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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “It’s good to see you, too,” she said, her voice suddenly turning hoarse.

  When they arrived at the orphanage, Alex offered Sierra his hand as she exited the backseat. He held it only a moment before opening Marti’s door and offering her a hand as well.

  She politely refused and walked ahead of them into the orphanage, stating over her shoulder, “We’re ten minutes late, you know. They might not let us in.”

  The staff woman who greeted them assured Marti their late arrival was no problem, and they could take the tour now. Marti made it only to the first hallway on the first floor before she excused herself, saying she felt jet-lagged, but they should go ahead and take their time. She would wait outside for them on the long bench in front of the building.

  Sierra and Christy exchanged glances. Sierra assumed it was difficult for Marti to be around so many children since she had lost her only child. Or maybe all the references to Christianity their hostess used as she explained the mission and philosophy of the orphanage had disturbed Marti.

  Sierra felt drawn in and intrigued by the orphanage. She knew Christy was feeling the same way. Alex’s presence added a deeper level of understanding as he quietly provided insights during their tour. Many children were from Africa, but most were from Bosnia. Some were Serbs, some were Croatians. Now everything Sierra had heard on the news about Bosnia had a face. These children were no longer faraway victims. The suffering was right here before her, and it was very real.

  The sheer number of children in the orphanage disturbed Sierra. Their hostess said currently more than 300 orphans lived there, but only 3 percent of those would ever be adopted. There were so many children! Sierra’s heart ached for them.

  The building was once a factory and was large enough to hold even more kids. The guide said it had housed more than 425 orphans a few years earlier. The structure was restored with fresh whitewash on the walls and newer fixtures in the bathrooms. It was actually better looking and cleaner on the inside than it was on the outside. The efficient Swiss staff all wore tidy uniforms and appeared to run a tight ship.

  Even though the children were clean, well fed, and looked as if they were being cared for, Sierra could tell something was missing. Their eyes all had the same sad look. They longed for a mother and father’s love. Sierra knew their empty little faces would haunt her for the rest of her life.

  After they had finished their hour and a half tour of the facilities, Christy, Sierra, and Alex joined Marti out front. She looked as if she were nearly at the end of her patience rope.

  Alex offered to take them to lunch, and Marti accepted for them, briskly stating that this time she would pay.

  “I know just the place we can go,” Alex said, opening the car door for Marti. “This will be a real treat.”

  Then, opening Sierra’s door, Alex gave Sierra’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. She wondered if he was feeling the same way she was. They had looked into the face of terrible injustice. Any personal, earthly luxury seemed selfish. Lunch did not appeal to her.

  Alex pulled out into the moving traffic. All around them, the summer day glowed. Sierra opened her window. It only went down halfway, but it was enough for the scents and sounds of Basel to come rushing into the car. She noticed a sign above a large old building that said in English: “The Salvation Army.” It looked like a secondhand shop as well as a soup kitchen, similar to the Highland House in Portland, where she volunteered one day a week. Suddenly, the world seemed rather small. The poor and needy, orphans and sick people, were everywhere. It was overwhelming to think of how much help humanity needed.

  “Is that the train station where we came in?” Christy asked, interrupting Sierra’s thoughts.

  “Yes. That one is the Badisher Bahnhof,” Alex said, pointing to the station as they passed. Two cement lion statues guarded the entrance. Sierra hadn’t noticed them before. Lions always made her think of Aslan from the Narnia tales, and Aslan made her think of Christ.

  Does all this pain in the world break Your heart, too, Lord? It must.

  Sierra thought about the conversation she’d had with Christy the night before. Christy had said that some of life’s problems are “acts of God”—circumstances we many never understand—while other problems are the direct result or consequence of our sins. But Sierra knew that those 300 children hadn’t done anything to deserve being orphaned.

  As Alex drove across the Rhine River, Sierra gazed into the slow-moving waters and blinked back tears. This morning, those children had become her neighbors and were no longer distant images on TV. Pain in life was real.

  eight

  “MCDONALD’S!” Marti blurted out in disbelief. “You’ve brought us to a McDonald’s?”

  “Yes,” Alex said proudly, looking for a parking place along the crowded street. “This is a very popular place for the university students. I thought Christy would like to see it.”

  “Well, we’ve seen it,” Marti remarked. “Remember where this is, Christy. Now let’s go find a nice, quiet café.”

  “You do not wish to eat here?” Alex sounded baffled. “You can always find a small restaurant, but McDonald’s are not so many.”

  “They are everywhere in America,” Marti said. “And if I don’t eat at McDonald’s in America, I’m certainly not going to eat at one in Switzerland.”

  “We will drive on, then,” Alex said.

  Sierra appreciated his flexibility, although she liked Alex’s idea. She wanted to go inside the McDonald’s to compare it with the ones at home.

  They found a small outdoor café with several open tables. Alex parked the car, and they sat under a green-and-white umbrella at a round table. The menu was limited. Marti ordered a salad and was sorely disappointed. At Alex’s suggestion, Christy and Sierra ordered the Nurnburgers. What they got was actually a type of small hot dog or sausage. Alex also suggested they order Schwip Schwap to drink. It came to them in glasses, lukewarm, with no ice.

  “I forgot about this part of European dining,” Christy said as she tried her drink. “They don’t put ice in the drinks.”

  “Do you like the Schwip Schwap?” Alex asked. “It was always my favorite when I was young.”

  To Sierra, it seemed terribly sweet. A sort of “suicide” combination of orange, lemon, and cola mixed together. It tasted flat without the ice. “It’s different from what we drink at home,” she said. She was still unsettled by her experience at the orphanage—her lunch was not appealing.

  “I’ve been thinking about why the orphanage asks the students to make a one-year commitment to the program,” Christy said. “Can you imagine how hard it is on those children to always have people they love leave them? That’s the only thing that scares me about coming here.”

  “The children?” Marti asked.

  “Being with them for so long and then having to leave,” Christy explained.

  “Gracious, Christy, you haven’t even decided if you’re going to attend the school, and already you’re turning melancholy over leaving. You don’t know how it will be until you come. You might be glad to leave after one year. The purpose is your education, not to save the world.”

  “Have you decided to come?” Alex asked.

  His seat was the only one in the direct sunshine. He had put on a pair of slim sunglasses and was leaning back in his chair. Sierra thought he looked very different from the guys she hung out with at her Christian high school in Portland. Even though he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, Alex looked like someone who had already lived a lifetime.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Christy said. “Part of me is ready to sign up and start school here right now. Another part wants to go home and pretend this corner of the world is only something I imagined.”

  “It’s real,” Alex said. “All of it. But it’s as real as your life in California. I am of the belief that it does not matter where one lives or what one does so long as everything revolves around God. Time is short.”

  Sierra shot a quick glance at M
arti to see how Alex’s words affected her. She hid her reaction well.

  “You know,” Christy said, leaning forward and not looking at Marti at all, “sometimes I think about that, too. I keep hearing more and more about the end times and how Christ is coming back, and it makes me wonder what I should be doing. I mean, if we are living in the end times, then shouldn’t I be more concerned about witnessing to people rather than pursuing my education?”

  Sierra had never thought of that.

  “We should get going,” Marti said.

  Alex gave a slight nod; then, removing his sunglasses, he leaned in and looked intently at Christy. “Whatever God shows you to do, the reason should be always a … what was that word?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small New Testament. Flipping through the pages, he found what he was looking for. “Here it is. This is Peter One in the fourth chapter.”

  “Do you mean First Peter?” Sierra asked.

  “Yes, First Peter.” Alex’s strong face clouded over. “I know this in Russian and German. I do not know this word in English. It means ‘very strong, coming out of the heart.’ ”

  “Wait,” Sierra said. “I have a Bible here in my backpack. What’s the verse?” She pulled out her Bible and looked to see where Alex was pointing in his German New Testament. “Okay, here it is. First Peter 4:7–8: ‘But the end of all things is at hand; therefore be serious and watchful in your prayers. And above all things have fervent love for one another.’ ”

  “Yes!” Alex exclaimed. “That is the word: ‘fervent.’ This is a strong, steady love. This is what you must consider, Christy. Whatever you do, do it with a fervent love.”

  “There’s some more here,” Sierra said, reading on in the chapter, “ ‘… for “love will cover a multitude of sins.” Be hospitable to one another without grumbling. As each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.’ ”

  “We simply must get back to the hotel,” Marti said abruptly.

  The three of them turned to look at her.

  “What?” Sierra asked.

  “If you must know, I have a terrible headache. I tried to keep going so as not to spoil the day for everyone else, but now I must lie down.”

  “We will then go,” Alex said, rising from the table and putting his Bible back in his pocket. He helped to pull out Marti’s chair and offered her his arm.

  “I’m not an invalid,” she snapped. “I can get myself to the car.”

  As they drove back to the hotel, Sierra thought about the verses they had read. “Love each other fervently.” Do I know what that means? I love people, but is my love strong and steady?

  When they were about a block from the hotel, Alex calmly asked Marti, “Would it be all right with you if I show Christy and See-hair-a some of the other sights of Basel?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Marti said. “I think this is where we say good-bye. You’ve been quite gracious, and I do thank you.”

  Alex stopped in front of the hotel, and a uniformed attendant opened the car door for Marti and offered her a white-gloved hand to help her out. Alex opened the door for Christy and Sierra. He took hold of Sierra’s elbow and gave it a little squeeze.

  Sierra looked up into Alexander’s dark eyes and knew that if he asked her right now to sneak out tonight, she would do it.

  “I’m sure Aunt Marti will change her mind once she feels a little better,” Christy said to Alex in a low voice. “Thanks for everything. Really. I appreciate it more than I can say. Not only the ride, but also your advice and encouragement.”

  “Girls,” Marti called over her shoulder, “come now. Good-bye, Alex. And thank you.”

  Alex leaned over and touched his cheek against Sierra’s. It happened so fast that she felt the blood rush to her face.

  “I will call,” he whispered.

  Sierra nodded.

  He got back into the car and drove away. Sierra looked over her shoulder and watched him leave.

  She didn’t speak again until the door was securely closed between their room and Marti’s. “Did you see that?” she asked Christy.

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “No. He touched my cheek with his cheek. Just barely. Is that a local custom or something?”

  “I don’t know, but it looked pretty romantic.” Christy smiled and kicked off her shoes. “I hope he calls you.”

  “Do you think it would be okay if we sneaked out to see him?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  Sierra walked across the room and looked out the window. “Because you and I know he’s wonderful and being with him is wonderful, not to mention spiritually uplifting. But your aunt doesn’t understand that because she’s not a Christian.”

  “I don’t think that makes it okay to go against her wishes,” Christy said.

  Sierra let out a sigh. “There has to be some way to justify it. I’d rather be sightseeing with Alex than confined to the hotel. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Christy said. She took the bobby pins from her hair and shook it so it fell freely over her shoulders. “But right now, I think we should take a nap.”

  “I hate to admit this, but I could fall asleep in a second,” Sierra agreed, going over to her bed and running her hand over the comforter before flopping down. “But won’t we have a hard time sleeping tonight?”

  “I won’t,” Christy said, her eyes closed. She had stretched out and looked blissful.

  “Wake me when Alex calls.” Sierra rolled over onto her side and adjusted the pillow under her head.

  “No way,” Christy murmured. “If the phone rings, you answer it. He’ll be calling for you, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Sierra agreed. It was her last word before floating off to dreamland.

  nine

  THE EARLY EVENING SHADOWS were stretched across the wall of the hotel room when Sierra forced open her eyes. “Christy?” she mumbled. Sierra turned to see her friend snoozing in the same position she was in when she fell asleep.

  Quietly rising, Sierra tiptoed over to the window. She liked the view from here. Across the road stood a large building that had the name Rathaus carved into its wall. She knew that meant it was the community or municipal building. There had been one in Germany, too, where the Schwarzwald Volkschule was located, and Alex had explained that every small town had one.

  This one in Basel was painted a deep reddish color, the shade of bricks. Along one side was a mural of larger-than-life townspeople during the Middle Ages. Around the edges was a bright gold leafing. The area surrounding the Rathaus was cobblestone, and a row of shops in tall, building-block style structures lined the street. They had to be old, hundreds of years old. But the buildings were kept up nicely with flower boxes in all the second-story windows. The boxes spilled their apple-red geraniums over the sides. Sierra found the view soothing.

  Behind the shops and the Rathaus, the evening sky busily rolled up its turquoise carpet. Sierra imagined that somewhere up there, God was preparing to unfurl night’s inky black rug, the black rug that was sprinkled with tiny holes. At least that’s what her Granna Mae had always told Sierra when she was little. Granna Mae has said God decided not to repair those ancient pinpoints in the nighttime carpet because all those holes let the brilliance of heaven peep through.

  I’m in Switzerland, she reminded herself. This city must be beautiful at night. What if Alex and I went out tonight and strolled these ancient streets? Now that would be romantic.

  The phone rang. Sierra jumped. Actually, the noise it made was a warbling, electrical sound rather than a ring. She grabbed the receiver and said, “Hello, Alex?”

  “Oh, I must have the wrong room,” a familiar voice on the other end said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, wait!” Sierra said before the male voice was cut off. “Dad?”

  “Sierra?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Hi.”

  “Hi. How are you doing?” her dad asked.


  “Fine. We’re all doing great. Tired, but I was expecting that. How are you guys? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Terrific. We were just missing you, and I wanted to see how everything was going.”

  Sierra gave her dad a quick rundown of the orphanage and the school.

  “Good,” he said. “And who is Alex?”

  Sierra smiled, pausing before she spoke. Her dad never missed a beat. He knew all six of his kids so well. He had earned their respect, and the kids welcomed his involvement in their lives.

  She told her dad about meeting Alex on the train, how he had turned out to be Mr. Pratt’s close friend, and how he had been showing them the sights.

  “Sounds like a great guy,” Mr. Jensen said, “but I’m going to give you one fatherly command here. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Make sure Christy is always with you when you see him these next few days.”

  “Why?”

  “A precaution, that’s all.”

  “Dad, you would really like him. He’s a super-strong Christian.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” her dad said. “And I hope you two have some really wonderful, memorable times together. Use the buddy system, though. Make sure Christy is always with you, okay?”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “We trust you completely.”

  “Then what’s the big deal?” Sierra asked incredulously.

  “Oh, a couple thousand miles,” he replied. “Your spending time with a guy in Switzerland isn’t quite the same as having Randy over here for dinner.”

  “Randy’s just a buddy.”

  “Okay, then Drake.”

  “I only went out with him once,” Sierra said.

  “Sierra.”

  She could tell by the firmness in her father’s voice that it was time to stop the banter. Dad meant business.

  “If, or should I say when, you see Alex again, you must be with Christy or Marti the whole time. Those are the orders from headquarters,” he said.

  “Got it.” Sierra tried to sound lighthearted. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her dad or have him think she was going against his rules. He had been right too many times for her to second-guess his reasoning. “Say hi to Mom and everyone for me.”