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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  When Sierra finished the front lawn, she headed for the backyard. Vicki was patiently enduring the woman’s criticism, which she offered with each delicate clip Vicki took of the massive climbing rose bush.

  “Done already?” the woman asked Sierra.

  Sierra tried to appear cheerful. “Yes. I’m ready to mow your backyard. I think you’ll be pleased with how the front turned out. Should I go through this gate?”

  The woman studied Sierra a moment. “You certainly can’t go through the middle of my house with that thing.”

  “No,” Sierra said, swallowing her laughter, “I certainly can’t.”

  “Then go. Shoo.” With a brisk flex of her wrist, the woman dismissed Sierra and went back to inspecting Vicki’s work.

  The backyard was very small. The dog, a black and white mutt, appeared frightened of the mower and cowered in his doghouse. Sierra mowed the lawn in less than ten minutes, which was a good thing since she definitely needed a shower before work and it was after nine o’clock. However, the woman had other plans.

  “Right here, next to the garden hose,” the lady said to Sierra. “Those are weeds. If you don’t pull them now, they’ll be as big as my fist by next Saturday.” She made a feeble fist with bony knuckles to prove her point.

  Sierra picked at the tiny weeds.

  “No, no, no! You have to pull them by the root, or they’ll grow back. Go ahead. Dig down there. Get out the root.”

  Sierra did as she was told, bending and digging for almost half an hour all around the house. Wherever the woman spotted something growing that didn’t meet her fancy, she yelled at Sierra, “There, right there. Don’t you see it? Pick that out of there.”

  Vicki was still working on the rose bush. Every now and then the woman would call over her shoulder, “You are cutting those at an angle, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Vicki would answer patiently.

  Finally, at nine-forty-five, Sierra stood up and said, “That’s all for today. We really have to go now. I’m sure Randy can get whatever we missed next week.”

  The woman looked surprised. “Randy never does this for me,” she said. “He only cuts the grass.”

  Sierra and Vicki exchanged pained expressions.

  “That poor boy has two jobs, you know. He doesn’t have time to weed my yard.”

  “Well, we would do more if we could, but I have another job, too, and I need to be there by ten o’clock.” Sierra stretched her stiff neck from side to side and leaned back to remove the kinks from her spine.

  “Well then, go. Shoo!”

  They gathered their things and headed down the street.

  “Oh, and thank you, girls,” the woman called out.

  Sierra looked over her shoulder and saw the lady smiling at them. It was the first time Sierra had seen her smile all morning. She looked rather normal. Almost pleasant.

  They hurried from the house, pushing the mower at top speed over the lines in the sidewalk. Clang, clank, clank, clang.

  When they were a block away, Vicki said, “I know that verse in Hebrews said we’re supposed to show kindness to all strangers, and we might be entertaining angels without knowing it. Even though I’m sure we entertained that woman thoroughly, I have serious doubts about her being an angel in disguise.”

  They both laughed.

  “Could you believe it when she said Randy never has time to weed because the poor boy has two jobs?” Sierra said, huffing as she walked. “I should have started out by telling her I had two jobs, too.”

  “What time do you have to be at work?” Vicki asked.

  “In two minutes.”

  “You’re kidding. We should have left earlier,” Vicki said.

  “I know. But it was so hard to get away. She kept finding weeds that weren’t even there!”

  They ran up the driveway at Sierra’s house, and she pushed the mower into the garage.

  “I have to fly,” Sierra said to Vicki. “Thanks so much for helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “It was fun,” Vicki said. “I hope you have a good day at work. See you later.”

  Sierra was about to dash into the house. Then she stopped. Vicki was opening her car door.

  “Hey,” Sierra called out. “Vicki, I’ll call you later.”

  Vicki waved and nodded. It all felt so natural, as if they had been close friends for years and did this every Saturday morning. The ease with which they had slipped into each other’s lives amazed Sierra.

  She didn’t end up calling Vicki until Sunday afternoon. The answering machine picked up the call, so she left a message asking Vicki to phone her back.

  The only call that came into the Jensen home for Sierra that evening was from Tawni.

  “How are you doing?” Tawni asked her.

  “Pretty good. I helped Randy mow lawns yesterday. That was an experience.”

  “I hope he paid you,” Tawni said.

  “No, it was a favor.”

  “You could never get me to mow anyone’s lawn as a favor,” Tawni said.

  “This is how I see it,” Sierra said, settling into her favorite chair in the study by the French doors. “One of these days I’ll want Randy to do me a favor, and I’ll use the opportunity to remind him of how I saved the day for him.”

  “What do you hear from Paul?” Tawni asked.

  “I told you about the two letters I received on the same day, right?”

  “You mentioned it the last time I called. That’s why I asked. Did you write him back?”

  “Of course. Right away. I sent him our e-mail address, and I’ve checked every day. But he hasn’t written back.”

  “Give it some time,” Tawni said. “Did I tell you I wrote to Lina?”

  “Mom said you were going to. What happened? Did you hear from her?”

  “No, not yet. I know it’s not the same thing as waiting to hear from Paul, but I do understand what you’re feeling. Waiting is just awful. I keep thinking I should have said this or that differently. Once those words are on paper and out the door, there’s no changing them.”

  “I know,” Sierra agreed. “But with Lina, I’d think waiting to hear back from her would be much more nerve-wracking than my waiting to hear from Paul. What are you going to do if she doesn’t respond?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “What if she writes or calls and asks you to meet her? Would you go?”

  “Absolutely.” Tawni paused and then said, “I’ve opened a new savings account just to be prepared to buy an airplane ticket in case she invites me to see her.”

  “You must be a nervous wreck.”

  “Sometimes I am. Most of the time I’m okay. A strange feeling comes over me every now and then. It’s as if I really don’t want to know what she’s like. I don’t want to see her. It’s enough to know her name and make up my own image of her. Then, other times, I think I’d give anything to hear her voice or look into her eyes just once.”

  Sierra felt herself choking up. She had never fully understood her sister’s feelings on any subject. Now, in a tiny way, she thought she understood what Tawni was saying. This whole issue was much larger for Tawni than Sierra had ever realized.

  “I hope she calls you,” Sierra said. “As a matter of fact, I’ll start praying that she does.”

  “Thanks.” Tawni’s voice was warm and welcoming. “I appreciate that.”

  “Did you want to talk to Mom and Dad?”

  “No, just tell them I called and that I got the job for the catalog shoot.” Tawni’s voice was flat.

  “That’s great! Don’t they pay really well?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t sound very excited. What catalog is it?”

  “It’s a line of western wear. I don’t remember the name. I get to spend four days wearing cowboy boots and forcing myself to smile beneath the brim of a cowboy hat. This will be a real stretch for me.”

  Sierra laughed. Even while they were growing up in a small m
ountain town near Lake Tahoe, Tawni never wore anything that looked country western, even when everyone else did. Now she was getting paid to dress up like a cowgirl.

  “Don’t worry,” Sierra teased. “They’ll probably play country-western music during the shoot to put you in the mood.”

  Tawni groaned. “If anyone ever tells you the modeling life is glamorous, don’t believe them for one second. The torture we models must endure.”

  “Well, y’all would know, wouldn’t ya, pardner?” Sierra teased.

  “Right,” Tawni said. “You should be the one in the photo shoot. You and your beat-up cowboy boots.”

  “Hey, don’t make fun of those poor ol’ doggies. They served me well yesterday while I was mowing lawns.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” Tawni said sarcastically.

  It didn’t carry the bite her sarcastic tone used to have when they shared a room and continually bickered at each other. This time it sounded funny, like one friend teasing another. It was nice.

  The only problem was, at moments like this Sierra remembered her unsettled friendship with Amy and a sickening feeling returned to her stomach. She and Amy had once been able to tease each other and talk about the things they really cared about. Vicki seemed as if she were about to become that kind of friend, but how do people switch from one friend to another without any remorse?

  After Sierra hung up the phone, she sat for a long time in the snug chair. She prayed for Tawni—that if it was what God wanted, Lina would call or write and that the two of them would be able to settle that relationship. Then she prayed for Amy. She guessed it was time just to let their broken relationship fade away.

  twelve

  “WHAT’S THE PLAN FOR FRIDAY?” Randy asked.

  He was stretched out on the school’s grass during lunch. It had rained the day before, but today was clear and glorious. The autumn air felt crisp and cool. Bright orange sunshine came rushing at them, not directly overhead as it had in the summer, but at an angle. If Sierra had had a pair of sunglasses with her, she would have been wearing them.

  “I don’t know,” Sierra said. “It’s only Tuesday. Besides, I didn’t know anything was planned. Is there a school football game or something?”

  Sierra and Randy were joined by six other students who chose to eat outside rather than inside or to drive to a nearby fast-food place.

  “The football game is an option,” Randy said. “I was talking to Vicki, and she said she hung out at your house last Friday. Now that I don’t work at the restaurant anymore, I thought we should all get together and do something.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Sierra said. “Where is Vicki, anyhow?”

  “I think she went to get something to eat with Drake and Megan.”

  Sierra took a bite from the apple she had brought with her that morning. An apple, a bag of onion-flavored potato chips, and a carton of cold milk—that was Sierra’s idea of a perfect lunch. She considered asking if Drake, whom she had dated once, was now dating Megan. But Sierra knew better than to try to keep track of Drake’s dating roster. All that mattered to her was that she wasn’t on his list. Not at the top, not at the bottom. Not on the list at all.

  Thinking of Drake’s social life made her think of Amy. Sierra hadn’t seen her yet this week. Amy had wanted to go out with Drake last spring and had tried to set up a casual date with him. She had included Sierra in the plans. They never did fix dinner for Drake and Randy the way Amy had tried to arrange. It hadn’t been a big deal to Sierra, but it seemed to have been for Amy.

  Sierra slowly chewed her bite of apple as the conversations swirled around her. She still felt bad. She had failed as a friend to Amy by not understanding what was important to her and working with her to help get some of those important things.

  “By the way,” Randy said, snitching a chip from Sierra’s bag, “thanks for covering for me on Saturday. You and Vicki saved my skin.”

  “I’ll remember that next time I need a favor. Believe me, it’s hard work. My back was aching by the end of the day. It didn’t help that I also mopped the floor at Mama Bear’s.”

  “The weeding is what does it to you,” Randy said, tipping Sierra’s bag of chips upside down and shaking out the last few crumbs. “Mrs. Probst used to try to get me to weed for her. I did it once. Once was too much.”

  Sierra gave him a smirk. “It would have helped if you had warned me. She’s the one with the dog in the backyard, right?”

  Randy nodded.

  “She got Vicki to trim her huge climbing rose bush, and she personally escorted me around the entire yard, pointing out everything she thought was a weed. Let me tell you, I pulled more green-tinged items from her flower bed than you even knew were there.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, and I was late for work because of it. All I can say is, it’s a good thing Mrs. Kraus is so understanding.”

  “I guess this means if we do something Friday night, I have to pay for you.”

  “For Vicki and me,” Sierra said. “Vicki worked her little fingers to the bone, too.”

  “Okay, McDonald’s for both of you Friday night.” Randy reached for his can of root beer and emptied it.

  “McDonald’s nothing! I’m thinking Anthony’s Steak House. Don’t ribs sound good to you?”

  “Ribs, huh?” Randy didn’t sound too thrilled about the idea of paying for three people at a place like Anthony’s.

  A tall senior named Tyler strode across the grass and joined their small group. He was the kind of guy Sierra considered to be conservative, studious, and a little on the shy side. This afternoon his countenance was far from subdued.

  “Hey, Randy, I heard about the ultimatum on your hair. Way to go, man!”

  Sierra looked at Randy for an explanation. His hair was still the way he had been wearing it since school started: long and pulled back in a ponytail.

  “What happened?” Sierra asked.

  Randy shrugged. “Nothing. I wrote a letter to the administration, that’s all. They sent me a second notice, saying I had to get my hair cut, and I wrote them back explaining why I was growing it.”

  “He’s not telling you the whole thing,” Tyler said. Now everyone was listening. “Randy gave them an ultimatum.”

  “It wasn’t an ultimatum. It was a letter.”

  Tyler jumped in. “The notice they gave him was the second warning about cutting his hair to codebook standards. If he doesn’t do what they say by Friday, he could be expelled.”

  “Are you serious?” one of the other guys asked.

  “My dad’s on the board,” Tyler said. “He was saying that they haven’t had to deal with this kind of rebellion for years. There are always discipline problems, but not many acts of rebellion like this.”

  Randy shook his head, looking nothing like the rebel Tyler was making him out to be.

  Tyler went on. “And since they decided not to change the school policy book, they’re going to start coming down hard on any students who don’t comply.”

  “Over the length of a person’s hair?” Sierra asked. “What does that matter?”

  “My dad says the issue is not the hair. It’s the policy, because Royal students are supposed to set an example to the community,” Tyler said.

  Sierra looked at Randy. He was sitting back, taking it all in, seemingly unaffected.

  “What did you say in your letter?” Sierra asked.

  “I just gave them my reasons for having my hair like this, and then I told them it was up to them to decide. I said I’d go by their decision, whatever it was.” Randy offered Sierra a crooked smile. “I gave them until Thursday to respond.”

  Tyler made a fist and raised it as if this were his battle. “You’re the man, Randy! Way to go! Hit them with an ultimatum right back.”

  “I don’t get it,” Sierra said. “Why the ultimatums?”

  She looked at Tyler, who had sat down next to her and was grinning from ear to ear. Sierra noticed that Tyler’s hair was short an
d stubby on top, which wasn’t especially attractive with his long face and broad forehead.

  “It’s the sheer brilliance of his response,” Tyler said. “He’s turning their big guns back on them. The revolution is coming!”

  One of the girls in the group laughed and threw a wadded-up lunch bag at Tyler.

  Sierra craned her neck and squinted against the afternoon sun to look more closely at Tyler. Why was he suddenly on this crusade? Did he have a battle of his own to fight with his father or with the board of directors?

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” Randy said, leaning over and lowering his voice. “They sent me a notice at the beginning of school and quoted some rule in the handbook. So I read the whole handbook. There’s a lot of stuff in there that doesn’t seem to apply anymore. I pointed that out in a letter to them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like it says all students are supposed to stand during the morning flag salute, Bible reading, and prayer.”

  “What’s wrong with that rule?” Sierra asked.

  “Nothing. But when was the last time you had a first-period teacher who remembered to do the flag salute? Or read the Bible even once in class during the whole semester? And how many of your teachers pray before class?”

  Sierra thought back. “Not many. I see what you mean.”

  “The handbook uses that verse in 1 Corinthians that says long hair is a disgrace to a man.” Randy shrugged and went on. “I pointed out that in the community where I live, work, and hang out, my hair isn’t considered long. It’s only considered long here at school. Then I told them why I was growing my hair out. It’s for the band. I quoted those verses in 1 Corinthians 9 in which Paul says since he’s free from the law, he has willingly become all things to all men so that by all possible means, he might save some.”

  Sierra was astonished at Randy’s calm demeanor as he stated his case.

  “That’s telling them,” Tyler said enthusiastically. “Fight fire with fire. They don’t have the right to go around dictating what we should do and wear.”