by Sherri Sand
Elise just smiled.
The Mazda passed the last fence post at the end of the drive, and Elise stopped the car. “Whoa! What a setting!”
Sierra took in the details of the scene she’d missed on her first shock-filled visit. The grounds surrounding the immaculate two-story farmhouse could have been lifted from a postcard. A pristine emerald lawn created the canvas for the stunning arrangement of decorative trees and shrubs artfully placed among the lattice arches, Grecian benches, and other garden décor. And not a stray weed edged the circular drive that passed in front of the house and around to the barn.
“Wow!” Elise turned a shining grin on her. “Whoever created that is an artist.”
“I think that would be Chance’s landlord.”
Elise’s eyes got big. “No!”
Sierra nodded once. “Yep. He’s a landscaper.”
“I’m getting chills.”
Sierra gave her a dry look. “That would be because the top is down.”
“Spoilsport.” Elise shifted back into first gear and motored toward the barn. She parked the car and shut it off. “So, what are we doing again?”
Sierra opened the door and climbed out. She kept pace with her friend, who walked gingerly, her maroon heels sinking into the damp earth as they made their way to the wire fence.
“Checking on Chance.” She hadn’t thought to ask what Ross meant until after his blue truck was rolling back down the driveway last Thursday afternoon.
“Define what we’re checking for. I can’t do any horse chasing in these shoes.”
“Lice? Ticks? To see that he doesn’t have four legs straight in the air? I don’t know.” Other than watching the horse graze in the field, she didn’t really see the point.
“Oh, there he is. What a sweetheart. Look at him, Sierra.” Elise glanced at her, sunshine in her smile. “Can we pet him?”
A hundred feet away, Chance plodded with slow, steady steps toward the fence. Toward them. Sierra shuddered. “No. He looks fine. Let’s go.”
She cooed. “Oh, look, he’s coming to visit.”
“Let’s go, Elise. I’m not kidding.”
Her friend turned. “Hon, look at his face. There’s not a mean bone in his body.”
Sierra eyed the thin squares of wire that separated them from the approaching mammoth creature. Thirty feet and still coming. Her knees turned to jelly and her breathing accelerated. She backed toward the car. “Elise, he’s—”
The crunch of gravel made her turn. There in denim jeans and a black T-shirt, giving her a slow smile, was her knight.
Ross didn’t stop until he reached Sierra. Her eyes clung to his with a hint of panic in them. The woman at the fence in the fur jacket waved at him, looking like she was having the time of her life. He grinned and waved back, then turned to the striking woman beside him, his voice low. “You’re looking highly anxious again.”
She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked away. “It shows?”
“It crossed my mind that if I came up behind you and neighed really loud, I might see you climb the side of the barn there.” Her smile held embarrassment, and he was sorry he’d teased her.
She lifted a hand toward the pasture. “You said to check on the horse, so I thought if Elise came with me, it wouldn’t be so … I mean I could actually—so anyway, we’ve checked on Chance and he seems to be fine.” Her amber eyes caught his for a moment, then she dashed back to her friend. “We should probably go.”
Her friend called to them. “You guys need to come pet him. He is absolutely delicious.”
“She’s not going to eat him, is she?” he asked.
Sierra wrapped her coat tighter. “If wishes were horses …”
He stared and she gave a self-conscious laugh. “The old nursery rhyme. ‘If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.’ It’d solve one of my problems if she did eat him.”
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 eag
er 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 extr
a 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?”