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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  Sierra closed the pantry door and pulled the chain on the overhead light. It was a tight squeeze, but Sierra didn’t want to do anything to disrupt this moment she had waited for so long. “I’ve jumped to conclusions about you, too, and I know that wasn’t fair.”

  “I meant what I said, though,” Amy added quickly. “I don’t want to sit down with you and have a huge discussion about my life.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not like you, Sierra. In some ways, we’re similar and I think that’s what first drew me to you last year. But I don’t have all the same beliefs you do. I don’t know if I ever did. I just tried to fit in, you know? And now I don’t want to live with those kinds of expectations on me anymore.”

  “Amy—”

  “Don’t start in on me, Sierra. I’ll hang up if you do.”

  “All I want to say is, okay,” Sierra said quickly.

  Amy didn’t hang up.

  Sierra kept talking. “Let’s start from here. That’s all I wanted to say. I care about you, Amy, and I want to stay in touch. Whatever is comfortable for you is fine with me. I just don’t want to feel that we’re supposed to ignore each other because we’ve changed in the last few months. I’ve changed, too.”

  There was no response, but Sierra could hear Amy was still there.

  “I can live with that.”

  “You know, Amy, I just thought of how you jumped in and helped me look for Granna Mae. Only a friend would do that. I guess you and I don’t have to try to be friends. We just are friends.”

  “I’m not used to having friendships that keep going,” Amy said. “I’m used to hanging out with someone and then going on and making new friends. So I’m not guaranteeing anything on my end to keep our friendship going. But I won’t ignore you anymore, either.”

  Sierra felt as if a weight had been lifted off her.

  “Maybe it’s like you told me a long time ago,” Sierra said, leaning against the pantry wall. “How did you say it? We’re orbiting in different spheres, but every now and then our paths will cross. When they do, I want you to know that I’ll be there for you the same way you were there for me today with Granna Mae.”

  “Thanks, Sierra.” Amy’s voice sounded tender. “I appreciate it. And I’ll be there for you, as long as you don’t have any expectations.”

  “I hope everything goes well for you at your new school.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you still working at your uncle’s restaurant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe I’ll run into you there sometime.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, call me anytime you’re really bored. I’ll probably be around.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

  “ ’Bye, Amy.” Sierra hung up, and leaning her head against the pantry wall, she let out a relieved sigh. It wasn’t exactly the heart-to-heart conversation she had hoped to have with Amy, and it wasn’t the outcome she had expected. But she was glad they had finally talked. Now she at least felt in some ways that the tension was settled.

  What gnawed at Sierra were Amy’s words about her beliefs. What did Amy mean when she said she didn’t share Sierra’s beliefs and maybe never really had? Did she mean Sierra’s standards for dating? Or her beliefs in God? What was really going on inside Amy? Sierra knew she wasn’t invited into Amy’s heart, but at least she had limited “visitation rights.” For now, she would be happy with that.

  Opening the pantry door and stepping into the kitchen, Sierra found her parents were gone. Were they still discussing Granna Mae? Or was that conversation over and settled, the way Amy and Sierra had settled their conflict? Sierra guessed that everything had evened itself out for the time being. The next time something happened to Granna Mae, though, it was pretty certain the discussion would be opened again. That meant that more than ever Sierra needed to be on guard so she wasn’t the one initiating any potential conflict over Granna Mae.

  Sierra opened a can of minestrone soup, poured it into a pan, and began to prepare a dinner tray for Granna Mae.

  “What a day,” Sierra said to herself. She glanced at the clock and decided she’d better not plan to go to youth group tonight. Her mom would probably start dinner any moment, and Sierra knew it would be good if she helped out. That would leave no time for homework if she went to church, and she had a lot of it tonight. She remembered that Vicki was expecting her to be at church and decided she would call Vicki as soon as she delivered the dinner tray to Granna Mae.

  The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, which was a good thing for Sierra. She helped with dinner and with the dishes. Everything seemed calm and back to normal with her parents and Granna Mae.

  After eight o’clock Sierra lugged her backpack into the study with the intent of starting her homework. She turned on the computer and checked the e-mail. There were four for her dad, one for her mom from Sierra’s brother Wesley, and two junk ads. Nothing from Paul.

  Sierra wondered if her friend Christy Miller, who was going to school in Switzerland, had an e-mail address. Sierra had seen the computers in the library at Christy’s school. Certainly Christy could receive e-mail, if Sierra only knew where to send them. She had Christy’s address and decided to write her a quick letter to get her e-mail address. It would mean sending another letter overseas and having to wait at least a week for the response.

  Waiting was awful. It seemed terrible to have to wait days and weeks to hear from Paul. So much had happened already since she had written to him. Life was going by at the speed of, well … life. Her snail-mail to Paul and his letters back weren’t able to keep up the pace.

  Sierra stopped typing her letter to Christy and stared out the window at the black night. I wonder what Paul is doing right now. Is he at school? Studying? Going for a hike in the Highlands he seems to love so much? I wonder if he’s thinking about me. And what would he be thinking?

  “Oh, Father God, I’m so glad You are everywhere at the same time. Would You please wrap Your invisible arms of love around Paul wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. Let him know how much You love him and how much You care about everything that happens to him. Please direct him in his studies to do the best he can and to learn the things that will have value in the future. Prepare him for the work that You have designed for him. And keep him safe, Lord. Give him good friends, I pray, and excellent times with his grandmother. Strengthen him on the inside. Thank You, God, for hearing my prayers and for answering them in Your way and in Your time. I love You, God.”

  Sierra smiled to herself. She had prayed many months for Paul. In the beginning those prayers carried a different sort of emotion than what she felt now. Praying for Paul, fighting for him with her whispers to God, had been more an act of obedience. She did it because she felt the urgency to do so. Now that she and Paul were corresponding, it was different. His letters made her feel as if she had access to a little corner of his heart. That closeness made it a whole lot more fun to pray for him. A wonderfully calm, contented feeling came over her when she prayed for Paul. It was amazing how a couple of letters could open up a relationship in such a warm way.

  It reminded Sierra of how Vicki called the Bible God’s love letter to her. How would I relate to God if I didn’t have His love letter to read? What would I think of Him? How would I talk to Him?

  Sierra stared out the window, pondering that thought. She had never considered that before. Everything God wanted to say to me, He wrote down. And I can read it any time I want.

  The memory of the refugee children at the orphanage she and Christy had visited in Switzerland suddenly overwhelmed Sierra. Have those children ever heard of the Bible? Has anyone ever told them how much Jesus loves them? How hard it must be for them to believe that after all they’ve been through.

  Quickly finishing her typed note to Christy, Sierra poured out her heart.

  It occurred to me that what you’re doing in Switzerland, working with those children in that orphanage, well, it
’s God’s work. I didn’t see it when we were there. But tonight it seems so clear to me. If someone doesn’t tell them about God, how will they come to believe in Him? And if they don’t hear the Bible in their own language, how will they get to know Him? We have so much here in America, and I guess sometimes I forget that the rest of the world doesn’t have the freedom or opportunity to sit down and just read the Bible whenever they want.

  Sierra had to stop typing. The tears in her eyes made the computer screen go blurry before her. Why didn’t I ever realize this before? There are people all over the world who don’t even have a copy of the Bible in their own language.

  It felt strange, being overwhelmed and so suddenly emotional like this. She had heard this kind of information from missionaries for years. She had even been on a missions trip and had visited the orphanage in Switzerland with Christy. Yet it had never hit her as it had in this moment: The Bible was God’s love letter to the world, and there were people out there who had never received it, never read it.

  Sierra pushed away from the desk and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She hurried from the study and ran up the stairs to her room. It was a disastrous mess, as always. She knew where all her letters from Paul were. She kept them in a dresser drawer. A few days ago Sierra had tied them with a black velvet ribbon and tucked them under her pillow. Sierra checked, and the letters were all there, nice and flat.

  Quickly scanning her room, rummaging through her dirty clothes, and kicking her shoes out of the way, Sierra searched for her Bible. She had read it two nights ago and had plopped it on the floor along with her science textbook. The floor, especially the floor in her room, was no place for such a treasure. She remembered how she had once crumpled up an early letter from Paul and tossed it aside in the same manner.

  There the Bible was, peeking out from beneath a bath towel. Sierra snatched it up and held it close.

  “I’ll never do that again,” she whispered.

  Stepping over to the nightstand by her bed and clearing away the empty glass and the plate of cookie crumbs, Sierra placed her Bible next to the light.

  All love letters are treasures and deserve a place of honor.

  Feeling changed inside but not exactly sure why, Sierra went downstairs. She was determined to finish her homework as soon as she could so she wouldn’t be too tired to read her Bible.

  seventeen

  THURSDAY AFTER SCHOOL, a large group of students gathered in the parking lot around Randy’s truck. Everyone was talking at once about what was going to happen with Randy, his hair, and the administration’s decision. It was all speculation because Randy hadn’t arrived yet.

  “He’s still in there with them,” Tyler announced, jogging out to join the group. “They might be there for a long time.”

  Sierra glanced at her watch. “I have to go to work,” she told Vicki. “Since I was late on Saturday, I can’t be late again.”

  “Do you want me to come by to tell you what happened?” Vicki asked.

  “Would you?” Sierra said, giving her friend an appreciative smile. “That would be great. I’ll see you then.”

  Sierra wedged her way through the crowd and hurried to her car. When she had talked to Randy after lunch, he had quietly told her he had been thinking about something the leader had said at the youth group meeting the night before. Randy didn’t tell her what it was, only that the lesson was out of Romans 14. Sierra hadn’t reached chapter 14 yet in her reading.

  As she drove across town to Mama Bear’s Bakery, she thought how blown out of proportion this whole incident seemed. What solution would please everyone?

  She arrived at work a few minutes early, which was good because the place was unusually busy, and she was needed up front right away. Sierra went to work making special orders of coffees and lattes for the dozen or so women who flocked around the counter. They appeared to be some sort of group and very happy to be together. One of them had a chubby baby in her arms. All of them seemed to be speaking at once.

  A tall woman with cinnamon-blond hair and a gentle, curious gaze asked Sierra, “What is the difference with all your coffees? We don’t have this where I am from.”

  “Oh. Where are you from?”

  “I live in the Netherlands. There coffee is just coffee, not an experience, as it seems to be here.”

  She smiled, and Sierra smiled back as she went down the list and explained each of the items on the coffee menu.

  The woman listened with care and then said, “I see. Well, I’d like a cup of coffee. Just coffee, black. Thank you.”

  Sierra poured the coffee from a fresh pot and handed the mug to the woman.

  “How much is it, then?”

  “Nothing. It’s my treat,” Sierra said. “Welcome to Oregon. I hope you have a good visit.”

  The woman’s face lit up. “Thank you! How kind of you! Thank you.”

  She turned to join her friends at the tables they had pulled close, and Sierra took a dollar from her own pocket and put it in the cash register.

  “Why did you do that?” Jody, her coworker, asked. “Now they’ll all come up and want free coffee.”

  “You think so?” Sierra said. “I don’t think so. If I can’t offer a stranger a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name, I can at least offer a cup of hot coffee, black.”

  Jody shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Sierra shrugged. “I felt like entertaining an angel.”

  Jody turned and walked toward the back of the shop, still shaking her head. “When I come back, I want you to start speaking English again.”

  Sierra wiped off the countertop with a warm, clean towel and smiled to herself as she listened to the group of women talking and laughing. It appeared to be some sort of reunion. The door of the bakery opened, and a petite, well-dressed woman stepped in. Immediately, squeals of joy rose from the group as several of the women hopped up to hurry over and greet her.

  As Sierra watched these women, she thought about how valuable friendships are, friendships of every kind. She was so glad she had had a chance to talk with Amy. It was great that Sierra and Vicki were now spending time together. And Randy was the best buddy a girl could ask for. She loved having a friendship with Christy and her other older friends, who never treated her as though she were below them, even though she was younger. Then there were all the friends in Pineville she had grown up with. She hadn’t kept in contact with them like she thought she would; yet she knew if she went back to her old hometown today, all her friends would be happy to see her, and they would pick up their friendships right where they had left off.

  Now Paul … she thought of how to classify Paul. Was he a friend? A good friend? More than a friend? The strange thing was, she didn’t feel that she needed to know. Not right now. Right now it was just what it was. Nothing more, nothing less. She had a wonderful, warm, encouraging correspondence going with a great guy, and that was all she needed to know.

  Jody returned from the back with a tray of hot cinnamon rolls. Sierra drew in the tantalizing fragrance as she passed.

  “I might just have to have one of those today,” Sierra said. She went through spells when she didn’t think she could eat another cinnamon roll since she was around them so much. But today it sounded like a good idea.

  “Some of my friends might stop by later,” Sierra said. “Would you mind if I took a break when they come?”

  “Not at all. As long as you don’t start passing out free cinnamon rolls to everyone.”

  “I won’t. I paid for the coffee, you know.”

  “Yes, I saw.” Jody pulled out the used coffee filter from the machine and motioned to the pot of steaming java. “Why don’t you go offer them some free refills?”

  Sierra carried the pot over to the gathering of women and smiled. “More coffee for anyone?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said the woman from Holland.

  A second woman held out her cup and asked, “Do you have any more cream? We us
ed ours up.”

  Sierra was on her way to get a small pitcher of cream when the door opened and Randy and Vicki came in. Sierra turned, but when she saw them, her first thoughts were so caught up in Randy’s hair issue that she called out a combination of “hair” and “Randy” and said, “Hey, Harry!”

  One of the women at the table heard her and repeated loudly enough for her group to hear, “Harry! You guys, it’s Harry!”

  The women burst into laughter. All eyes were on Randy.

  “I’m sorry,” one of the younger women said. “It’s a little joke for our group. Harry is our invisible hero.”

  Randy offered them a crooked grin and took the outburst in stride.

  “You guys want something to eat?” Sierra said. “I’ll be right with you.”

  She took the creamer to the table, and a woman with dark eyes said, “We’re sorry if we embarrassed your friend. We get a little crazy when we’re together.”

  “That’s okay. He’s not easily rattled.”

  Sierra returned to the counter where Jody had already served up a cinnamon roll for Randy and a pot of apple spice tea for Vicki. They went to a table at the front of the shop where Sierra joined them with her cinnamon roll and milk.

  “I have a fifteen-minute break,” Sierra said, tearing off a piece of roll and catching the drips of white frosting with her fingers. “So talk fast and tell me everything.”

  Randy gave his customary shrug. “I still don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Didn’t the PTB meet with you?” Sierra asked.

  “They met with me, but they didn’t give me an answer. They said my letter made them take a careful look at how some things were being done at the school. Then they said that since I handled it in such a responsible way, they would leave the decision up to me.”

  Sierra looked at Vicki, who nodded as if she were as amazed as Sierra. She knew how much Randy disliked it when his parents left important decisions up to him. He must be going through torture right now.

  “You should have seen the mob in the parking lot,” Vicki said. “They all acted as if it had been some great victory. They’re sure Randy will not cut his hair.”