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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  Sierra knew she had a great job. She loved the people she worked with, especially Mrs. Kraus, who ran the bakery. She had understood when Sierra went to Southern California during the summer. Then when Sierra called to say she was going to be gone for another week because she had the chance to fly to Europe with her friend Christy, Mrs. Kraus had assured her not to worry about a thing. That short but meaningful jaunt to Switzerland and Germany had changed Sierra deep down, helping her to understand more about relationships and not to force them into boxes that didn’t fit them. She didn’t always apply that principle well, but she was trying. And Amy was one of the people with whom she wanted to try.

  As Sierra cleaned out the coffee filter from the espresso machine, she noticed two customers running in the door, soaked from the sudden downpour of autumn rain. The shimmering wonder of summer had officially ended.

  four

  SIERRA DIDN’T DISLIKE THE RAIN, but she didn’t love it either. It was just something she lived with in Portland. Sometimes, when the gentle taps danced on her bedroom window, it had a soothing effect on her. Other times it meant a forced retreat from a softball game or a canceled walk with their Saint Bernard, Brutus.

  When she finished work and drove home, Sierra went upstairs to her partially cleaned room, where she grabbed her favorite pair of jeans and one of Wesley’s OSU sweatshirts, which she hadn’t realized she had confiscated, and headed for the bathtub. It had been a long time since she had had a good soak.

  As she rubbed the cinnamon roll and coffee fragrances from her skin, Sierra tried to think about nothing. She had checked the mail, but no letters had arrived from Paul. Big surprise. She didn’t want to speculate anymore on Tawni’s problem, and she was pretty discouraged about trying to talk to Amy.

  Relationships are supposed to be two-way streets, aren’t they? I’m not supposed to be the only one pursuing, am I?

  She wasn’t exactly sure if she was thinking about her relationship with Paul or with Amy. It didn’t matter. They both seemed to be in the same mode: silence—like Tawni’s unspoken decision.

  Whoever said silence is golden obviously never had the kinds of friends and relatives I have.

  Then, because it was much too quiet in the bathtub, Sierra cut short the soak and slipped into her bum-around-the-house clothes. She headed downstairs, looking forward to the noise and activity of her family.

  She found her mom, Granna Mae, and Dillon in the kitchen. Mom was setting paper plates on the counter, and Dillon was checking his race car to see if the paint had dried.

  “You might leave a fingerprint,” Sierra warned. “It’s better to let it stay on the paper towel until tomorrow.”

  Dillon looked as though he was having a hard time deciding if he should heed his sister’s advice or go with his impulse. His impulse won. He looked around sheepishly to see if anyone had noticed. Sierra was still watching him.

  “It’s almost dry,” Dillon said and then left the room, casually trying to rub the smudge of red off his fingertip.

  “Caught red-handed,” Sierra called out after him with a laugh.

  “What was that?” Granna Mae asked, turning around from the sink where she was rinsing out a china cup.

  “I was talking to Dillon, Granna Mae,” Sierra said. “What’s for dinner, Mom?”

  “Dad went to get some Chinese food.”

  “Perfect,” Sierra said, her mood beginning to pick up.

  “Oh,” Granna Mae said. Her face scrunched in disapproval. “I don’t believe I’d like Chinese food. I’d prefer some soup.” She headed for the pantry and asked over her shoulder, “Would anyone else like some?”

  “No thanks,” Sierra answered for them both.

  “Here, let me do that for you, Granna Mae,” Sierra’s mom said.

  “I can do this fine by myself, Sharon.”

  “But I’d like to help you, Mother.”

  Granna Mae turned and gave Sharon a bewildered look. “I’m not your mother, am I?”

  “Your son, Howard, is my husband,” Mrs. Jensen said calmly. “You’re my mother-in-law.”

  “Yes, I know that.” Now Granna Mae sounded irritated. She had a can of chicken and rice soup in her hand, which she plopped down on the counter. “And this is my house. All you people are here in my house, and you’re trying to keep me from making myself some soup.”

  Mrs. Jensen backed off. Sierra knew that when Granna Mae got confused, it was better to say very little. However, Granna Mae didn’t seem confused. Everything she said was true. This was her house. When it became apparent that she couldn’t live here by herself, Sierra’s large family had left Pineville in northern California and had moved in. It meant big adjustments for all of them. But never in the last year while they had lived here had Sierra heard Granna Mae declare this was her house, as if she needed to stake her claim.

  “We’re not trying to keep you from anything,” Mrs. Jensen said calmly. “I thought maybe I could help.”

  “Help me to open a can of soup? I don’t think I need help. In all my days, I’ve never needed help opening a can of soup.”

  Granna Mae continued to mutter as she fished out a can opener from the drawer. Poor Granna Mae couldn’t get the can opener to catch on the lip of the can, a simple process for steady hands but an exasperating chore for someone with shaky ones. At last she got the opener to cooperate, and she turned the handle with great effort. Sierra wanted to step in and do it for her, but she knew it was better to let her grandmother do this herself.

  With the can opened and the lid barely hanging on by a catch in the metal, Granna Mae bent over and hunted for a soup kettle. She pulled one out from the cupboard and dumped the soup in. Then she slowly turned the knob to light the gas flame. Sierra marveled at how difficult everything seemed to be for her grandmother.

  As the soup heated up, Granna Mae returned to the pantry for a box of crackers. She took a bowl from the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer. She seemed to be in her own little world. Sierra didn’t talk to her or try to help. Instead, she wiped the counter around the sink, the way she cleaned up at work, and chatted with her mom. But both of them were watching Granna Mae out of the corners of their eyes.

  When the soup was bubbling, Granna Mae found a pot holder and carefully ladled the soup into her bowl. She carried the bowl to the dining room table, leaving Sierra and her mom alone in the kitchen. For the first time, Sierra began to understand the kind of pressure her mother had been under all these months as she lovingly cared for her mother-in-law, following her around the house and making sure she wasn’t endangering herself or others. It was worse than when Dillon was a toddler. At least Dillon could be kept in a closed-off area. Granna Mae could open doors, turn on stove tops, and even possibly wander off someday.

  “Is there anything I can do to help out?” Sierra asked.

  “You mean with dinner?”

  “No.” Sierra lowered her voice. “With Granna Mae.”

  Her mom shrugged. “She’s been doing pretty well lately.”

  “I know, but don’t you have to keep an eye on her all the time?”

  Her mom nodded.

  “Why don’t I do something like take her out for an afternoon so you don’t have to think about her?”

  “It’s okay, Sierra. This is your senior year. You have a job. Your life is full already.”

  “There’s room for my grandma in it,” Sierra stated a little too loudly before lowering her voice again. “I’d like to do something.”

  Mr. Jensen and Gavin arrived just then with the tall white bags filled with boxes of Chinese food.

  “Let’s get this food on while it’s still hot,” Mr. Jensen said. “Gavin and I almost tore into it on the way home.”

  Mrs. Jensen reached for some serving spoons and said to Sierra, “It’s fine with me if you arrange something. Make sure it’s okay with Granna Mae first. She does better if she has time to think through any changes in her schedule.”

  Sierra went into the dining ro
om, where Granna Mae was rising from her chair. Sierra again resisted the urge to help her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want some Chinese food?” Sierra asked. “It smells really good.”

  “No, no. I’m fine. The soup is too hot, though. I thought I’d take it up to my room and let it cool.”

  “I’ll take it for you,” Sierra said, quickly reaching for the bowl before Granna Mae’s shaky hands had a chance to lift it.

  “Thank you, Lovey. I’d appreciate that.”

  Sierra suddenly breathed easier. It seemed that whenever Granna Mae was thinking clearly, she called Sierra “Lovey.” It was to Sierra what the childhood call of “Olly, Olly, Oxen-free” used to mean when she played hide-and-seek. It meant the coast was clear. Come out of hiding. Everything is okay now.

  Sierra followed her grandmother up the stairs, each step a greater effort to conquer for the woman than the last. Again, Sierra was overwhelmed with the thought of how hard everyday life was for her dear grandmother.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Sierra asked after Granna Mae had settled herself in her recliner.

  “No, no. This is lovely. Thank you.” She smiled sweetly as if she were dismissing Sierra.

  Heading downstairs, Sierra thought of how, when her family had first moved in, she had thought it unkind of her parents not to include Granna Mae in all the family’s meals together. Now Sierra was beginning to understand. With the noise and activity that come with a big family, it was much more calming for Granna Mae to eat by herself in her large, comfy bedroom.

  By the time Sierra returned to the kitchen, everyone had dished up and gathered around the dining room table. It was then that Sierra remembered she was going to ask Granna Mae about the two of them scheduling something to do. She would ask her later. Right now an alluring box of sweet-and-sour pork was calling to her.

  Sierra scooped out the last of the pork, thankful that Dillon hadn’t taken it all since that was his favorite. Sierra unwrapped a set of the wooden chopsticks and was about to pop the first tender morsel of pork into her mouth when the phone rang. With plate in hand, she picked up the receiver. It was her sister.

  “Hey, Tawni,” Sierra said, imitating Randy’s usual greeting. “What’s up?”

  “A lot, actually,” she said.

  “I suppose you want to talk to Mom and Dad,” Sierra said, balancing the portable phone on her shoulder and drawing the chopsticks full of sweet and sour pork to her mouth.

  “Actually, I’m glad I caught you. I’d like to ask your opinion about something.”

  The meat tumbled from Sierra’s chopsticks onto her plate. She put down her food and leaned against the counter, hardly daring to believe her own ears. Such words had never crossed her sister’s lips.

  “Sure,” Sierra said, trying not to sound shocked or overly excited about being invited into the big decision. “What’s going on?”

  five

  “WHAT HAVE MOM AND DAD TOLD YOU?” Tawni asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Tawni sighed into the phone. “Aren’t they the best, Sierra?”

  Now Sierra was completely lost. “The best what?”

  “The best parents. I thought they might have said something to you, but I should have known they would keep my confidences. I appreciate them so much. Just wait until you move out. You’ll see how great you have it at home.”

  Sierra thought she was going to be let in on some great secret, but all Tawni seemed to want to talk about was their parents. Sierra already knew she had great parents. That was not a secret. She drew the chopsticks back to her mouth, devoured her first bite of dinner, and answered Tawni with an “Ah-hmmm.”

  “I’m trying to make a big decision,” Tawni went on. “I talked to Mom and Dad about it the other night, and of course I’ve talked to Jeremy about it endlessly, and my other friends. I’d like to hear your opinion before I take the next step.”

  “Ah-hmmm,” Sierra answered again.

  “Are you eating?” Tawni asked.

  Sierra swallowed. “Boy, am I! Sweet-and-sour pork. I got the last of it.”

  “Oh,” Tawni moaned. “Don’t tell me it’s from that Chinese place downtown. I miss their egg rolls.”

  “Egg rolls,” Sierra repeated, the suggestion sending her on a search through the rest of the bags and boxes. “No egg rolls, unless everyone else already got them. There’s some rice left and some cashew chicken.” Sierra stuck one of her chopsticks into the box and pulled out a chunk of chicken. “Oh, the chicken’s good.”

  “Stop it!” Tawni practically screamed into the phone. “You’re torturing me!”

  “Then I guess we’re even,” Sierra said without thinking. “I’ve been tortured trying to figure out your big news.”

  Tawni paused and then blurted out, “I’ve found my birth mother. She lives in Reno. I’d like to meet her, but I don’t know how to approach her.”

  Sierra plopped onto a stool at the counter. “How did you find her?”

  “One of Jeremy’s friends at school needed a project for his summer course in humanities. A bunch of us were sitting around one night, and I suddenly said, ‘You can find out who my birth mother is and save me the price of a professional search.’ He thought it was a great idea, and so I became his project.”

  Sierra waited for Tawni to go on. It seemed she wanted the story to be drawn from her bit by bit. Sierra willingly coaxed out the next bit.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Lina. Isn’t that a pretty name? Lina Rasmussen.”

  “And she lives in Reno?” Sierra found her imagination suddenly flooded with images of a middle-aged showgirl who would be a gigantic disappointment to Tawni when she met her.

  “She works at the university there,” Tawni said, shattering Sierra’s colorful image.

  “What else do you know about her?”

  “A few things,” Tawni said slowly. “She was fifteen when she had me.”

  “Fifteen? Oh, man! Can you imagine? No wonder she gave you up for adoption.”

  Sierra regretted her flippant statement as soon as she made it. Tawni’s adoption had always been a sensitive issue with her.

  “I’m sorry,” Sierra said quickly. “I didn’t mean for that to sound that way.”

  “No, that’s okay. Jeremy said about the same thing. He said that considering the alternative, he was really glad Lina gave me up for adoption.”

  “You mean, considering the alternative would have been an abortion?” As soon as Sierra said it, her hand flew to her mouth. “I did it again. I’m sorry, Tawni. Nothing I’m saying is coming out right. I’m just so shocked.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re completely right. Lina could have easily gotten an abortion, and I wouldn’t be here today.” There was a catch in Tawni’s voice. “I guess that’s why I wanted to find her. I want personally to thank her for choosing to give me life. I want her to know that her choice was the best one.”

  Tears flooded Sierra’s eyes. “I think that will mean a lot to her.”

  “I know it doesn’t always go well when an adopted child tries to make contact with her birth parents,” Tawni said quickly. “One girl at work told me about a cousin of hers who found her birth father. She contacted him by phone, and he hung up on her. She wrote him a letter, and he never responded. I guess some people bury the memory so deeply they can’t handle being reminded that they had a child.”

  “Are you going to call Lina or write her or what?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted your opinion. I thought the next step would be clear after I talked with Mom and Dad, but they said it was up to me. Then Mom called back today and said she and Dad were split in their opinion. Dad thinks I should call her. Mom thinks I should write.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Jeremy thinks I should just show up on her doorstep so she won’t have the chance to hang up on me or not respond to my letter.”

  “That seems a little pushy,” Si
erra said. “I mean, how would you feel if you went through whatever she went through at fifteen, and then almost twenty years later, this person shows up on your doorstep?”

  “Exactly. That’s why I kind of like Mom’s idea of a letter. That way I can say some of the things I really want to, like thanks for giving birth to me. That way if she’s not comfortable responding, at least I’ve achieved my goal of telling her what I wanted.”

  “Do you think any of this bothers Mom or Dad?” Sierra asked.

  “I don’t know. At first they seemed pretty surprised but real supportive. You know how they are. Then today, I don’t know. Some little things Mom said made me wonder if she’s feeling strange about this, like she wants me to get it over with quickly.”

  “After all, she raised you,” Sierra said.

  “I know. That’s why I’d never refer to Lina as being my ‘real’ mother. I’d only refer to her as my ‘birth’ mother. Mom is and always will be my real mother. I told her that.”

  Sierra adjusted her position on the stool. “Well, I know you’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I remember your telling me you were going to hire a lawyer. It looks as if maybe God is working things out.”

  “That’s what it seems like to me,” Tawni said. “Jeremy is probably more excited about this than I am. He says I need to solidify my identity.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That I need to become more secure in who I am and who God made me to be. I don’t know what I think.” Tawni sighed and went on. “Some people I know who are adopted say they rarely think about where they came from genetically. It’s not been that way for me. It’s bothered me for a long time. I want to see if I have her eyes. Maybe she would tell me I laugh just like my birth father. All the time I was growing up in this big family, people—complete strangers—would say things like, ‘You don’t look much like either of your parents.’ Or I’d hear, ‘All those Jensen kids sure resemble each other. All except the older daughter.’ I guess it bothered me more than I ever realized.”