But it wasn’t Paul. It was Tre and Margo. Drake pulled in behind them. Cassie was with him, as well as Jen and Tara. Drake waved to Sierra. She waved back.
“I’m just dropping these guys off,” he said. “Cassie and I are going to a party at her house, but we might come back here later.”
“Okay,” Sierra called back from the edge of the porch. “Have fun, and I hope you guys do come back. Hi, Cassie.”
The girl in the front seat waved back at Sierra. By then the others were up the porch steps and were being introduced to their dinner.
“Can we mark them so we get the one we want? That one looks good,” Tara said.
“I’m going to see if we have an extra large cooking pot in the basement,” Mrs. Jensen said. “Wes, why don’t you move those lobsters into the kitchen? It’s hot out here on the porch. And I think they should have more water in the buckets.”
Another car pulled up, and again Sierra looked expectantly at the driver. It was Warner.
I thought he said he couldn’t come, she thought sullenly. She followed her mom into the house before any of her feelings about Warner showed themselves. “Did anyone listen to the answering machine since we came back?” she asked. “I was just wondering if Paul’s plane was delayed or anything.”
“I don’t think anyone has listened yet. Your father was trying to put up the volleyball net in the backyard in case you wanted to play later.”
“In dresses?” Sierra was beginning to feel as though this party were going downhill faster than a lobster could scamper out of a bucket.
“Well, later,” Mrs. Jensen said, heading for the basement. “If you end up changing. It’s up to you.” She took off down the stairs.
Wes entered the kitchen with the first bucket of dinner. The frightened fellows were clambering up the sides of the bucket. To Sierra, it resembled the muted sound of fingernails on a chalkboard, and suddenly she lost her appetite.
“I still have bread in the car,” Amy said as she entered the kitchen with a box of Caesar salad already prepared and packed in plastic bags. “Can you get it, Sierra?”
“I was going to check …” Sierra saw desperation on Amy’s face and decided checking the answering machine could wait. Besides, Sierra might go to Amy’s car and find Paul pulling into the driveway. “Sure,” Sierra said. “Anything else?”
“Well, I don’t want to be mean or anything, but are your brothers going to be around the whole time?” Amy looked at Sierra and seemed to notice for the first time they had on similar dresses. Amy’s expression grew to a deeper level of frustration.
“Oh,” Sierra teased, “you want me to tell Wesley to get lost?”
“No!” Amy said quickly. Then she looked agitated. “I meant Gavin and Dillon, and you know it.”
Sierra’s mom came up from the basement just then with a huge silver cooking pot. “Don’t worry, Amy,” Mrs. Jensen said. “This is your party. I have plans for the boys just as soon as I know you have everything you need.”
Amy looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sure we have everything. Thanks.”
Wes entered with the second batch of lobsters as Sierra headed for the car to bring in the bread. She wished she knew how long it would take Paul to get through the airport. When she had come back from England, her plane had landed in San Francisco first, and that’s where she had gone through customs. For some reason she remembered Jeremy saying that Paul’s flight was from Heathrow to Seattle, and then he would take a hopper down to Portland. He might have missed the connection at Seattle if his international flight was delayed.
Sierra tried not to worry. They still had a lot to do before they could serve their dinner, so maybe it was a good thing Paul wasn’t there yet. She carried the four bags of dinner rolls in her arms and joined the rest of the group in the kitchen.
Everyone was at work. Tawni wore an apron and was trying to talk Jeremy into wearing one, too, but he wasn’t cooperating. Randy was filling the cooking pot with water. Wes was cleaning up a mess he had made on the floor while trying to add more water to the lobster buckets. Warner was taking Amy’s orders on where to place the croutons on the salad plates, which Margo was preparing by pulling salad from the bags with tongs. Tre was unwrapping a cube of butter and putting it on a plate Amy had set out earlier when she had brought over the appetizers.
For a moment, Sierra stood and watched this organized circus. How did Amy do it? Sierra never could have gotten so many people to work together so easily.
“Bread, Aim. Where do you want it?”
“Does your mom have two or three bread baskets we could use?”
Sierra went searching for the baskets. Sierra’s mom and younger brothers had disappeared, and Sierra thought it best not to involve her mom, especially when Sierra certainly could find some baskets on her own.
Tawni was the one who finally remembered where they were. Mrs. Jensen had changed some things around in the kitchen after the oven had caught on fire last Thanksgiving. With the bread in baskets lined with Granna Mae’s white linen napkins, Sierra joined Tawni in the dining room to set the table with the old family china.
“What’s the final count?” Tawni asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Just then the doorbell rang, and Sierra’s heart stopped. She and Tawni exchanged knowing looks of anticipation, and Tawni nodded for Sierra to answer the door.
“Someone’s at the door,” Warner called out from the kitchen. “Want me to get it?”
“Let Sierra,” Tawni yelled back.
With light steps, Sierra hurried to the door. Her heart pounded all the way up to her inner ears. She put her hand on the doorknob, paused a moment, moistened her suddenly dry lips, and cleared her throat. Pulling open the door and putting on her best smile, Sierra sang out, “Hi!”
A gangly young boy stood on the doormat with a receipt pad in his hand. His bike lay on its side in the front yard. Apparently, Sierra’s disappointment showed instantly because the boy’s smile turned to a half grin of conciliation.
“Collecting for the Oregonian?” He said it with a question mark at the end, as if he somehow knew he should apologize.
“Could you please come back tomorrow?” Sierra tried to find a smile for him and to sound pleasant. “No one is here right now who can pay you.”
The boy nodded and scampered away. He mounted his bike like a fleeing outlaw and took off into the sunset. Sierra quickly scanned the street for cars. There were none. She closed the door and turned around.
All her friends burst out laughing. They had formed a haphazard pyramid in an effort to watch her reunion with Paul.
“The paper boy!” Amy exclaimed, giggling.
“Did you see the look on that poor kid’s face?” Randy said with a hoot. “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
“Very funny,” Sierra said, finding it impossible to hold back her smile. She spotted the camera on the entry table and said, “Wait, you guys. Don’t move.” Quickly focusing, she snapped a shot of her friends, who were all crammed into the entrance to the living room, looking like one strange, aproned body with eight heads. “Let me get another one,” she said before they all lost their balance. “Hold it! Smile!”
Sierra was about to take the picture when she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye moving toward her from the kitchen. She held the camera in place and glanced at the moving object on the floor. An escapee from the dinner bucket was flailing its way toward the front door. Sierra wanted to scream but decided she would play a joke back on her friends.
“Okay, just hold it. I’m trying to focus,” Sierra said, stalling for time.
“Hurry up, I’m going to fall over!”
“My leg is asleep!”
“Sierra, I have an elbow in my ear!”
“Take the picture!”
With one eye on the lobster, Sierra slowly counted under her breath, “Three, two, one!” Right on cue, the runaway lobster scurried past the human pyramid. They a
ll noticed it at the same time and reacted wildly. That’s when Sierra snapped the picture.
She burst out laughing as Wesley lunged for the crawling crustacean and the whole pyramid crumbled. Sierra took another picture. The phone rang, and she broke away from the human pileup to answer it, but her father already had. He was in the kitchen, which made her wonder if the escapee had had a little help.
“Yes,” her dad said, “this is Howard Jensen.”
Sierra looked around the kitchen to see what else needed to be done to prepare dinner—besides cooking the lobsters.
“Oh, yes. How are you? Oh?”
Not seeing anything else that needed to be done, Sierra went back to the entryway to put away the camera and check if the meals on wheels had been captured. The whole group was laughing hysterically as Wes pretended to wrestle with the lobster.
“I’m not eating that one,” Sierra said.
“Let’s mark it and make sure Wes has to eat it,” Tawni suggested. She had stepped away from the group. Roughhousing was not her idea of a good time.
“Tawni, Sierra,” Mr. Jensen called from the kitchen, “could you come here a moment, please?”
Tawni and Sierra exchanged glances. They both had noticed the slight catch in his voice. Tawni followed Sierra to the kitchen. Mr. Jensen had hung up the phone. He had a strange look on his face.
“What is it?” Sierra asked. “Is it Paul?”
“Tawni,” Mr. Jensen said quietly, “could you ask Jeremy to come here? I’d like to talk to the three of you.”
Before Tawni could turn around, Jeremy stepped into the kitchen. The rest of the group was still laughing in the entryway. The kitchen was silent except for the boiling water in the pot on the stove.
“That was your uncle Mac,” Mr. Jensen said, looking at Jeremy.
Sierra felt as if icy fingers had reached down her throat and were trying to yank out her heart. Her father wouldn’t look like this or sound like this unless something was wrong—seriously wrong. Sierra felt her world screeching to a halt as she waited for her father to speak.
He closed his eyes as he said, “There’s been a plane crash.”
eleven
“HOW? WHERE? WHEN? What do you know?” Sierra’s mind raced. She shot out questions while the others remained silent.
Mr. Jensen opened his eyes. Tears glistened in them. That’s when Sierra began to panic.
“Paul’s plane out of Heathrow crash-landed in Seattle,” her father said. “It happened at three o’clock this afternoon. Apparently, the plane made it to the runway but caught on fire. So far they haven’t found any survivors.”
Sierra felt her body slump slowly to the floor. Tawni and Jeremy wrapped their arms around each other and leaned against the wall.
“My parents?” Jeremy said.
“Mac is trying to reach them.”
“I’m going to Seattle,” Jeremy suddenly said. He reached for the phone. “I’ll see if Uncle Mac wants to go with me.” He punched in the numbers, and Sierra buried her face in her hands. She had no tears. Only pain. The sharpest, most unbelievable pain she had ever felt in her life, right in the middle of her chest.
The uninformed guests paraded into the kitchen, and Mr. Jensen spoke to Wesley in hushed tones. The others heard as well. Instantly, the group fell silent. Randy came over and sat on the floor next to Sierra. He didn’t say anything.
Jeremy hung up the phone and said, “My uncle is going with me. We’ll drive up to Seattle.”
“Do you want me to go?” Tawni asked.
“Yes.”
Sierra looked up.
“Unless you think you should stay here with Sierra,” Jeremy added.
Tawni and Sierra exchanged glances for the third time that evening. This time both of them had red eyes.
“Go,” Sierra said hoarsely. She wanted them to include her, to know that she would want to go, too. But she knew that was asking too much. She was supposed to be hosting a party at the moment. And besides, what was she to Paul?
“Hey, it’s on TV,” Warner said. He had left the kitchen and turned the TV in the living room to the local news channel, expecting them all to congratulate his quick thinking.
Mr. Jensen and Wes slowly moved into the living room with the others. Jeremy hesitated; then he bolted into the room with Tawni right behind him. Only Sierra and Randy remained in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke. Randy reached over and took Sierra’s hand in his and held it. It struck Sierra that he had reached for her hand a few hours ago when they were entering the auditorium, ready to graduate. Her whole world had been different then.
The news was turned up loud, and they could hear the reporter. “Flight 8079 out of Heathrow experienced failure with the landing gear when it arrived at Sea-Tac at 3:07 this afternoon. As you can see from this earlier clip, the rescue crew began evacuation immediately. However, due to the explosion that occurred when the plane’s nose hit the runway, extensive damage was done in a short time. We have been informed that so far 157 fatalities and 3 survivors are confirmed. We will keep you updated as the information comes to us. Back to you, Bob.”
Sierra squeezed Randy’s hand. “Three survivors!” She jumped up and ran into the living room.
“Three survivors!” Jeremy repeated when he saw Sierra.
“I heard.” Inwardly, Sierra began to pray with all her might, Oh, please, God! Let Paul be one of the three. Let him be okay. Don’t let him die!
“Did they say which hospital the survivors are in?” Mr. Jensen asked.
Wes had already gone for the cordless phone. “I’ll find out,” he said.
Mr. Jensen took the remote control from Warner and began to check other channels. There was a report on another channel with a rerun of the crashed plane, nose to the pavement, still in flames, with rescue workers rushing into it. Sierra had only heard the description from the kitchen floor. Now, seeing the pictures, she realized it was even more horrible than she had imagined. Black smoke billowed from the sides of the plane as sirens wailed.
The doorbell rang, and Sierra rushed with Tawni and Jeremy to greet Uncle Mac. Sierra impulsively ran into his arms and hugged him tightly, as if he were the recipient of the hug she had intended for Paul.
“They said there are three survivors,” Jeremy said. “Really?” Uncle Mac came into the living room with the rest of them.
“Wesley’s trying to reach the hospital,” Mr. Jensen said, shaking hands with Uncle Mac.
“Did you contact my parents?” Jeremy asked.
“No, I kept getting voicemail, and I didn’t want to leave a message.”
“They’re at Emmanuel Hospital,” Wes said, hanging up. “They won’t release any information over the phone, but if you go there and you’re related, they will let you in.”
Tawni and Jeremy exchanged tentative looks. Sierra knew they must be thinking, And what if Paul isn’t one of them?
“I’m ready to go,” Uncle Mac said. “Who else is going?”
“Tawni and me,” Jeremy said. “We’d better grab an overnight bag.”
“That’s right,” Tawni said. “Sierra, can you help me pack some things?”
The two sisters made their way up the stairs in single file. “Mom doesn’t know,” Sierra said, suddenly feeling dizzy. “Where is she?”
“She took the boys miniature golfing. Do you have a small bag I could borrow?”
“Sure.” Sierra retrieved the bag, and neither of them spoke as Tawni transferred several neatly folded T-shirts and a pair of jeans into the bag, along with enough underwear for three days.
“You’ll call as soon as you get there, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Tawni promised.
“I mean, even if it’s the worst, you have to call me immediately and tell me.”
“I will.”
With no warning, the tears came coursing down Sierra’s cheeks. She had so much she wanted to say as Tawni took her in her arms and held her close. “He wanted to go into ministry, Tawni. He go
t his life right with God.” A huge sob overwhelmed Sierra. “He was coming to Portland to.” She couldn’t speak. Breaking away from Tawni, Sierra went for Paul’s treasured letter, which she had kept under her pillow since the day it had arrived. She held it out for Tawni to read.
Tawni read the first page and then slowly sank to her bed’s edge. “Oh, Sierra,” she murmured.
Tawni was on the last page, reading the poem, when a soft knock sounded on their door. Jeremy cautiously opened the door. “Uncle Mac is ready.”
Tawni was awash in tears and motioned for Jeremy to come in. Now Tawni was the one who couldn’t speak. She held out the letter to Jeremy.
“What’s this?”
Sierra swallowed hard and forced her voice to cooperate. “It’s a letter from Paul. It’s okay for you to read it, if you want.”
Jeremy began to read aloud and then trimmed his choking voice down to a whisper when he read the line, “I have finally entered through that gate, and I’m finding pasture, as the verse says.”
He put down the letter and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Keep reading,” Tawni whispered.
Jeremy finished the letter. His tear-filled eyes went to Sierra’s red face. She and Jeremy looked at each other a long minute. Then, in two quick strides, Jeremy crossed the room and took Sierra in his arms. Together they cried.
“You’ll never know,” Jeremy finally choked out, “what your prayers did for my brother.” He held her tightly and said, “Don’t stop now. Not as long as we have a shred of hope. Don’t stop praying.”
“I won’t,” Sierra promised.
They pulled apart, and Tawni stood beside them, composed but still more shaken than Sierra had ever seen her.
“And I’ll be praying for you guys, too, that you have a safe trip up there,” Sierra offered.
Tawni tenderly kissed Sierra on the cheek and said words Sierra had never expected. “I love you, Sierra. I love you with all my heart.”
“I love you, too,” Sierra said, suddenly clinging to her.
“I know,” Tawni whispered, stroking Sierra’s hair.
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