Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 1

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “Daffies,” Granna Mae said with a hint of delight. “My favorite.”

  “I’ll put them right over here,” Sierra said. “Mom and Tawni are here too.”

  The two women came over to her bedside, and Granna Mae lifted her free arm to grasp Tawni’s hand. “Nee-Nee,” Granna Mae said, receiving Tawni’s kiss on her cheek. Granna Mae had nicknames for all her grandchildren. Sierra just happened to be the one who was endowed with the most “normal” sounding one. Tawni had actually acquired hers compliments of Sierra. When Sierra couldn’t pronounce “Tawni” as a toddler, she called her big sister “Nee-Nee,” and it had stuck for Granna Mae. Sierra’s two younger brothers had both called Sierra “Sissy,” but that didn’t stick. Granna Mae had christened Sierra her “little lovey” from day one.

  “How are you feeling?” Tawni asked.

  “Okay, but not quite wonderful.” Granna Mae tried to prop herself up. Tawni adjusted the pillows for her.

  “You’ve been through a lot, Granna Mae. You don’t have to feel wonderful for a least another two days.” Tawni smiled and smoothed back Granna Mae’s fluffy white hair. “I brought some lotion. Would you like me to rub your feet?”

  “Oh, would you, Nee-Nee? They feel so cold. And could you see about possibly getting me a warm washcloth for my face?”

  “I’ll get it,” Sierra volunteered, slipping back into the bathroom.

  “Think you can eat a bit more of your lunch here?” Mom asked.

  The three women went to work, tending their favorite patient. And Granna Mae ate it up. Sierra felt grateful for this window of time when Granna Mae was coherent. She wondered how long it would last.

  “What day is this?” Granna Mae asked.

  “Saturday,” Mom said.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at Mount Bachelor, Nee-Nee?”

  “I came home early,” Tawni said. “It didn’t turn out to be the way I thought it would.”

  “Did you ski at all?” Mom asked.

  “Yesterday I skied all day. The snow was a little icy and it was too foggy for me at the top. But it was a good day.”

  “So the night was a problem,” Granna Mae surmised, her eyes clear and her mind obviously sharp.

  Tawni looked at Mom and back at Granna Mae. She held the bottle of lotion in her hand. Before she poured any, she said, “I guess you could say that. I need to find some friends who have the same idea I do of what constitutes a fun time.”

  Sierra wondered if she should bring up the subject of where they went to church. She and Tawni had talked about it with their parents before, but Mom and Dad were reluctant to approach the topic with Granna Mae. The church they all attended was Granna Mae’s. It was a good church, small, traditional, and full of wonderful, sweet, elderly people with a few young families thrown in. No teenagers attended, and no youth programs or even Sunday school existed for them.

  The family discussions had always come to the same conclusion: “We go to church as a family to worship, not fulfill our personal social needs.” Yet here they were, with Sierra and Tawni both facing the same dilemma of unmet social needs. They had tried to convince their parents that when you’re sixteen and eighteen years old, spiritual needs and social needs are closely related.

  “We need to find a church that has a strong youth group and college group,” Sierra said as she smoothed the warm washcloth across Granna Mae’s forehead. The minute she said it, she saw Mom give her a facial signal that Sierra shouldn’t have spoken.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Granna Mae said with her eyes closed, awaiting another swipe from the washcloth.

  Sierra held the cloth over Granna Mae’s eyes just a moment longer than needed so she could catch Mom’s expression. Tawni was looking at Mom expectantly too. Mom looked surprised. She gave her shoulders a slight shrug and nodded.

  “We’ll still come with you to your church sometimes, Granna Mae,” Sierra said, boldly plunging forward. “You don’t mind though, do you, if our family finds another church that sort of meets all our needs? And maybe you can visit our new church with us sometimes.”

  “That would be fine with me, Lovey.”

  Sierra ran one more wipe of the cloth over the eyes and flashed a wry smile, expecting looks of admiration from her mom and sister. She had just accomplished something her dad wouldn’t even try—extracting Grandma’s blessing to try another church.

  Mom and Tawni beamed their appreciation.

  Patting Granna Mae’s soft face dry with a second washcloth, Sierra said, “I brought something else for you.” She reached in her backpack for the wadded-up dish towel and carefully unwrapped a china cup and saucer and held them for Granna Mae to see. She always drank from a china cup at home. Juice, coffee, or water, whatever the liquid, a cup was always her choice. But coffee was her favorite beverage. “Shall I ring the maid to bring you some hot coffee?”

  nine

  “I THINK WE SHOULD try the one in Vancouver,” Tawni said. She was stretched out comfortably on her bed that night while Sierra was making an honest attempt to pick up her clothes. Mom sat on the corner of Sierra’s unmade bed.

  “It’s so far away,” Mom said. “That’s been the benefit of Granna Mae’s church. It’s only three blocks from here. Besides, it seems odd to go to a church in another state.”

  “But Washington is only across the river. It would take no more than fifteen minutes to drive there. And I’ve heard that this church in Vancouver has the best college group around,” Tawni said.

  “I’ve heard something at school about a church out in Gresham that’s pretty good,” Sierra added.

  “Gresham is at least a twenty-minute drive in the opposite direction,” Mom protested.

  “See? We’re better off going to Vancouver. I already called. The service is at ten tomorrow morning.” Tawni put on her ridiculous-looking glasses she wore only to read and opened up her paperback book.

  “I wish your father was home so we could all discuss this. Maybe we should go to Granna Mae’s church one last time tomorrow morning, and then next week we can start to visit other churches.”

  “Why?” Sierra asked.

  “What would be the point of that?” Tawni chimed in. “Granna Mae won’t be there. This is the best time to make the change.”

  Mom let out a sigh and held up her hands in surrender. “I’m too tired to argue. You two make the decision. I’ll go wherever you choose. Right now I’m going to bed. Has anyone checked the answering machine?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m concerned about Gayle. She wasn’t doing too well when I left, and I’m afraid Darren isn’t much help.”

  “Why is he so uptight all the time?” Sierra asked. “I thought he was going to bite my head off on the phone yesterday.”

  Mom sighed again. She hesitated before saying, “Their marriage is in a difficult place right now. He was laid off last month, and the insurance might not cover Gayle’s hospitalization. You know what a handful the twins are. It’s rough for them.”

  “Do you wish you would have stayed with them?” Sierra asked. “We could have taken care of Granna Mae.”

  Mom shook her head. “Darren’s sister was coming in this evening. She’ll do a better job than I did with Darren and the twins. If you two have never thought about thanking God for the father He gave you.”

  “You mean instead of someone like Darren?” Sierra asked.

  “I’m just saying, be thankful for the daddy you got. I sometimes forget what a wonderful husband and father Howard is.” Mom rose to leave and then stopped. “You know what? Let’s pray together before I go to bed. Just like when you two were little.”

  Sierra followed Mom over to Tawni’s bed, where the three women sat cross-legged in a circle and joined hands. They prayed for Granna Mae, for Dad and the boys, and for Aunt Gayle and Uncle Darren. Mom choked up as she was praying for Gayle and Darren, and Sierra felt a knot tighten in the pit of her stomach as Mom asked God to rescue their marriage and protect the twins.r />
  Then Mom did something very tender. She prayed for Tawni’s and Sierra’s future husbands. She prayed that they surrender their lives to the Lord, if they hadn’t already, and that they would be set apart as godly men who would one day love Tawni and Sierra and their children. As Mom prayed, she wept.

  Sierra felt the tears well up in her own eyes as she silently agreed with her mother’s prayer. She knew her mother had prayed this for her many times, just as Granna Mae had once prayed for the spouses of her children. Sierra’s mom had been the answer to Granna Mae’s long years of prayers for Howard. All her life Sierra’s parents and Granna Mae had prayed for Sierra and for her future husband. She had become used to it.

  Until tonight. Tonight her mother’s prayers sounded fresh and powerful in Sierra’s ears. In her heart, she realized she was holding hands with a mighty warrior. Supernatural events were being released on her behalf because of her mother’s prayers to almighty God.

  Mom closed her prayer with “In the name of Jesus, may it be so.”

  Sierra looked up through her teary eyes. “May it be so,” she repeated.

  “Amen,” Tawni echoed.

  “I love you two.” Mom gave them each a hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “I love you too, Mom.” Sierra brushed a kiss across Mom’s cheek. “And I even love you,” she said to Tawni with a smile and a lightening of her serious tone. Tawni accepted Sierra’s peck on the cheek but didn’t respond in kind.

  “Sleep well,” Mom said with a yawn. “Wake me if I’m not up by nine.”

  “We’re going to Vancouver then?” Tawni asked.

  “Fine with me,” Sierra said.

  “Sure.” Mom yawned again and stumbled out the door.

  Sierra shoved her stuff off the bed and crawled under her covers. She could feel Tawni’s critical glare. “What?” she asked without looking at her sister.

  “Aren’t you going to finish picking up your junk?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow,” Sierra said in her best Scarlett O’Hara voice.

  “Tomorrow” turned into several tomorrows. Finally, on Tuesday Sierra attacked the mound of clothes again. This time she was determined to clean up everything. Or at least Tawni was determined that Sierra change the landscape of their room.

  Granna Mae was improving nicely, and the doctor said she could go home Saturday if all went well the rest of the week. She slept most of the time, but her memory had been good when she was awake.

  Sierra sorted out the dirty clothes from the clean. Then she scooped up the dirty clothes and headed for the washing machine in the basement. She had just put her first load in when she heard her dad’s voice upstairs. Dad had spent most of his free time at the hospital since he had returned from camping. Gavin and Dillon had quickly filled the house with lots of noise again. Everything seemed back to normal.

  But not quite. While the crisis had passed for Granna Mae, Sierra’s problems remained unsolved. She still didn’t have a job. She still didn’t have a social life. And she desperately wanted to go to Southern California during Easter vacation. And now that Dad had settled back into a routine, it was time to ask.

  Sierra took the basement steps two at a time. She found her father in the kitchen, washing off an apple before taking a big chomp out of it.

  “Oh, Daddy, my wonderful Daddy-o!” Sierra began, looping her arm around his shoulders.

  “How much is it going to cost me?” Dad asked without blinking.

  Sierra drew back her arm. “What makes you think I’m going to ask for money?”

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “But whatever it is you’re going to ask, it’s going to cost money, right?”

  Sierra circled her arm around him again and playfully rested her head on his shoulder. “How did you ever get to be so wise and wonderful, oh, Daddy, my wonderful Daddy-o?”

  He looked down at her, and she batted her eyelashes for emphasis. Howard Jensen broke out laughing and nearly choked on his bite of apple. “Looks like this is serious,” he said, still laughing. “Better step into my office.”

  “Dad!” Gavin called from the backyard in his high-pitched, six-year-old voice. “Can you come out and help us?”

  “What do you need, son?”

  “The pulley on the tree house rope broke.”

  “I’ll be out in about …” Dad looked at Sierra. “What do you think?” he asked her. “Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Three hours?”

  “Twenty minutes,” Sierra said. “It’s a simple request, really,”

  “I’ll be out in twenty minutes,” Dad called back. “Don’t try to fix it without me, okay, guys?”

  “We won’t,” Dillon, the ever-clever eight-year-old, called back.

  “Yeah, right,” Dad muttered under his breath. He took another bite of his apple. “Right this way,” he said, leading Sierra into the office.

  This was Dad’s favorite room in the house, and it was becoming Sierra’s favorite hideaway too. One whole wall was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Several rows were stacked with old books from Granna Mae’s lifelong collection. Many were Danish, her original language. The books had an intriguing, musty smell that made the room feel important and familiar at the same time. It was a room full of silent friends who stood ready to give, yet who demanded nothing in return except perhaps an occasional dusting.

  Sierra’s favorite chair was nestled in the corner next to the French doors that opened to the back patio. When the sun shone in, it hit that chair just right. Any cat would love to claim the seat as its own private tanning booth. No sun was beaming through the windows today, but that didn’t stop Sierra from settling into the chair and stretching out her legs so her feet rested on the matching stuffed footstool.

  Dad took a seat in the revolving oak captain’s chair by the rolltop desk and leaned back. “Okay, shoot,” he said, chomping into his afternoon snack.

  “I want to go see the friends I met in England. They’ve invited me for Easter vacation. I’d fly down to San Diego or Orange County airport, and I’ll pay for the whole thing myself. It’s just that I don’t have any money. Zilch.”

  “Oh,” Dad said calmly, “is that all?”

  “I tried to get a job at the flower shop, but they wanted me to work Sundays and use my own car. I haven’t tried anywhere else, but I want to get a job around here so I can walk and not have to depend on the car.”

  “Sounds wise,” Dad said.

  “So, may I go?”

  “I’ll talk with your mother about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine for you to go for the week, but you’re right. You’ll need to pay for the airfare. The recent quick trip to Phoenix for your mom wasn’t exactly in the budget. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you work on finding a job, and I’ll work on finding the lowest airfare. Does it matter which airport? Your friends are going to pick you up, aren’t they?”

  “Of course. I don’t think it matters. They live kind of in between both airports.”

  “Okay,” Dad said. “I’ll check out the airfares.”

  Sierra flashed a big smile. “Thank you, my wonderful Daddy-o.”

  “Don’t get too confident now, Sierra. It’s still contingent on your coming up with airfare.”

  “I know. But thanks for just being my dad.”

  “Any time.” Dad opened the French doors and headed toward the tree house. “By the way,” he called over his shoulder, “did you see the mail on the desk? There’s a letter for you.”

  ten

  SIERRA SPRANG from her cozy chair and grabbed the stack of letters on top of the desk. Bills, bills, advertisement. Her hand stopped on a white envelope addressed to Sierra Jensen in bold black letters. She immediately recognized the handwriting. She had only received one other letter with that script, but she had read it at least fifty times. Maybe more. Right this minute, that letter with the matching handwriting was under her pillow. And today, its twin had come.

  Cradling the letter
in her hands, Sierra hurried upstairs to her room where she turned the envelope over and over before she opened it. Did Paul write it before he saw me on Sunday or after? What if he’s writing just to make fun of me?

  Unable to stand it another second, Sierra carefully opened the envelope and lifted out the one sheet of white writing paper. Only a few lines in Paul’s distinctive handwriting, which was a combination of cursive and printing in bold, black letters, appeared on the page. It said:

  Dear Daffodil Queen,

  I was wondering, and of course it’s none of my business, but just out of curiosity, do you have pneumonia yet? And if you do, should I send flowers? Or will your lovely bouquet last you the duration of your convalescence?

  Sincerely,

  A Casual Observer

  Sierra read the letter four times, deciphering it differently each time. At first it was funny. Then it was sort of sweet. The third time it seemed pretty rude to her. By the fourth time reading, she was mad.

  Marching over to her desk, Sierra found a piece of lined notebook paper and started to write before she had a chance to change her mind:

  For your information, Mr. Hotshot, my grandmother is in the hospital. I was the only one home with her Friday morning when we received the call that she needed emergency surgery. I stayed up with her all night in the hospital room. When you saw me, I was walking home from a job interview with daffodils that had been given to me to take my Granna Mae because those happen to be her favorite flower.

  To answer your questions:

  Yes, it’s none of your business.

  No, I don’t have pneumonia.

  No, I don’t want any stupid flowers from you. I already told you the flowers were for my grandmother, who, by the way, is still in the hospital.

  And, in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t get the job.

  Oh and don’t go around signing things “sincerely” unless you really are.

  Very Irritated,

  Sierra

  Then, before she had a chance to change her mind, Sierra folded the paper, tucked it in an envelope, and fished around in the top drawer for a stamp. She looked back at the letter just long enough to obtain the necessary post office box number and then wadded it up and tossed it at the wicker trash can. She missed. The letter landed near a stack of school papers.