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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  If everything else in her life was on hold, Sierra decided she might as well add her room to the list. She would wait until tomorrow to clean it.

  two

  TOMORROW TURNED into the next day and the next until finally, on Friday night, Sierra was back in her room, trying to think of a way to make sense of the mess. The rest of her life was still in disarray. Her parents had answered her questions about Tawni by saying they would leave it up to Tawni to tell Sierra and her brothers. She knew then the decision couldn’t be to get married or move back home or anything that radical because her parents wouldn’t have hesitated to share that information with all of them.

  Still no word had winged its way to her from Paul. Then there was elusive Amy, who kept disappearing down the hallway at school whenever Sierra tried to approach her.

  Resigning herself to trying to do something about her room, Sierra set about the task. The exercise of picking up, sorting, and putting away helped restore order in more ways than one. As she stuffed clothes into her dresser drawers, she devised a plan for meeting with Amy. The next morning Sierra didn’t have to be to work at Mama Bear’s until ten. She would take a picnic breakfast to Amy’s and wake her up. They could sit on Amy’s bed, eat breakfast, and have the heart-to-heart talk they needed. Amy couldn’t walk away from Sierra in her own room.

  Sierra smashed down the junk in her trash can and added another handful. She stacked her books on the floor beside her bed and smoothed back the comforter on top of Tawni’s old bed. Scooping up a huge armful of dirty clothes, Sierra made her way to the basement, where she started to feed all her dark-colored clothes into the gaping mouth of the washing machine. That was only the first load. She had hauled down enough for at least two more loads, which meant she would be up and down these stairs all night.

  The basement’s smell brought mixed memories. When Sierra was a child, this had been a great hiding place when her family came to visit Granna Mae. Once Sierra had wedged her skinny frame behind the stack of Christmas decoration boxes and pulled an old trash can filled with rakes and shovels beside her to close off the opening. For the first five minutes or so, she felt wonderfully sneaky. She smiled, hugging her knees to her chest and waiting for someone to come look for her.

  Then the thrill wore off. The icy cement floor had turned her bottom numb, and the once-exotic swampy fragrance now stuffed up her nose and made her eyes itch. She had no room to stretch her cramping legs.

  Unable to stay in hiding any longer, Sierra had pushed the trash can back herself, stood up, and shaken her legs to make the tingles go away. Then slowly taking the stairs, she made her way to the front yard, where she found her sister and all four brothers huddled around a cardboard box from which a neighbor’s six kittens mewed for attention.

  Clicking on the washing machine and drawing her thoughts back to the present, Sierra remembered how at the time she didn’t care about the kittens. She wanted to know why no one had come looking for her. Why hadn’t they cared enough?

  A smile came to her face as she remembered the way Tawni had begged their dad to let her keep one of the kittens. He had refused. Mr. Jensen was a dog man, not a cat man. Not even the helpless ball of caramel fur Tawni held up to his face, with tears in her eyes, changed his mind that summer afternoon. However, that Christmas, Tawni received an all-white kitten. She named it Snowflake, and it lived in a cozy bed beside the dryer.

  Taking the basement stairs two at a time, Sierra left the musty smells and childhood memories behind. She decided to fix her breakfast picnic now while waiting for her laundry. Finding some bagels, she packed them in one of her mom’s wicker baskets hanging on a peg in the kitchen. From the refrigerator, she took a tiny jar of blackberry jam from the door rack, two oranges from an open bowl on the shelf, and a couple of eggs marked with happy faces. The black pen faces were Mrs. Jensen’s code for Sierra’s younger brothers, Gavin and Dillon, to let them know which of the eggs were hard-boiled. Two years ago Gavin took what he said he thought was a hard-boiled egg and cracked it over Dillon’s head. After all the boys’ wailing and hollering, their mom had devised the happy-face code.

  Covering the now-full basket with a dish towel, Sierra felt pleased with her picnic and her plan. Just then her two younger brothers came in with their dad. They each had a miniature wooden car to show Sierra.

  “I’m going to paint mine tomorrow,” Gavin said. “Hot red so it’ll go fastest.”

  “Those turned out nice,” Sierra said, examining Dillon’s car up close.

  Both her brothers had entered a toy boxcar derby contest at the city park.

  Mrs. Jensen stepped into the kitchen with a tray of dirty dinner dishes. “Granna Mae is already asleep. I think you boys need to head to bed now, too.”

  After the usual round of groans and complaints, the boys made their way up the stairs.

  Mr. Jensen stepped into the entryway and called after them in a strong whisper, “Not so loud. Don’t wake Granna Mae.”

  “What have you been doing all night?” Mrs. Jensen asked Sierra.

  “Picking up my room a little.”

  Her mom’s eyes seemed to brighten. “Really? Good for you.”

  “I have some laundry going, and I put together a breakfast picnic for tomorrow. I plan to go over to Amy’s and wake her up.”

  “You two still haven’t talked?”

  “No. And it’s hanging over me like an overdue term paper.”

  “I hope you settle it soon,” her mom said, checking the dishes in the dishwasher, trying to determine if they were dirty or clean. “Unresolved relationships can really wear a person out.”

  Mr. Jensen stepped back into the kitchen in time to pick up the last bit of their conversation. “You talking about Tawni?”

  Mrs. Jensen and Sierra both turned to look at him. Mrs. Jensen’s look said, What are you doing? while Sierra’s begged, Tell me more!

  “I guess not,” Mr. Jensen said, reaching for a glass in the cupboard and pouring himself a drink of water. He sipped the water slowly, watching both of them over the top of the glass. Without offering any information, he placed the empty glass on the counter and, with a wry grin to his wife, said, “Carry on, then. As you were.” With a mock salute, he headed out the back door to his workshop.

  “Is there anything I should know about Tawni?” Sierra asked her mom after he left. “I mean, I already know she’s trying to make a big decision, and now I can guess it has to do with a broken relationship. It isn’t Jeremy, is it? She isn’t going to break up with him, is she?”

  Mrs. Jensen had concluded that the dishes were dirty and was trying to wedge in the last few glasses. She didn’t say anything but worked silently, pouring the soap into the dispenser. As she clicked the knob to “On,” her words seemed to come.

  “I’m not sure what to say, honey. I think Tawni would prefer we not tell you until she’s made her final decision. It’ll only be a few days, and I think she would feel better about our doing it that way.”

  “But we’re a family,” Sierra said. “Why should families keep things from each other?”

  Her mom sighed and leaned back against the counter, folding her arms across her middle. A frustrated look came over her face. “You’re right. That’s been our policy all along. We keep things open and honest in the Jensen clan. But I think it’s better that we wait for Tawni to decide what she wants to do, and then we can all talk about it.”

  Sierra couldn’t begin to imagine what would be so secretive. Returning to the basement to put her clothes in the dryer and start a new load, Sierra could only hope her sister’s secret was something good. Maybe like her Christmas kitten. Maybe Tawni’s news was something like that.

  And then again …

  three

  THE NEXT MORNING Sierra dressed for work and left at seven-thirty with her picnic basket. She drove to Amy’s house with a prayer for peaceful reconciliation on her lips. Sierra rang the doorbell three times before Amy’s groggy, grumpy father opened the do
or in his robe.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I woke you up. I wanted to surprise Amy. I brought a breakfast picnic for us.”

  Mr. Degrassi gave Sierra a baffled look.

  “I’m Sierra. Sierra Jensen. I know I haven’t been over for a while …”

  “Amy stayed at her mother’s last night,” Mr. Degrassi said. Without any further explanation, he closed the door.

  Sierra nearly dropped the basket. At her mother’s! What does he mean? Amy’s mom moved out?

  Stumbling back to her car, Sierra realized how out of touch with Amy she had become. Earlier in the summer, Amy had confided in Sierra that her parents had been fighting and Amy had overheard them talking about divorce. Sierra had tried to convince Amy that it wasn’t serious. All parents have misunderstandings. Everything would work out fine, she had told Amy. Obviously, Sierra had been wrong.

  Stunned, she drove home. When she turned onto 52nd Street, she noticed Randy was mowing the lawn at one of his regular yard jobs. He had started his own lawn maintenance business in the spring and then took the part-time busboy position at the restaurant during the summer. With two jobs and all the hours he put into the band, which practiced three nights a week in Randy’s garage, he had been busy all summer.

  Sierra pulled up to the curb and parked the car. Taking the basket with her, she walked toward Randy, waving and calling his name.

  “Yo!” Sierra called out again, only a few feet away.

  Randy looked up and shut off the lawn mower. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

  “Did you know Amy’s parents aren’t together anymore?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought everybody knew.”

  “I didn’t know. I went over there this morning and found out from her dad. He didn’t look too happy.”

  Randy looked at the basket. “What’s that?”

  “A picnic.”

  “Food?” Randy asked.

  “I had this great idea to surprise Amy with a breakfast picnic, only she stayed at her mom’s last night. I can’t believe this. How has Amy taken it all?”

  “I don’t know. At work she pretty much keeps to herself and then leaves with Nathan when she gets off. I think her mom moved into an apartment over on Halsey. I heard Amy telling someone at work a few weeks ago.”

  “When did all this happen?”

  “While you were gone.”

  Sierra shook her head and sighed. “I feel awful for her.”

  Randy nodded and motioned toward the basket. “So, what’s in the basket?”

  “Why? You hungry?”

  Randy’s half-grin told her it was a pointless question. “Hot cinnamon rolls from Mama Bear’s, I hope,” Randy suggested.

  “No, low-fat bagels. Sorry. I packed it for Amy and me.”

  “Bagels are good,” Randy said, taking the basket from Sierra and leading her over to a part of the lawn he had already mowed. He sat down and pulled back the dish towel. “Do you have anything to drink?”

  “No.”

  “I have some drinks in my truck.” Randy sprang up and returned with two cans of cream soda. It didn’t seem the likely beverage to accompany hard-boiled eggs and bagels, but Sierra didn’t complain. She was just glad she had Randy to talk to. It seemed he was her only close friend.

  “What do you want first?” Sierra asked. “The bagel or the egg?”

  “Is this a variation on that age-old question: Which came first, the bagel or the egg?” Randy grinned at his own joke. “Give me both. I’ll make a sandwich.” He pulled out his pocketknife and wiped it on the leg of his jeans. Then he created a breakfast bagel.

  Sierra looked around the quiet neighborhood as it began to wake up. “Do you think it’s okay that we’re sprawled out on these people’s lawn?”

  “Sure. They won’t mind.”

  Sierra opened her bagel and spread it with the jam. Overhead she could hear doves cooing in the trees. A row of perky-faced pansies from the flower bed watched Randy and Sierra enjoy their morning feast. The pleasant, peaceful setting didn’t match Sierra’s emotions. She willed herself to downshift and enjoy this time with Randy, who was quite possibly her one and only true friend this school year. She knew one question that was guaranteed to get him talking.

  “So, how are things going with the band?”

  “Vicki came to hear us practice last night,” Randy said, snapping open the lid of his soda can. “She thinks we’re sounding pretty good.”

  Sierra hadn’t heard the band practice for weeks. She had sat in on a jam session once, but it drove her crazy to listen to the same piece of music over and over.

  “That’s good. Have you guys come up with a name yet that you can all agree on?”

  “Almost.”

  “Do you mean the name of the band is ‘Almost’ or you’ve almost come up with a name?”

  Randy chuckled. “I should throw that one into the mix. ‘Almost.’ That would be a pretty radical name. What I mean is that we almost had a name, but Ben was pretty sure it was already taken. It was ‘White Horse.’ Vicki said she’d search online for us to see if the domain is still available.”

  “That’s nice of her.” Sierra thoughtfully chewed her bagel and swallowed her feelings about Vicki.

  Last semester Vicki had asked Randy out to a formal benefit dinner, and Sierra had labeled her a flirt. Maybe it wasn’t a fair assessment of Vicki, but the two of them had gotten off on the wrong foot when Sierra had moved to Portland. Sierra had overheard Vicki and another girl talking about her in the locker room Sierra’s first week of school. The other girl said she thought Sierra was stuck-up. Sierra had marched around to their side of the lockers, blasted out that she wasn’t stuck-up, and then marched out.

  Looking back, that seemed a ridiculous way to handle the situation. She had only proved they were right by overreacting. The unfortunate result was that Sierra had then labeled Vicki as someone to avoid. It hadn’t helped a bit when Vicki asked Randy out. At that point, Sierra was just beginning to feel as though Randy was her close friend, and then Vicki seemed to be wiggling in between them.

  At the end of the school year, Vicki had been assigned to the same special project team as Randy and Sierra when they helped out at the Highland House, a homeless shelter where Sierra still occasionally volunteered. Vicki hadn’t exactly put her heart into the project. She hadn’t even managed to show up most of the time.

  Suddenly, Sierra felt an interest in listening to the band practice again. She knew it was crazy. She only wanted to hear the band because Vicki was hanging out with Sierra’s friends and she didn’t trust her.

  Maybe if Vicki weren’t so gorgeous, Sierra would have felt differently. Vicki’s silky, light brown hair hung down her back. She wore it parted down the middle and was forever flipping it over her shoulders. Her thin, arched eyebrows framed her green eyes and gave her face a centered look. When a person looked at Vicki, the first things he saw were her eyes.

  Sierra felt inferior when she compared herself with Vicki. A person’s first impression of Sierra, she imagined, would be her unruly hair. She knew she had nice eyes. They were a blue-gray color, and she had been told they seemed to change with the weather. Her figure had always been closer to a tomboy’s than a beauty queen’s, though Sierra had noticed this fall that some of her school clothes had gotten tighter on her: Either she had shrunk everything in the wash or her body was actually launching into her final, late-bloomer stage of development. She hoped it was the latter.

  Realizing she had been quiet for a long time, she wrapped up her private thoughts and asked Randy how the lawn-care business was. He didn’t seem to have noticed how quiet she had been, since he had been busy eating.

  “I’ve cut back some for the fall, but I think I’m going to have to quit my job at the restaurant. They scheduled me for sixteen hours this week, but with school and the lawns, I don’t have enough time for the band.”

  “Have you given your notice
yet?”

  “No, I was thinking and praying about it this morning. What do you think?”

  “I think you can’t do everything. Something has to go.”

  “I make more money on the lawns, and I can get them done if I work all day Saturday. That gives me weeknights for the band.”

  “Sounds as if you could leave the restaurant and it wouldn’t hurt your finances too much,” Sierra said.

  “I asked my parents last night, and they said it was up to me. They said they would support my decision, whatever I end up doing.”

  “Don’t you hate that?” Sierra said. “I sometimes wish my parents would just tell me what to do instead of leaving it up to me.”

  “I know. Funny, isn’t it? A few years ago I was complaining to my parents that they wouldn’t give me enough freedom to make my own decisions. Now they are, and I’m complaining again.”

  Randy popped the last bite of his bagel into his mouth. A crumb of egg yolk clung to the corner of his lower lip. Sierra motioned for him to brush it away.

  He wiped his mouth and said decidedly, “I’m going to give my notice this afternoon at the restaurant.”

  “How many more lawns do you have to do today?”

  “Eight.”

  “Are they all as big as this one?”

  Randy looked around. “Some. Some are smaller. I don’t know. It takes about an hour at each house. Except some of the ones around here. They only take half an hour or so. I do ten houses. Makes for a long Saturday, but like I said, the money is great.”

  “I’d better let you get back at it,” Sierra said. “Thanks for sharing my little picnic with me.”

  “Anytime,” Randy said with a smile. “It’s too bad Amy wasn’t at her dad’s, but her loss was my gain.” He patted his stomach contentedly.

  Sierra gathered up the basket and drove to work. The bakery already had a line of customers inside when Sierra arrived. She washed her hands, put on her apron, and took over for Jody at the cash register. The soothing scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls circled the bakery, enticing more customers to come inside every time the door opened and some of the aroma escaped.