Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 1

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “I’m fine. It’s Granna Mae. This morning Dr. Utley called and said the test results showed she needed to have her gallbladder out immediately. He did the operation at eleven this morning.”

  Mom listened calmly as Sierra gave the details. Sierra could hear Uncle Darren breathing heavily, listening in on the extension. That bugged her. As soon as she finished, Uncle Darren said, “We’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. Do you know what you’ve put your mother through?”

  “It’s okay,” Mom said quickly. “How is she?”

  “She was still sleeping when I left. I’m going back as soon as I eat something. Mom, do you know if there’s any money around here? I had to raid your dryer tips to find enough change to call you.”

  Mom directed Sierra to an envelope taped to the inside of one of her desk drawers in the study and told her to take as much as she needed. Sierra pulled out twenty dollars.

  “I’ll see what I can do about coming home tomorrow,” Mom said.

  “Oh, great,” Darren muttered and hung up his extension.

  Mom was quiet for a minute before saying, “Things are a little rough here. Do you think you’ll be okay by yourself for the night?”

  “I’m going back to the hospital. I want to stay with Granna Mae all night.”

  There was another pause before Mom said, “You’re a mother’s dream, Sierra. Do you know that? Call me if anything at all goes wrong, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call the hospital early tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay. That’ll be fine. I’m sure she’s going to be all right,” Sierra said.

  “That’s what I’ll be praying,” Mom said.

  five

  SIERRA SPENT THE NIGHT curled up in the corner chair of Granna Mae’s hospital room. Sometime around three-thirty in the morning, Granna Mae woke up. She moaned terribly and sounded as if she might be crying.

  Tumbling out of her chair, Sierra went to her grandmother’s bedside and quickly pressed the call button for the nurse. “It’s okay, Granna Mae. The nurse is coming. Do you want a drink of water?” Sierra reached for a cup at the bedside and offered Granna Mae the straw. But she didn’t drink. She didn’t open her eyes. She only groaned and tried to move.

  “Where is that nurse?” Sierra muttered. “Are you uncomfortable? Can I help you move or something?”

  The nurse entered the room. “Yes?”

  “She’s groaning.” Sierra said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “How are you doing there?” the nurse said, gently lifting Granna Mae’s hand and taking her pulse. “Are you having some pain?”

  Granna Mae only moaned louder.

  “We can give you something for that.” She checked the IV bag and said, more to herself than to Sierra or Granna Mae, “And we’ll hang another bag of fluid for you.”

  “Does she know I’m here?” Sierra asked the nurse.

  The nurse nodded. “She’s just groggy. It’s good that you’re here. Keep talking to her. I’ll be right back.”

  Sierra reached for Granna Mae’s hand and held it gently. It felt cold and clammy. “How’s my favorite lady?” Sierra asked brightly. Cheering up the elderly and the sick wasn’t Sierra’s thing. But Granna Mae was her favorite lady, and she would do anything for her—even act brave when she felt queasy.

  Granna Mae settled back to sleep after the nurse took care of her, and Sierra returned to her blanket and her curled-up position in the chair. Sleep didn’t return to Sierra’s mind or body. During the chilled, hazy hours of the early morning, she thought and prayed and thought some more.

  The phone jarred her from limbo-land sometime after seven o’clock. Sierra jumped to answer it.

  “Hi, it’s Mom. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Granna Mae had a pretty good night. She’s still sleeping,” Sierra whispered into the phone.

  “No, I’m not, Lovey. Who is it?”

  Sierra looked over at Granna Mae. Her eyes were puffy, but she was obviously awake. “It’s Mom. Do you want to talk to her?”

  “I suppose. Not much to say.” Her voice sounded low and raspy.

  Sierra held the phone next to her grandmother’s ear.

  “No, I’m fine,” Granna Mae said, apparently in answer to Mom’s question. “I don’t think I can move, though. They have me all wired up here.”

  As Sierra watched, a cloud seemed to move over Granna Mae’s face like the clouds Sierra had observed out the window yesterday afternoon. Dark gray streaks of confusion began to gather in Granna Mae’s eyes. She looked up at Sierra and then at the phone.

  “Tell them I don’t want any!” Granna Mae snapped. She turned her head away from the phone and tried to inch her shoulder away.

  “Mom?” Sierra quickly pulled the phone to her ear. “I think she’s a little confused.”

  “I just don’t want any,” Granna Mae muttered. “If I wanted another dish towel, I would have told them.”

  “Mom?”

  “It’s okay, Sierra. You just stay calm and steady. It’ll be all right. Listen, I’m at—”

  Sierra dropped the phone and reached for Granna Mae’s hand. She had started to tug at the IV tubes, trying to pull them out. “You need to leave that there,” Sierra said firmly. “You can’t take this one out yet.” She wrapped one hand around Granna Mae’s wrist so she couldn’t pull out the tube and hunted with the other hand until she found the call button for the nurse. From the dangling phone, she could hear her mom calling to her. “There you go.” Sierra patted Granna Mae’s hand and gently pushed it away from the IV. “You’re okay.”

  “But I don’t want it!” Granna Mae squawked. “They should have asked me!” Then she started to cry like a little girl with all the fight drained out of her.

  The nurse stepped in. It was a nurse Sierra hadn’t met yet. “Hi,” Sierra greeted her nervously. “She’s trying to take out the IV.”

  “Naughty, naughty,” the nurse said, half teasing and half sounding as if she were scolding a toddler.

  It made Sierra mad. “Hey,” she said defensively. “She doesn’t completely understand what’s going on, okay?”

  The nurse gave Sierra a startled look and reached for Granna Mae’s free hand to take her pulse. Sierra cautiously let go of the hand with the IV and retrieved the phone. “Mom?”

  “I’m right here, honey. Is everything all right?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. She just sort of clouded over and …”

  “You did the right thing. Listen, I was trying to tell you that I’m calling from the airport.”

  “In Phoenix?”

  “No, I’m in Portland. I took the first flight out this morning. Do you want me to grab a cab to the hospital?”

  Sierra hesitated. She knew it would only take half an hour to drive to the airport and back to the hospital. “No, I think she’ll be okay. I’ll come pick you up.” Sierra kept a keen eye fixed on Granna Mae and on the nurse. “I’ll meet you out in front of baggage claim.”

  She hung up and watched the nurse as she entered some data on the wall computer where all notes and medications were logged. Granna Mae appeared to have slipped back into a restless sleep.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sierra said to the nurse. “Please keep an eye on her.”

  “That’s what I get paid big bucks for,” the nurse said in a snippy tone.

  Sierra dashed out of the room and wished she had told Mom to take a cab after all.

  Easing the little Volkswagen Rabbit out of the hospital parking lot and scooting down the freeway toward the airport went smoothly. But the tricky part was making sure she took the right exit. Sierra had gotten lost more than once on the freeways around Portland, and this morning she didn’t have any time to spare. She felt so responsible for Granna Mae.

  The sign for the Portland airport loomed ahead of her, and she pulled into the turn lane with no problem. She found Mom in front of the baggage claim
and hopped out to give her a hug.

  Sierra felt like crying the moment Mom’s arms encompassed her. But she refused to give in. She had been too strong this long, so she should be strong for Mom too.

  Mom chucked her luggage into the back of the car, and Sierra slipped into the passenger seat. She let out a sigh of relief as they exited the busy terminal area. In more than one way, Mom was now in the driver’s seat.

  “How are you doing?” Mom asked, shooting a sideways glance a Sierra. Before she could answer, Mom added, “I wish we could contact your father. Did the doctor say how long she would be in the hospital? Has she eaten anything yet?”

  “Fine, I don’t think so, and no,” Sierra said, using her brother Wesley’s approach of answering Mom’s string of questions. Sierra hoped the technique would lighten the situation.

  Mom smiled. “I don’t even remember my questions. I’ve been so concerned for you both. Let me start over. Are you okay?”

  “Sure. I’m fine.”

  “I’m proud of you, Sierra.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Actually, Mom, I almost blew it.” Sierra told her about not believing Granna Mae at first when the doctor called.

  Mom shook her head. “I’m glad you had the sense to stay home. I don’t know if I would have. Do you want me to take you home so you can sleep?”

  “No, I’d like to go back to the hospital with you.” Sierra glanced out the window as they entered the freeway. That’s when she remembered her job interview at ZuZu’s Petals that morning at nine. “Actually, maybe I better go home so I can shower before my interview. I’m feeling a little bit crumpled.”

  “You’ll have to walk to your interview then,” Mom said.

  “That’s fine. It’s only a few blocks.”

  At five minutes to nine, Sierra felt like her “few blocks” had turned into a few miles. She hoofed it a little bit faster, grabbed a handful of her wild, curly blond hair, and flipped it up and down. It was still wet underneath. She had on a gauze skirt that hung a few inches below her knees and her favorite footwear, her dad’s old cowboy boots. As unique and beat-up as they were, those boots were Sierra’s good ol’ buddies and her trademark. She wore a long-sleeved T-shirt covered by an embroidered vest.

  A light drizzle followed her down Hawthorne as she trekked the final block to the flower shop. She passed a bakery, buzzing with locals waiting in line for hot, fresh Saturday morning cinnamon rolls. The door opened, and a wonderful blast of cinnamon assaulted Sierra, beckoning her to join the others in line. She knew she didn’t have the time if she was going to keep her nine o’clock appointment at ZuZu’s Petals, three doors down.

  In twelve long strides, she was there. Sierra breathed a quick prayer and turned the knob on the large wooden door. It was locked.

  six

  SIERRA PEERED THROUGH the side window of the flower shop and gently tapped on the glass. The lights were off inside, and she didn’t see anyone stirring in the back room.

  This is bizarre. I know the interview was for this morning. It’s after nine. Why isn’t anyone here?

  She looked around, thinking maybe the owner had gone out for a cup of coffee or one of those hot cinnamon rolls. Sierra reviewed the phone conversation she had had with the owner a week ago. She was sure the time had been set for this morning at nine.

  Granna Mae was the one who initially had arranged for the interview. She loved flowers, and for years ZuZu’s Petals had been “her” florist. More than once Sierra heard Granna Mae say, “If I had two dollars, I’d use one to buy bread and one to buy flowers. Bread may feed the body, but flowers feed the heart.”

  Granna Mae had called ZuZu’s Petals last week to order flowers for one of Sierra’s aunts back East who had just had a baby. Before her grandmother had hung up, she had handed Sierra the phone and said, “They’d like to hire you, Lovey.” The appointment was set up in a few sentences, and now Sierra stood in front of the vacant shop wondering if the whole thing had been in her dreams.

  An older man and woman walked by in the steady morning drizzle with cups of coffee in their hands and a white bag that probably held cinnamon rolls. “Good morning,” they said in unison to Sierra.

  She smiled and returned the greeting. Two women strode past her, caught up in lively conversation. A short man leading a huge black dog on a leash trotted right after them. Sierra felt like a hotel doorman, standing her post under the green canopy of the shop’s front door. Her taste buds were shouting, “Get a cinnamon roll!” Her logic was droning out all the reasons she should stay put and wait for someone to show up. Her stomach was constricting with the thought she should have gone back to the hospital with Mom and rescheduled this interview. For a full twenty minutes she stood in place.

  At last a white minivan pulled up in front of the shop and parallel-parked. The words “ZuZu’s Petals” were painted in fancy pink script on the sliding side door.

  “Are you Sierra?” The driver hopped out and sprinted to join Sierra under the protection of the awning. “I’m Charlotte. Sorry to keep you waiting.” She unlocked the door and flipped over the closed sign. “We had two huge weddings to deliver this morning. Come on in. Would you like some coffee?

  “No thanks.”

  “So, you’re Mae’s granddaughter. She’s a favorite of mine. How is she?” The energetic owner had very short black hair and snappy dark eyes to match. In her right ear she had at least six silver earrings. Sierra hadn’t decided yet if she liked her or not.

  “Well, actually, she’s in the hospital. She had her gallbladder removed yesterday.”

  Charlotte stopped in her tracks and looked at Sierra, horrified. “She’s okay, isn’t she? I had no idea! Is she at St. Mary’s?”

  “Yes. She seems to be doing all right.”

  “Are you going to see her today? I’ll send some flowers with you. I got some gorgeous daffodils in yesterday. I’m so sorry to hear she’s in the hospital!” While Charlotte rapidly gave her condolences, she poured herself a cup of coffee behind the counter and opened a small refrigerator with her foot. In one motion she grabbed a carton of French vanilla-flavored coffee creamer, poured it into her cup, returned the carton to the refrigerator, and closed the door again with her foot. “Sure you don’t want some coffee?”

  “No thanks.”

  “I live on this stuff!” Charlotte whirled around and flipped a switch that turned on all the lights in the charming shop. Sierra wondered how much of Charlotte’s vivaciousness came naturally and how much was caffeine-induced.

  “Okay,” Charlotte said, boosting herself onto a stool behind the cash register and taking a sip from her ceramic mug. “The pay is minimum wage, the hours are Saturday and Sunday, eight to five, and you need to use your own car, but we’ll reimburse you for gas and mileage. Do you want the job?”

  Sierra stood there, stunned. That was my interview? “I’ll work Saturday all day, but I can’t work Sunday, and I can’t guarantee I’ll always have a car. I thought you were looking for someone to work here at the shop, not run deliveries for you.”

  “Nope. I need a gofer. That’s why I was out this morning; my two associates are still out. The three of us need to run the shop. We’re looking for someone to do the deliveries. And Sunday is part of the package deal. I’m not interested in hiring you if you can’t work both Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Then I guess this won’t work out,” Sierra said just as directly as Charlotte was being with her. “Thanks anyway. I hope you find someone.”

  She turned to go, and Charlotte called out, “Wait!” She hopped off her stool and hurried into the back of the shop. A moment later she returned with a huge bunch of bright yellow daffodils mixed with long-stemmed blue irises all wrapped in green paper with a pink bow. “For Mae. Tell her we all send our best.”

  Sierra received the bundle of flowers. The only way to carry them was like a beauty queen, cradled in her arms. “Thanks. She’ll really appreciate these.”

  “I know,” Charlotte sai
d, reaching for her coffee mug. “See you around, Sierra.”

  Stepping out onto the wet sidewalk, Sierra wished she had an umbrella. The light rain was steady now, and although she didn’t mind getting a little wet, she felt the flowers should be protected. It was an unusually large bouquet, beautiful, but a little overpowering. The awkwardness of toting such a bundle made Sierra change her mind about waiting in line at the bakery for a cinnamon roll. It was all she could do to carry the flowers. Anything else in her arms would surely meet with disaster, especially in the rain. She passed the bakery, promising her taste buds she would be back one day soon.

  The rain was coming down hard now. Sierra wished she had worn a jacket. Her T-shirt clung to her arms, and her skirt stuck to the back of her legs. She could feel her hair drooping down her back and adhering to the sides of her face. A chill swept through her as she walked even faster, trying to protect the innocent bouquet from being soaked. She felt miserable.

  All her emotions seemed to have collected into one big bundle, and Sierra felt fifty pounds heavier carrying them home with her in the rain. She hadn’t gotten the job. She still had no money, no social life, no hint at things getting better in the near future, and her dear Granna Mae was in the hospital and slowly loosing her mind. The calm, steady days of her family’s predictable life in Pineville were over. Community picnics, horses, and fields of wildflowers were exchanged for crowded neighborhoods with barking dogs, pollution-belching busses, and flower shops run by quirky people amped on caffeine. Sierra felt terribly alone.

  Then, because she thought it would help her feel better, Sierra let herself cry. Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, feeling hot in contrast to the chilling raindrops that joined them. She tilted her face to the sky and let the cool rain wash over her. Sierra felt little sieges of sobs tremble inside her chest. She didn’t care who saw her or what the people who passed her on the sidewalk thought. A few whimpers escaped her lips. She didn’t try to stop them. Nothing in her life seemed to be going the way she thought it should.