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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  Sierra shook her head. “That’s the last thing I want to give you, Amy. What I want to give you is my friendship. From my track record, I obviously don’t know a lot about friendship, but one thing I do know is when a friend hurts, the other person hurts, too.”

  Amy turned misty-eyed and said, “Thanks, Sierra.”

  “Is there something wrong with me?” Vicki said. “I mean, I’m sorry, Amy, but I’m glad you broke up with Nathan. I’ll admit it even if Sierra won’t. I don’t think he was the best guy in the world for you. Good riddance, I say.”

  “Vicki!” Sierra said.

  Amy was quiet for a moment and then said, “So, Vicki, could you tell me how you really feel?”

  The three of them laughed.

  “I never have been one to hide my opinions,” Vicki said.

  “So I remember,” Amy said. She quickly added, “I guess that’s one of the things I always liked about both of you.” She took in Sierra with her gaze before looking back at Vicki. “Both of you are strong, and I have to admit, I’m feeling pretty weak right now.”

  Sierra and Vicki gave Amy sympathetic looks.

  “It’s okay,” Sierra said.

  Amy shook her head. “You’re both right, you know. He probably wasn’t the best guy in the world for me. I guess it’s a good thing we broke up when we did. And it’s humbling for me to have to admit this, but I need you both to be my friends. I need you to hurt for me a little, like Sierra said. I think the worst part of the breakup was when I realized Nathan had friends to go to the movies with, and I didn’t have anybody I could call. I had cut off all my friends from Royal Academy, and I hadn’t even tried to make friends at my new school. I don’t want to be lonely like that again.”

  Sierra reached over and gave Amy’s wrist a squeeze. “You don’t have to feel like that anymore. The three of us need to start doing stuff together again. I think God set it up for us to run into each other just so we could restart our friendship.”

  “Why don’t we plan to meet here every Monday afternoon?” Vicki suggested.

  “Agreed,” Amy said. “As long as you’ll both promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Sierra asked.

  “Don’t push the God stuff on me. I know what you guys believe, and I think it’s great, Vicki, that you got your life back together with God this summer and everything, but don’t put that stuff on me.”

  Neither Sierra nor Vicki answered.

  “Promise me,” Amy said.

  “I can’t promise I won’t talk about God,” Sierra said.

  “Me either,” Vicki said. “He’s the biggest thing in my life.”

  “Okay,” Amy said, holding up her hands. “You can talk about all that God stuff, but don’t expect me to participate, okay?”

  Sierra and Vicki nodded.

  “So what time should we meet on Mondays?” Vicki asked. She glanced up at the bear-shaped clock on the wall; the clock face was in the bear’s tummy. “Oh, no!” she cried. “I was supposed to be home at five o’clock, and it’s already five-thirty. Is there a phone here?”

  Sierra led Vicki to the phone in the back of the bakery and asked Mrs. Kraus, who was in the kitchen, if it was okay for Vicki to make a local call. Sierra left Vicki there and returned to the table, where Amy sat alone, folding the ends of her napkin in tidy triangles.

  “I need to get going, too,” Sierra said. “Before I forget, Randy’s band is playing at The Beet this Friday. Do you want to go with us or meet us there? He would love to have as many friendly faces in the audience as possible.”

  “Sure. I’ll just meet you guys there. Nathan and I used to go to The Beet when we were first dating, but I doubt he’ll be there. If he shows up with his new girlfriend, you’ll keep me from scratching her eyes out, won’t you?”

  Sierra knew Amy well enough to realize her hot-tempered friend was more serious than kidding. “I’ll be there for you, Amy. I said that a couple of months ago, but now it looks as if I’ll have a chance to prove it. Yes, I’ll be there for you, even if I have to cut all your fingernails before we go inside.”

  “Already did that,” Amy said, holding up both hands and showing her nibbled-off nails. “When Nathan and I broke up, I cut my hair, cut my nails, and cut up a picture of the two of us at the Portland Jazz Festival. Am I pathetic or what?”

  “You’re not pathetic.”

  Amy met Sierra’s comforting gaze. “Thanks, Sierra. I only hope I can be as encouraging to you one day when Paul breaks your heart.”

  Sierra felt her lips part, but no words tumbled out. Vicki rushed up to the table and announced that she had to fly. The three of them went their separate ways with plans to meet at The Beet on Friday night.

  Sierra hurried home, eager to try on her new dress again, but even more eager to check for a letter from Paul. The mailbox was empty, so she headed for the kitchen and asked her mom, who was busy admiring the new oven that had been installed that afternoon, whether they had gotten any mail. Mrs. Jensen told Sierra there had been none for her.

  Retreating to her room, Sierra thought of Amy’s final statement about Paul breaking Sierra’s heart. She always felt a little insecure when she didn’t hear from Paul for a few days, but then a letter or postcard would arrive, and her fears would dissolve. She wished she had said something to Amy about not needing to plan on comforting Sierra because Paul was not going to break her heart.

  Was he?

  She flopped onto her unmade bed and took Paul’s picture from her nightstand. She visually retraced every detail of his face. This was not the face of a guy who was out to break her heart. But then Nathan certainly hadn’t intended to break Amy’s heart, had he? Nobody ever sets out with that as the goal of the relationship. It just happens. Things change. People change.

  Sierra rolled onto her side and held Paul’s picture close. She couldn’t change her feelings for him—ever. She wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t change, either. They would only grow closer and closer. Then he would come back from Scotland, and … What if he didn’t come back from Scotland? What if he stayed another year or three or fifty?

  Sierra pursed her lips together and thought hard. Why did she have to go to a college in the States next fall? Why couldn’t she go to the same university Paul was attending in Edinburgh?

  She sat up, her mind flooding with plans. She could go over to Scotland as soon as school was out and find a job somewhere doing something. She could take a train down to Switzerland for a week and visit Christy so Paul wouldn’t grow tired of her the way Nathan had gotten tired of Amy. She would have her own friends there, too, so she wouldn’t smother Paul. But they would be close. They would study together, and on weekends he would take her hiking in the Highlands and out to his grandmother’s cottage for tea on Sunday afternoons.

  Sierra hopped up and began to pace the floor. She needed to find the address for admissions and send in an application right away. Should she tell Paul or wait until she heard back from the university? Her parents would need to know, of course. But if Tawni could announce she was going off to Reno, why couldn’t Sierra announce she was going to Edinburgh?

  Scooping up the new green dress, Sierra held it in front of her and waltzed around the clutter on her floor. Never before had her spirit soared to such dizzying heights. She laughed when she thought how she would show everyone what a magnificent free spirit she was. She could just picture herself, the minute she had her high school diploma in hand, taking the next plane to Scotland.

  twelve

  “NO,” MR. JENSEN SAID FIRMLY. He sat in his desk chair, showing by his crossed arms that he wasn’t going to budge.

  “But, Dad, can we at least talk about it?”

  “You’re not thinking clearly right now, Sierra,” her father said.

  Sierra shifted uncomfortably in her favorite chair in the study. She had on her new green dress, which she had worn to dinner for effect. She got effect, all right. Her parents said more than once they were startled by her choice
, that the dress was so unlike her other clothes. Their less-than-favorable response didn’t dampen her spirits when it came to her plans for school in Scotland. She did decide to wait until after dinner when her mom was helping Dillon and Gavin with their homework before she talked to her dad in the study. When he closed the door behind them, Sierra had excitedly blurted out her plan.

  That’s when her father said no.

  “I am too thinking clearly,” Sierra protested. “This is something I’d love to do. My grades are good enough; you know that. I’ve been to Europe twice before. Why can’t I go to school there?”

  “Sierra,” her dad said, unfolding his arms and leaning forward, “you know nothing about this university. Your only reasons for going there would be adventure and, if I can venture a guess, to be close to Paul. Those are not good reasons for selecting a college. Financially, we’re depending on several scholarships to come through for you. I know nothing about how scholarships might transfer to Edinburgh.”

  “We can find out,” Sierra said. “We can ask. I’ll ask. I’ll research it.”

  Her dad shook his head. “The answer will still be no.”

  “Why?” Sierra pleaded. “You let Tawni take off to California, where she lives near her boyfriend.”

  “That’s different. Tawni started to date Jeremy after she moved to San Diego; she didn’t move there to be near him. And Tawni is nineteen, almost twenty. You just turned seventeen a few weeks ago.”

  Sierra let out a frustrated sigh. She knew her parents had a thing about the magical age of eighteen. Her two older brothers and older sister had all stayed home until they were eighteen, and then they were given several options of how their mom and dad would help them get on their feet. Sierra knew that to leave home before she was eighteen would be the same as cutting herself off from the family blessing.

  “Sierra, what I’m most concerned about is what’s gotten into you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This dress, for one thing. It’s so unlike you. And where did the idea you wanted to be near Paul come from?”

  “We’ve been writing each other almost every day. It’s just that I’m the one who brings in the mail, so nobody knows how often he writes me. I write him all the time.”

  “Is that why you kept disappearing during Thanksgiving?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You weren’t around much. Were you going off to write Paul?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Did you spend any time with your relatives?” her dad asked.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Without being told?”

  “Well.” Sierra was hard-pressed to come up with a yes. She knew Aunt Frieda had been upset that Sierra had avoided Nicole and Molly, the two cousins who were close to her age. Frieda’s parting words to Sierra had been sharp, but Sierra had brushed them off. Many of Frieda’s words had little stingers attached to them. Sierra always figured that the only sure way to keep them from penetrating her skin was to brush them off quickly.

  “You haven’t been yourself lately,” Mr. Jensen said.

  Sierra considered saying she was in love, but she knew that would not score points with her dad. “I’m growing up, Dad; that’s all. This is me—the new, improved me. I know I’m a late bloomer, and I’m experiencing at seventeen what most girls experience much earlier.” The words tumbled out before she had time to evaluate them. “But like it or not, I’m becoming a woman. No, I take that back. I am a woman. I’m not your little girl anymore.”

  Sierra had blurted out her opinions many times over the past seventeen years. Sometimes she regretted being vocal. Sometimes she caught herself before she really blew it. Sometimes she thought about it later and was glad she had spoken up. Still other times she thought about it and wished she hadn’t said anything.

  Then there was this time. It was like no other. With her words, she had just cut an invisible string that had tied her heart to her father’s for all these years. She was making it clear she wanted to take the end of that severed string and tie it to Paul’s heart.

  And her father was telling her no.

  “We need to talk some more,” Mr. Jensen said after a long moment of silence. “This isn’t a good time. But we need to talk some more.”

  “Okay,” Sierra said calmly. She set as her goal to prove to her dad she was composed and mature and could discuss whatever he felt was necessary to talk through. “Let me know when it’s convenient for you.”

  “I will.” Her dad left her alone in the study, sitting stiffly in her favorite chair with her short green dress and her pounding heart.

  The next day Sierra raced home from school, certain a letter from Paul would be waiting for her, and there was. The letter was short, but every word tasted sweet as she stopped in her tracks on the front porch to read it:

  A quick note, Sierra. I’m swamped with exams, and unlike you, I can’t boast a 4.0. So I must torture my brain beyond its natural limits. I’m glad you liked the photo. It was taken in one of my favorite hiking areas. I hope to go there this weekend, if the storms let up. It’s been nothing but rain here for days. You asked about my birthday. It’s December 10, and if I may be so bold as to make a birthday wish, I’m hoping for a picture of you to put here on my writing desk. Your breezy smile during the long hours of study will ease my pain. Must fly.

  With all good wishes to you,

  Paul

  Sierra quickly calculated backward from December 10. If she had the picture taken this afternoon, she could run it over to the one-hour photo lab, find a frame, wrap it, and mail it tomorrow. It was close, but the picture could be there by Paul’s birthday. Sierra wished she had a digital camera the same way she often wished she had a cell phone. Taking a picture should not be this difficult!

  “Mom?” Sierra called out as she entered the house. “Mom, where are you?” She searched until she found her mother stretched out on the couch with a blanket over her. “Oh, are you okay?”

  “Just feeling tired. What is it?”

  “I need a favor. Could you take some pictures of me? It’s not raining for once, and I wanted some photos taken in the backyard. I have the film and everything.”

  “Do you need it done this instant?” Mrs. Jensen didn’t look as if she wanted to move from her cozy spot.

  “No, that’s okay. Sorry I woke you up. We can do it later.”

  But Sierra didn’t want to do it later. She wanted it done now. Heading for the kitchen, she tried Vicki’s number. No answer. She called Randy, but his mom said he wasn’t home yet. Going through the list, she called other people she knew. No one was available. She phoned Vicki again. Still no answer. Desperate, Sierra was about to wake her mom. After all, it had been a whole five minutes since their conversation. But then Granna Mae shuffled into the kitchen.

  “Hello, Lovey. How was your day?”

  “Great! Hey, Granna Mae, would you mind taking my picture in the backyard?”

  Granna Mae’s slowed reflexes caused her to give Sierra a funny stare before answering. “I suppose I could.”

  “Great. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  Sierra blasted upstairs, changed into her green dress, applied a quick splash of makeup, and tried to corral her unruly hair.

  “I’m coming,” she called downstairs as she grabbed the camera and made sure the film she had loaded the other day was ready to roll.

  “Okay, I’m all set,” Sierra said, dashing into the kitchen.

  But Granna Mae wasn’t there. Not wanting to yell and wake up her mom, Sierra tried to skitter around quietly downstairs, searching for her grandmother. She went back upstairs and found Granna Mae in her room, silently looking out the window.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Sierra said. “Can you take my picture now? In the backyard? I thought it would be pretty by the tree that hasn’t lost all its leaves yet. The little bright yellow one.”

  “All right,” Granna Mae agreed.

  She
followed Sierra with slow, steady steps. By the time they were down the stairs and out the back door, Granna Mae was winded. It took her a few minutes before she was able to manage the camera.

  “I’ll be standing right here,” Sierra said, going over to the tree with the yellow leaves. “And you take the shot from my knees up because I don’t have any shoes to go with this dress.” She stood there, barefooted, shivering slightly in the scoop-necked dress. “You know which button to push, don’t you?”

  “Say cheese!” Granna Mae said. She snapped the picture.

  “Keep taking them,” Sierra said. “We can use up the whole roll. Get some close-ups. I want this to be a nice picture.”

  She stood as straight as she could and smiled for the camera. As the shutter clicked again, Sierra thought of Paul’s words, that her breezy smile would ease his study pains. He was such a poet. She smiled more broadly and hoped the glow in her eyes, the glow that burned there for Paul alone, would show up in the photos.

  thirteen

  SIERRA TOOK BACK THE CAMERA from her grandother. “It’s cold out here.” You’d better get warmed up inside.”

  “All right,” Granna Mae agreed. “I hope your pictures come out nicely, Emma.”

  Granna Mae had confused Sierra with Emma more than once. As the youngest of Granna Mae’s children, Emma in her younger days had looked like Sierra.

  Did Emma ever come home with a short green dress? Sierra wondered. If so, what did her father say to her about it?

  Brutus barked wildly from the end of his chain as Sierra helped Granna Mae up the leaf-covered back steps.

  “Sorry, Brutus,” Sierra called over her shoulder, “you can’t come back in the house until you’ve had a bath, and I don’t have time to give you one now.”

  “Maybe he’s hungry,” Granna Mae suggested. “Or thirsty. Has anyone checked his water bowl lately?”

  “I’ll take a look,” Sierra promised. “Let’s just get you back up to your room, where it’s nice and toasty.”