Chapter 13
By the time Sierra wrapped up with Skye, Nina had emailed her the wedding place settings, so instead of heading home for the night, she made her way back to the office to place the orders.
It was seven when she finally locked her office door and walked down the hall to the resort lobby. Sam, one of their newer receptionists, waved from behind the front desk and Sierra made a point to stop and check in. ‘Evening.’
‘Hi, Sierra.’
‘Everything going okay?’
‘Yes,’ Sam replied a little breathlessly. ‘Everyone has been super helpful showing me the ropes.’
‘Good.’ Sierra tapped the desk once. ‘Let me know if you have any questions. My door is always open.’
Sam beamed at her as she turned and aimed for the door, but Sierra didn’t see it. She was too tired, too focused on getting home to her glass of white wine and a hot bath. She wanted to turn off the lights, sink into scalding water, and just marinade in bubbles while an audiobook played.
She was so focused on the fantasy that she didn’t see her family until they were practically on top of her.
‘We were looking for you, Sisi!’ Poppy exclaimed, jolting Sierra out of her daydream. The five-year-old threw herself at Sierra’s legs, forcing her to brace against the weight. Poppy tipped her face up to grin at her. ‘We’re going dancing!’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, ’cause Neens says Daddy’s grumpy.’
Sierra shot her brother an amused glance.
Mav stood behind Poppy, holding Nina’s hand.
Markus hovered nearby. Even though he was getting stronger every day, Mav still looked pale and thin, so unlike himself.
Sierra’s anxiety flickered when she thought again about how close she had come to losing him, and because she needed to squash the jittery crawling in her stomach before it took over, she teased, ‘From the mouth of babes, Mav.’
Her brother sighed. ‘I can’t even deny it. If I sit still for another minute, I’m going to lose it.’
Nina patted him on the chest, unconsciously consoling him. ‘We’re going to stop by the barbecue. Listen to the music.’
‘And dance!’ Poppy exclaimed.
‘And dance,’ Nina affirmed. ‘We figured we’d catch you before you headed back to an empty house.’
As they watched her expectantly, Sierra tried to summon the energy. She told herself it would be good for her to get out too, spend time doing something fun with the family.
But it didn’t work.
After the week she’d had, the notion only left her feeling exhausted. ‘I think I’ll rain check, if that’s okay? It’s been a long day, and I’m pooped.’ She crouched down in her heels and readjusted Poppy’s cowgirl hat. ‘Have fun for me, ’kay?’
When Poppy nodded enthusiastically, Sierra pulled her in for a quick hug, and then she watched as they walked off towards the Wagon Train, the resort’s outdoor entertainment area.
Nina and Mav’s hands were linked, their faces turned towards one another.
Watching them hurt. There was a time when that – what they had – was all she’d ever wanted.
Worse, there was a time when she’d had it.
‘You need someone to drink and cry with?’ Markus asked. He was dressed fabulously as usual in tight taupe pants, a Western, shearling jacket, and his favoured snakeskin cowboy boots.
‘No.’ Sierra roped one arm around his waist and momentarily rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Go. Have fun.’
He returned the embrace. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes. I know you love to dance.’
‘I love to drink and cry too, and I’m about due,’ he argued.
‘Well, when you’re due, you call me. And I’ll drink and cry with you. But for tonight, I’m going to go home and soak in the tub with a glass of Chard the size of my face and a sexy audiobook.’
‘That is definitely a solo venture.’ He grinned, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and started after the others with one last wave.
When Sierra got home, she kicked off her shoes at the door in an uncharacteristically slobby moment. Around her, the house was quiet, settled, the only noise the occasional creak as the old wood readjusted in the winter night.
As she’d promised, the first thing she did was walk through to the kitchen to pour a huge glass of crisp Chardonnay. She sipped it as she yanked on her blouse, untucking it from her skirt as she ambled upstairs.
She wasn’t sure what had her stopping outside the second guest room where her things were stored, the one room that everyone knew to avoid.
Maybe it was the events of the night before, which had pried open the door on her memories even as she’d tried to hold it shut.
Maybe it was her conversation with Benji, and the fact that he’d told her outright that he still wanted that future with her.
Whatever the reason, Sierra didn’t question her impulse to open the door and step inside.
She had done so before, two days after she’d given birth, still bleeding, to paint over the pink roses she’d painstakingly stencilled onto the white nursery walls.
She’d done so to pack all those tiny little clothes into boxes for storage.
And she’d done so to take pictures of her baby furniture – the big rocking chair, changing table, and crib – so that she could list it all on Craigslist.
Now, she stepped inside. It was a small room, just big enough for the queen bed and side tables she’d replaced the nursery furniture with. It was staid, even for a guest room. Anyone staying in this room wouldn’t think it at all unusual – unless they opened the sliding door to the walk-in closet.
It was there that the boxes were stored, the plain brown exteriors hiding the hope and excitement and pain and grief that each item of clothing had once brought her, brought them.
Sierra took a long drink of wine and slid that door open.
The boxes beckoned.
Worse, they mocked.
She put her glass down on the nearby shelf and slowly, calmly, approached the nearest stack.
She gently peeled the tape off the first box, felt her stomach bunch and knot with that ancient grief as the box popped open to reveal the baby blanket her own mother had quilted for her when she was a baby and then kept for her to pass down, just as Ava had kept Mav’s baby blanket for him.
Except Mav had gotten to use his – and would again.
Sierra lifted it out of the box as if it were some ancient love letter in danger of disintegrating. She sat down on the carpeted floor with her wine, spread the blanket open over her legs to reveal the centre star pattern.
Too exhausted to cry, she simply let her head fall back against the shelf behind her and felt the grief wash over her. There were no waves this time, just one solid downpour that filled her, and in filling her, emptied her of everything else.
She understood that terrible things happened to people every day.
She understood the patterns of grief better than anybody because she had learned them, first when her parents had died unexpectedly, and then when Baby Girl had come into the world already gone.
And, still, even though she understood, Sierra couldn’t make sense of the unfairness of it all.
Maybe that was just life, she thought. Everyone, born rich or poor, healthy or sick, happy or sad, struggling through until death came for them.
Or, maybe, though everyone suffered, some people were just built differently, better equipped to brace against life’s punches.
Mav, for example, had been a rock when their parents had died.
Benji, though she knew he’d grieved, had stayed strong through it all too.
In fact, if anyone should be raging at life’s unfairness it was him – Benji.
He had been born into a rough situation, to parents who hadn’t deserved him and hadn’t tried to.
He had worked like a dog his entire life and saved every penny to build the life he’d wanted.
He’d done everything right, and still somehow been punched down repeatedly. By life. By his parents. By her.
Why wasn’t he bitter? she wondered. Why wasn’t he angry?
As if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, Benji appeared in the closet entrance.
Sierra squinted up at him as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the doorframe.
He was dressed in blue jeans, a Hunt Ranch shirt and vest. His hair stuck out from beneath his Wrangler ball cap.
Those familiar eyes studied her warily, afraid of the mood he might find her in.
She didn’t ask her what he was doing there or tell him that Mav, who he’d undoubtedly stopped by to see, was at the barbecue. She asked, ‘Why aren’t you bitter?’
Instead of deflecting or giving her a vague answer, he slowly lowered himself down to the floor beside her so that their shoulders were touching.
They were quiet for a long time, but because she understood that he was thinking about it, she passed him her wine. He took a sip, passed it back to her, replied, ‘I am.’
‘You don’t seem bitter.’ Genuinely frustrated with him, she pushed. ‘Your parents are a mess. Your life was hard. Your kid …’ She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Your kid died. Your ex treats you like shit … Why aren’t you angry?’
‘My parents are a mess – but I only knew that because of your mom and dad. Your folks … they showed me the type of parent I wanted to be. My life wasn’t hard – not really.
Since Mav brought me over that first time and your dad put me on his gelding, Simon, I’ve only ever wanted to work with horses.
’ He shrugged. ‘And I’ve been able to do that while putting aside enough money to build a good life … ’
Sierra held her breath as he continued, ‘My kid did die, and I’ll always be angry about that. But being there for you was always more important than being angry – even when you pushed me away.’
She stoically ignored that last part, said, ‘How? How do you do it, though? I want to be like that … I want to let it go,’ she managed through the emotion suffocating her.