“True, true. And those are good qualities in a person. But what’s your name?”
It was fun, stringing him along like this, but she decided to give in. “Sierra.”
He gave her a peculiar look, as if her name pleased him, as if this were a test, and she had given the right answer. One hundred percent correct.
six
“SIERRA,” PAUL REPEATED her name as if he were savoring it. “I like your boots.”
She glanced down at her worn-out doggies and said, “They’re my dad’s.”
“And this quick wit?” Paul asked. “Is that your dad’s too?”
“As a matter of fact, it is,” Sierra said.
“And you’re going to Portland because …” Paul waited for her to fill in the blank.
“Because I have a free place to eat and sleep there.”
“Your parents’ house?”
“Actually, my grandmother’s house. My family moved in with her while I was in England. It’s a huge old Victorian, and Granna Mae refused to sell it. She can’t keep it up or take care of herself anymore, so my dad made a career change, and we all moved in with my grandma.”
“Sounds like something my dad would do. We grew up in a pretty small house and always drove junker cars. But every year my dad spent his saved up pennies on airline tickets so all five of us could spend the summer with our grandparents in Carnforth. Be glad that you can spend time with your grandmother now. It’s a gift.”
“I know,” Sierra said. “She’s my soul mate.”
“Really?” Once again Paul looked at Sierra as if she had given him the correct answer. “Most people don’t feel that way about their grandparents or elderly people in general. I was closer to my grandfather than any other person I’ve ever known. It was like we had the same heart.”
“And now that he’s gone, how do you feel?” Sierra saw the hurt in Paul’s face and the glistening in his eyes. She wanted to reach over and take his hand and comfort him.
“No one will ever take his place in my life. I feel as if I have a big hole right through the middle of me. At night, I can almost hear the wind whistling through it.”
Sierra felt so connected with this poet of a man. Their eyes met, and neither of them said anything for a moment. Paul seemed to be staring deep inside of her, drawing strength from her silence. She gazed back at him.
“Something to drink for you two?” the flight attendant asked, breaking their communion. They both turned to him, and at the same time said, “Orange juice with ice, please.”
“Okay!” the uniformed man said with a laugh. “Two OJ’s on the rocks. Are you two brother and sister?”
Sierra and Paul looked blankly at each other and then back at the flight attendant. “No, what made you think that?” Sierra asked.
“Your eyes. You have the same eyes.” He moved on to the row behind them.
“Why did he say that?” Paul asked, turning back to look at Sierra.
“Beats me,” she said, comically crossing her eyes and trying to stare at the freckles on her nose.
Paul laughed. “You don’t suppose we really are twins, separated at birth, do you?”
“Not a chance. You’re older,” Sierra said.
“By how much? I was nineteen in December.”
Sierra smiled and didn’t answer.
“What? Are we about six months apart? Maybe nine?”
“Well my birthday is November fourteenth …”
“You’re kidding,” Paul said. “That’s my mom’s birthday! So what, you’re eighteen then?”
“No.”
“Seventeen?”
“No.”
“Sixteen?” he said slowly as Sierra nodded. “You’re only sixteen?”
Sierra watched him physically draw back, and as he did, something changed between them. All the closeness evaporated. She wanted to defend herself, to tell him nothing was wrong with being sixteen, and actually she was mature for her age. But he was gone, closed off emotionally from whatever connection they had experienced.
They silently sipped their orange juice. “Is your boyfriend picking you up at the airport?” Paul suddenly asked.
“My boyfriend?”
“I heard you tell some guy on the phone in London that you loved him.”
“That ‘guy’ was my dad.”
“Oh.” Paul looked at his plastic tumbler and said, “My girlfriend is picking me up.”
“It’s too bad she wasn’t able to go to the funeral with you. I’m sure it would have been nice for you to have her there.” Inside she felt all chewed up. Why was he telling her about his girlfriend? She could be mature about this, she coached herself. Just ask lots of questions.
“Actually, it wouldn’t have been a good idea for her to have been there.”
“Why?”
Paul swished the ice cubes around in his nearly empty cup. “Jalene is … well, she’s different.”
“You mean she’s not a Christian,” Sierra said.
Paul looked at her, startled at her discernment. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
A tense silence hung between them. Sierra was bugged. Why would a guy like Paul, with such a godly background and all kinds of potential for ministry, fall for a girl who wasn’t a Christian? She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought and realized she had nothing to lose. He obviously wasn’t interested in her, not only because she was sixteen but also because he had a girlfriend. Sierra shifted into high gear.
“What are you doing with her? I mean, don’t you see the potential for destruction in a relationship that’s so lopsided? It’s like a trap to get you to settle for less than God’s best for your life.”
Now Paul looked mad. “And where do you get off telling me what to do with my life? You think you’re some prophetess or something? You don’t know anything about me or my life or what God’s best is for me!”
“And Jalene does?” Sierra asked. Tact had never been one of her strengths.
Paul looked really mad now. “What’s it to you? Who do you think you are, anyway?” He looked away, as if the sight of her disgusted him.
Shaking his head, Paul fumbled for a magazine in the pouch in front of him and then reached up to turn on the light above his seat. Obviously he was shutting her out.
Sierra decided two could play this game. She swished her head away from him, pretending his behavior didn’t bother her a bit. But one of her long, flying curls caught in the band of his wristwatch.
“Ouch!” Sierra tugged angrily to get free. It only tangled her hair more.
“Don’t move,” Paul snapped. “You’re making it worse.
Hold still.”
Sierra couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him pulling each thread of hair, releasing it from his watch.
“Man, you really torqued it in here.” The angry edge seemed to subside from his voice. “I almost have it.”
“Just pull it out,” Sierra said stubbornly. “I don’t care.”
“Relax, will you? Now hold on. There. You’re free. None the worse for wear.”
Sierra smoothed down her ruffled mane but didn’t turn to look at him.
“Thanks for the souvenir,” Paul said.
She turned slightly to see what he meant. He was still pulling blond hairs from his watchband. “When you’re caught like that it doesn’t help to pull away.” He sounded like Wesley when he was in one of his big brother moods.
“Oh, right!” Sierra said, giving him a scolding look. “And you’re one to tell me about jerking away! You can’t even have a conversation about your girlfriend without pulling away.”
Paul’s reaction startled her. He started to laugh. It was deep, from the heart, merry laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Sierra asked defensively. “You know I’m right.”
“What are you?” Paul asked, still smiling. “My guardian angel or something?”
“I’m no angel.”
“Some mystic war
rior, then? Sent to guide me back to the right path?”
Sierra recalled the thought that had occurred to her when she first met Paul. “Fight for this man.” Maybe a battle was going on in his life. Maybe the Holy Spirit was calling her to be a prayer warrior for him. She had heard stories of people feeling compelled to pray for someone without knowing why. Later they had found out that God had used their prayers to redirect the course of that person’s life.
“Maybe,” she answered calmly. The whole chance encounter with this guy was a little too weird for her. “Just remember, you’re the one who asked me for phone money. I wasn’t trailing you, as you seem to think.”
Paul looked at her again, studying her intensely. It didn’t bother her. She felt open, with nothing to hide. What was it he was searching for?
“Sierra, you are an exceptional young woman. I pity the man who falls in love with you.”
“And I pity any young woman who falls in love with you, if you’re running away from God. Jonah tried that, remember? Unless you have an affection for whale barf, I’d encourage you to get your act together.”
“Man!” Paul said, running his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. “You just don’t quit, do you?”
Like an alarm going off in Sierra’s head, she felt the call to retreat. She suddenly realized how brazen she was being.
“I’m sorry,” Sierra said, looking down and feeling herself calm down. “I come on a little too strong sometimes. I apologize if I said anything out of line.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “From full-on in-your-face to innocent lamb. You do that very well. You must have some Scottish blood in you.” A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. “I imagine you’ll grow into that zealous spirit. Right now I’d say it’s a little too big for you.”
It bothered Sierra that he was putting her down with such tender words. It bothered her that their intense conversation had gone nowhere. She had surrendered. What good had that done? She withdrew by tearing open her tiny bag of airline peanuts and chewing each one a dozen times so her mouth would stay busy.
Her mouth had gotten her into trouble so many times that she couldn’t begin to count them all. When would she ever learn to keep quiet? Why couldn’t she and Paul have talked about normal things like the weather? Why did she always have to speak her mind and be so intense, even with strangers?
That’s what bothered her the most. Paul didn’t seem like a stranger. Somehow they connected. Even Paul had to admit that. There was something between them, and it was powerful.
The plane landed on time in Portland. Paul and Sierra had spent the last ten minutes talking about hiking. He recommended several of his favorite places in the area. It was a calm, friendly chat, like two strangers are supposed to have on an airplane. She expressed her condolences about his grandfather, and he thanked her politely.
When they deplaned, Paul walked down the hallway beside her as if they were together. He didn’t say anything. He was just there.
As soon as they entered the terminal, Sierra scanned the greeters, trying to pick out Jalene before he went to her. She found her immediately. With jet black hair cut severely short, Jalene wore a long skirt and black boots. She looked normal enough. Kind of cute and fun-looking, except for a cat smile that curled up in her lips. Paul seemed to hesitate for an instant before walking up to her open arms.
Sierra kept moving with the crowd, walking toward the baggage claim where she had arranged to meet her parents. On impulse she turned and looked over her shoulder one last time. She expected to see Paul kissing Jalene. However, from the looks of it, Jalene was the one doing the kissing.
Sierra stepped on the escalator and tried to shake thoughts of Paul from her mind. She had enough to deal with, including adjusting to the new house and a new school next week.
I don’t even know his last name. I’m never going to see him again. It was nothing more than a strange encounter with an even stranger guy. I opened my mouth way too much, as usual. End of story.
Sierra spotted her dad the minute she stepped off the escalator. His eyes were all crinkled up in the kind of smile he wore when he was trying not to cry. Her mom stood beside him, looking slimmer than Sierra remembered. She was a youthful-looking woman who jogged regularly. Her blond hair was a short bob, and she had on the black pants and red sweater Sierra had given her for Christmas.
Sierra hurried into their embrace. First Dad hugged her, with a big kiss on the cheek, and then Mom, whose tears smeared across Sierra’s face.
“It’s so good to have you home!” Dad said. He looked young too, except for his receding hairline. Where the brown wispy hairs had thinned on top, rows of faint worry lines ran all the way up his extended forehead.
“It’s weird thinking of Portland as home,” Sierra said. She and her mom looped arms and walked over to where the other passengers were forming a line around the long luggage conveyor belt.
“I think you’ll like it here,” Mom said. “Granna Mae has been doing better since we arrived.”
“Are we all moved in?” Sierra asked.
“Pretty much. A bunch of boxes are in the basement full of my knickknacks and books and things. There’s no room for them on the shelves yet. Granna Mae and I need to do some sorting and cleaning. She’s been asking for four days straight when you’re coming home. Time is still a problem for her. Days and years all sort of blend together, and she has a hard time remembering where she is. Don’t be surprised if she is confused when she sees you and can’t quite place who you are.”
“She’ll know me,” Sierra said confidently. “I’m glad she’s feeling better.”
A loud buzzer sounded, and the luggage conveyor belt began its cycle. Sierra stepped deeper into the crowd of travelers and stretched to see if her suitcase was coming yet. She spotted it and was about to reach for it when someone stepped in front of her and grabbed it.
“Hey, that’s my bag!”
“No, it’s mine,” the guy said. He turned to face her. It was Paul.
seven
“I DON’T BELIEVE THIS,” Paul said. “Your bag must look like mine, but this is my bag.”
“Sorry, it’s mine. Check the luggage tag.”
He did, and it was hers.
“My mistake,” Paul said, putting the bag down in the midst of all the people crammed around the conveyor belt.
“Yeah, well, try not to make any more,” Sierra said, deliberately looking beyond Paul to Jalene, who was waiting for him in the background.
A smile slipped onto Paul’s face. “I hope I never see you again,” he said. “You’re making my life very complicated.”
Sierra thought of about four sharp comments she could make back to him, but she held her tongue. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because all the bold comments on the plane had seemed so futile. Or maybe because her parents were standing only a few yards away, not to mention Jalene, watching them.
Sierra said nothing but stood her ground and stared into his blue-gray eyes the way he had stared at her more than once. Paul stared right back. Their thirty-second stare-out felt as if it lasted an eternity. Sierra was the one who blinked first.
“Have a nice life,” she said and walked away.
“Hey!” Paul called out after her. She ignored him and kept walking.
“You forgot your bag!”
Sierra turned around. Paul was about two feet away from her, emerging from the crowd with her luggage.
Paul handed her the heavy travel bag and, without making eye contact this time, said in a low voice, “Don’t ever change, Sierra.” Looking up at her for just an instant, he smiled, then turned and headed back to the mob of people.
To her, this was the final truce. To the average observer she was sure the exchange seemed to be nothing more than a stranger helping someone locate her luggage.
However, Sierra’s dad didn’t happen to be an average observer. After they arrived home and Sierra had been thoroughly hugged and welcomed by her two younger brothers, her dad
invited her to sit out on the front porch with him. Granna Mae was already asleep, having apparently forgotten that Sierra was coming home tonight, and Tawni hadn’t returned yet from her job at the Clackamas Town Center Mall.
Sierra made herself a cup of hot peppermint tea and grabbed a thick lap comforter from the front hall closet. The screen on the door squeaked as it had every summer that Sierra had come here since she was a baby.
Only now it was winter, and the wide, wraparound front porch was a chilly place to sit. Her dad was waiting for her on the swing. She sat next to him, balancing her tea and pulling the comforter over her legs.
“We all missed you, Sierra. It’s a good thing you’re home.” She could see his breath as he spoke to her.
“Do you want some of my tea?” Sierra offered the steaming cup and he took a sip.
He made a face. “What is that?”
“Peppermint.”
“I think I’ll stick to coffee.” He liked it dark and thick, a tradition in his Danish family but one Sierra was unable to bring herself to participate in. On the few occasions that she did have coffee, she tempered it with lots of cream and sugar. Artificially flavored creamers were even better. For the most part, Sierra was an herbal tea drinker.
“What was his name?” her father said.
“Who?”
“The young explorer with the hat who couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” Sierra’s dad rested his arm across the back of the porch swing, inviting Sierra to draw closer to him and share her thoughts.
She knew better than to beat around any bushes with her dad. When it came to his six children, Howard Jensen knew each of them by heart. Sierra did her best to reconstruct the unusual encounter with Paul and even told her dad about the impression to fight for Paul.
He rubbed his chin after she finished. The worry lines on his forehead began to smooth away. “That is what you must do then,” he concluded.
“I don’t even know his last name,” Sierra said.
“God does. All you must do is pray for him. I’ll pray with you. Every day. Now tell me about the rest of your trip.”
Only You, Sierra Page 5
