Robyn Carr - Any Day Now

Sierra looked past him. Wires were hanging from the ceiling and sticking out of walls, building debris was scattered everywhere, stacks of wallboard, tarps, doors leaning against walls, piles of supplies from plumbing fixtures to hinges. “Love what you’ve done to the place, California.”

Someone cleared his throat and Cal turned to see Tom and Jackson staring at Sierra with open mouths and wide-eyed wonder. “Oh, sorry, guys. Tom, Jackson, this is my sister Sierra. Sierra that’s Tom and his son, Jackson. We’re building together. Remodeling the barn. Like I told you the last time we talked—it’s going to be our house by the time the baby comes.”

“Amazing,” she said, looking around the massive interior. “Put up some walls, California. You don’t want to be living in an arena.”

“Right,” he said, smiling. “Listen guys, Sierra and I have some catching up to do. I want to take her over to Sully’s to see Maggie. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours but I’ll be back. You okay without me?”

Jackson grinned. “Sometimes we’re better without you.”

“Way to pump my ego,” Cal said. “See you in a while.” He pulled the door closed and steered Sierra toward her car. “Can I drive?”

“The pumpkin? I guess... But she’s very sensitive. You’ll have to be gentle. Don’t grind the gears or pump the brakes.” She pulled a key out of the pocket of her tight jeans. “But why?”

He grabbed it. “Indulge me. I want to see how it handles on these mountain roads.”

She slid into the passenger seat. “Okay, but no matter how much you love her, you can’t have her.”

The first thing he did was grind the gears. “Sorry,” he said. She groaned.

He was smoother then, driving around the foothills. There were a lot of sharp turns, uphill and downhill grades, narrow roads that briefly widened and some amazing mountain vistas. At a widened lookout, Cal pulled the pumpkin right up to the edge and stopped.

“Not bad, Sierra,” he said. “Kind of creaky, isn’t she?”

“She likes me better,” Sierra said. “I have a sweet touch and you’re a clod.”

“It suits you, this little orange ball. How was your drive down?”

“Pretty. A little rainy. Colorado is beautiful.”

“I worried, you know. Thinking about you making that drive all alone when I could have ridden with you...”

She laughed outright. “God, I needed to be alone more than you’ll ever know! Do you have any idea how rare time alone was for me the last nine months?”

“That wasn’t one of the things I thought about,” he admitted. He’d spent all his energy fearing her relapse. Or worse.

“I’ve been living with people for nine months, first in rehab and then in a group home. It taught me a lot, I’m the first to admit that. But it also drove me crazy. For a long day on the road, I could actually hear the inside of my head. My first day in Timberlake there were elk right in the town. On the main street, weaving through the cars.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that. I’ve heard it happens but never saw it.” He gave her knee a pat. “Tell me if there’s anything you need. If there’s anything I can do to make this move, this transition, easier for you.”

She shook her head. “Nothing at the moment. I planned it very carefully, down to the tiniest detail. If I need anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“You’re being very brave,” he said. “You left your support system and came all the way to—”

“I have a phone, Cal. I’m in touch with my sponsor and will be going to meetings now and then, looking for a local sponsor. I’m in touch with a couple of the women in recovery I lived with the last six months. We shore each other up and...” She took a breath. “And I’m not fragile, all right? See—no sweaty palms. It’s all cool. I’m excited about being here.”

“You never said what did it? What finally got you in rehab?” Cal and his late wife, Lynne, had tried an intervention, offering support if she’d consider sobriety, but it was a failure. Sierra wasn’t interested. She said they were overreacting.

“Listen, something you should understand, I didn’t know I had a problem, okay? I should have, but I didn’t. I thought I drank a little too much sometimes, like everyone. I kept meaning to do better but it wouldn’t last long. I mean, I hardly ever missed work, I never got a DUI, never got DT’s when I didn’t drink and even though I did things I regretted because of alcohol, I thought that was my fault, not the booze. I decided to give rehab a try but I honestly thought I’d go into treatment and learn that everyone else had a problem and I was actually just an idiot who didn’t always use good judgment. But it didn’t work out that way. Now I know all the things I should’ve known a long time ago.” She chuckled and looked out at the view. “Imagine my surprise.”

“I thought you were doing a lot of drugs,” he said.

“Hardly ever,” she said. “I didn’t need drugs. I was busy drinking.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m really proud of you,” he finally said. “Nine months is good,” he said.

“It’s excellent, to tell the truth. And I’ll be honest, in the early days I wasn’t very confident of nine days. But here we are. Now you—tell me something—what does it feel like, knowing you’re going to be a daddy?”

He felt his face grow into that silly smile he’d been wearing lately whenever he thought about Maggie. “Unbelievable. Overwhelming. I was getting used to the idea this wouldn’t happen to me.”

“But it’s not a surprise, is it?” she asked. “The baby?”

“Nah, we wanted a family. Maggie’s way more fertile than she bargained for—it happened right away. We’re still getting used to the idea, but it feels great. You’ll see someday...”

She was shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I look forward to being an auntie but I’m not all that into the mommy scene. I didn’t grow up looking after little kids like you did.”

“You saying you don’t like kids?” he asked.

“I love kids,” she said. “When they’re someone else’s. But... Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure. Be gentle with me,” he said, but he smiled when he said it.

“Do you ever worry about the schizophrenia thing?”

Their father, Jed, was schizophrenic and he wasn’t medicated. Rather, he was self-medicated—he smoked pot every day. It kept the delusions a little quieter. Jed was, quite honestly, crackers. And schizophrenia sometimes ran in families.

“I worry about everything, including that. It appears Jed didn’t inherit his disease or pass it on, unless someone’s holding back information. But I have Maggie. She’s much more logical and pragmatic. She began listing things we could worry about—the list was long. It covered everything from childhood cancers and illnesses to teenage pregnancy and she suggested, firmly, that we deal with each problem as it appears. You have to remember, Maggie handles catastrophic head injuries and brain tumors for a living—you can’t scare her. And if mental illness is one of our problems, trust me—we’ll be managing it in a different way than Jed does.” He paused. “How are they?”

“I saw them briefly before I left and they’re exactly the same. Mom said she was glad I was going to be around you, that you probably needed me. I have no idea where she got that idea. I told her not to tell anyone but Sedona and Dakota where I was. I don’t know who would ask but I want to cut ties with that old life. I mean, I still have my Des Moines support, but we don’t give out information on each other. Mom was fine, Dad was getting ready for a big security briefing of some kind. In other words, he’s in Jed’s world. You call them, don’t you?”