Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 3 Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 3

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “Vicki, I have to ask you something. Why in the world are you here? I mean, why do you want to sit around my house and watch DVDs? I know you could be out with a whole lot of other people who have more exciting social lives than I do.”

  Vicki blushed.

  “What exactly do you want?”

  “I want to be your friend,” Vicki said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I—”

  “I mean,” Sierra said quickly, trying to cover up her brashness, “we didn’t exactly hit it off last year.”

  “I know,” Vicki agreed.

  “So what’s changed?”

  “Me,” Vicki said without blinking. “I’ve been wanting to tell you …”

  Sierra sat, attentively waiting.

  “This summer I went to a church camp and I made a commitment to Christ. I’ve gone to church all my life, but I never realized I needed to surrender my life to God to have a relationship with Him. I became a Christian.”

  “You did? I mean, that’s so great!” Sierra said. She felt like jumping up and hugging Vicki, but it still felt a little awkward between them.

  Vicki smiled. “I can tell that God’s been working in my life. He’s been changing me, Sierra. On the inside. I don’t want to hang out with the same people I used to spend time with. I don’t want to get caught up in the whole party thing again. I want to stay strong in my walk with the Lord. That’s why I wanted to get in with your group.”

  “My group?” Sierra held back the laugh she felt welling up inside. “I don’t exactly have a group.”

  “I know that you, Randy, Tre, and some of the others from Randy’s band are true Christians, and that’s how I want to be, too.”

  Sierra lowered her head and shook it slowly. “Vicki,” she said. The laughter in her throat had turned into an uncomfortable lump. “I feel really bad.”

  “Why?”

  “I haven’t exactly given you any reason to believe I am, as you say, a ‘true Christian.’ I mean, I am a Christian, and I feel the same way you do—I want to grow in my relationship with the Lord. But I’ve never treated you the way I should have, as a Christian. I’m sorry, Vicki.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Vicki said quickly, reaching over to give Sierra’s arm a squeeze. “I never treated you very nice, either. I knew you were different, though. You acted as though you were trusting in something or Someone bigger than yourself. You were what I wanted to be.”

  Sierra shook her head. “I have a long way to go.”

  “So do I.”

  There was a soft moment of quiet between them.

  “I was hoping we could walk the long path together,” Vicki said.

  Sierra smiled. Vicki smiled back. It seemed their new friendship was somehow eternally sealed.

  “Do you still want to watch one of these?” Sierra said, motioning to the stack of DVDs on the floor beside her.

  “It’s up to you,” Vicki said.

  “I’d rather talk,” Sierra said, getting off the floor and settling on the couch across from Vicki. She tucked her bare feet underneath her and said, “Tell me about your summer. I want to hear about the camp and everything.”

  “I want to hear about your summer, too,” Vicki said. “I heard you went to Europe.”

  “Just Switzerland,” Sierra said, since “Europe” sounded so grand. “Well, and Germany. It was only for a week.”

  “Still!” Vicki said, opening her eyes wide. “I’ve always wanted to go to Europe. Anywhere in Europe. Did you buy a lot of souvenirs?”

  Sierra laughed. “No. Can you believe it? About all I bought was some tea.”

  “Tea? I love tea.”

  “Do you want some now? Let’s go in the kitchen.”

  The two friends talked and laughed over their cups of tea as if they had done this a hundred times together. The phone rang, and when no one else answered it, Sierra picked it up on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, Sierra!” There was a lot of clanging of pots and pans in the background.

  “Randy?”

  “Yeah. Hey, Sierra, what are you doing tomorrow morning?”

  “Working.”

  “What time do you go in?”

  “Ten o’clock. Why?”

  “I need some help. I have to be here at ten-thirty, and I couldn’t find anyone else to do my lawns for me tomorrow. Can I hire you to help me mow lawns from seven o’clock to nine-thirty?”

  “Hire me? You don’t need to pay me. I’ll help you. Where do you want me to meet you?”

  “That depends.” Randy hesitated.

  Sierra looked at Vicki over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Wait until you hear this one.”

  “That depends on what, Randy?” Sierra asked.

  “Do you think you could use your father’s lawn mower? If you can, I’ll send you to the houses off of Hawthorne, and I’ll do the others. There are only three lawns, and they’re all close to your house.”

  “I think I know at least two of the houses,” Sierra said. She had met Randy at his lawn jobs more than once. “Give me the addresses and tell me what to do. I’ll be there.”

  “I owe you,” Randy said gratefully.

  “Oh, do I get to hold you to that?”

  “Sure,” he said. “How about if I drop off the addresses and the instructions on my way home from work tonight?”

  “What time would that be?”

  “I get off at ten o’clock. I’ll leave the paper in the mailbox. Make sure you get started by at least seven-thirty, or you won’t have time to finish.”

  “Got it,” Sierra said.

  “Oh, and hey, Sierra.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks again.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, Randy. You don’t know if I can do what your customers expect.”

  “Don’t worry. These three yards aren’t too complicated. Make sure you wear boots. I don’t have workmen’s comp for my employees.”

  “You do offer vacation benefits, don’t you?”

  “Not for the kinds of vacations you go on.”

  In the background, Sierra heard someone call Randy’s name.

  “I have to go,” Randy said. “I’ll leave the paper in your mailbox.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  Sierra hung up, and Vicki met her gaze. Her thin eyebrows arched up, silently questioning.

  As Sierra stepped over to the counter where Vicki sat, an idea came to her. “Vicki, what are you doing tomorrow morning?”

  ten

  BY SEVEN-FIFTEEN the next morning, Vicki and Sierra were marching side by side up the street to the first of Randy’s lawn accounts. Sierra pushed the mower like a baby carriage, hoping none of their neighbors were up early enough to see their strange parade. Sierra wore jeans, a long-sleeved denim shirt, her dad’s old cowboy boots, and a pair of stained, suede garden gloves. Her hair was wrangled under a baseball cap. A thick, curly ponytail hung out the back opening.

  Vicki sported a sleeker landscaper’s look. She wore jeans, a short-sleeved knit shirt, and an expensive-looking pair of sunglasses. Her hair was pulled back loosely in a clip. She carried a pair of long-handled shrub clippers, a rake, and a dozen black garbage bags.

  “I’ve never mowed a lawn before,” Vicki said with a giggle. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this with you.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder why I told Randy I’d do it,” Sierra said. “I’m glad you came with me. It’ll go a lot quicker.”

  What Sierra didn’t tell Vicki was that she had never actually mowed a lawn before, either. Her brothers and father had always kept up the yard at home. While she had helped out plenty with the yard and garden over the years, she had never done the mowing.

  “This is the first one,” Sierra said, pulling the piece of paper from her pocket. She double-checked the address and read Randy’s instructions aloud. “Mow front and back lawn. Small dog in backyard.”

  “Does that mean we’re supposed to mow the small dog in th
e backyard?” Vicki said.

  Sierra laughed. “Let’s hope not.”

  “Should we start in the front or back?” Vicki asked.

  “Front, I think. I’ll start this thing, and we can take turns.”

  Sierra bent over the gas-powered lawn mower and gave the start cord a yank. To her amazement, it revved up immediately.

  “Okay,” Sierra said calmly as if she had done this dozens of times. “Here I go.”

  She pushed the mower straight up through the grass to the front steps. Turning around to go back the other way, she decided it would be more orderly to start on the other side of the yard. That way she could follow the line of the flower bed. To change her pattern, Sierra cut across the lawn in a huge diagonal and carefully followed the edge of the flower bed toward the house.

  Vicki, who had been standing on the sidewalk watching, burst out laughing. “Look!” she shouted over the sound of the mower. “You made it look like Zorro was here.” She motioned to the Z in the grass.

  Sierra paused to see what she had done. In the spirit of the moment, she called out, “Watch this!” Then she made another long, diagonal line, crossing the first. “It’s a bow tie,” she called out over the roar of the lawn mower.

  Vicki laughed and pointed at Sierra’s masterpiece.

  The front door of the house opened, and an older woman, wearing a long green robe and moccasins, stepped onto the front porch. “What are you doing?” she shrieked.

  Sierra bent to turn off the lawn mower. The only problem was, she had no idea how to make it stop. The mower rumbled on as she tried to answer the distressed woman.

  “We’re filling in for Randy,” Sierra yelled.

  “What?” the woman yelled back, her hands on her hips. It appeared she hadn’t noticed the giant bow tie yet.

  “I’ll tell her,” Vicki yelled to Sierra. She ran up to the porch and spoke with the woman.

  Sierra fiddled with the mower, trying to stop the engine. Nothing worked. She could see the woman gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked to Vicki. Vicki hurried over to Sierra while the woman remained on the porch.

  “She says we woke her up and that Randy doesn’t do her lawn until after nine o’clock. She wants us to come back at nine.”

  “At nine! What about the bow tie?”

  “I don’t think she noticed it. Maybe if we leave really quickly, she’ll go back inside. Can’t you turn off that noisy thing?”

  Sierra shook her head. “I don’t know how.”

  Vicki stared at her with disbelieving eyes. “We’d better get out of here quick. Isn’t the next house only a few doors down?”

  “Yes, but what am I going to do with the mower? How do I get it there?”

  Vicki shrugged. She glanced over her shoulder at the woman and offered a friendly wave, indicating they were on their way.

  “Turn that thing off!” the woman yelled.

  “Come on! Grab the clippers and stuff and let’s go.”

  Sierra tipped the mower on the back two wheels and carted it off the woman’s lawn. As fast as they could trot, the two mechanically challenged young women pushed the “live” mower down the sidewalk to the next house.

  “Here,” Sierra said, motioning for Vicki to grab the mower handle with her free hand. “Hold her steady.”

  Sierra slipped her hand into her back pocket and pulled out the instruction paper. She double-checked the address and jerked her thumb in the direction of the house they were to work on next.

  “This one,” she said loud enough for Vicki to hear over the rumble of the mower. “No dogs.”

  Vicki nodded and put down the gardening gear.

  Sierra took the wild mower by the horns and forced it onto the tough grass. This time she carefully made her way up and down the perfectly square yard in tidy rows. Vicki went to work on the tall, spindly grass that sprouted at the sidewalk line. They both worked quickly, as if they were going to get caught and yelled at again. The front door never opened, nor did the front curtains part. If the tenants were home, they seemed unfazed.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Sierra wiped the perspiration from her forehead and tried again to turn off the mower. It still wouldn’t stop.

  “It must be stuck,” she yelled to Vicki. “We’d better go to the next house before it runs out of gas.”

  They trotted down the street looking like kids in a three-legged race. Both of them had one hand on the mower handle and carried garden tools in the other.

  “Next block over,” Sierra said, directing Vicki with a tilt of her chin. They turned left at the corner.

  A man in jogging apparel came up the block toward them. A smile spread across his face. “Throttle stuck?” he hollered at them as he stopped jogging.

  “I guess,” Sierra called back.

  “Mind if I have a look?” He bent down and began to fiddle with the contraption.

  Sierra noticed more people were outside now. It made her feel as if they were becoming a neighborhood spectacle.

  Why did I ever agree to do this for Randy? At least Vicki is being a really good sport. This would be much more embarrassing if I were by myself.

  Suddenly, the motor stopped. Peace returned to the neighborhood.

  “Thank you so much,” Sierra said. “Do you think it will turn off okay if I start it again?”

  “Let’s try.”

  Their knight in shining running apparel gave the cord a yank, and the engine started its annoying rumble all over again. He then flipped back the lever on the handle, and it immediately stopped.

  “Thank you so much,” Vicki said, taking off her sunglasses to beam her appreciation at the man.

  He took her praise and fixed his gaze on her face. Sierra didn’t blame him. She had done the same thing when she had met Vicki. She guessed now it was something about the way Vicki’s green eyes were framed by her thin, arched brows. It gave her a look of intrigue, like a smooth-skinned actress in an old spy movie. Sierra hadn’t always admired the mysterious look. But since their long heart-to-heart talk last night, Vicki and her captivating looks didn’t intimidate Sierra anymore.

  “Hope it works for you,” the man said with a nod.

  He took off jogging again, and Sierra pushed the mower to the next house.

  Vicki walked in step with Sierra and said, “Do you suppose he was our guardian angel?”

  “Our what?”

  “An angel of mercy sent to help us,” Vicki said.

  “In running shoes?”

  Vicki laughed. “It’s says something in the Bible about how we can entertain angels without knowing it. I read it a few nights ago in Hebrews.”

  “What are you saying?” Sierra asked. “You think that guy found us ‘entertaining’?”

  Vicki laughed again. “Maybe.”

  “Where does it say that?” Sierra asked.

  “It’s in the book of Hebrews. Somewhere in the last chapter.”

  “I’ll have to look that one up,” Sierra said.

  “Where have you been reading?” Vicki asked. “In the Bible, I mean. What part are you reading now?”

  “I kind of skip around,” Sierra said. “I was reading in the Old Testament, but when school started I began to read in Romans. I’m only about halfway through.” It sounded more like a confession than an answer.

  “You make it sound so bad,” Vicki said. “I think it’s great that you’re halfway through. I mean, how many students at our school do you think even read the Bible on their own? And it’s a Christian school. Don’t ever apologize for reading the Bible, Sierra. No matter how fast or slow you’re going through it.”

  “You’re right,” she said, pushing the mower onto the third lawn on their list. “I always want to read my Bible because I want to, not because I have to. It’s my way of listening to God. I don’t want it to be a duty. Do you know what I mean?”

  Vicki nodded. She put the garden tools down on the sidewalk and tilted her head, giving Sierra a sunny grin. “You know what I’ve been
doing?”

  Sierra waited for Vicki to reveal her secret.

  “I’ve been reading my Bible like it’s a letter to me. I got the idea from my counselor at camp. I go in my room, shut the door, and read every word with my heart open. My counselor said to imagine that God, the One who knows me and loves me more than anyone else ever will, wrote those words just for me, because He did. That’s what the Bible really is, isn’t it? God’s love letter to us?”

  As Sierra watched, the morning sun peeked over the full elm tree behind her and sprinkled its amber blessing on Vicki’s expectant face.

  “ ’Tis first I lock the door … then draw my little letter forth and softly pick its lock,’ ” Sierra recited in the golden, piercing moment.

  “What?” Vicki asked.

  Sierra smiled and shook away the Emily Dickinson quote. “I know what you’re saying about reading letters and how that can be a wonderfully private time. God’s love letter. I like that.”

  Vicki smiled back, her face aglow.

  eleven

  SIERRA AND VICKI managed to finish the second lawn in plenty of time to return to the “bow tie” yard. When they got there, the woman was waiting on her front porch, dressed and wearing a scowl on her wrinkled face.

  “What are you two trying to do?” she called as they headed up the walkway. “What did you do to my grass?”

  “We’re helping Randy out today,” Sierra said, probably louder than she needed to. The way the woman was yelling, she appeared to have a hearing problem. Either that or she was really angry.

  “I know that, but what have you done to my grass?”

  The woman pointed at her yard. From the woman’s perch on the porch, Sierra imagined the bow tie must have been quite evident.

  “We’re sorry,” Sierra said, standing on the bottom step that led up to the porch. She didn’t dare take another step forward. “We’re going to fix it now. Then we’ll mow the backyard. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course it’s okay with me. That’s what I pay for. Make sure you clip those rose bushes on the side yard.” She seemed to eye Vicki with even more skepticism than Sierra. “They need a good trimming.”

  Vicki nodded, and the woman came down the stairs to direct Vicki to the rose bushes. Sierra started up the lawn mower and went as fast and as precisely as she could across the width of the lawn. Vicki and the woman hadn’t returned, so Sierra guessed that Vicki was receiving a detailed lesson on rose-bush trimming.