Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 2

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “Randy tells me these are the best donuts in town,” Drake said. He ran a hand over his dark hair, taming all the wayward strands into place.

  “Actually, we serve only cinnamon rolls, no donuts. Mrs. Kraus is considering getting a frozen yogurt machine, though.”

  “Two cinnamon rolls, then,” Drake said.

  “With lots of frosting,” Randy added. “You always have to remind Sierra about the extra frosting.”

  “Are these boys friends of yours?” Jody asked.

  “This is Drake and Randy,” Sierra said. “And, yes, under pressure, I will admit that I know them both.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jody said. “Do you want something to drink with your rolls?”

  “I’ll have a mocha latte,” Drake said.

  Randy ordered two milks, and Sierra quickly said, “What you really need to go with those milks is a taco.”

  She was glad to see that Randy understood her teasing immediately and said, “No, no. Milk goes with cinnamon rolls, not tacos. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “They have tacos here?” Drake asked.

  “No,” Sierra told him. “It’s a little joke, that’s all.”

  Drake glanced at Randy, who was still grinning, and then he looked back at Sierra. She realized that she had hinted at something she never thought she would. Private jokes are common between boyfriends and girlfriends, and Drake seemed to be reading their expressions to see how close the two of them actually were.

  For some reason, that made Sierra feel uncomfortable. She scooped up their cinnamon rolls as the two of them pooled their cash.

  “You see,” she began to explain to Drake, “I like milk with tacos, and Randy thinks that’s weird.”

  “I like milk with tacos,” Drake said.

  “See?” Sierra challenged Randy. Her silver bracelets clanged against the side of the cash register as she rang up their order.

  “So, is this what we’re having at Amy’s next week?” Drake asked. “Tacos and milk?”

  “No. Actually, she was just here. She’ll be sorry she missed you. Didn’t she tell you what we’re having?” Sierra asked.

  The guys shook their heads and reached for their rolls and drinks.

  “Then I won’t tell either,” Sierra said. “It’ll be a surprise.”

  Drake and Randy stepped to the side, making room for the next customer as they chomped into their rolls.

  After Sierra had helped the last two people in line, Randy stepped back up to the register and said, “We think what you and Amy are doing is really cool.”

  “You haven’t tried our cooking yet,” Sierra warned. “You might want to reserve your opinion until after you’ve lived through the experience.”

  “I’m willing to risk it,” Drake said, looking at her with an extra-warm smile that made her feel funny. He was such a contrast to Randy—taller, with striking dark features, broad shoulders, and that firm jaw, which he was now sticking out as he smiled.

  If Amy were here, Sierra thought, she would think Drake was flirting with me.

  But Sierra knew that Amy had little to worry about. Flirting back had never been at the top of Sierra’s skills.

  ON SUNDAY EVENING, a little after eight o’clock, Granna Mae and Sierra were sitting on the porch swing. That day Granna Mae had been lucid. Wes and Sierra had gone to church with her and to lunch afterward at her favorite restaurant. She had taken a nap in the afternoon while Sierra finished her paper and Wes took their St. Bernard, Brutus, for a run. Sierra had fixed grilled cheese sandwiches for supper, and Granna Mae had eaten hers with one dill pickle and a cup of strong black coffee, sipped from her favorite china cup.

  All was normal. Sierra and Granna Mae had gone for a stroll around the block and now sat on the porch, chatting about birds. Cody and Katrina had dropped off Sierra’s little brothers that afternoon, and Gavin and Dillon were on the front lawn wrestling with Wes and Brutus.

  The peaceful May evening had just pulled down its shades, welcoming the night sounds and deep-shadowed hues, when Dad pulled up in the van. He honked and called out the window his trademark “We’re homely-home-home.”

  The boys ran to greet Mom, Dad, and Tawni. In a few minutes, everyone was gathered on the front porch asking questions over Brutus’s incessant barking.

  “Well?” Wes said. “How did it go? What did you decide?”

  “Are you going to be a famous model?” Dillon asked.

  “Did your luggage arrive okay?” Sierra asked.

  “Do tell us, Nee-Nee,” Granna Mae said, using Tawni’s childhood nickname, which Tawni couldn’t stand.

  Tawni looked at Mom and Dad. They both nodded their go-ahead. Facing the inquiring faces, Tawni announced excitedly, “I’m going! I’m moving to Carlsbad.”

  Even though this was the response they all had expected, a moment of silence hung over them as they each read the delight and eagerness written on Tawni’s face.

  “That’s great!” Wes was the first one to find his voice.

  “Wow!” Sierra blurted out. “You’re really going.”

  Tawni nodded and flashed an appreciative smile at Mom and Dad. “I wish you could have all met Jeremy’s parents. They are such wonderful people.”

  “Yes, they certainly are,” Mom agreed.

  “Jeremy wasn’t too bad either,” Dad teased. “Tolerable. Not like that other guy in Pineville. What was his name? Marvin?”

  “Martin!” Sierra, Wes, Tawni, and Mom all answered in unison.

  “Right,” Dad said with a twinkle in his eye. “The Martian boy.”

  “I hope he wasn’t like this around Jeremy,” Sierra said.

  “No, thank goodness,” Tawni responded.

  Granna Mae tapped Sierra on the leg and said, “Now who is Jeremy?”

  Sierra leaned over and explained. “He’s the guy Tawni met when she and I went down to Southern California for Easter vacation. He’s friends with some of my friends from San Diego. Do you remember hearing about him? He’s Paul’s older brother.”

  A look of recognition came to Granna Mae’s sweet, soft face. “Oh, yes. Paul. I do like that Paul. He brought me daffies, you know.”

  “Yes,” Sierra said, “I remember. He visited you in the hospital.”

  “Yes, he did. I do like that Paul,” Granna Mae repeated.

  So do I, Sierra thought.

  “We’d better carry the luggage inside,” Dad said, turning to Wes, who was already following him to the van. “How was the weekend, son? We appreciate your coming up.”

  Sierra helped Granna Mae stand up as the women headed back into the house. Everything felt so right to Sierra at this moment. She had Granna Mae’s silky hand in hers, her little brothers were running into the backyard with hulking Brutus barking and following at a gallop. Everyone in her family except Cody, Katrina, and Tyler was there within her view. She loved the scent in the air after the rain, the excited tone in Tawni’s voice, the warm feeling that washed over her when Granna Mae said Paul’s name.

  Sierra wanted everything to freeze right there, even the moths on the screen door. This was her home, her family, her life. She didn’t want it to change. Truth be told, she didn’t want Tawni to leave.

  How could she possibly feel this way? And since she did, how could she tell her sister?

  An hour later, the two of them were alone in their room. Tawni bubbled over the details as she unpacked. Wearing her favorite pj’s, Sierra was curled up in bed taking in every word.

  Tawni seemed to have come alive since this adventure began. She was excited about everything. Already she had told Sierra about their meeting with the modeling agent on Saturday and how the agent has said he thought Tawni had a good chance of finding work right away. She also had explained to Sierra how ecstatic Jennifer was that Tawni would be coming to live with them. Now she was recounting that she would request a transfer to a Southern California Nordstrom’s on Monday and move down as soon as she could. Everything seemed perfect.r />
  Except for the pierced feeling in the center of Sierra’s heart. She wanted to protest, “You can’t leave. Not yet.” She never had expected she would feel this way.

  “I’m glad for you, Tawni. I really am. I just can’t believe you’re going,” Sierra said, taking a deep breath. “Actually, I wish you weren’t going. I’m going to miss you something fierce!”

  In one fluid motion, Tawni swished across the room and flung her arms around Sierra’s neck. She gave Sierra a light hug and graced her cheek with a kiss.

  “Think of it this way: You’ll have the whole room to yourself.” Tawni’s smile remained in place as she fluttered back to the nearly empty suitcase.

  How can she be so casual about this? Sierra thought. I’m opening myself up to her for one of the first times ever, and she’s being sweet and kissing me. Why wasn’t it like this before? Will it ever be like this for us again?

  SIERRA HAD LITTLE TIME to contemplate her relationship with her sister during the next week. On Monday, in Mr. Rykert’s class, they spent the period in their teams discussing their outreach projects. Randy had some notes on what they were supposed to do and started to suggest who should do what.

  Vicki pulled a ponytail holder from her wrist and twisted her hair into it. “Will you guys excuse me a minute? I’ll be right back.” She went over to the corner where Amy and Byron were sitting and started talking to them. Amy and Vicki had been close friends when Sierra started attending this school in the middle of the year. Then Vicki began to date a senior, and Amy seemed ready for a new friend. That’s when she and Sierra started to do things together.

  “We’re scheduled to go to the Highland House Tuesday and Friday,” Randy said. “The director asked if we could tell a Bible story and maybe sing a song with the kids. Then we’ll spend the rest of the time helping them with homework and playing with them.”

  Tre looked indifferent. Sierra couldn’t tell if he was with them or not.

  “You want to organize the story?” Randy asked, looking at Sierra.

  “Sure. Sounds easy enough.”

  By the next afternoon, when the four of them stood inside the meeting room at the Highland House, Sierra discovered she had spoken too soon. Telling a story to this bunch of kids was not easy. Even sitting on the floor and listening was more than most of them could handle after being in school all day.

  Sierra had worked until almost midnight cutting out, pasting, and coloring Bible characters that she had fastened to pencils so she could hold them up as puppets while she told the story of the prodigal son. She had enough puppets so that Randy, Vicki, and Tre could all help her hold them as she did the storytelling.

  Tre didn’t understand what she wanted him to do, so he retreated to a far corner of the large room to watch. Vicki didn’t get into the spirit of the activity and spent all her time telling the children to hush.

  But Randy jumped in enthusiastically, especially when it was his turn to hold up the pigs from the pigpen where the prodigal son had his change of heart. Randy had those pig puppets dancing and snorting and stealing the show. The kids laughed and started to imitate the pig noises.

  “Randy,” Sierra whispered, “the prodigal is supposed to realize he doesn’t want to stay in there with the pigs!”

  Randy kept the pigs dancing and leaned over to answer without taking his eyes off his captive audience. “Hey, at least they’re listening. Come on, hit ’em with the moral of the story while we have their attention.”

  Sierra tried to conclude with the point that the young man returned home and his father was watching and waiting for him. Only, Vicki had the father puppet, and she held it out in front of her like a lit sparkler she was afraid would get sparks on her.

  “And God is just like that,” Sierra concluded, feeling frustrated with Vicki that she wasn’t making the father-God figure a little more appealing. “He loves us and wants us to come to Him. He wants us to say we’re sorry for all the wrong things we’ve done, and He wants us to turn our lives over to Him.”

  The puppets were then put to the side, and Sierra was the only one standing before the kids. She was losing their attention fast.

  “If any of you would like to do that,” she said, feeling herself stumbling over her words, “if you would like to pray and give your life over to God, then we’d like to talk to you afterward.”

  Several kids were meandering to the back of the room, anticipating the opening of the double doors so they could be released to play.

  “Before you go,” Sierra said, her voice rising and carrying a bit of a desperate edge to it, “I’d like to pray with you guys. Everyone please stop where you are and close your eyes.”

  She waited a moment, looking around the room. Only two little girls in the front closed their eyes, and one of them started to peek.

  “Come on, you guys,” Randy said loudly, stepping next to Sierra. “Stop where you are and close your eyes.”

  Now they were all looking at Randy, including the two girls who had previously had their eyes closed.

  “Better go ahead and pray,” Randy muttered to Sierra.

  Sierra closed her eyes and bowed her head, knowing she was probably the only one in the room doing so. Her prayer was four short lines and her “Amen” came out faster than ever she imagined it would.

  “Okay!” Randy called over the kids’ rumbling. “You’re dismissed.” He didn’t need to say it twice.

  Tre, Vicki, and Randy followed the herd of noisy kids out the doors, leaving Sierra to pick up.

  Well, that was a bomb, Sierra thought in disgust. And look at this floor! How could these kids have made such a mess in so short a time?

  Smashed paper cups, left over from snack time, were everywhere. Some had been shredded into tiny bits and sprinkled across the floor like confetti. Muttering to herself, Sierra grabbed a trash can and began cleaning up the cups.

  They didn’t hear a word I said. What a disaster!

  “Prodigals seem to be your specialty,” a male voice behind her said.

  “Hardly,” Sierra said dryly, without looking up.

  “Why? You think they don’t ever change, Sierra?”

  It was his voice, saying her name. Holding her breath, Sierra turned and looked into the face she had carried around in her memory for months. Paul’s.

  SIERRA FELT THE BLOOD rushing to her cheeks and found her voice had taken a sudden vacation without telling her.

  Paul stood only a few feet away, looking casual and unruffled. His thick, wavy brown hair fell across his broad forehead, giving him the look of a windblown adventurer. He was clean shaven, and a hint of sunburn flashed across his cheeks and his thin, straight nose. Or was it possible that Paul was blushing as well?

  He held the prodigal puppet in his hand and twirled the pencil between his fingers, spinning it back and forth. He didn’t speak but gazed at her through clear blue-gray eyes that smiled at her even though his lips remained still.

  “Hi,” Sierra managed to squeak out. She brushed her hair from her face and tried to take a deep breath. Her heart pounded wildly, and she felt her lips quiver as she tried to form a smile.

  “Hi,” Paul said calmly. “What happened to your boots?”

  “You mean my dad’s old cowboy boots?”

  He nodded.

  “The sole came off the right boot. I haven’t taken them in to be fixed yet.” He remembers what I was wearing when we first met.

  “I never had a chance to thank you for the flowers you took to Granna Mae in the hospital. She really appreciated them.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Good. Great, really. She’s doing fine.” Stop yourself, Sierra. You sound like a parrot!

  The room grew silent. Sierra and Paul held each other’s gaze for a long, uninterrupted moment. For some reason, Sierra felt herself calming down and drawing closer to Paul even though she hadn’t moved an inch.

  “I want to tell…” Sierra began.

  “There’s something…”
Paul said at the same instant.

  They both released a nervous laugh, followed by a “You first,” which also came out in unison.

  “Go ahead,” Paul said. This time he was smiling at her, not only with his eyes, but also with his lips.

  “I, um…well…” Sierra couldn’t get her thoughts and her words to cooperate. Part of her wanted to run into Paul’s arms and say, “I’ve been praying my little heart out for you, and here you are at a Christian outreach mission. Does this mean my prayers have been answered? Are you done with walking away from the Lord?”

  Another part of her was still in shock at suddenly seeing him. That part of her wanted to turn and run like the wind.

  Suddenly, the double doors burst open, and two little girls with small braids all over their heads called out, “There you are, Paul. Come turn the jump rope for us.”

  Paul didn’t answer them but kept staring at Sierra.

  “Come on,” they cried, running over and grabbing his arms.

  Paul reached over and gently tapped Sierra on the forearm with the first two fingers on his right hand. “We need to talk sometime,” he said in a low voice.

  The persistent girls pulled at him, and he added, “By the way, Clint really appreciated the rolls.”

  “Clint?”

  “Last week,” Paul said as the girls urged him to come with them. “I saw you on the sidewalk out front. I saw you give Clint the bag, which he told me was filled with cinnamon rolls.”

  “That was you on the porch?” Sierra asked.

  Paul nodded and allowed himself to be dragged from the room. As he passed Sierra, a fresh-from-the-forest scent touched her nose.

  “Whose turn is it to jump first today?” he asked, wrapping an arm around each of the girls.

  The doors closed behind them, and Sierra lowered herself to the floor with a plop. There she sat, stunned, trying to absorb what had just happened. She knew her friend Katie would call this a “God-thing,” this coincidence that Paul just happened to be at the same place where she was assigned to do her service project. But why? What was he doing there? Obviously, the kids knew him, so he had been coming for a while. Did he work there for pay? Was he a volunteer? Why would he volunteer to help? This was the last activity she would have pictured him doing based on her first impression of him. But he seemed changed.