Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 1

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “I don’t think this is working,” Sierra said, yanking Brutus to a halt, catching her breath. “Maybe we should try to carry Peanut.”

  “I wish we had brought Rollerblades,” Amy said. “Brutus could have pulled both of us with no effort. Come here, Peanut. I’ll carry you.”

  “Why don’t we put him in my backpack?” Sierra suggested. “Here, hold this.” She handed Amy Brutus’s leash and took off her backpack, opening the top to make room for Peanut. Scooping up the little guy, she could feel his heart pounding.

  “No, come back!” Amy screamed. The leash had slipped from her hand, and Brutus had bolted toward the fountain.

  “Get him!” Sierra called, quickly stuffing Peanut into her backpack and looping the straps over her shoulders. She took off running and caught up with Amy at the fountain. Brutus had dashed into the center and was lapping at the water, standing on dry ground. The fountain, for some reason, was off.

  “Well, that’s a good thing,” Sierra said, catching her breath. “Do they turn it off like that all the time?”

  “Come here, Brutus,” Amy said, patting her legs and whistling. “Come, boy.” She turned to Sierra for only an instant to say, “The fountain turns off like this before it changes to the next water pattern. It’s going to blast any second now.”

  “Brutus, get over here!” Sierra yelled.

  Not willing to risk getting soaked when the fountain turned back on, both girls called, whistled, and clapped their hands. No use. Brutus found the refreshing drink, as well as all the attention, to his liking. There he stood, in the center of the fountain, as all the holes in the ground began to gurgle.

  KETUSH! A dozen sprays of water shot like rockets directly under Brutus, nearly lifting him on impact.

  “Look at that St. Bernard. What a chump!” Sierra heard a guy behind her say. Before she could see who was insulting her dog, the same voice said, “Sierra? Amy?”

  Sierra turned to see Randy, his head tilted to the side, his straight blond hair hanging with a crooked part down the middle. He had a skateboard under his arm and was flanked by a shorter guy Sierra didn’t know. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Trying to get my dog out of the water. Come here, Brutus!”

  Randy and the other guy joined the chorus, all calling Brutus out of the wet. Brutus had found a happy position, away from any direct shot of water but under an umbrella of mist.

  Sierra shook her head. “It’s hopeless,” she said to no one in particular.

  Peanut began to yip from the pack on Sierra’s back. “Oh, and now I suppose you want to join him.”

  “What are you hiding in there?” Randy asked, stepping over and lifting the flap of Sierra’s backpack. “Whoa!” he said in surprise as Peanut popped his head up and yipped in Randy’s face. “Check it out, Dan. A big mouse.”

  “That’s my dog,” Amy said.

  “That’s a dog?” Dan asked.

  “Come here, Peanut,” Amy said in a cooing voice, lifting the quivering little animal from his nest. “Don’t pay any attention to these mean ol’ boys.”

  The four of them were standing with their backs to the fountain when Brutus decided to leave his invigorating shower and join them. Before Sierra could warn the others, he let loose with a might shake, dousing them all.

  “Brutus!” Sierra reached for his collar and tried to pull the wet blob away from them. “Sorry, you guys.”

  “Hey, no problem. I needed a shower,” Randy said. Then, catching Sierra’s eye, he asked, “When do you work this week?”

  “Today, next Tuesday, and next Thursday.” She looked at Dan and then at Randy. “Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  Brutus gave one last good shake before Sierra firmly gripped his leash. “You’re not making this very easy on me, Brutus. You think you could try to mellow out for a few minutes?”

  For an answer, Brutus let out a mighty “ruff” and bolted for the fountain, taking Sierra along with him. She didn’t even have time to yell at her wayward dog. Slipping on the wet cement, she was pulled involuntarily on her backside into the fountain, where she was thoroughly soaked in two seconds.

  She expected to hear a burst of laughter from the others. Instead, Randy gave a war whoop. “Water war!” he yelled, leading the way into the fountain. Dan, Amy, and Peanut all followed, hooting and hollering—and barking, in Peanut’s case. For a full five minutes, Sierra and Brutus were the focus of the frenzied splash attack. Everyone was laughing and getting soaked to the skin as Brutus barked and barked.

  Then the water stopped, preparing to launch a new pattern into the air. The group took advantage of the break and stepped away from the gurgling holes. They laughed and tossed meaningless threats at each other, trying to shake themselves off. A breeze swept off the Willamette River, and Sierra began to shiver.

  “I’m freezing,” Amy said. Her dark hair hung in her face, and she held the quivering Peanut in her arms. “We’re going to the car. ‘Bye, you guys. See you later.” Amy took off at a fast trot.

  “I’ll be right there,” Sierra said and then turned to Randy. “Why did you ask about when I worked?” She was dripping wet, but her curiosity overruled her desire to run to the warm car. She had had one casual date with Randy several weeks ago. He had promised then to take her to the movies sometime. Sierra was stubborn enough to hold him to that promise, but something in her wanted him to be the one to bring up the subject.

  “I’ll probably stop by to see you,” Randy said. Then, lowering his voice, he added, “I want to ask you something.”

  “So ask me now,” Sierra challenged. Her teeth were chattering.

  “No, you’re freezing,” he said. “I’ll catch you at work, okay?”

  Sierra gave him a look of pretend annoyance before surrendering to the chill and the persistent yank of Brutus’s leash. Then, using one of Randy’s favorite words back on him, she said, “Whatever,” and jogged to the car with Brutus.

  She hoped she hadn’t appeared too disinterested. She liked Randy, but she wasn’t dazzled by him. He was a buddy—that was all.

  Amy had the heater on, waiting for her. “Well? Did he ask you out?”

  “No, but he said he would see me at work. And that could mean anything.”

  “We both know what we hope it means,” Amy said, popping the gearshift into reverse. “And don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Vicki.”

  “There’s nothing to say,” Sierra said, rolling down her window halfway. “Phew! Does it smell like stinky, slobby dog in here or what? Brutus, you need a bath.”

  He let out a happy “ruff,” as if he fancied the thought of more water.

  two

  WHEN SIERRA REACHED HOME, she grabbed an old towel from the garage and dried Brutus off before leading him to his doghouse. She entered the kitchen by the back door and found her mom standing over the stove, scrambling eggs in a large frying pan.

  A slim, energetic woman, Sharon Jensen managed to keep up with her six children, and nothing usually surprised her. However, when she turned to look at Sierra, her mouth dropped slightly and she said, “What happened to you? Or do I want to know?”

  “Amy and I learned that the next time we go for a morning walk, we leave the dogs at home. Brutus dragged me into the fountain.” Sierra grabbed her soggy hair and held it up in a ponytail as she leaned over the warm stove. “Those eggs smell good. Can you throw in a couple more for me? I’m going to take a quick shower to get warmed up.”

  “They’ll be ready when you are,” Mom said.

  A fast ten minutes later, Sierra returned wearing her favorite ragged overalls. Her hair was wrapped in a bath towel, twisted on top of her head. She found a plate of eggs and toast waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

  Her older sister, Tawni, was sitting on a stool, sipping grapefruit juice and showing Mom her little finger on her left hand. “It got caught on the edge of the cash drawer and ripped the nail right off.” Tawni worked at Nordstrom’s, selling perf
ume. At eighteen and a half, she seemed to have her life neatly in order, the same way she kept her side of the bedroom she shared with Sierra. Tawni was tall, slim, and poised, and she would never spend her Saturday morning running in a fountain the way Sierra just had with her new friends.

  Mom made a sympathetic face over the broken nail.

  “Do we have any honey?” Sierra asked. Mom reached into the cupboard above the dishwasher and lifted down a ceramic honey pot in the shape of a beehive.

  “Did Dad tell you?” Tawni asked, turning her attention to Sierra. Tawni was dressed for work, with every hair in place. The two sisters could not look more opposite than they did at this moment.

  “Tell me what?”

  “About next week.”

  “What about next week?” Sierra said, taking a bite of eggs.

  “I’m going to California with you.”

  “What?!” Sierra nearly choked. “Whose idea was that?”

  Tawni looked surprised and then hurt. “It was your idea, Sierra. You asked if I wanted to come with you, and I said I’d let you know.”

  “But that was weeks ago,” Sierra said, remembering her moment of weakness when she had felt compassion for Tawni. The two of them had been in the midst of a rare civil conversation. They had agreed it had been hard for both of them to make new friends since the move to Portland.

  Tawni’s posture and facial expression turned to mush. “I thought you meant it,” she said. “I asked Dad to look into airline tickets, and he has me booked on the flight with you. I suppose he could cancel it if you don’t want me to go.”

  “It’s just that …” Sierra didn’t know how to say what she really felt—that she was going to visit her special friends and they were a part of her life that had nothing to do with Tawni. Sierra didn’t want to compete with her sister over her Southern California friends as she’d had to compete her entire life with perfect Tawni. “I guess I thought you didn’t want to come.”

  “I didn’t know if I wanted to or not. Then I started to think about it, and it seemed like a fun idea. It was easy to get the time off work.” Tawni stood and carried her empty glass to the sink. “But I won’t come if you don’t want me to.”

  Sierra felt her jaw clenching. She knew her mom was patiently observing, letting the two of them work things out, the way Mom always did.

  “Tawni—” Sierra sucked in a nerve-replenishing breath. “I don’t mind if you come. I was surprised, that’s all.”

  A smile returned to Tawni’s face, lighting up her blue eyes. “You really don’t mind?”

  “No.” Sierra felt fairly sure she was telling the truth.

  “Great! I haven’t been anywhere in so long. Tell me what we’re going to do so I know what to pack.”

  Sierra had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Well, we’re staying at the beach with Christy’s aunt and uncle. Maybe I should call and make sure they don’t mind another guest.”

  “I thought you said it was okay for me to come.”

  “I didn’t exactly ask Christy before I asked you.”

  “Oh, great! Maybe you should call her before we make any more plans.”

  The phrase “before we make any more plans” hit Sierra like a renegade volleyball in gym class. We? They used to be just my plans. “Fine. I’ll call her as soon as I finish eating.” At least she could keep control over eating her meal, even though her appetite disappeared.

  “Perfect,” Tawni said. “I really appreciate this, Sierra. Well, I’m off. See you after five.”

  Sierra caught her mom’s smile and nod of approval. She knew Mom thought she had handled the situation well. Too bad she didn’t feel the same way. Now she had to call Christy and explain that her sister was coming. The odd part was that Christy, Katie, and Tracy were all Tawni’s age—or older. Yet when Sierra roomed with these girls in England, she had felt more on their level than she did with any of her friends at home or with Tawni, who had never treated Sierra as an equal the way Christy and the others had.

  Sierra put off the dreaded phone call all weekend. Her excuse to Tawni was she had to work from ten to four at Mama Bear’s, and then there was church and homework and—poof—the weekend was over.

  By Tuesday evening, Sierra was still stalling. She walked in the front door as Mom stepped out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a plate of steaming vegetables, turkey, and applesauce. “Oh, good, you’re home. How was work?”

  Sierra knew this wasn’t the time to launch into a big story about how Randy had said on Saturday morning that he would stop by work, yet he hadn’t come in on Saturday, he didn’t talk to her at school the last two days, and he didn’t come into the bakery this afternoon. Thursday was the last day she worked before her big trip to Southern California. Just when was Randy planning on stopping by?

  It wasn’t that Mom wouldn’t understand Sierra’s boy problems. But at the moment, she was standing there holding a tray of hot food in her hands. So Sierra answered with a simple “Fine.”

  “Good. Dinner’s ready if you want to go sit down.”

  “Why don’t I take that up to Granna Mae?” Sierra asked.

  Mom looked as if she relaxed a bit. “Sure. And could you tell Tawni to come down?”

  “Okay.” Sierra took the dinner tray and headed up the stairs. She stopped by her bedroom first and called through the closed door, “Tawni, dinner’s ready. Tell them to go ahead. I’m going to sit with Granna Mae while she eats.”

  Tawni opened the bedroom door and said, “Did you call your friend yet?”

  “I didn’t exactly have time,” Sierra snapped. “I just walked in the door.”

  “You had better call her tonight. You’re not being fair to me. I need to know, Sierra!”

  “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll call her after dinner.”

  Tawni swished past Sierra and headed down the stairs, an invisible trail of gardenia scent wafting in her wake, the remains of her day at work.

  Sierra carefully balanced the tray and tapped on the bedroom door at the end of the hall. “It’s me, Granna Mae. I brought your dinner.”

  “Do come in, Lovey,” a high, twittery voice called.

  Twisting the old doorknob, Sierra entered the large bedroom of her grandmother, who was recovering from surgery. Granna Mae was wearing her favorite white cotton nightgown with a stand-up lace collar. And to Sierra’s amazement, the collar wasn’t the only thing standing up.

  “Granna Mae!” Sierra quickly set down the tray and rushed over to where the tottering woman with a cast on her foot stood on the soft cushion of her built-in window seat. Her arm was extended over her head.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I decided I had watched that spider in her web long enough!” She showed Sierra the wad of silky thread stuck to one of her lacy handkerchiefs.

  “I was about to name her Charlotte. Wasn’t that the spider’s name in that sweet children’s book?”

  Sierra took the hanky and placed it on the dresser. She reached for her grandmother’s elbow and helped her down. “You shouldn’t be doing things like that. Tell me or Mom or Dad, and we’ll come kill spiders for you. You shouldn’t be climbing on furniture. Come back to bed.”

  “Oh, really now!” Granna Mae swatted the air with her hand. Taking Sierra’s outstretched arm, she limped back to her bed. “I’ve become quite tired of all this bed rest. Do you know what I’d really like? A walk to Eaton’s Drug Store for chocolate malts. Yes, that’s what I fancy for my dinner this evening. A look at the last tulips of spring around the neighborhood and a visit with my friends at Eaton’s. You can take me there, can’t you, Lovey?”

  Granna Mae had broken her foot when she was in the hospital for emergency gallbladder surgery. She had decided to go for a little walk one evening, pulled out her IV, and then fell in the hospital gift shop. In recent years, Granna Mae’s mind had begun to play tricks on her, so Sierra’s family had moved here from a small town near Lake Tahoe, California, to live
with her in her old Victorian home. Whenever she was thinking clearly, Granna Mae called Sierra “Lovey.”

  “I’ll ask Dad,” Sierra said. “First you need to eat your dinner before it gets cold.” She held back the covers so Granna Mae could slip into bed.

  “What did you bring me?” Granna Mae asked, slowly hoisting her legs under the covers. She leaned forward while Sierra adjusted the pillows behind her grandmother’s back and tucked the blanket around her. With her hands folded on top of the handmade patchwork quilt, she looked at Sierra expectantly, innocently.

  “Turkey, Granna Mae. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, I am, and turkey suits me fine. Are you going to eat with me?”

  “No, but I’ll stay with you.”

  Granna Mae reached over and slipped her cool hand into Sierra’s. It felt like wrinkled silk, soft and familiar. “And you’ll pray with me, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” Sierra bowed her head and closed her eyes, allowing her ruffled emotions to settle down. She loved being with her dear grandmother alone like this and praying with her. With four brothers and one sister, Sierra had little time alone with her grandmother when Sierra was growing up. But every time her family visited through the years, Granna Mae had always found a way, found the time, to sit down with each of her grandchildren and pray with him or her. It always made Sierra feel special and singled out from the bunch. Sierra grew up believing that’s how God thought of her too—as one-of-a-kind and worthy of His love and attention.

  “Amen,” Granna Mae said when Sierra finished praying. She squeezed Sierra’s hand. “Now, tell me all about your day. How did you do on your science test?”

  “That was yesterday. I did fine.”

  “Another A, I suspect,” Granna Mae said, cutting her turkey with slightly quivering hands.