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

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “Oh, no, that’s okay,” Vicki teased.

  “I want to hear it,” Mrs. Jensen said, moving in closer.

  Dear Daffodil Queen,

  What a weekend! I honestly hope yours was better than mine. However, after I heard about the crash in Seattle, I realized my experience wasn’t so bad. Do you think sometimes God allows uncomfortable things to happen so that other, worse things won’t happen? I’ve learned so much these past few days. I am convinced that, when we are God’s own, we are indestructible until He is finished with us. Bad things happen to us, true. The storms come. But none of His sheep are ever out of His care.

  I’ve enclosed your graduation gift. I had it made in the village where my grandmother lives. It’s a daffodil, as you can see. It represents your bold spirit, Sierra—the way you brightly proclaim the truth. I had the chain made extra long so you could wear it next to your heart.

  Now, I have to tell you, I intended to buy a proper box and wrap it before I gave it to you. However, since I didn’t have a box, I wore the necklace while I was in London. It’s about the only thing that wasn’t taken from me. Perhaps they didn’t notice it inside my shirt, next to my heart.

  “Oh,” Vicki said with a sigh, “this is the most romantic letter in the world, Sierra. Can you believe the necklace wasn’t stolen?”

  The women exchanged looks of amazement.

  “There’s a little more,” Sierra said, continuing to read.

  Since I won’t be coming to Portland, I wanted to get this necklace to you as quickly and safely as possible, so I’m sending it from London as I wait for my passport to clear. There’s been a hitch over my visa, since I was on a student visa this past year in Scotland.

  When I finally arrive at my parents’ house, I’ll call you. Until then, may the peace of our Good Shepherd be upon you.

  With hope and affection,

  Paul

  Sierra looked up. Her mom, Vicki, and Amy were gazing at her with soft, mushy-hearted expressions.

  “I think I’m going to cry,” Mrs. Jensen said.

  Sierra felt embarrassed. She had never shared one of Paul’s letters with her mother before. She wondered if Paul would mind that she had read his carefully crafted words in a public place to these women. Too late now. Looking down, Sierra gently rubbed her thumb over the silver daffodil. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Vicki leaned closer and admired the gift. “Forget everything Amy and I tried to teach you about guys. Whatever we learned from our past boyfriends is worthless. Whatever you’re doing with Paul is working perfectly.”

  “I’m not ‘doing’ anything,” Sierra said. “Except praying. You know that. I’ve prayed for him since the day I met him.”

  Amy grinned. “I predict an improvement in Vicki’s prayer life this summer!”

  Vicki laughed. “If Randy mails me a guitar pick he once used to pick his teeth, we’ll know that Sierra’s formula works.”

  They all laughed.

  “You girls are teasing, aren’t you?” Mrs. Jensen said. “You do know there are no formulas when it comes to love. Praying for a guy doesn’t guarantee he will suddenly become interested in you.”

  “Oh, Mom, we’re only kidding,” Sierra said, folding Paul’s letter and tucking it back in the mailer.

  “Just checking,” Mrs. Jensen said with a grin. “I guess I should get going.”

  “No, stay,” Amy pleaded.

  “Yes, please stay,” Vicki agreed.

  Sierra hopped up. “I’ll be right back with your very own cinnamon roll and a milk.”

  “Nonfat, please,” her mom said.

  “Okay! Nonfat milk with a five-thousand-calorie cinnamon roll. That’s going to make a big difference!” Sierra laughed all the way to the counter. As she walked, she could feel her new silver necklace tap lightly against her T-shirt. She fingered it again, feeling as bright, bold, and steady as the daffodil Paul had encountered on his hike.

  It suddenly didn’t matter that the weekend’s events had nearly crushed her. Paul was right. Storms do come. But after the storm comes a gentle calm like Sierra was feeling in her heart right then. In that calm, Sierra knew she and her Good Shepherd were closer than ever.

  one

  SIERRA JENSEN BENT DOWN and lifted the dust ruffle, taking one last look under her bed. Not even a dust bunny greeted her. The space was clean and cleared out, just like the rest of her bedroom.

  Sierra sat up and for a brief moment admired the rare view. The warm breezes of the late August afternoon pushed their way past the sheer curtains, compelling them to hop out of the way. Then, racing around the room, past the antique dresser with the oval mirror, the overstuffed chair, and the two twin beds made up with ivory chenille bedspreads, the breezes found nothing out of place to disrupt and flew out the door and down the hallway of the old Victorian house.

  Sierra’s bedroom had never been so orderly—except maybe when her family moved to Portland the middle of her junior year of high school. She had been in England the week they moved, and when she first had stepped into this room, it looked this tidy. But that tidiness was due to her older sister, Tawni, who had been the one to put everything in its place.

  Now Sierra was all packed and leaving for college. Tawni had moved out a year ago and last week had announced her engagement to Jeremy. It seemed only a blink of time since their family had moved here, and a sudden sadness swept over Sierra as another rush of late summer breezes muscled their way through the screen on the second-story window and rushed around her room.

  “Is that everything?” Sierra’s mom asked, stepping in from the hallway. She must have read the wistful look on Sierra’s face because, with a knowing smile, Mrs. Jensen came over and sat down next to her daughter on the edge of the bed.

  “Where did it go?” Sierra asked quietly.

  “Did you lose something?” her mom asked.

  Sierra sighed. “My childhood. It was here a minute ago.”

  Mrs. Jensen laughed softly and slipped her arm around Sierra’s shoulders. “I know, honey. Believe me, I know.”

  “What if I want it back?”

  “Sorry. It’s on to the next step.”

  “But what if I really mess up?” Sierra said. “What if I turn out to be really bad at being responsible?”

  Mrs. Jensen laughed again.

  “What if I’m not cut out for college life?”

  “What would you rather do?”

  “I don’t know. Travel, maybe. Go live in Europe for a while. Sail the seven seas. Hike Mount Fuji.”

  “You can do all those things as long as …” Mrs. Jensen paused.

  “As long as I go to college first, right?”

  “No, I was going to say, as long as you ask your Father.”

  “Ask Dad?” Sierra said, giving her mother a questioning look.

  Mrs. Jensen pointed upward. “No, your heavenly Father. You have no idea yet what amazing adventures lie ahead of you in adulthood. God, on the other hand, has your future all planned out. So get used to asking Him. Always. About everything. He’ll lead you, Sierra.”

  Quietly, Sierra added, “He’ll lead me like the Good Shepherd that He is.” She felt a warmth come over her at the memory of Paul’s words from a letter he had written to her months ago. It was the last letter he had written before he left Scotland, and he had talked about God as the Good Shepherd who cares for and protects His sheep. Thinking about that made the future seem less terrifying. How could it be frightening when God had already been there?

  Sierra jumped up from the bed as her startled mother looked at her.

  “Oh no! What time is it? I’m supposed to meet Amy and Vicki at Mama Bear’s. I almost forgot, and I’m probably already late,” Sierra said.

  “Oh.” Mrs. Jensen rose and glanced around the room. “You have everything ready, I see. Did Wes pack those last two boxes into the trailer?”

  “He took them down. I don’t know if they fit.” Sierra felt a little funny about the melancholy mo
ment she had just had with her mom. After all, Sierra’s older brother Wes was going to the same university she was attending in Southern California: Rancho Corona. Wes had graduated from Oregon State University. Now he was going on for his master’s at Rancho Corona. And Tawni lived less than an hour’s drive from the college. Sierra wasn’t sure why she had suddenly felt so sad about leaving. It wasn’t as if she were leaving all her family and friends.

  Actually, she was going to be with most of her closest friends when she went to college. Vicki and Randy were flying to Southern California the next weekend and had brought over a lot of their belongings the night before so Sierra’s dad and Wes could pack them in the rented trailer that was hooked up to the Jensen family van.

  Tomorrow, Friday, in the morning, Sierra, Mr. Jensen, Wes, and Sierra’s two youngest brothers, Gavin and Dillon, would leave for the two-day road trip. Mrs. Jensen would fly down on Saturday with Granna Mae, with whom the family lived. They would all gather in San Diego for Tawni’s big engagement party.

  “I have to run,” Sierra told her mom, dashing down the stairs. “I’ll be back soon. If Paul phones, tell him to call back after eight. Is it okay if I take your car?”

  Mrs. Jensen stood at the top of the stairs. When Sierra turned to look to her for an answer, she thought her mom was the one who looked wistful now. Their mother-daughter moment had been cut short.

  “Sure. Have a good time. The keys are on the hook in the kitchen.”

  At moments like this Sierra most admired her mom. Sometimes Sierra wondered if her mom had been blessed with an extra-sensitive memory so that she remembered what it was like to be seventeen and to have friends who were almost more important than family, and feelings that were almost overwhelming. Certainly she knew what Sierra was feeling now because she let Sierra go rather than try to extend their time together.

  The screen door slammed behind Sierra as she went out the back door. Her dad and Wes were still reconfiguring the jigsaw puzzle of boxes that needed to be loaded into the trailer.

  “Lots of junk, huh?” Sierra said.

  “It’s not junk,” Wesley corrected her. “You’ll find these few worldly possessions are your favorite treasures once you get to school.”

  Mr. Jensen took a swig from the soft drink can he held. The late afternoon sun hit the top of his head just right, highlighting the perspiration beaded up where his hairline was receding. “It’s all this band equipment that Randy wants to send with us that’s not exactly fitting into the trailer.”

  “He said it was okay if you couldn’t fit it in, didn’t he?” Sierra said. Randy and some of his friends had started a band that had pretty much fallen apart by midsummer. Sierra knew that Randy was bringing along all the band equipment only because he owned it, not because he necessarily needed it. “I mean, if you can’t fit it in, you can’t.” Sierra rolled up the sleeves of her long, white cotton shirt. It was actually one of her dad’s old shirts, which she had put on over her shorts and tank top when she was packing stuff that morning. All the windows had been open, and the air had been cool then. Somehow, having her dad’s shirtsleeves around her as she packed and cleaned had been comforting, and so Sierra had left it on.

  “Oh, we’ll get it in somehow,” Mr. Jensen said. “You might be sitting on a few duffel bags in the van for the next two days, but we’ll get it all in.”

  “I’m going to Mama Bear’s,” Sierra said, pulling her long, curly blond hair up in a clip she had just discovered in her shirt’s pocket. She had stuck it there a few hours ago and then, forgetting where she had put it, had wasted twenty minutes going through her packed luggage trying to find it when her room started to heat up.

  “Hey, buy some cinnamon rolls for tomorrow’s breakfast,” Mr. Jensen said. He reached into his pocket to pull out a money clip.

  “I’ve got it,” Sierra said, patting the small wallet pouch she had tucked in her back pocket. “My treat.”

  Mr. Jensen smiled one of his crinkles-around-the-corners-of-the-eyes smiles. He didn’t have to say any words. That look told Sierra he was proud of her and he loved her.

  She turned away quickly before the sensation of her father’s loving glance could work its way to the center of her tender heart. She opened the door of her mom’s new white sedan and slid across the seat. It was actually a used car but new to Mrs. Jensen. Just three days ago they had traded in the old Volkswagen Rabbit that Sierra had shared with her mom for the past year. Several months ago, her parents had given the car to Sierra, but that meant she was responsible for her own insurance payments and for all the gas she used.

  It wasn’t hard for her to decide not to take the car with her to college. She had worked out a good deal with her parents when they said they would buy it back from her. Sierra now had enough spending money to make it through at least the first semester, so she wouldn’t have to find a job right away.

  Wesley had done the same thing, selling his finicky sports car and pocketing the profit. Several friends who were going to Rancho had assured Sierra and Wes that those with cars would help those without get around. Their friends also told them that the public transportation in that area was much more convenient than in most parts of Southern California.

  As Sierra drove the short city blocks to the bakery where she had worked the past year and a half, she felt another wave of memories. This older part of town had become so familiar. She remembered so many amazing and frustrating things that had happened here, such as the time they thought Granna Mae had wandered away from home in one of her forgetful states and they had combed the area looking for her. Or the time Sierra had marched down the street to the mailbox, where she mailed her first brazen letter to Paul, telling him exactly what she thought of him.

  That memory brought an irrepressible smile. She and Paul had come so far in their relationship since their earlier communication, when he had teasingly called her the “Daffodil Queen.” Then the term had insulted her. Now it warmed her. Daffodil Queen was Paul’s nickname for her, and when he called her that over the phone during one of their conversations, she always melted inside.

  Still smiling, Sierra cautiously parallel-parked her mom’s car along the busy street in the Hawthorne District, a few blocks from Mama Bear’s. This was about the same spot where Paul had driven by her as she walked one rainy day, carrying an armful of daffodils home for Granna Mae, who was recovering from surgery. Now, as Sierra stepped from the car and made sure she had locked all the doors, she thought of how right here, on this sidewalk, the Daffodil Queen legend had begun.

  She stood still for a moment, feeling the intense summer sun beat down on her shoulders. Cars roared past, shoppers bobbed in and out of the unique shops, a guy wearing dark blue knee pads jogged by with a very young golden retriever on a short leash. But Sierra stood still, eager to remember every sight and sound. Tomorrow she would leave all this and start the next chapter in her life.

  Reaching instinctively, as she had countless times, for the long silver chain around her neck, Sierra felt the shape of the silver daffodil that hung at the end of the necklace. It had been Paul’s graduation present to her in June and her only link to him all summer. The sporadic phone calls and few letters didn’t carry the same meaning as this necklace did. This was a gift from his heart, a daffodil he had had made for her by a jeweler in Scotland. Whenever Sierra held it like this, it was as if she were holding Paul’s hand. In two short days, she would exchange the cool silver touch of the daffodil for the warm grasp of Paul’s hand, because in two days she would see him face-to-face for the first time in more than a year.

  two

  SIERRA BIT HER LOWER LIP and forced herself to move toward the bakery, where her friends were certainly waiting for her by now. Vicki, Amy, and she had met there once a week for months. They would bend their heads close, open their hearts wide, and lower their voices to levels at which only true friends dare listen in. This last meeting was going to be awful.

  The bell above the door of Mama Bear�
��s Bakery chimed merrily, as if today were any other day. Sierra had heard that bell at least a million times, she estimated. Today was the first time the sound brought tears to her eyes.

  Blinking quickly and forcing herself to look at the familiar table by the window, Sierra saw Amy and Vicki in the thick of conversation and unaware that Sierra had entered. She took advantage of the moment and went to the counter, where her dear-hearted boss, Mrs. Kraus, was ringing up an order.

  Sierra stood in line behind a dark-haired woman with a toddler balanced on her hip. Bending her first two fingers in a friendly wave at the boy, Sierra smiled at him. He turned away, burying his face in his mommy’s shoulder, but only for a minute before shyly emerging and examining Sierra with serious gray eyes. The toddler then turned his head to the side and gave Sierra an adorable smile that she couldn’t help but return.

  What a little doll! Sierra thought. If I were responsible for raising him and if he ever gave me one of those grins when I was about to say no, I’m afraid I couldn’t deny him anything.

  She waved again and offered her most engaging smile. The boy kept smiling at her.

  Just then the woman carrying him turned to see what had captured the child’s attention, and when she turned, Sierra recognized her immediately.

  “Jalene,” she said without thinking.

  Jalene looked closely at Sierra, raising one thin, dark eyebrow in an obvious sign of nonrecognition.

  “Jalene,” Sierra said again, having a hard time formulating her thoughts. “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jalene said coolly. “Have we met before?” She had fine, dark facial features, and her hair wasn’t as short and jet-black as it used to be. Sierra remembered the catlike smile that had curved up Jalene’s lips when Sierra first had seen her almost two years ago. But Jalene’s lips weren’t smiling now.

  “No, we haven’t met. I’m Sierra. Sierra Jensen.”

  Jalene still looked confused. The toddler on her hip had lost his smile now, too.