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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  Her challenge was to figure out whom she was going to talk to now that Randy had offered his insights but she was still stuck. Amy? Chances were Amy wasn’t talking to Sierra anymore. Neither was Tawni—which was too bad, because on several occasions she had offered Sierra good advice. Plus Tawni would understand what it was like to be emotionally involved with a Mackenzie man, since she was so attached to Jeremy. How about Vicki? Sierra could talk to Vicki, not only about the Paul conflict with her parents, but also about Amy. Sierra decided to call her as soon as work ended.

  Glancing at the clock, she realized her break would be over in three minutes. “I have to get back to work,” she told Randy. “Thanks for your listening ear.”

  Randy grinned. “By the way, they paid us two hundred dollars for last night.”

  “Oh, Randy, I forgot to ask. That’s great! You guys sounded so good. I was really excited about your big debut—opening for The L’s, no less! The place was packed. I think it went perfectly.”

  “We had some trouble with the third song. You didn’t notice?”

  “Not at all.”

  “That’s good.” Randy appeared pleased. “How come I didn’t see you afterward?”

  Sierra drew in an exasperated breath. “I kind of got locked out. Vicki had my ticket, and when I went out to check on Amy, I couldn’t get back in.” She shook her head. “I made such a fool of myself. I saw Amy walking to the parking lot with Nathan, and I thought he was forcing her to go with him, so I …”

  Randy waited for her to finish.

  “I can’t believe I did this. I blew an air horn at Nathan and told Amy to run.”

  Randy’s eyes grew wide. He seemed to be trying to stifle a grin. “Did Amy run?”

  “No. It turned out they wanted to be together so they could talk. Now they’re both furious with me.”

  “A little is good. A lot …”

  “I know,” Sierra said. “I went overboard again.”

  Randy slowly grinned. “There are melted marshmallows, and then there are kitchen fires.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know, the Thanksgiving fire at your house. I just thought of it. Melting marshmallows is like a little warmth, and that’s good. But too much of a good thing, and your whole kitchen goes up in flames.”

  Sierra ignored his logic. “What bothers me is that just last week it seemed everything had turned around with Amy. She, Vicki, and I had a great time talking, and the three of us planned to get together every Monday here at Mama Bear’s. Now that’s all gone up in smoke, to use your analogy.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Sierra glanced at the clock again. “My break is over. I’d better get behind the counter. Thanks again for listening to me, Randy.”

  “Any time.” He reached over and gave her wrist a squeeze. “Don’t let it get you down. It’ll work out—Paul, Amy, the whole thing. It always does. God rules.”

  “Thanks. I needed your encouragement today. And, hey, congratulations again on how everything went last night.”

  Just before Randy walked out the door, Sierra said, “Oh, and thanks for giving Vicki a ride home.” A hint of curiosity touched her voice.

  “Vicki? I didn’t give her a ride,” Randy said. “Warner did.”

  “Oh.” Sierra turned and made an “uh-oh” face to herself. She couldn’t wait to hear Vicki’s side of this story.

  As it turned out, she didn’t get the scoop until Monday afternoon. Saturday night Vicki wasn’t home when Sierra called. Then Sierra spent the evening furiously working on Paul’s needlework and did the same thing again all Sunday afternoon. That evening the Highland House hotline was busy, and then she stayed up until after midnight to finish her homework. On Monday at lunch, Randy, Warner, and the other guys from the band sat with Vicki and Sierra at lunch, so Sierra couldn’t gather any information from Vicki.

  The talk around the lunch table and the whole school was about The Beet and whether Randy’s group was going to keep the name “Three-Two-One.” Randy said it just came to them at the last minute Friday night. Most of the group liked it. The others thought it was lame and promised to come up with something better for them.

  After school, Sierra waited by Vicki’s locker. When she finally showed up, Sierra said, “Okay, we need to talk. Where do you want to go?”

  “To Mama Bear’s,” Vicki said. “Aren’t we supposed to meet Amy there in fifteen minutes?”

  Sierra leaned her forehead against the locker. “I don’t think Amy is speaking to me at the moment.”

  Vicki looked surprised.

  Sierra gave Vicki a sideways glance. “I told you. There’s a lot we have to talk about.”

  “Well, Amy’s still talking to me. I think we should go to Mama Bear’s as we planned. If there’s a problem, we need to talk it through. That’s what we all decided last week, isn’t it? We missed out on our friendships this past year because none of us worked hard enough at talking things through when we had problems.”

  Sierra felt a knot in her stomach. She had experienced that same clenching sensation a lot the last few days. Something wasn’t right. She was off track, but she couldn’t figure out in what way.

  Earlier that day, during one of her classes, Sierra pretended to take notes as her teacher lectured, but Sierra had really been writing a letter to Paul, telling him how much she wished he were here so she could talk these things through with him face-to-face. It had been good to talk to Randy on Saturday, for the sake of letting off steam. But Randy didn’t have answers. Only vague quips about burning marshmallows and how she shouldn’t beat herself up, since she was a sensitive, emotional person.

  With Paul, she knew such a conversation would have turned out differently. Paul knew her heart. He would hear her words but still be able to read deeper, between the lines, the way they did with each other’s letters. Paul would give her the right kind of encouragement and direction. He would know how she could convince her parents that her relationship with him was beneficial and how to move on with Amy.

  As it was, Paul wasn’t here. That was the downside of having an absent boyfriend. By the time he received the letter she wrote him today and answered it, Christmas would have arrived. By then, anything could have happened.

  Suddenly, Sierra remembered what Uncle Mac had said about love being patient. She had thought she knew what that meant. Maybe she didn’t understand yet. Maybe she needed to be more patient about Paul’s being far away and more patient with herself and all her goof-ups. And maybe she needed to be more patient with Amy. She could follow through on that one right now.

  Emerging from her reverie, Sierra adjusted the backpack on her shoulder, looked at Vicki, and said, “Okay, let’s go to Mama Bear’s to see if Amy shows up.”

  “She will,” Vicki said confidently. “She needs our little circle of friendship as much as the two of us do.”

  seventeen

  THE CHEERY BELL over Mama Bear’s door sounded when Sierra and Vicki stepped into the bakery. The fragrance of gourmet coffee and freshly baked cinnamon rolls rushed to greet them.

  “I love the way this place smells,” Vicki said. “Do you ever get tired of it when you work here?”

  “Not tired of it, but maybe a little immune.” Sierra scanned the tables to see if Amy was waiting for them. She wasn’t. And they were five minutes late.

  “Do you want something?” Vicki asked, heading for the counter. “Some tea? It’s my treat.”

  Sierra appreciated Vicki’s generosity. After all, Sierra had borrowed five dollars from her dad on Sunday to buy enough gas to drive to the Highland House and to school. Tomorrow was payday, but by the time she paid back everyone she had borrowed money from, little would be left for Christmas presents.

  “I’d like some peppermint tea,” Sierra said. “Thanks, Vicki.” Following Vicki over to the counter, Sierra greeted Mrs. Kraus and then asked her, “Do you remember my friend Amy? Have you seen her in here?”

  “I don’t
think so,” Mrs. Kraus said. “It’s been kind of busy, though.”

  She was wearing one of the Christmas aprons she had made for the staff. The red aprons had brown appliquéd teddy bears on the top portion. The teddy bears were wearing headbands with reindeer antlers, and they had red noses. The aprons were cute in a silly way. When Sierra wore hers on Saturday, it drew much more attention than any of Mrs. Kraus’s other original apron creations.

  “Did I tell you a customer on Saturday asked if she could buy my apron?” Sierra asked.

  “No, you didn’t. You told her yes, I hope?”

  “I told her you made them, and she would have to ask you.”

  “That’s a great idea. I could whip up a couple of extra aprons and hang them around the store. I think I’ll do that this evening.”

  Sierra had a hard time imagining anything that required sewing being whipped up in an evening. Her needlepoint project was taking forever. And it wasn’t turning out all that great. The more she worked on it, and the longer she stared at it, the more flaws she saw in it. The joy of the project was long gone.

  Mrs. Kraus went to get the hot water for Sierra’s tea while Vicki pulled out some money.

  “Tell me what happened Friday night,” Sierra said. “Randy told me he didn’t take you home, but Warner did.”

  Vicki rolled her eyes and said, “Please, I’m trying to forget.”

  “I would have called a cab rather than go anywhere alone with Warner.”

  “We weren’t alone,” Vicki said. “Four other people were crammed into his car. He dropped me off first. There’s really nothing to tell.”

  “Yes, there is. Tell me why Randy didn’t give you a ride.”

  “He already had Tre with him, and when it came time to leave, he didn’t offer to squeeze me in.”

  “But Warner did,” Sierra said, taking the small teapot and mug from Mrs. Kraus and thanking her.

  “Yep. Good ol’ Warner.” Vicki smiled at Mrs. Kraus. “And I’d like a mocha latte with cinnamon.”

  “Our lives don’t exactly seem to be working out the way we had planned, do they?” Sierra said.

  Vicki paid for their beverages, and the two of them moved over to a table by the front window.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Vicki said. “I don’t have too many complaints at the moment. I don’t know why you should either.”

  “I’ve been a wreck,” Sierra confessed. She slid her chair closer to Vicki so none of the other customers or employees could hear her. “I have this conflict with my parents that’s hanging over my head. They’re waiting for me to talk it through with them because when they tried to talk to me last Friday, I couldn’t discuss it.”

  “Couldn’t discuss what?”

  “Paul. They don’t like him.”

  “Excuse me? Would you like to try that one again? Since when did your parents stop liking Paul?”

  “Since I started to write him, I guess. They have this way of making their point without saying it outright, so we kids have to figure out the answer.”

  “That’s better than how my parents handle it. They come right out and tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

  “I think I’d rather my parents would do that with this whole Paul issue. I don’t know what they have against him. Or against my being involved with him.”

  “Why don’t you ask them?” Vicki suggested. “Your parents would tell you what was wrong if you asked them, wouldn’t they?”

  “I guess.”

  “Or is it that you don’t want to know what they think?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t like living with this feeling that something is wrong all the time.”

  “I know what you mean. I felt that way when my relationship with the Lord was all messed up.”

  Sierra brushed away the thought that she might have a similar problem. She considered herself a strong Christian. She had been for years. What could be wrong with her relationship with God?

  Then an afterthought floated past. How long had it been since she had spent time talking to God or reading her Bible? A long time—weeks. But she had been busy—very busy. Certainly God understood that. It didn’t change anything. He still loved her unconditionally, and she was ready to defend her faith on a moment’s notice. And she was working on the hotline. People who fall away from God don’t volunteer to work on a hotline, do they?

  The knot in Sierra’s stomach tightened. She had ordered the peppermint tea because she knew it was good for stomachaches. Now she lifted the mug of steaming liquid to her lips and sipped eagerly yet cautiously. She wanted to be soothed, not burned.

  The thought stuck with Sierra. That’s all she wanted from so many of the things going on in her life. She yearned for a warm, comforting relationship with Paul. She didn’t want to get burned or have her heart broken, as Amy had warned. Sierra wanted to have a calm, soothing talk with her parents without getting fired up and burning all the bridges she had built with them over the years. Her “soothe, not burn” thoughts even applied to Amy. She never wanted her actions to burn out of control the way they had Friday night.

  “I don’t think Amy is going to show up,” Sierra said.

  Vicki shrugged. “If she doesn’t, I’ll call her. I think it’s important we don’t all give up on what started between us last week. If Amy tells me she has a problem with you, you’ll agree to talk it through, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Sierra said. She still felt foolish about what had happened at The Beet. What was it Paul had said to her when they first met? Something about her one day growing into her zeal. Obviously, that hadn’t happened yet. She considered herself mature enough to leave home in June and move to Scotland; yet here she was, unable to keep her most important relationships in balance.

  “And if you don’t mind my saying this, Sierra, I think you should sit down and talk to your parents real soon so you can get this conflict about Paul settled.”

  “I know,” Sierra said. She sipped her peppermint tea and found it brought little comfort.

  Amy never showed up, which made Sierra feel even worse. She went home and crawled into bed. When her mother came up to check on her, Sierra said she felt as though she was coming down with something, and she didn’t want any dinner. She slept fitfully for about an hour and then sat up, turned on the light, and finished her letter to Paul.

  Is it that I’m too much of a perfectionist? I want everything to be just right. I want my friends to like me, I want my parents not to be mad at me, I want everything to work out and be peaceful. But right now it seems nothing is. Well, some things are okay, I guess. I don’t want this letter to be a total downer for you. It’s not like there’s anything wrong. It’s just that a lot of things don’t feel completely right. Do you know what I mean?

  Sierra stopped writing and sighed. She read the letter, beginning with what she had written in class. The whole letter was nothing but a bunch of words that rambled over the pages and went nowhere. Sierra crumpled it up and tossed the paper ball toward her trash can. That wasn’t the kind of letter she wanted Paul to read on the train. Her crazy string of pathetic words was not what he needed for encouragement. Since that’s what his letters brought her, Sierra knew her letters should bring him the same thing. She refused to let herself write to him when she was so distraught.

  A tear pushed its way to the corner of Sierra’s eye. “I can’t do anything right,” she accused herself. “What’s wrong with me? I can’t even write to Paul anymore. And my relationship with Paul is the most important thing in my life.”

  Hearing herself state her feelings aloud shocked Sierra. She repeated her words to make sure she had heard them correctly.

  “Paul is the most important thing in my life.”

  That was a sobering revelation. Had Paul taken the place in her heart where God had always been? Years ago she had decided her relationship with Christ was the most important one and always would be. Sometimes, when she informed others that such was the case, her words ca
rried a bragging tone, but she had confessed that and gone on. Her bragging hadn’t changed God’s place in the very center of the garden of her heart.

  Now when she closed her eyes and tried to imagine her heart’s garden, she couldn’t see the Lord anywhere. Instead, she saw images of Paul. And it wasn’t that Paul had forced himself into that place in her heart. She had put him there. She had also slowly but surely started to ignore God and had stopped spending time with Him. The hollow aching in her stomach began to make sense.

  “Sierra?” Her mom called to her from the other side of the closed bedroom door and knocked softly. The door opened, and Mrs. Jensen stepped in, holding the remote phone in her hand. “It’s Tawni. She wants to talk to you.”

  eighteen

  “HELLO?” Sierra adjusted herself on the bed as her mother handed her the phone and left the room.

  “Hi. Mom says you’re not feeling well.” Tawni’s voice sounded sympathetic.

  “I’m okay.”

  “I hope you don’t have the flu. It’s been going around here. They say it’s pretty bad this year.”

  “I think I’ll be okay.” Sierra plunged in before Tawni had a chance to say any more. “Tawni, I still feel bad about saying the thing about Reno at the restaurant. I know it bothered you a lot. I’m sorry.”

  “It did bother me,” Tawni said. “It bothered me more than it should have. I’m sorry, too.”

  Sierra felt that at least with this relationship she could begin to breathe a little easier. Maybe she should open up to Tawni and tell her about the revelation regarding how Sierra had made Paul too much the center of all her thoughts, feelings, and hopes.

  But before Sierra could start, Tawni said, “I wanted to tell you what happened today because I know you’ve been praying for me.”

  Sierra looked down. She couldn’t tell her sister that she hadn’t prayed for anyone or anything for many weeks.

  “I received a phone call from Lina. Lina Rasmussen. My birth mother.”