Sierra wanted to push her sister on the floor, mess up her hair, and tickle her until she laughed. However, the technique hadn’t worked when they were kids, and Sierra felt certain it wouldn’t work now either.
“Well, just know that I’m happy all this seems to be working out for you.”
“Thanks,” Tawni said, picking up from her nightstand the “To Do” list she had written neatly on a flowered tablet. “Oh, right,” Tawni muttered to herself. “Wrap thank-you gift for Jennifer’s parents.”
As Tawni set to work with her gift wrapping, Sierra retreated to the bathroom down the hall. Closing the door and locking it, she took a long look at herself in the mirror.
“What if I were beautiful like Tawni?” Sierra whispered to her reflection. “Would I want to run off to become a model? Or is it Jeremy she’s really chasing?” Sierra grabbed a handful of her wild, curly blond hair and pulled it back from her face. She turned to the left and studied her profile.
Facing the mirror again, she smiled and watched her slight dimple appear. Her clear blue-gray eyes stared back, scanning each feature. Nose, chin, eyebrows, cheeks. All normal, she decided. A few too many freckles across her nose, perhaps. But then, there were always her lips—her perfect lips. She made a kissy face in the mirror and wondered if she were a little old to be doing this kind of self-image seeking. Didn’t most girls do this when they were twelve?
At twelve, Sierra had been too busy riding horses and writing songs to stop and look in the mirror. At fourteen, she was still turning cartwheels in the yard with her younger brothers and raising rabbits for her 4-H project.
Now at sixteen, for the first time, Sierra realized she was almost grown up. Her family’s move from a small town in the northern California Sierra Nevada mountains to the city of Portland had a lot to do with that. Her trip to England had also matured her. At least while she was there, she fit right in with the older students.
Sierra knew she was about to be left in the wake of her eighteen-year-old sister’s departure. And all Sierra could think was that she wanted to go back and live her ideal childhood all over again. Who needed the pressure of striving to get straight A’s? Or the loss of an older sister right when they were starting to almost get along? And who needed a phantom like Paul in her life, anyway?
Sierra let out a huge sigh. She didn’t really feel like crying, but it would be nice to somehow expend these overwhelming emotions. Another long stare in the mirror brought a reflection of Paul to her mind. It must have been the eyes. Paul’s eyes were the same color as hers. At least that’s what the flight attendant had said when he looked at both of them sitting together on their flight to Portland.
With a tug at the drawer, Sierra pulled out her toothbrush, loaded it with toothpaste, and went to work scrubbing her teeth with all the vigor her emotions brought out.
I’ll never see Paul now that Tawni is going to San Diego. Jeremy has no reason to come here, so I have no reason to think I’ll ever see Paul again. He’s probably forgotten all about me.
The foaming toothpaste began to drip from the side of her mouth. Sierra made a funny face like a raging monster before spitting it out.
Amy’s right He is a dream I’ve made up. I do think about him too much.
She rinsed her mouth and took a close look at her gleaming smile.
And I’m probably too young for him anyway. Too impulsive and—what was it I told Randy the other day?—oh yeah, dangerous. I’m too dangerous for Paul.
Sierra grimaced fiercely at her reflection in the mirror.
Unexpectedly, some of Paul’s final words to her before they parted company in the airport baggage-claim area came back to her. “Don’t ever change, Sierra.”
Sierra stood before the bathroom mirror, gazing into her eyes, which had turned the shade of silent winter morning. In that instant, she remembered everything about Paul. The way he smelled like Christmas in Pineville, his searching blue-gray eyes, his leather jacket and Indiana Jones-style hat. The way he first approached her and spoke to her so openly.
Then, as Sierra had done a hundred times in the past few months, she closed her eyes and prayed for Paul.
THE NEXT NIGHT, Sierra sat home alone, except for Granna Mae, who was asleep upstairs. Settling in the swing on the front porch, Sierra picked at a box of raisins and listened to the plump doves cooing from the roof of the house across the street. Low clouds hung over the city, sending down a fine, warm mist.
Sierra felt so alone.
Randy, Amy, and Drake were on their way to the Blazers game at this very moment. Sierra had had to turn down the event because that afternoon Mom and Dad had left with Tawni. Someone needed to stay home and keep an eye on Granna Mae. Sierra was the only one available.
Earlier that afternoon, Sierra’s brother, Cody, had picked up the boys to keep them for the weekend at their home in Washington State, an hour’s drive away. Cody and his wife, Katrina, liked it when Gavin and Dillon came to their “ranch” and kept their son, Tyler, company. Three-year-old Tyler adored his young uncles.
Amy had called in a panic half an hour ago, asking Sierra’s advice on what to wear. As Amy began to describe the outfit she had on, she had hung up with a squeal before Sierra could make a suggestion. Drake had arrived early.
Sierra had tried to convince Granna Mae that a jaunt around the block would do her good. Granna Mae had broken her foot, and when the cast was removed not long ago, the doctor had encouraged her to exercise moderately. But tonight Granna Mae was weary and declined the offer, preferring the company of the television in her bedroom. Sierra had sat with her awhile watching a game show.
Within the first five minutes of the program, Granna Mae had nodded off. So Sierra had pulled a blanket over her and switched off the noisy television. The silence woke Granna Mae, and she irritably asked Sierra to “turn my program back on.”
Sierra had obliged her beloved grandmother and then tiptoed downstairs and out onto the porch, where she now sat in her bunny slippers with her raisins and thoughts of Paul.
Father God, are You tired of my praying about this guy? I don’t know what it is. I just want Paul to stay on track with You. When I met him, it seemed he was falling away. Please keep him close to Your heart. I know it’s his choice to obey You or to go his own way, but I pray that You’ll keep Your hand on him always.
It was unusually quiet, a strange occurrence around this old house. She thought back on how much things had changed. Her two older brothers had each left home, and now, if Tawni left, Sierra would be the oldest child there. Already she was experiencing the disadvantages of being the oldest, “responsible” child. She’d had to give up the basketball game to watch Granna Mae. In a small way, Sierra could understand why her sister was looking forward to being on her own, running her own schedule.
Sierra tapped the last raisin out of the box and scuffed in her bunny slippers back into the house, where she headed for her favorite room: the study. An entire wall was covered with built-in bookshelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling and were filled with old books Granna Mae had collected over the decades. Some of them were in her native tongue, Danish. Sierra flipped on the soft amber light by the overstuffed chair and glanced around the room. Dozens of books silently called out, inviting her to slip between their cozy covers and spend the evening with them.
In the back of her mind paraded the long list she had written in her notebook of all the studying she needed to do this weekend. Being a young woman of determination, Sierra shunned the beckoning books and turned on the computer at her father’s desk. The familiar soft whirring sound of the “brain” coming to life put Sierra into a studious mood. The assignment before her called for a ten-page report. She mentally increased that to fifteen pages since she was conscientiously collecting every extra-credit point possible.
For almost an hour, she typed away furiously. Distant footsteps sounded on the wooden floor on the entryway. Sierra assumed Granna Mae had awakened and was coming downstairs for a snack. To
Sierra’s surprise, Wesley, her older brother, poked his head into the library.
“What are you doing here?” Sierra said.
Wes greeted her with a kiss on top of her head. “I didn’t want you to be stuck here alone all weekend.” Wes attended the University of Oregon in Corvallis, about a two-hour drive south of Portland. She would never admit to having a favorite among her four brothers, but in a lot of ways she was closer to Wesley than to the others.
“Where’s Granna Mae?” he asked.
“Sleeping, I think. She was nodding off about an hour ago. I haven’t checked on her since.” Sierra clicked a few keys on the computer and closed down her project.
“You finished?” Wes asked.
“No, but a person can spend only so much time expounding on ‘the benefits of the Industrial Revolution’ on a Friday night before complete depression sets in.”
“Why aren’t you out with your friends tonight?” Wes seemed to have figured out the answer before he even finished his sentence. “Hey, I’m here now. I’ll keep an eye on Granna Mae. Why don’t you go do something? It’s not that late.”
“My friends are at a Blazers game.”
“Wealthy bunch you’re hanging out with these days.”
“Not really. They buy the cheap seats. What about you? No interesting women to keep you company on a Friday night?”
Wesley stood with one shoulder leaning against a bookcase, running his fingers through his wavy brown hair. A slight smile graced his five o’clock-shadowed jawline. He looked just like their dad, or at least how their dad must have looked in his younger days before the crown of his head went bald.
“Not this week,” Wes said casually. Sierra knew Wes had been interested in someone last Thanksgiving, only the woman hadn’t seemed to return the interest. He hadn’t talked about anyone since then.
“You want to do something?” Wes asked.
“Like what?”
“Rent a movie or go out for coffee.”
“Sure. Do you think we should leave Granna Mae?”
“You’re right,” Wes said. “I forgot we’re the only ones home with her. I think this is the quietest it’s ever been around here.”
“Strange, isn’t it?” Sierra said. “It was worse the weekend I was alone with her when she had her surgery. This house is kind of creepy when it’s empty.”
“Have you checked the refrigerator yet?” Wes asked. “Is there any food?”
“I found some raisins,” Sierra said, knowing that her brother hated them. Raisins, prunes, figs—any wrinkly fruit, he automatically boycotted.
Wes made a face. “Let’s check on Granna Mae. She might be awake and feel like running out with us for a pizza.”
“I doubt it, Wes,” Sierra said with a laugh. “She’s a grandma, not a college student.”
“That’s part of her problem,” Wes said, leading the way upstairs. “Everyone treats her as if she can’t do anything for herself. Granna Mae is one hearty woman. She climbed into the tree house out back with me when I was fourteen. Remember that? We had a picnic, just the two of us.”
“Still, Wes,” Sierra said, lowering her voice, “that was what—nine years ago? A lot has happened since then.”
“People are only as old are they think they are,” Wes said, tapping gently on Granna Mae’s bedroom door before turning the knob to open it.
Granna Mae stood by the window in her flowered robe, looking out into the night. The television was turned off. Mellow jazz music floated softly from her radio.
“I told you she would be up,” Wes said to Sierra. Then raising her voice, he said, “How’s my favorite lady?”
Granna Mae turned, startled to see them. Her eyes seemed preoccupied as they looked past Sierra and Wesley. Sierra involuntarily glanced over her shoulder to see if someone else stood behind her. Of course, no one was there. Granna Mae was experiencing one of her short-circuits of the brain.
“Yes?” she said cordially. She gave no indication that she had any idea who Sierra or Wesley was.
“I…” Wesley began. “Or rather, we thought we’d check on you.”
It seemed to Sierra he wasn’t prepared for this disengaged greeting from his dear grandma. Then she realized that he wasn’t home often. Sierra didn’t know how many times he had seen Granna Mae like this.
“Yes,” Granna Mae said evenly. “I’m fine.”
“Would you like us to bring you anything?” Sierra asked.
“It appears my luggage hasn’t arrived yet,” she said. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you check on it for me?”
Wes looked to Sierra. She gave him an affirming nod, and she said, “Sure. We can do that. Anything else?”
“No thank you.” She shuffled across the room to where her purse sat on an old embroidered footstool. “I’ll give you a nickel now and another if you return with my bags within the hour.”
Wes looked pale.
Sierra spoke up. “That’s awfully kind of you, but there’s no need. Really. It’s all complimentary.”
“Oh.” A pleased expression brushed over Granna Mae’s face. “Well, thank you.”
Sierra and Wes exited, closing the door behind them and making their way down the stairs in silence.
“Should we take some suitcases up there?” Wes asked.
“I don’t think so. If we do, she’ll only ask what they’re for. She doesn’t seem to stay on track with her scattered ideas. We should stay home for sure, though.”
“I agree,” Wes said. “Boy, that’s sure strange, seeing her like that.”
“I know.”
They entered the kitchen, and Wes tapped the light switch. The light turned on for a brief moment and then burned out.
“Whoa!” Wes said. “Where does Dad keep the light-bulbs? Out in his workshop?”
“In the basement, I think,” Sierra said. She kept in step with Wes as they searched for a lightbulb and then returned to the kitchen and made quick work of replacing the burned-out one.
Out of habit, Sierra shook the old bulb and heard the slight rattling of the metal threads. Right before she tossed it into the trash, she thought of how frustrating it must be for Granna Mae to have a mind that didn’t always make the connection, the way that burned-out bulb hadn’t. For years and years, the switch automatically turns on and off at command. Then one day—poof! The switch turned on as always, but the connection isn’t made. Sierra shuddered to think of the day Granna Mae would be gone.
The feeling somehow applied to Tawni as well. Her whole life, Sierra had shared a room with her sister. It was entirely possible that would soon change.
When Wes wasn’t looking, Sierra took the burned-out lightbulb and tucked it in a drawer instead of pitching it into the trash. Later, when he wasn’t around, she planned to take it up to her room.
SIERRA WORKED at Mama Bear’s bakery from eight to five on Saturday. Amy came in during Sierra’s lunch break, and they sat in the back room of the bakery eating broken bits of cinnamon rolls until they were sick of the gooey bakery goods. Amy talked nonstop about the game and Drake. Apparently, he had done everything right: opened the door for her, bought her a Coke, paid attention to her all night, and walked her to the door—the perfect gentleman. Amy was glowing.
“I told Drake about our plan to fix dinner for him and Randy, and he thought it was a great idea!”
“Did you say anything to Randy?” Sierra asked.
“Of course. He was sitting right there.”
“Amy!”
“What?”
Sierra knew it was best to go along with the whole scheme and try not to change Amy’s big plans. “Nothing,” she said, reaching for a napkin and wiping her sticky fingers. “Go ahead. What’s our plan?”
“Okay.” Amy’s dark eyes lit up. “Next Saturday, my house. We’ll have lobster, baked potatoes, and…what else?”
“Salad of some sort?” Sierra suggested.
“Caesar,” Amy decided. “And some kind of incredible
dessert. Chocolate, of course.”
“When are we going to make all this?” Sierra asked.
“We have to cook the lobsters fresh that night. I told you my uncle said he would give us four lobsters, didn’t I? He doesn’t usually serve them, but he can order them at discount, so he’s going to give them to us.”
“That’s nice of him.”
“Maybe he can get us some chocolate cheesecake,” Amy suggested. “I asked Drake, and he said he liked cheesecake.”
“I have a feeling Drake will like anything we serve him,” Sierra said. Then, because Amy looked at her strangely, she added, “And Randy, too. Have you ever met a guy who didn’t like to eat?”
“I have a cousin who hates pasta,” Amy said. “In our family, that’s like saying, ‘I hate to breathe air.’”
Sierra glanced at the clock above the sink and said, “I have to get back to work. Let me know if you want me to bring anything. And it’s next Saturday, right?”
“Right. I told them seven. That will give us a little time to get everything ready.”
“Sounds fun!” Sierra adjusted her apron as Amy exited through the back door. “See you,” she called out and then returned to the front counter where Jody was the only one helping a long line of customers.
“You should have called me,” Sierra said. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so busy.”
“They all came at once,” red-haired Jody answered. “One little cloudburst, and everyone wants coffee.” She turned the knob on the espresso machine, and Sierra stepped to the register to ring up the order.
Sierra glanced up to see two more customers enter—Randy and Drake. She smiled at them and kept ringing up orders as Jody expertly made one cappuccino after another. When Randy and Drake reached the front of the line, Sierra noticed that both had wet hair.
“Did you stop to take a shower on your way in?” she asked.
“It was the other way around. A shower took us,” Drake said.
“He was helping me with some of my Saturday regulars, and we had to stop right in the middle of one of the lawns, it was coming down so hard. I made the executive decision it was time for lunch.” Randy’s crooked smile lit up his face. He had such a friendly way about him. Sierra realized she felt comfortable and at ease whenever Randy was around—sort of the way she felt the night before when Wes showed up to help her with Granna Mae.
Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 2 Page 4