Gavin and Dillon came racing to their table, begging for quarters so they could play the video games in the adjoining room.
“I don’t have any,” Sierra told them after they had hit up Granna Mae and Mom and came up empty. She had no pockets, no backpack, and she never carried a purse. She didn’t even own one. “Go ask Wes. He’ll probably join you in the arcade.”
The boys scrambled off to harass their oldest brother, who sometimes acted more like an indulgent uncle to them than a brother. As Sierra predicted, Wes joined the guys and pumped quarters into their machines until the pizzas arrived.
About forty minutes later, after nearly all two of the extra-large pizzas had been devoured, the Jensen troupe left in two cars. Mom, Dad, Granna Mae and the boys went home while Wes and Sierra headed across town to a movie Wes said he wanted to see.
She didn’t say anything all the way to the theater. Wes didn’t seem to notice. He had plenty to talk about, such as his truck, his classes at school, and his job stocking grocery shelves on the swing shift. This was his third year at Oregon State University in Corvallis. What Sierra liked most about Wes was that he treated her as an equal.
Wes seemed to know his way about Portland a lot better than Sierra did. She finally opened up and told him how she had gotten lost a few days earlier and ended up at Lewis and Clark.
“So do you think you want to go there next year, or are you going to come down to OSU?” Wes asked.
“I’m only a junior, remember? I have a few months before I have to really get serious about making that decision.”
“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting. Ever since you got your driver’s license, I’ve been thinking of you as about to graduate.”
“Nope. Not yet. Although it can’t be too soon for me.”
“How do you like Portland?”
“It’s okay. Tawni likes it here.”
They pulled into the parking lot at the movie theater. Sierra hopped out of Wes’s truck, and he made sure the doors were locked. Wes’s stereo had been stolen from his old car once when it was parked at a friend’s apartment complex. Now he was extra careful, especially since he was the one paying for his insurance and truck now.
They stood in line to buy tickets, and Sierra shivered in the damp night air. She wished she had a jacket with her. Theaters seemed cold to her. Or maybe it was just that she had the talent of sitting right under the air-conditioning vent. As they walked in, Sierra involuntarily shivered again. Her brother put his arm around her and rubbed her arm to warm her up. They had to wait a minute while a herd of moviegoers exited the show that had just concluded in the theater next to theirs.
As they stood waiting, Wes squeezed her a little closer and said in her ear, “It’s sure good to see you, Sierra. I’m glad you had a good time in England and that you got home safely.”
Sierra smiled up at her brother with sincere admiration. “Thanks,” she said.
Then the image of a brown felt hat caught the corner of her eye. Sierra snapped her head away from Wes and scanned the trail of people moving past them. There, only ten feet away, was Paul. He kept on walking with the stream of people, but his head was turned, and he was staring at Sierra. She stared right back.
“Did you see somebody you know?” Wes asked, removing his arm from her shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“Did you want to go say hi? We have a few minutes before the movie starts.”
Sierra didn’t know what to do. Should she run after him? He was already out the door. What if someone were with him—like Jalene? Sierra hadn’t noticed anyone.
If he wanted to talk to me, she reasoned, he certainly could have stopped and said hi.
Then she remembered that Wes had had his arm around her and was talking softly in her ear while Paul walked by. It must have looked as if Wes were her boyfriend.
“Do you want me to go with you, wait here, get us some seats, or what?” Wes asked.
“Let’s go in,” Sierra said. “I don’t think I could catch him.”
They started down the carpeted hallway. “Do you want some popcorn?” Sierra asked.
“Are you kidding? After all that pizza? How could you possibly have room for anything else?”
“Actually, my stomach feels kind of empty right now. Can I have some money?”
Wes, playing the role of the benevolent uncle, pulled a five-dollar bill from his pocket and said, “Get a large drink, too, and I’ll split it with you. I’ll save you a seat.”
Sierra stood in line at the snack bar but kept looking out the windows that lined the front of the theater, wondering if by any remote chance Paul were still out there. Maybe if he saw her alone he would come back inside and say something to her. She knew it was a crazy thing to think.
The more she thought about it, it was crazy that she had even seen him. What are the chances of the two of them connecting in this huge city? To have seen Jalene at the gas station and now Paul at the movies was unsettling.
Katie might call it a God-thing, and it was insofar as it made Sierra think about Paul and then, consequentially, pray for him. However, Sierra thought the chance encounters were more like a “weird thing” or a “crazy-making thing.” Why should she be so connected with this guy?
“May I help you?” the girl behind the counter asked.
“A medium buttered popcorn and a large Coke.”
“We don’t have Coke. Is Pepsi okay?”
“Sure. Fine.” Sierra felt as if people shouldn’t be allowed to ask such stupid questions, especially when she was so deep in thought about Paul and all the bizarre encounters they had had. Coke, Pepsi, what difference did it make?
“That will be $6.50,” the girl said.
“Six dollars and fifty cents? For a Coke and a popcorn?”
“Pepsi and popcorn,” the girl corrected her.
“Forget it. I’ll just have the Co … Pepsi. I don’t want the popcorn.” Sierra held out the five-dollar bill. In exchange she received a huge drink, loaded with ice, and two crumpled one-dollar bills. “It’s a racket!” Sierra spouted as she turned to go. “I mean, I know you just work here and everything and it’s not your fault, but the snack prices are ridiculous.”
She marched off, shaking her head. She didn’t care that the people in line behind her had heard everything. All she wanted to do was find Wes, sit down, and get caught up in the movie. She needed to relax.
Then it occurred to her that she wasn’t on the edge because of the popcorn prices. She had paid that much before and never flinched. Seeing Paul was what had rattled her. She had transferred all those emotions to the price of popcorn.
“Where’s the popcorn?” Wes asked when she slid across him to take her seat. He always wanted to sit on the end of the row.
“I changed my mind. Here’s your change. And I got Pepsi. Is that okay?”
“They didn’t have Coke, I take it.”
“What does it matter?” Sierra barked.
“Whoa!” Wes said, leaning back and taking a hard look at her. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” Sierra settled back in her seat. The movie began, and she was ready to relax.
Only one problem. The movie was centered around spies and skydiving and a high-speed motorcycle race. It was so suspenseful that Sierra was on the edge of her seat the entire two hours. She walked out of the theater with cramped toes from having curled them up inside her boots for most of the movie.
“Great show, don’t you think?” Wes asked as they left.
“Sure was full of action. I didn’t know I could hold my breath for so long.”
“How long?” Wes asked, opening the truck door for her.
“Oh, about two hours.”
Wes laughed. “Weren’t the special effects amazing when the guy landed in the water, got himself out of the handcuffs, and then released the parachute?”
Sierra nodded. “It was a good movie. Thanks for taking me, Wes.”
“Do you want to go anywhere for co
ffee?”
“No, I’m ready to go home. Are you?”
“Sure. I brought a ton of reading home with me. It would be good if I could chip away at some of it tonight.”
Sierra went right to bed when they reached home. Her room was nice and clean after the hour she had spent on it that afternoon.
Putting away her clothes had been more of an anchor than she realized it would be. As long as her things were scattered around and her luggage from England hadn’t been unpacked yet, she had felt her time in this room was only temporary. But once she had put things away and hung her clothes alongside all the others, which the moving fairies had brought to this closet while she was sleeping on the other side of the world, then her stay in this room became permanent. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Tawni would be glad the room was clean, and that was a good thing. She wasn’t home yet after going out with her friends from work.
Of course she likes it here. She got to move her belongings into our room and put everything right where she wanted it. She’s been here a month, and I’ve only been here a week. I feel as if everyone is settled, but here I am, walking into the middle of this new life and running to catch up.
Sierra read her Bible until her eyelids became too heavy to stay open. She turned off the light and lay in bed flossing her teeth with an extra-long strand of peppermint-flavored dental floss she had found while unpacking her things.
In the dark, in the silence, the confusing thoughts came tumbling down around her all at once. Like a mental kaleidoscope, the thoughts twirled from hearing the girls in the locker room call her stuck-up, to the image of Granna Mae looking for her youth in the bedroom mirror, to that locked-in stare of Paul’s. First in London at the money exchange booth, then on the plane, then at baggage claim, then again tonight, he stared at her. Why?
Sierra wondered if somehow her matching eyes were like a mirror to him. He was searching for something. What was it?
All she could do was pray for him. And she did. Like a determined warrior with sword drawn, Sierra prayed that God would protect Paul. She prayed that the enemy would release the hold on Paul’s life. She prayed that Paul would break up with Jalene or that Jalene would become a Christian. And Sierra prayed that Paul would be miserable until he got back into a really tight relationship with God. Sierra prayed and prayed until she finally felt her shoulders start to relax. Time to retreat. Enough battle for one day.
Tawni entered the room, and Sierra pretended to be asleep.
fourteen
SIERRA HAD ALWAYS liked her parents’ openness and the way she could discuss things with them, even difficult or embarrassing things. So she was caught off guard when she talked to them about leaving Royal Academy, and they asked her to try it for one more week.
“But, Mom, you said I should try it for one week. I did, and I don’t like it.”
“We aren’t convinced you gave it a fair try. It was your first week in Portland, right after your big trip. You didn’t even have time to settle into your room.” Dad spoke in such a direct yet gentle voice. “We need you to be fair, Sierra. Fair to yourself, fair to other students, fair to us. If we were sure you had actually done that, we would send you over to Madison in a minute. One more week. And be fair all the way around this time, okay?”
Wes walked into the kitchen just then, zipping up his jacket. “I’m going to take Brutus for a walk. Anyone want to go with me?”
“I do,” Sierra said, hopping off the “hot seat” counter stool and hurrying to duck out of this conversation. She was close to saying something she might regret later, and since she had done that so many times, she was beginning to learn it was better to walk away and think things over.
“Get your jacket. It’s cold this afternoon. Did anyone hear the weather? Are we expecting snow?”
“I haven’t heard,” Dad said.
Sierra left the room and returned with a jacket and gloves a few minutes later.
“I hope you can coax Brutus out of his slump,” Mom said. “He just hasn’t been himself since we moved here.”
“Looks to me like he’s not the only one,” Wes said.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Sierra said, not sure if he meant her or not.
“Moving is high stress,” Wes replied, looking over his shoulder at her. “It’s right up there with death in a family or a job loss on the scale of how much a person’s emotions can handle. We saw this chart in my human development class. It’s really interesting to see the things that cause stress. Even term papers are on the list. And since that’s my biggest source of stress now, I thought I’d try to downshift a little and relieve some of the stress by walking the dog. You ready, Sierra?”
“I’m ready. I have my own areas of stress to walk off. Let’s go.”
“Think about what we’ve been discussing,” Dad said as they left. “We’ll talk about it some more this weekend, Sierra.”
“Okay. And will you guys think about my side of it, too?”
“Of course,” Dad said. “By the way, I want my shirt back.”
“You never wear this old flannel shirt,” Sierra said. The ends of the red plaid shirt stuck out from underneath her jeans jacket, and she tugged on them to make her point. “I found it in a mound of clothes in the basement. I thought you were giving it away.”
“It was in the mending pile. It’s missing a button.” Dad shot a teasing glance at Mom, who shrugged her shoulders.
Sierra didn’t notice the missing button since she had on a thermal undershirt and wore the shirt like a jacket over it. But she knew what Dad’s look meant. Mom had many fine abilities, but mending was not one of them. As long as Sierra could remember, Dad had been the one to go to with a missing button or a broken zipper. Mom tried, of course, to do her share of the clothes repair, but sometimes it took months before she got around to the pile of maimed clothing.
“Then may I have your blue work shirt?” Sierra asked.
Dad looked at Mom and said, “I never dreamed I’d be fighting with one of my daughters over my own clothes.”
“Why don’t you try some of the thrift stores down on Hawthorne?” Mom asked Sierra.
Sierra remembered that one girl the first day of school saying she bought her outfit at some vintage store on Hawthorne. What was the name of it? “Maybe I will after we take Brutus out. Do you want to go with me, Mom?”
“Ask when you’re about ready to go, okay?”
Sierra joined Wes in the backyard where he was roughing up Brutus’ fur and growling back at his old pal. “Come on, Brute Boy. Let’s take Sierra for a walk.” He hooked the leash onto Brutus’ collar, and the big dog “ruffed” in agreement. They took off down the street with Brutus stopping every two seconds to sniff and scope out the neighborhood.
“I can see this is going to take all afternoon,” Sierra said. It was so cold she could see her breath. Her jean jacket was too thin, and she could feel the damp chill right through her flannel shirt and thermals.
“This is good for him. I think he’s been such a slug because he didn’t know the neighborhood. I’m taking him on a round of social calls.”
Brutus did seem to enjoy the romp. He growled through the fence at the bulldog three houses down, and the two exchanged their greetings in doggie language. Sierra could hear another dog across the street yipping.
“Looks as if a little one over there is trying to get in the act,” she said. Wes tugged on the leash, and Brutus gladly galloped across the street to sniff and bark at the little black and white fur ball behind the chain-link fence.
For almost an hour, Wes and Sierra trailed after Brutus as he terrorized the neighborhood dogs. He seemed to be rebounding back to his old self.
Sierra was shivering, and her teeth were chattering as they rounded the corner that led to Granna Mae’s grand white house. It was one of the largest houses on the block and certainly the one with the most personality. Two elms stood like silent guards between the front porch and th
e street. For more than eighty years they had stood their post, shading the elegant white lady in the summer and showering her with amber jewels in the autumn.
Sierra had to admit that she did love this old house. As a child it had seemed like a castle. She and her brothers and sister used to call it “Granna Mae’s mansion.”
When they came for their visit each summer, Sierra pretended this was really her house, and she would play that she lived there in the horse-and-buggy days. Iron rings were still fixed in the cement curb where nearly a century ago the residents would tie up their horses. Sierra and Tawni once tied their bikes to the rings with their jump ropes. Granna Mae helped right along, coming out to the curb with several lumps of sugar in her apron pocket, which she pretended to feed to the horses.
Now Sierra was experiencing her childhood dream of living in this wonderful mansion, and yet she didn’t want to be here.
“Come on, Brutus. You’ve had enough for one day. And if you haven’t, I certainly have!” Wes led the dog into the backyard and took off the leash. Brutus acted as if he weren’t through exploring the neighborhood. He bounded over to the gate and barked a few times. Then he thundered to the other side of the yard and barked at some squirrels that were chittering at the top of the neighbor’s tree.
“What did you do to him?” Mom asked, opening the back door and welcoming them into the warm house. It smelled like cinnamon, and Sierra was instantly hungry.
“What are you making?”
“Apple cobbler. How did you manage to revive Brutus?”
“We just took him around to meet his new neighbors,” Wes said, opening up the oven to peek inside at the cobbler. What Mom lacked in sewing abilities, she made up for in baking. Apple cobbler was Wes’s favorite. “You’re the world’s best mother! When will it be ready?”
“In about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you two have some lunch first? Some turkey is in the fridge for sandwiches.”
“I think I’ll make some soup,” Sierra said. Her throat was feeling raw, and she was still cold from the walk.
“After your soup do you want to explore a couple of thrift stores?” Mom asked. “Granna Mae just went upstairs for a nap so I think this would be a good time.”