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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  He had been sitting only a few inches from Sierra, with his right arm resting on the back of the bench. He wasn’t touching her, but she almost felt he was, since he was so close to, and focused on, her. Now he adjusted his position slightly, and for a moment his hand brushed against her shoulder.

  Put your arm all the way around me and draw me close, Alex. I want you to.

  Sierra’s thoughts surprised her. But they felt natural. She remembered what Christy had said the previous night and wondered if she was feeling affection or passion. Or is affection the beginning of passion? Sierra asked herself. Then she had another mysterious thought: What if I’m the kind of person who can’t restrain myself and express only affection? What if my passions suddenly overpower me? Is that what happened to Amy on her date with Nathan?

  Sierra forced her thoughts back into the conversation.

  “Oh, um, yes. Pray about my future,” she said. “You’re right. I need to do more praying and to start planning. This whole summer went by way too fast. What about you? When will you find out if you can get into the university?”

  “Perhaps the letter will be waiting when I return home in two weeks.” Alex’s high cheekbones seemed to lift even more as a smile crossed his lips. “You should have known me last winter. I could not eat or sleep because of my worry over being accepted to the university. Now I have completely changed.”

  Sierra wasn’t sure she understood what Alex was saying. “Do you mean you aren’t worried about getting into the university anymore?”

  “Worry,” Alex repeated thoughtfully. “I have changed my views on worry. Do you know the German word for ‘worry’ is the same as ‘strangle’?”

  “Is it really?”

  Alex took both his hands and grabbed himself around the neck, demonstrating being strangled.

  Sierra laughed softly. Her laughter echoed off the high ceiling.

  “You have such song in your laughter. I’m beginning to know this song, and it brings me a good feeling.” Alex reached over and took Sierra’s hand.

  She thought her heart would stop.

  “There are songs all around us,” he said, smoothing his fingers over the top of her hand. “Even in the touch of two friends. Shh. Listen. Do you hear the music our hands are making?”

  Sierra definitely heard something. But it sounded more like bass drums pounding in her ears. She imagined it was her heart, but maybe it was music, music she was not used to yet. She smiled at Alex and said, “Tell me what you hear.”

  Alex closed his eyes and tilted back his head, resting it against the wood-paneled wall of their private alcove. He drew in a deep breath and squeezed Sierra’s hand more tightly. “I hear the sound a river makes going over rocks on its way to the sea.” Then softly he added, “There is a river of life in you, See-hair-a. See-hair-a of the mountains, not of the desert.”

  She felt relaxed as he spoke, comfortable holding his hand and absorbing his poetic words. She looked down at their hands, clasped together and resting on her leg. Right above their hands was the ivy-leaf-shaped mustard stain on her jeans.

  I don’t think I’ll ever wash these jeans again.

  “What do you hear?” Alex asked without opening his eyes.

  Sierra closed her eyes and leaned back her head. The hall was silent for a moment. “I don’t know what I hear.” Nothing she said would be able to match Alex’s poetic words.

  “Listen,” Alex urged her. His voice was barely a whisper. His touch on her hand was light.

  Sierra listened. She still didn’t hear anything poetic. But she felt something. “I feel happy,” Sierra said.

  “Happy,” Alex repeated. “One does not always feel this in life. Especially where I live. You are not choked with worry. This is good.”

  Down the hall they could hear voices. Marti, Christy, and Mr. Pratt were headed their way. Sierra didn’t want their private time to end. She wondered if she should let go of Alex’s hand or if he would let go of hers.

  He stood, bringing her up with him, and then he let go of her hand. Not quickly, as though he didn’t want to be seen by Mr. Pratt and the others. Alex lingered as he let go.

  “Well?” Sierra asked Christy. “What did you decide about school?”

  Christy looked at Mr. Pratt and then at Marti. When neither of them answered, she spoke up. “I called my parents and talked to them about everything.”

  “And?”

  Christy nodded slowly. “I’m going to come here. I’ve made a year’s commitment.”

  “Isn’t that marvelous?” Marti asked. “Studying abroad is going to be fabulous for Christy. Don’t you agree, Sierra?”

  Sierra tried to read Christy’s expression. She seemed happy and at peace with her choice.

  “It’s great,” Sierra said. “I think you’re going to have some incredible experiences.”

  Christy nodded. “I’m worried about a few things, but I think they’ll work out.”

  “Don’t worry,” Alex said, repeating his strangling demonstration. “It will choke you.”

  Christy looked at Sierra for an explanation. “We’ll tell you all about it on our picnic.”

  An hour later, Alex was leading Christy and Sierra along a dirt trail up the side of a hill. Marti had appeared to be content spending the afternoon taking in the art festival. She had left them cheerfully and asked them to be back in two hours.

  “I was correct about the weather, was I not?” Alex said, pausing to survey the landscape.

  The blue August sky willingly shared its open spaces with a host of plump and lazy clouds. All around them, a blanket of vibrant green grass covered the lumpy earth. To their right, a tangle of wild berry bushes kept the last of their summer treasure tucked inside their thorny caverns.

  They had passed half a dozen cows on the climb up the mountain. Each cow wore a large bell around its neck, which played an enchanting strain of music as the cow grazed. Christy said she thought the cows were “cuter” than the cows at home, and Alex laughed. She told him she was qualified to make this distinction because her father was a dairy farmer, and she spent the first fifteen years of her life around cows.

  Sierra drew in a deep breath. “The air is so rich here, and I love this view! I’m so glad we came. Hiking is my favorite hobby. It does something to my spirit to rise above the rest of the world,” she said in satisfaction.

  “I love it here, too,” Christy said. “And it’s so close to the school. I can’t believe I’ll be able to come up here any time I want. This is gorgeous!”

  “Where would you like to have our picnic?” Alex asked.

  “Right here,” Sierra said. “This view is beautiful.”

  “Then we stop here.”

  Alex led them a few feet off the trail onto the grass. All three of them removed their day packs and pulled out their offerings for the picnic.

  “I hope you are not too hungry,” Alex said. “I did not bring a lot, and it is not specialty food.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sierra said. “We were more interested in the hike than the picnic. The food is a bonus.”

  “A bonus?” Alex repeated.

  “It’s extra,” Sierra said, defining the unfamiliar word.

  “Besides, Christy and I have a few goodies to share, too.”

  “Two candy bars,” Christy said, cleaning out her day pack and placing the food in front of them.

  “I have an orange left over from breakfast,” Sierra said.

  “Something here to drink,” said Alex. “And some cheese and bread.” He pulled out a pocketknife and sliced off a hunk of cheese from the block in his hand, offering it to Sierra on the blade of his knife.

  “It’s practically a feast,” Christy said when she accepted the next wedge of cheese Alex cut. “Now, are you going to tell me what the strangling was about at school? You kind of made me nervous.”

  “Alex did that when you said you were worried,” Sierra explained. She broke off a corner from the loaf of bread resting on top of
Alex’s pack and explained how Alex had been worried about getting into the university. “We’re not supposed to worry. Because worry strangles us.”

  “I sure don’t want to go through life feeling strangled.”

  Christy reached for the bread with her free hand. She couldn’t pull off a corner, so Alex held on to the loaf, and she broke off the bread with his help.

  Sierra looked around at the perfect day. “Doesn’t it seem as though we’ve stepped into a picture?” she asked. The breeze lifted the loose side strands of her hair and playfully brushed them across her face. “Christy, you have to make this your thinking spot. It’s so beautiful.”

  “I know,” Christy said, drinking in the view with Sierra. “I’m getting kind of excited about coming to school here. Can you imagine how pretty this is all going to be in winter? I haven’t seen much snow since we left Wisconsin. This might be my first white Christmas in five years.”

  Alex stretched out on his side and leaned on his arm. He reclined on the grass as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I’ve never known Christmas without snow,” he said. “I much prefer the sunshine.” He reached over and brushed the side of Sierra’s bare arm with the top of his fingers. “The way the sun makes your skin warm like this, I like very much.” He drew his hand back and broke off another chunk of bread.

  Sierra closed her eyes and listened. What was that? She heard something. Maybe it was the distant chiming of the cows’ bells or the birds singing in the trees. Whatever it was, when Alex touched her arm, she definitely heard music.

  fifteen

  “IT WAS MORE THAN A FUN PICNIC,” Sierra explained to Marti as Alex drove them back to the hotel. “For me, it was a spiritual experience.”

  Marti laughed bluntly. “You know, my dear Sierra, I do believe you and my niece could manage to make a spiritual experience out of washing your hair. You mustn’t become so absorbed with your heavenly thoughts, or you will be no earthly good to anyone.”

  Sierra glanced at Christy, who gave a silent signal to let Marti’s comment go. From the moment they had picked her up at the art festival, she seemed a little wobbly in her movements. Apparently, the festival offered an abundance of wine-tasting opportunities, of which Marti took advantage. And Sierra heard the way Marti slurred the word “experience,” Sierra was almost certain that Marti had tasted too much wine.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Alex asked.

  “We must pack,” Marti said. “Sierra and Christy will not be available for dinner because we have plans.”

  “May I offer you a ride to the train in the morning?”

  “Yes, you may,” said Marti. “We must leave the hotel at seven o’clock. Will you pick us up?”

  “Yes,” Alex said. “I will be there at seven.”

  He pulled up in front of the hotel just as giant drops of rain began to splash against the windshield.

  “That was convenient,” Marti said. “Now I suppose you will think the rain coming back after your picnic is also spiritual.”

  None of them commented. Alex got out first and opened the door for Marti. Sierra and Christy climbed out and stood under the front canopy. The rain sounded like rapid-fire pellets on the overhang.

  “It’s really coming down.” Sierra said.

  “Thanks again for everything, Alex,” Christy said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes. At seven. I will be here.”

  He turned to Sierra and gave her a warm smile. For several seconds, they looked into each other’s eyes, neither of them speaking. Then Alex wrapped his arms around Sierra and hugged her close. She wasn’t expecting it and took a moment to respond before hugging him back.

  Alex pulled away, brushing his chin against the side of her hair. “Tschuss,” he said.

  Sierra assumed he was saying good-bye in German or French or maybe a combination of both languages.

  “ ’Bye. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He turned to dash back to his car. The rain was coming down so hard and loud that it seemed the canopy above them would burst open. A sudden flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud boom of thunder.

  “Hurry,” Marti called to the girls. “Hurry inside!” She looked panicked.

  The second flash of lightning struck just as Sierra unlocked the door to their room. The lights in the hallway flickered. Three seconds later, the thunder came.

  “This is not good,” Marti said, following the girls into their room. “Don’t turn on your television, and stay away from the windows.”

  “We used to have powerful thunderstorms like this in the mountains where I grew up,” Sierra said. “I’m sure this storm is much more dramatic than the kind of storms you get at the beach where you live.”

  Marti didn’t look comforted. She slipped off her shoes and made herself at home on Sierra’s bed. “Wouldn’t you know?” Marti said, shaking her head. “Now I wish Robert were here.”

  Sierra realized this was the first time during the entire trip that Marti had mentioned her husband. “Why didn’t he come?” Sierra asked.

  “Because of his face, of course,” Marti answered bluntly. Recovering quickly from her brashness, she added, “What I mean to say is, his scars are still healing from the burns, and he shouldn’t travel until after the plastic surgery is completed. He looks terrible. You know. You’ve seen him. Both of you. Do you think he should be traveling?”

  Sierra could tell the alcohol was affecting Marti’s judgment. Ordinarily, she would never be so frank about her husband. Could it be she was so obsessed with appearances that she was embarrassed by Bob’s? It had only been five months since the gas barbecue accident had burned the side of his face, his neck, and his ear. Sierra didn’t know much about burns, but she guessed Bob wouldn’t be “presentable” by Marti’s standard for a long time.

  “Well? Do you think he should be traveling?” Marti again asked for an answer.

  “I guess it depends on what the doctor recommends,” Christy stated diplomatically.

  “Doctors don’t know anything,” Marti muttered. “They said they could fix my baby, but they couldn’t. They said they could fix me, but they couldn’t. Why should I believe them when the say they can fix my husband?”

  Sierra carefully glanced at Christy, who was seated on the edge of her bed. Christy seemed as startled as Sierra that Marti had so casually mentioned her baby. The great secret was out.

  Another flash of lightning, trailed by roaring thunder, caused them to jump. Sierra sat down on the end of her bed and faced Marti. She decided if she was going to play detective about Marti’s past, this was the moment.

  “What happened to your baby?” Sierra said, trying to sound casual.

  Marti blinked several times. “You know about Johanna?”

  “I do,” Christy said, moving over to Sierra’s bed and closing the small circle. “Mom told me a few years ago. I’m really sorry she died. I wish you had told me about her, Aunt Marti.”

  “What good would that have done?”

  “It would have helped me to know you better.”

  “Ha!” Marti laughed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I was never like you, so open and sweet. I had secrets. Secrets hardly anyone knew.”

  “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Christy said. Her voice was full of compassion.

  Marti drew in a deep breath through her nose. “No, I think you’re old enough now. I promised myself I’d tell you one day. I suppose today is as good as any day. Your mother knows, but I asked her not to tell you because I thought you should hear it from me.”

  Sierra felt out of place. Here she had seen herself on a great mission to get Marti to open up to them. Now that she was about to talk, it seemed her confession should be between herself and Christy. Sierra didn’t belong.

  “Do you want me to go into your room while you and Christy talk?” Sierra asked Marti.

  Another round of lightning and thunder punctuated the end of Sierra’s s
entence with a loud bang.

  “You might as well hear this, too. You probably already figured out most of it,” Marti said, turning her attention to Sierra. Marti’s right eyelid seemed to droop slightly. Her usually sophisticated air was gone. “You don’t miss a thing, do you, Sierra? No one your age should be as smart as you.”

  Sierra didn’t know if she had been insulted or complimented. She leaned back and decided it would probably be best if she didn’t say anything.

  “Well? Go ahead and tell my niece. She hasn’t figured it out yet,” Marti said to Sierra.

  “Figured out what?” Sierra said. “I really don’t now what you mean.”

  “Johanna. Tell her about how Johanna was Nelson’s child.”

  A wave of nausea hit Sierra. She didn’t know why she had thought it would be cool to unlock Marti’s psyche.

  Marti began her story. “We were in love. Very, very much in love when we started dating. I was fifteen. That’s why I wanted you to come stay with me the summer you turned fifteen, Christy. I wanted to warn you about what can happen to nice girls who know nothing about men and life. I knew nothing when I was your age.”

  Marti shook her head and fixed her gaze on her niece. “But you were so different from me. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to make you grow up fast like I did, so I didn’t say anything.”

  An uneasy silence followed. It was as if they were waiting for the lightning and thunder to shatter the intensity of the moment.

  “What happened?” Christy finally asked in a small, tight voice.

  “I got pregnant when I was seventeen. I told Nelson, and I honestly expected him to marry me. But he left town. I never saw him again.”

  “That must have been awful for you,” Christy said.

  “I went to live with your parents, Christy. I told everyone it was because my older sister was pregnant, and she needed my help. No one knew I was pregnant, too. The baby came early and was, well … she was less than whole. I knew God was punishing me. But I didn’t understand why He had to punish an innocent baby. Right after little Johanna died, your mother went into labor. I somehow felt responsible for that, too, because of the burden I’d placed on Margaret. You were born the next day, Christina, and you were perfect.”