bucket with an old spoon he’d found near the tack room.

“Stop when you see him!” his mom called out.

He didn’t look back. There was another farm with horses on the other side of the fence. He didn’t think Chance could have jumped the fence. But you never knew. He carefully looked at each horse, but none of them was gray.

His mom hollered, “Is he coming?”

Braden stepped back around the barn. “I don’t see him.”

She let go of Trevor who scrambled through the bottom rungs of the gate. His mom climbed the gate and dropped to the dirt. Emory right behind her. She looked funny, kinda hunched over, looking at each corner of the corral, as if Chance might come tearing around the barn and she’d have to run for the fence. He tried not to laugh.

Finally, she moved over to the gate that led out to the field. It took her a long time, but she got the latch open.

He waited behind her. “Come on, Mom.”

She stared across the field. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Emory put an arm around Mom, but she sounded worried. “Dad said you’d sell him. He said you’re scared of horses and couldn’t believe you got Chance. Are you going to sell him, Mom?”

His mom looked like she wanted to say yes, but couldn’t. “No, honey, we’re not going to sell him.”

Braden dropped the bucket to the ground, but only a little spilled out. “We might as well. It’s no fun having a horse we can’t do anything with.”

She looked at him a long time. “You’re right, Braden.” She was trying to be brave. Her smile didn’t look very brave, though. “Okay, let’s go see if we can find him.” But she still didn’t move toward the gate.

He reached around her and pushed it open. “Okay, then let’s go.”

Sierra wavered. All she wanted to do was dump the bucket and herd the kids back to the car. Her brain apparently hadn’t communicated the horrible memories to her hand, because quicker than she could think, her fingers were reaching for the pail. “He’s probably hiding behind those apple trees down there.”

Braden frowned toward the trees. “Wouldn’t we see his legs?”

She squinted, trying to decipher between brush and long gray legs. “I don’t know.” She rattled the pail again and started for the far pasture. “Chaaaaaance!” The kids chimed in, then broke into a run. The tall grass separated into three distinct paths behind them.

The pail wobbled as she tried to bang the spoon against it and jog over the rutted ground to keep up. No way were the children going to get to a thousand pounds of horseflesh without her.

Braden reached the trees first. He put his hands up and turned, arms dropping. “He’s not down here, Mom.”

Where could a horse hide?
Sierra scanned beyond the borders of the fence, toward the neighboring pasture and its herd of horses. Brown and black horses grazed peacefully from what she could see, but no dappled gray gelding with white socks milled among them. But then, who knew what was behind the other barn or down in that dip where the brush grew thick?

“Um, let’s try the other end of the field, past the barn.” She couldn’t believe she was in the same field with a horse—and actually searching for him. Elise would call this progress.

Braden ran beside her. “What’ll we do if he’s not there?”

“I don’t know, honey.” Sierra took a panting breath.
How in the world do people on those commercials jog and talk at the same time?
“We’ll have to ask Ross if he’s seen him today.”

“When will he be home, because—Mom! There’s Chance!” Braden jerked to a halt and pointed.

Sierra looked.

Nothing but grass between them and the wire fence Braden was pointing to. She looked again at Braden’s outstretched arm and followed it to the border of the field. “Where, honey?”

“There!”

A movement beyond the fence caught her eye. A dark head swiveled, sending strands of a gray stringy mane to swaying like an out-of-sync pendulum. Chance stared straight at them.

From Ross’s perfectly manicured backyard.
Oh, crud.

Emory jumped and squealed while Trevor laughed that free-spirited laugh that only four-year-olds possessed, as the kids ran for the fence. Along the wire fence line, strands of pallid field grass mingled with the sculpted rich green lawn that surrounded Ross’s white farmhouse.

Chance stood in the midst of the garden paradise next to a bronze statue of a boy holding a kite. A hint of fragrance drifted in the breeze toward them.

“Wait, guys!” Sierra called out. “We don’t want to frighten him.” She sped up and grabbed Trevor by the back of the shirt. “Hold on, buddy.” Her imagination had her youngest on his back, eyes closed, face white as death with a red hoof print on his forehead. She shuddered. “Emory, Braden! Wait for me!”

Braden was in high gear. One foot barely on the brake, while the other revved the engine. He edged through the gate that separated Ross’s home from the field. “Mom, I can get him.”

“Hold on, I said!” Sierra eyed the gate—one length of wire mesh fencing hung between three boards and a post, with a swivel latch at the top. “Was this open?”

Braden shrugged, his right hand curled over the rough wood at the top of the gate, his body halfway through the enclosure. “Yeah. Can I get him now?”

She gave him a look with raised brows that negated the need for words.

He shoved back from the gate. “Oh, man!”

“Ross must have left it open.” Then she had another thought. “Braden, did you open this gate when you and Trevor were playing in Ross’s koi pond the other day?”

Guilt shadowed his face along with frustration that said he couldn’t believe she was asking him the question. “I shut it, Mom.”

Uncertainty grabbed her. Should she go with disbelief and hope the guilt would induce him to tell the truth? Or give him the benefit of the doubt? She went with disbelief. She tilted her head slightly and crossed her arms.

“I
shut it!”
Sullenness pressed his lids into narrow, angry slits.

Wrong approach.
These were the moments that left her wishing for a do-over. “Honey, I don’t know who else would have left it open.”

“Well, I didn’t!” He shoved through the gate. Her lips pressed forcefully to call him back. But a tiny spark of fear stopped her.
What if he wouldn’t come?
The concern lay banked in dull embers that glowed with bits of orange and red every time Braden became surly. She was afraid one day they’d ignite, and her fears would become reality. His pain and anger over the divorce would drive him from developing into the man he held promise of becoming.

Emory vacillated, eager to follow her brother, but worry clouded her features.

Sierra knew that look. She wanted to go but didn’t want to get in trouble. Sierra found herself nodding. “Don’t scare him.”

Braden walked up slowly and stopped a good thirty feet from Chance. Emory crept quietly behind him. All that fight to keep him from getting hurt and he wasn’t even within a tail’s flicker away. Trevor danced and dragged against her arm, finally standing relatively still when they reached his siblings.

The four of them stared. Chance stared right back, then dipped his head and lifted fat, velvety lips to daintily bite the last quarter inch of whatever had been growing in the soft dirt.

Sierra looked at the lush flower beds. The plants were a variety of sizes but spaced evenly except for the gap where Chance stood. Whatever it was, he had razed it. Not even a nibbled leaf lay on the bare dirt.

Chance moved on to a perfectly trimmed white-veined bush next on the buffet line. Sierra took a step forward and stopped. “Didn’t Chance have on one of those halter-things before?”

Braden looked away and a warning flashed in her mind.

She looked at her elder son more closely. “Braden, do you know where his halter is?”

He scuffed the grass. “When Trevor was throwing rocks at the fish, I gave Chance another carrot and took it off.”

Sierra stared at him, fear pinching her cheeks tight. She imagined him all alone with Chance, wrestling the straps off the giant horse’s head. A wave of nausea passed through her.

“It didn’t look comfortable,” he said.

“Please run to the barn and get it for me. And one of those ropes that hooks to it.” She ran a shaking hand over her face. They would get through this.
Please, God!
A prayer rose of its own volition.

He nodded, a hint of relief lighting his features. “Sure, Mom.”

It started to drizzle.

She turned back. Like a giant aphid, Chance worked on the white bush. Methodically he labored, his lips pulling and teeth crunching, carving a hole in the listing shrub. Sierra looked again at the indent in the ground where the other plant had been. “I hope Braden hurries, or Ross isn’t going to have any plants left.”

Emory watched Chance. “Can’t Ross plant more?” She grabbed her mom’s hand with an exuberant swing. “I know! We can buy some for him.”