After Sierra hung up, she sat on the living room couch for a long while, thinking. She could hear her mom in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher. From upstairs her dad was telling her two little brothers to climb into bed. Granna Mae was quietly tucked in her comfortable, large bedroom. Sierra could sit alone with her thoughts.
The first thought was about Amy and Wes. Last summer Amy had made it clear she had a huge crush on Sierra’s brother. Wesley had never given Amy reason to think he was interested in her, at least from anything Sierra had ever noticed. Now Amy hadn’t seen Wesley for months, since he had gone back to school in the fall at Oregon State University in Corvallis. Sierra had no way of knowing until they met up in Corvallis next week if Amy would show an interest in Wes again. The potential Amy-Wes relationship made Sierra nervous.
Then there was the choice of what fun outing they should include. Amy seemed pretty set on Universal Studios, but since Wes was their host, Sierra thought he should choose the amusement park. Vicki wouldn’t care which one they went to. Neither did Sierra. Once again, it was a thing between Amy and Wes.
Sierra bit her lower lip and then realized she was doing it and stopped. This is crazy. I’m getting in a froth over nothing. I’ll call Amy and tell her Wes suggested we go to Magic Mountain. She’ll understand since it was Wes’s choice. But wait. If she gives in to Wes’s choice, does that mean she’s trying to score points with him? Should I just come right out and ask her if she’s still interested in him? Maybe I should ask Vicki what she thinks I should do. No, that would be talking about Amy behind her back. If I’m going to talk to anybody, it should be Amy.
Sierra decided she would talk to Amy. But not tonight. Instead, she would wait another day and hope the queasy feelings about Wes and Amy would go away. Why did that bother her so much anyway?
Getting up from the couch, Sierra went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator in search of brain food.
“How’s the homework coming along?” her mom asked.
“I was just going to start it,” Sierra answered. She didn’t turn around, but she could almost feel her mother looking at the clock, noticing it was after eight-thirty, and looking back at Sierra with mild concern that it was so late and she hadn’t even started her homework. For the past two months, Sierra had burned the midnight oil over the excessive amount of homework she had. Whoever had told her it got easier at the end of her senior year had definitely gone to some school other than Royal Academy. Between work, volunteering at the Highland House, church activities, and her mound of schoolwork, Sierra barely had a social life. That was probably why she was so excited about the California getaway.
“I know,” Sierra said without turning to catch her mother’s gaze. “I should have started sooner. But don’t worry. I actually don’t have too much tonight. Besides, I had to call Wesley and talk to him about the trip. Do we have any orange juice?”
“In the freezer,” her mom said. “What about Mama Bear’s? Were you able to get the time off?”
“Yes,” Sierra said, opening the freezer and pulling out a can of frozen orange juice. “Mrs. Kraus told me it was no problem, but I have to work this Friday after school.” She reached in the cupboard for a pitcher and went to work making up the orange juice.
Mrs. Jensen closed the door of the dishwasher and wiped off the counter. “Good,” she said. “I think this is going to be a helpful trip for both you and Wesley. Do you think you would like to apply to Rancho Corona? I’m wondering if we should start filling out some of the paperwork before you go down.”
“Dad said to wait, since the application fee is kind of high and he’s already put out the money for those other three applications last fall.”
Sierra had managed to keep a 4.0 grade average since junior high, although it didn’t seem like a big deal to her. The way she saw it, she simply had a mind that easily collected necessary information, spilled it back on a test a few days later, and then promptly forgot anything that didn’t hold a special attraction for her. She didn’t see herself as smart; she merely knew how to work the system. That was to her advantage, since she already had received two scholarship offers and had been accepted at the three colleges she had applied to last fall. At this point, it was pretty much up to her to decide which college she went to, since her parents had been in favor of all her choices.
Well, almost all. There was one they’d said no to. The University of Edinburgh.
“Was there any mail for me today?” Sierra asked.
“I don’t think so. Did you check the chair in the study?”
Sierra had a favorite chair in the room that her dad used as his office. It had once been the library of this large Victorian house that Sierra’s great-grandfather had built in 1915. Since last fall Sierra had been involved in a lively correspondence with Paul Mackenzie, a tenderhearted guy she had met more than a year ago at Heathrow Airport in England. Her parents had gotten into the habit of putting his letters on Sierra’s favorite chair in the study. They knew that’s where she would go to read them.
The emotional involvement Sierra felt with Paul through his letters had reached an all-time high for her last December. But when she realized she was far more into their correspondence than he appeared to be, she had backed off. Instead of writing him nearly every day, she began to write him about once every two weeks, which was the same pace he had been writing to her all along.
During January, Paul had written only twice—one short letter and one even shorter postcard. His words were always rich with sincerity, never flirty or demanding. Paul openly visited with her through his letters without hinting at anything strongly emotional on his side. He never signed his letters with the word “love.” Yet to Sierra, the kind, earnest, from-the-heart friendship he had expressed was far closer to the best kind of love there was. She believed in many ways it was stronger than anything she or her girlfriends shared with any of the guys they liked.
That quiet hope kept Sierra writing to Paul. In February she had sent him a valentine. She made it from a collage of pictures and words she had cut from magazines and glued to a red heart. It said, “ ‘God is love.… We love because he first loved us’ (1 John 4:16, 19).” The verse seemed an appropriate way to communicate that, yes, this was a valentine; but, no, it wasn’t about Sierra revealing her love for Paul or her desire for a deeper relationship with him. It was about God and His neverending love for both of them.
That’s truly where Sierra had stored away her friendship with Paul. It was hidden in the shelter of God’s love for those who abide in Him. However, Sierra had discovered she still felt warm emotions when she held one of Paul’s letters in her hand.
Pouring herself a glass of orange juice and returning the pitcher to the fridge, Sierra slipped out of the kitchen and checked her favorite chair. No letters awaited her.
“That’s okay,” she whispered in the quiet room that smelled of old books. “You just take good care of him, will You, God? I know You’ve been working in huge ways in Paul’s life lately, and I’m really thankful. I guess I just want to ask that You protect him and keep him safe at his school in Edinburgh. Help him decide what to do about school next year. I know he has to make that decision in the next few weeks, and it’s been really hard for him. Thanks, Lord.”
Sierra turned on the computer at her dad’s desk. Before she started her homework, she wanted to check out the website for Rancho Corona, as Wesley had suggested. As she typed in the search information, Sierra thought of how she had never tried to locate information about the university Paul attended in Scotland. Last fall she had announced to her parents, without having any information, that that was where she wanted to start her freshman year of college. All she knew was that Paul went there. Her parents said no, and she never had searched out any details about enrolling.
Tonight Sierra felt a struggle. She knew she should be content with this college scouting trip Wesley was taking her on, and she should be willing to select one of the colleges at which she ha
d already been accepted, but something inside her refused to let go of Scotland. It was as if a closet door in her heart was pushing its way open. She thought that door had been tightly locked up months ago, after she had swept away the dreams of attending the same college as Paul. But tonight the door of that forgotten closet seemed to open a sliver. The dim light that peeked from the opening beckoned to her.
Instead of typing in “Rancho Corona University,” Sierra found her fingers typing “University of Edinburgh, Scotland.”
three
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, Randy said yes?” Sierra stared at Vicki in the school parking lot. The bell was about to ring, and if they didn’t move, they would both be late for their first-period class.
“I called Randy last night and told him about the trip, and he said yes, he wants to come with us. He’s going to ask the other guys in the band to see if they want to come, too. I told them we have free places to sleep, but they have to bring enough money for their own food.”
Sierra continued to stare at Vicki. The bell rang, but she didn’t move.
“Sierra, we’re late! Come on. We can go through all the details at lunch.” Vicki started toward the building.
“I never said anything about inviting anyone else, Vicki!” Sierra hurried after her friend. “Why did you ask him?” Sierra thought she knew the answer. For months Vicki had been interested in Randy even though he treated Vicki, Sierra, and all girls the same. Vicki must have thought a few days in a van with Randy as a captured audience might help her win his affections.
“There’s plenty of room in your van. Your parents adore Randy. He and Wes get along great. What’s the problem?”
“Well … it’s you, Vicki.”
“Me?” Vicki stopped at the front door of the school. The innocent expression on her face maddened Sierra.
“Never mind,” Sierra said, holding up a hand in defeat and turning away from her friend. “I’ll see you at lunch.” As Sierra went through the door, she was still boiling inside.
She dashed to her class and was thankful when her teacher waved her to her seat, meaning Sierra didn’t have to go to the office for a tardy slip. It was one of the rewards for being an “A” student and rarely coming to class late. Some students were late so regularly they had developed a routine of stepping to the back of the class, pausing, getting a nod from the teacher, and then going to the office for their most recent tardy slip.
But it barely mattered to Sierra that she had been waved to her seat. Her mind at that moment was anywhere but in the classroom. What was her brother going to say? Or her parents? How could she uninvite Randy after Vicki had invited him? Fortunately, Randy was a close enough buddy that she thought he would understand if she explained the situation to him. But why should she have to? It would be fun to have Randy along, too—as long as the rest of the band didn’t come. Warner, the drummer, drove Sierra crazy. If he came, the whole trip would be ruined for her.
Why am I even thinking this? This is my trip. For my friends. At my invitation. I can say yes or no to whomever I want.
By lunch Sierra had prepared her line of defense. She would say her parents and brother would decide who could go and who couldn’t. If they thought Randy should come along, then he could come. Neither her parents nor her brother would think Warner should come along because Sierra would tell them it wasn’t a good idea. That would take the pressure off her.
When Sierra entered the cafeteria, her usual bunch of lunchtime friends were gathered around “their” table. They all looked up at her and started to talk before she sat down.
“Hey, Sierra,” Tre, one of the guys in the band, said, “Vicki told us we have to pay for our food and that’s all. Don’t you want us to pay something for the gas, too?”
“Are you guys going to the beach?” Margo, one of the girls at the table, asked. “If you are, I’m definitely going.”
“I checked at the office,” Randy said. “We do get an excused absence, since the trip is to visit colleges.”
“Cool. Count me in,” said Margo.
Vicki still wore her innocent expression when Sierra, standing her ground, shot Vicki a perturbed look and said, “You guys have to understand something. It’s not up to me. My brother is the one heading up this trip, and he and my parents will decide who can go. I didn’t mean for it to become an open invitation.”
“How many can fit in your van?” Warner asked.
Sierra clenched her teeth. “Eight. But that’s beside the point.”
Warner did a quick count. “Only four of us want to go.”
Vicki held out her fingers and kept counting. “Then Sierra, Amy, Wes, and me. Eight. That’s perfect.”
Sierra gave Vicki her most exasperated look. “It’s not up to me. Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’ll have to ask my parents and brother.”
“Can you let us know tomorrow?” Margo asked. “Vicki said you were planning to visit the college where my parents met. I know they would let me go to see their alma mater.”
Sierra found it hard to stay irritated with Margo, who had no idea this wasn’t a free-for-all. Actually, Sierra realized she wouldn’t mind if Margo came along. While it hadn’t occurred to Sierra to invite her, it would be nice if Margo did come. She had arrived at Royal Academy this year, fresh from the mission field. Her parents had served for years in Peru. Margo slowly had blossomed into a fun friend who was always doing little things for their group, such as bringing cookies to share or sticking notes of encouragement in their lockers. Sierra would feel bad not returning some kindness to Margo now that the opportunity was before her.
“I’ll try to let you know tomorrow,” Sierra promised. This was becoming complicated. How could she tell her friends that Wes had said yes to Randy, Tre, and Margo but no to Warner? Especially when everyone knew the van had enough seats. That in itself might be the deciding factor, since Wesley had said he thought four people was a good number. There would be very little sleeping if everyone had to sit up the whole way.
I guess the easiest, fairest answer would be to tell everyone, “Sorry, but you can’t come.” Everyone except Vicki and Amy. And maybe Randy. Oh, and Margo. Man, this is turning into a nightmare!
Sierra wanted to express her frustration to Vicki but forced herself to bite her tongue and wait so she wouldn’t say anything she would regret later. Plenty of times in her life she had exploded first, then thought about what she had said later. Those times always required an apology on her part, and she wasn’t interested in starting off this trip with hurt feelings all around.
By the time she had explained the situation to her parents after dinner, her dad had a strained look on his face. The skin on his forehead had turned into a bunch of ripples and tightened between his eyebrows. It looked as though a headache was starting from the outside and working its way to the inside. Sierra knew exactly how that felt.
“Well,” her mom said, breathing a deep sigh, “let’s think this through.”
“Only you, Sierra,” her dad said, shaking his head.
All Sierra’s defenses rose to the surface. “Hey, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Vicki shouldn’t have said anything without asking me first.”
“Did you tell her that?” her mom asked.
“No. I knew if I tried to say something, it wouldn’t come out very nice.”
“Good for you on that account,” her mom said. She reached across the dining room table and gave Sierra’s hand a squeeze. “We know you didn’t try to complicate things, so don’t think you’re being blamed for anything.”
“All I meant,” her dad said, “was that only you would find yourself caught in such a situation. You tend to end up in these tangles. I do understand it wasn’t your intention, and we can work this out. Let’s give Wesley a call to see what he thinks.”
They tried to call Wes until eleven that night but only got his voice mail. After leaving four messages, Mr. Jensen suggested they go to bed and call Wes in the morning before Sierra left for schoo
l.
“Just tell your friends tomorrow that you don’t have an answer yet. They can wait one more day,” Mrs. Jensen said diplomatically.
Right, Sierra thought. You try showing up at school tomorrow without an answer and see how popular you are, Mom.
Sierra went to her bedroom and closed the door. It bugged her that her room was such a mess. Usually she could go weeks without noticing the clutter, but when one area of her life was unsettled, all the unorganized parts seemed intensified. She didn’t have the desire or energy to clean her room since it was so late. It actually made her miss Tawni, her neat-freak sister, who, when they shared the room, used to insist Sierra periodically plow through her stuff scattered all over the place. Ever since Tawni had moved out, Sierra, for the first time in her life, had dictated her own living conditions. Only once or twice had her room ever been completely cleaned since then, and that was when company was anticipated.
Reaching for the printed-out information she had gathered from the Internet the night before, Sierra flopped onto her bed and read again about the University of Edinburgh. She had a map of the campus and a guide to each of the buildings. It was morning now in Scotland. Was Paul on his way to class? Which building would he be in? The James Clerk Maxwell Building? Or maybe the Ogston Building. She noticed a spot marked Student Centre. It made her wonder whom he spent his lunch hours with. Was he ever tardy to class because of goofy friends who complicated his life by making plans that didn’t coordinate with his?
Sierra put down the papers. It was useless to slip into a daydreaming mode about Paul. She had done that before, and it had only produced a deep, insatiable longing. She didn’t want to visit that place again. In her heart of hearts, she knew she wanted her love to be focused on God, the only One who could fill her completely. She didn’t want to live on that raw emotional edge where fantasy and imagination devoured reality.
With a heavy sigh, Sierra reached for her Bible on her nightstand and pulled out a note card on which she had written 2 Corinthians 10:3–5 from a different version. She had been trying to memorize the passage, but for some reason it wouldn’t stay in her mind. A guest speaker for their youth group had challenged all of them to memorize these verses to learn how to control their imaginations.