Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 4 Sierra Jensen Collection, Vol 4

by Robin Jones Gunn

  An awkward silence fell over the group. Reality was setting in.

  Tre was the one who finally spoke for them all. “That’s the end of our band.”

  three

  “YOU GUYS STILL HAVE THIS SUMMER,” Margo said, leaning forward in the booth. “You have two more bookings at The Beet, and I’m sure some others will come up.”

  “Just when we were getting pretty good,” Warner said.

  Again silence came over the small group. To Sierra it felt like the time she had stayed in her seat at the end of a movie she had particularly loved. All the fast action and bright images were replaced with a long list of names on a black screen, and yet she had sat there, absorbing the soft violin music and waiting for all the names to run to the very end. Not until she saw the rectangular logo that said “Dolby Sound” did she really believe the endearing movie was over.

  Their senior year wasn’t over yet. And this celebration dinner wasn’t over, either.

  “Anyone save room for dessert?” their waiter asked, stepping up and clearing some of the empty plates.

  “Yes!” Sierra answered for them. “And would you ask Amy if she would come over to our table?”

  “Certainly. Would you like to see the dessert tray?”

  “I already know I want the tiramisu,” Sierra said. “And don’t you have some kind of cherry tea?”

  “Yes, cherry almond. I’ll bring you a pot of hot tea. Anyone else?”

  The rest of the group placed their dessert orders, and a few minutes later Amy appeared at the table.

  “When do you have your break?” Sierra asked.

  “I don’t know if I get one tonight. I’m here for only a couple of hours.”

  “Could you see if you could get just a three-minute break? I was hoping you could pull up a chair and have dessert with us.”

  “I’ll ask,” Amy said. “It’s really slow tonight.”

  The desserts arrived, and so did Amy with a chair. “I have five minutes,” she said, “so everybody talk fast. What’s the plan for our graduation party?”

  Sierra waited for someone to say something and then remembered she had offered her house. “We haven’t decided anything yet,” she said. “What do you have in mind?”

  Amy’s dark eyes lit up. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

  None of them ventured a guess.

  “I’ve always wanted to make a fancy dinner. My uncle said he could get us the lobsters and anything else we needed.”

  Sierra remembered all too well how she and Amy had planned every detail of a lobster dinner a year ago. They were going to serve the feast to Randy and to Drake. When their dating lives didn’t materialize as they’d hoped, their dinner plans had dissolved.

  “Sounds good to me,” Randy said.

  “That would be fun,” Vicki agreed.

  “What if I don’t like lobster?” Warner said. “Can we have something else, too? Like lasagna?”

  “You don’t like lobster?” Amy said.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had it. But I know I like lasagna.” Warner reminded Sierra of an oversized, spoiled kid.

  “You’ll like lobster,” Amy promised. “We’ll make it with drawn butter, and you’ll love it.”

  “So, when are we going to have the party?” Margo asked. “The same day as graduation?”

  “My family has company coming for my graduation,” Vicki said. “What if we did it the night before? Sort of a pre-graduation party just for us?”

  “Are you guys going on the senior getaway next weekend?” Margo asked. “I heard that not many people signed up.”

  “I signed up,” Vicki said. “But when I found out it was three hundred and fifty dollars for only two nights on the coast, I took my name off the list. I have no idea why they made it so expensive. I sure can’t afford that. And with all the other graduation expenses, my parents couldn’t afford it, either.”

  Warner gave a full report on the senior getaway plans. A group of parents had organized a weekend on the Oregon coast for the seniors, since Royal Academy didn’t have a prom or senior dinner or anything like the other schools in town. The parents had reserved two floors of rooms at a hotel on the beach. They had made it clear the guys would be on one floor and the girls on another. There would be sufficient chaperons and only two students per room. Lights-out would be at midnight. The well-meaning organizers had listed more rules on their flyer than they had listed benefits. And the highlights were supposed to be the aquarium and miniature golfing—not exactly activities at the top of the seniors’ list of ways to celebrate a milestone in their lives—especially not for that price.

  “I think that whole senior getaway is going to crash. Nobody has the money to go,” Vicki said.

  “Didn’t we have to sign up by last Friday?” Sierra said. “I don’t know anyone who’s going.”

  “Then we’ll do our own party,” Margo said. “I think a dinner is a great idea.” She flashed a smile at Tre, and Sierra wondered if this was going to turn into a date event. Sierra quickly did the math. Three “natural” matched-up couples were at the table right now. The only unmatched ones were Sierra and Warner. Her skin began to feel clammy at the thought. Then she remembered Paul was coming and laughed aloud.

  “What?” Amy asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing. Let’s plan the party. Whatever you guys want is fine with me, as long as it’s after the 12th.”

  “I have to get back to work,” Amy said. “I’ll call you later tonight, Sierra, and we can plan everything, okay?”

  “Great,” Sierra said. Her heart was soaring at the thought of Paul’s being at a fancy dinner and fun party with her friends. He would love them, and they would love him. The thought was even more fanciful because her mom was the only one who knew about Paul’s coming. It was kind of sweet to have a secret with just her mom.

  Never being great at keeping secrets, Sierra told Vicki her news on their way back to the dealership. Randy had gotten a ride with Tre and Margo because they were going to check on Drake and the parade preparations. As soon as Sierra had Vicki in the car, she told her what Paul had said in his letter.

  Vicki squealed and grabbed Sierra’s arm in her excitement for her friend. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me right away!”

  “So much happened so fast.”

  “That is really great news, Sierra! I’m so happy for you. What else did he say?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even finish reading the letter. I only read the first few paragraphs. Then Randy showed up, and his news superseded my news. Then we went to pick you up, and we were all wondering about your letter—”

  “My letter,” Vicki said, interrupting Sierra and suddenly sobering. “It’s awful not to know if I’m going to Rancho now that Randy has been accepted. And you too. I thought about it at dinner when Tre was talking about the band breaking up. I got really depressed. We need to make our graduation party something special, as Amy was saying.”

  “I agree,” Sierra said.

  “And you know what else I realized at dinner?” Vicki said. “Our Monday afternoons at Mama Bear’s are going to be over, too.”

  For several months now, Sierra, Amy, and Vicki had met every Monday afternoon at four o’clock at Mama Bear’s Bakery for what Amy called “soul cleansing.” Sierra thought Amy’s term was a little too cosmic for what they talked about. To Sierra, Monday afternoons with her two friends meant an uninterrupted time of deep, honest conversation in a quiet corner with a pot of tea and a shared cinnamon roll. Amy, Vicki, and Sierra hadn’t always been on peaceful terms. So when the three of them forged this unlikely friendship triangle, they all felt a common desire to do whatever it took to hold on to the fragile bonds.

  When they had visited colleges in the spring, Amy had made it clear she didn’t want to attend a Christian school. That was because ever since her parents had divorced last fall, she had questioned her beliefs in God and the church. Why would she want to go to a place that taught stuf
f she wasn’t sure was right?

  Sierra thought Amy’s problem was that she held too much inside. Even though she called their time a “soul cleansing,” she was the one who opened up the least. She listened, though—and asked questions. Vicki and Sierra had learned over the past few months that love is patient, especially when a friend is hurting and needs someone to be there, someone who genuinely loves her and isn’t bent on forcing change before she is ready.

  Often the Monday afternoons had been the highlight of Sierra’s week—especially during the weeks she didn’t receive a letter from Paul. She had two friends who would listen to her talk at length about whatever was on her mind, and Sierra had learned she could trust Vicki and Amy to keep confidences. If it was a soul cleansing for Amy, their time together was a fragrant sanctuary for Sierra.

  “You know what I’ll miss the most?” Vicki said as Sierra came to a stoplight. “I’ll miss the way I always feel when I wake up on Monday mornings. I used to hate to get up. Then, when we started to meet, I’d hop out of bed and think about what to wear and how the day couldn’t go fast enough before we could get together.”

  Sierra smiled. The light changed, and she pulled into the intersection and began to make a left turn, sanctioned by the green arrow overhead. The terrible sound of squealing brakes came barreling toward them, and Vicki screamed. A pickup truck swerved to miss Sierra’s car and stopped dead center in the intersection. All the other cars shrieked to a halt. Miraculously, no one was hit.

  It appeared the driver of the pickup had decided to run the yellow light and then had changed his mind at the last minute but couldn’t stop his vehicle. Everyone sat frozen in their cars, looking at each other. The pickup backed up slowly. The guy in the car behind Sierra honked his horn. The turn signal was now yellow, so she quickly put the car in gear and motored through the mess and onto the street that led to the dealership.

  “Look at me,” Vicki said, holding out her hand. “I’m shaking. How can you be so calm? We could have been killed, Sierra. A few more feet and that pickup would have smashed us.”

  “I know,” Sierra said quietly. She drove with extra caution to the dealership and pulled into the side area where Vicki’s car was still parked. Then Sierra turned off the engine, and the two sobered friends sat silently for a few minutes.

  “How do people make it through life if they don’t know for sure they’re going to heaven when they die?” Vicki asked. She turned in her seat and faced Sierra. “I mean, stuff like that happens to everyone, doesn’t it? Near brushes with disaster and split seconds where only a few feet mean the difference between life and death.”

  Sierra nodded, still shaken inside.

  “If I didn’t know for sure I was saved and that the instant I die I’ll be in heaven, I think an experience like we just had would completely terrify me. I’d be traumatized for life.”

  “I know,” Sierra said. “It’s moments like this that I get this sick feeling inside when I think about friends like Amy who say they’re uninterested in settling their relationships with God.”

  Vicki and Sierra exchanged glances of painful agreement.

  “Let’s talk to her on Monday,” Vicki said. “We can say it in a way that she’ll listen to us. I know we can.”

  Sierra agreed.

  After making sure Vicki got safely into her house, Sierra cautiously drove home. Amy called about ten minutes after Sierra was in her room. Sierra’s dad brought the cordless phone to her and asked her to return it downstairs when she was finished with her conversation because the batteries were running low.

  “Amy?” Sierra said.

  “Hi. I asked my uncle about the lobsters, and he said he would give me a price on them tomorrow. I thought if everyone chipped in, it wouldn’t be so much. For the salad and dessert, I asked him if we could buy them from the restaurant, too. Then all we would have to do is boil the lobsters and get some bread and maybe a vegetable. What do you think?”

  Sierra moved some clothes and papers from the overstuffed chair by her open window and said, “Sounds great. I haven’t talked to my parents yet. Why don’t I call you back after I ask them? How many people do you think we’ll have?”

  “Around ten to twelve is what I told my uncle.”

  “Guess who one of those ten to twelve will be,” Sierra said, smiling mischievously into the receiver.

  “Wes?” Amy guessed. “No; guess again.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s someone you would never guess.”

  “Not Nathan!” Amy said in a panic. “Randy wouldn’t invite him, would he? I know they’ve become good friends from The Beet, but Randy knows how awkward that would be for me, doesn’t he?”

  “Don’t worry,” Sierra said, assuring Amy that her old boyfriend wouldn’t be on the guest list. “It’s not Nathan. But it is a guy.”

  Amy sounded frustrated as she said, “Come on, Sierra, just tell me.”

  Sierra smiled and said the one name that was often on her lips in silent prayer. The name of the guy who had written to her for almost a year. The name she thought about daily but rarely spoke aloud. “Paul.”

  four

  “PAUL?” AMY REPEATED. “He’s coming to your graduation?”

  “Yes. I just received the letter today. He arrives on the 12th, and he’ll be here for four days.”

  “Oh, Sierra, you must be in heaven!”

  Amy’s choice of words struck an all-too-recent memory, and Sierra abruptly changed topics in response to the knot she felt in her stomach. “I want to ask you something, Amy, and I don’t want you to get upset.”

  “Okay. Sure.” Amy could change her moods faster than anyone Sierra had ever known. At the moment Amy was in a good mood, which was why Sierra forged ahead.

  “When I was taking Vicki home, we were nearly hit by a pickup truck. It made us both start thinking about dying and how we know we’re going to heaven. And, Amy, I know we agreed not to talk about this stuff with you, but I have to tell you, it really scared me to think you might not know you’re going to heaven because you say you’re undecided about God.”

  Silence was the only response on the other end of the line.

  “Amy, don’t be mad. And don’t hang up. I just had to say that because I really, really care. Amy, I love you, and I don’t want you to go to hell.”

  A thunderous “Click!” sounded in Sierra’s ear, followed by the lonely whine of the dial tone.

  What have I done? Sierra dropped her head into her hands and reviewed her last few sentences. Why did I say it that way? Why didn’t I wait until Monday, as Vicki suggested, and let Vicki do the talking? Why, oh why do I blast out my thoughts and feelings like that?

  Before Sierra could thoroughly beat herself up, the phone rang in her lap. She grabbed it, pushed the button, and answered with, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

  The party on the other end didn’t respond. Then it dawned on Sierra that the caller might be someone other than Amy.

  “Amy?” she ventured.

  “Sierra?” the male voice answered.

  “Yes.”

  Deep laughter came to her over the receiver. She had no idea who was on the other end. “I take it you and Amy are having another go-round.”

  “Something like that,” Sierra said cautiously, trying to place the voice and wondering why he said “go-round.”

  “How are things for you, other than with Amy?”

  “Pretty good,” she said slowly. “And with you?” She was hoping for a clue of any kind.

  The phone line began to crackle, and the guy’s answer was muffled and sounded too far away for Sierra to decipher.

  Oh no, the batteries are going! Sierra thought in a panic. “Can you call back?” she shouted into the phone. “If you can hear me, I’m going to hang up, and you’ll need to call back because this phone is going dead.”

  Suddenly, his voice was clear and loud once more. “Are you there?”

  “Yes, but I h
ave to get to a different phone. The batteries are going dead on this one. Can you just call back?”

  “Sure.”

  The phone line began to crackle again, and Sierra hung up. She headed downstairs, wondering who this caller could be. Then the realization struck her with such a “boom” that she screamed as she thudded down the last four stairs and skidded on the hardwood floor of the entryway in her stocking feet.

  Mr. Jensen came running from the living room with the remote-control switch in his hand. “What is it?”

  Sierra held out the dead phone. “It’s Paul! He just called, and I hung up on him.”

  Mrs. Jensen appeared from the living room, too, and said, “He’ll call back, won’t he?”

  The phone rang again, and Sierra pushed the button, but the phone kept ringing. Mr. Jensen took off for the phone in the den, and Sierra followed, hot on his heels. “Don’t you dare!” she called out to her dad.

  He grabbed the phone before Sierra could pull it from his grasp. Sierra’s dad had many fine qualities, but he had one serious, incurable flaw. He harassed any guy who called for his daughters. Now that Tawni had moved out, Mr. Jensen had doubled his teasing of Sierra’s guy friends. Poor Paul! He was calling from Scotland and wouldn’t understand her dad’s demented hobby. Paul might be the one to hang up this time.

  “Is this Paul?” Sierra heard her dad say when he answered the phone. She tried to pry the phone from his ear, but he was using both hands to hold it firmly in place.

  “This is Mr. Jensen, Paul. I’d like to know exactly what your intentions are toward my daughter.”

  “Daddy!” Sierra gritted out through clenched teeth. “Don’t do this! Can’t you just take up golf like a normal father?”

  Her dad’s eyebrows raised in seeming approval as he listened to Paul’s answer. “In that case, I’ll let you talk directly to her. That is, if she still wants to talk to you.”

  Sierra put one hand on her hip and held out her other hand to receive the phone.

  “Or, actually,” Mr. Jensen went on, dragging out the agonizing seconds for Sierra, “I should say, if you still want to talk to her. She dyed her hair blue yesterday and had all her teeth pulled. But the rash on her face is beginning to clear up.”