With one more glance in the mirror, Sierra convinced herself she looked good. And she did look good. Stunning, actually. No one would disagree with that. Maybe stunning was a good thing for one night. One special night.
“Do you think they’re here yet?” Sierra asked.
“No. I asked Jeremy to knock on the door when they arrived.”
“Do you have your ring yet?” Sierra looked at her sister’s hand and realized she should have asked this question an hour ago.
“No.” Tawni held up her unadorned left hand. “Jeremy is going to give it to me tonight, I think. We picked it out, but it had to be sized.”
Just then a knock sounded at the bedroom door. Tawni and Sierra spontaneously reached for each other and squeezed each other’s arms. They had good reason to be a little excited and nervous. Those Mackenzie boys were the kind who took a girl’s breath away.
“Yes?” Tawni called out.
“It’s me.” Jeremy’s voice sounded through the closed door. “Just wanted to let you know my parents are here.”
“Thanks. We’ll be right out.” Tawni checked her hair in the mirror and touched up her lipstick. The summer dress she wore was a pale tangerine and looked much more sophisticated than the “Arizona summer” outfit Sierra had wiggled into. Tawni’s sandals had much lower heels than the ones Sierra had borrowed from her sister, so for one of the first times in their lives, the two sisters stood nearly eye level with each other.
“You look ravishing, as always,” Sierra said.
Tawni flashed her a smile. “So do you. Come on. Let’s face the cameras.”
Sierra assumed that was some kind of model talk. She should have joined in the spirit of the comment when Tawni put her arm through Sierra’s and led her from the guest room. She should have felt ravishing and confident. Instead of her tomboy cutoff jeans, her unruly hair flying every which way, and of course, the hideous black eye, she was dressed like a model and was a fitting counterpart for her sister. She should have been smiling for the cameras.
Yet all she could think as they exited the room was, I’m about to make one of the worst mistakes of my life!
six
JEREMY’S COMMENT when the two sisters entered the living room should have been reason enough for Sierra to take flight back to the guest room and conduct a little makeover of her own. Actually, it wasn’t his comment so much as his expression. He said, “Sierra, is that you?” And he said it not as though he was impressed, but more as if he was amused. The tone was condescending, like an older brother discovering a younger sibling who has helped herself to Mommy’s perfume and makeup.
“Doesn’t she look terrific?” Tawni asked, going to Jeremy’s side, slipping her hand into his, and standing back to admire her handiwork.
Sierra nervously fingered the silver daffodil necklace. Tawni had tried to convince Sierra that it didn’t go with the outfit and she should tuck it under her dress, but Sierra wanted to wear it proudly so Paul would see how much she treasured his gift.
“Ah, yes,” Jeremy said after a pause. “Terrific. I hardly knew it was you, Sierra.”
Mr. Jensen walked in then with Wesley and Mrs. Jensen. They all had a stilted nod for her after hiding the surprised looks on their faces.
“You did a good job of covering up the shiner,” Sierra’s dad said graciously.
“What do you think of her hair? I got the style out of one of my bridal magazines. I wanted to try it out. It might be kind of cute for all the bridesmaids to wear their hair that way, don’t you think?”
Sierra swallowed, waiting for all the Lookie Lous of her family to finish staring. She definitely wasn’t cut out to be Tawni’s guinea pig. In that moment Sierra decided she couldn’t go through with this.
“You know what? I have a headache from my hair being coiled on top of my head like this. No offense, Tawni, but I’m going to take it down.”
“Oh. Are you sure the headache is from your hair? Maybe it’s from your eye. You could try some aspirin first, couldn’t you?” Tawni looked heartbroken, but Sierra felt certain, as she heard voices approaching up the front walkway, that some things in life were more important than Tawni’s feelings. A good impression with Paul and his family headed the top of Sierra’s list at the moment.
“I’ll take some,” Sierra said, quickly turning to dash for the guest room, which was situated on the other side of the entryway. She was too late. Just as her sandaled foot hit the tiled entry, the front door opened, and a rush of voices overwhelmed her. Sierra tried to duck out of the way, but a large, friendly woman with brunette hair took her wrist and said, “Sierra? Are you Sierra?”
Sierra timidly nodded and could feel her pinned curls bob on top of her head. She didn’t dare look behind the woman in case Paul was standing there.
“Sierra dear, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to give you this!” And with that, the woman, who smelled of honeysuckle, wrapped her arms around Sierra and gave her about the biggest hug she had ever received. When the woman pulled away, she looked Sierra in the face and said, “I’m Lindy. Lindy Mackenzie. Paul’s mom. And you’re the little angel who prayed my boy back to us.” She scooped up Sierra’s hands in hers and held them tightly. “You’ll never know how much I cherish you, sweet Sierra.” Tears were in her eyes. “And I understand we even share the same birthday—November 14th.”
Suddenly, Sierra knew her outward appearance didn’t matter to this woman. Lindy Mackenzie saw straight to the inside of people and embraced them heart to heart. Sierra felt at ease, and not ridiculous, in her fancy hairdo and tight dress. Paul’s mother had showered her with the happy scent of honeysuckle, and Sierra knew somehow she could face whatever the rest of this weekend might hold.
Mrs. Mackenzie gave Sierra’s hands another good squeeze, and with a twinkle in her eye, she said, “I’d like you to meet my first husband, Robert.”
“First husband?” Sierra questioned as she reached out her hand to shake with Pastor Mackenzie. He was a calm, gentle man who had lots of dark, wavy hair like Paul and wore small, wire-rim glasses.
“Lindy likes to call me that to see people’s reactions,” Pastor Mackenzie said with a wink at Sierra. “I also happen to be her only husband.”
Sierra got the joke, as silly as it was, and nodded her understanding to Pastor Mackenzie.
Mrs. Mackenzie jumped in with another story. “An older woman from the congregation of our last church lived in a retirement community, and you’ll never guess what she did. This is a true story. She went up to one of the gentlemen who lived there and said, ‘You look just like my third husband.’ And the gentleman said, ‘Third husband? How many have you had?’ And she said to him, ‘Only two … so far.’ And would you believe, they were married the next month? Robert performed the ceremony.”
Lindy Mackenzie filled the room with her cheerful chuckle, and Sierra decided she had never met a woman like her. Sierra adored her.
Mr. Jensen stepped into the entryway and said, “That’s some pickup line. How are you, Robert? Good to see you again, Lindy.”
Sierra glanced over Pastor Mackenzie’s shoulder to see if Paul was standing on the front door step next to the clay pot with the tiny blue flowers spilling over the sides. She saw only Dillon bending down to pet a large calico cat, and she could hear Gavin calling to him from around the side of the house. Unconsciously biting her lower lip, Sierra wondered if she should venture outside in hopes of finding Paul so the two of them could share a private reunion. Of course, either of her little brothers might bombard her with a bunch of immature comments about her appearance, and that was the last thing she needed in front of Paul—especially since Mrs. Mackenzie had managed to lift her spirits in such a way that Sierra’s attention was off herself.
Pastor Mackenzie closed the front door behind him and headed for the living room.
“Is Paul still coming?” Sierra asked in a voice that sounded much too squeaky.
“He’s here already,” Pastor Mackenzie said
. “He drove up himself after work so he could have his car here. It was in the driveway when we arrived. He must be out back.”
Now Sierra felt nervous all over again. She had to figure out a way to casually wander through this chattering crowd in the entryway and living room and figure out how to get to the backyard. Slipping around the giddy relatives, Sierra tried the hallway that contained her guest room. She passed a bathroom, two closed doors, and then entered a large kitchen and dining area with huge windows that faced the ocean. The view was spectacular. A wide patio stretched out behind the house and was met by a carpet of deep grass. To the left, on the grass, was a small white gazebo, and next to it was a trail that appeared to lead down to the beach.
Sierra leaned up against the counter by the sink, hoping to be hidden just a little as she scanned the backyard for Paul. Dillon was running with a croquet mallet in his hand and yelling for Gavin to come back and finish the game with him. She saw no sign of Paul. But the view captivated Sierra, and she watched the white, soaring seagulls as they circled in the pale blue sky.
As she stared out the window, someone quietly entered the kitchen behind her and said, “Excuse me. Do you know what time my grandmother is planning to have dinner?”
Sierra couldn’t move. She knew that deep male voice. She would know it anywhere. Ever since the first time that voice spoke to her at the phone booth in London and said, “Excuse me, but do you have any coins? I’m desperate!” she had known that voice. But now she couldn’t respond.
“Oh, ah,” Paul said to the back of Sierra’s head. “¿Qué tiempo esta noche es la comida?”
Sierra nearly burst out laughing. Paul apparently thought she was a maid his grandmother had hired to help with all the company. Slowly turning to him, with a straight face, she answered in her equally broken Spanish, “Yo no sé, señor.”
Paul gave her the strangest look.
Sierra tried hard not to crack up. He kept staring at her until the corners of her mouth finally pulled themselves up in a huge grin, and she said, “Hola, Paul.”
“Sierra?” It was barely a whisper. Then again he said, “Sierra!” as if he finally did recognize her through the makeup and hair and imperfect Spanish accent. Now it was his turn to start laughing.
Sierra’s big plans for their romantic reunion turned into the kind of story Mrs. Mackenzie might tell at a church social. There Paul and Sierra stood, four feet from each other in the middle of the kitchen, both laughing their hearts out, but neither of them moving toward the other. Theirs was a nervous, relieved, caught-in-the-act kind of laugh. It helped Sierra to realize Paul must be feeling all the same crazy things she was feeling.
The first wave of laughter subsided, and Sierra caught her breath. She inched closer to him, moving awkwardly in the high-heeled sandals across the slick kitchen floor. Paul didn’t move, though. He stayed still, staring at her with a strange look on his face, as if he couldn’t quite figure out if she really was Sierra or if this was some kind of bizarre joke.
“It’s really me,” Sierra heard herself say, shrugging her shoulders and feeling her heart beating all the way up into her throat.
Paul was wearing a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, khaki shorts, and a pair of sandals with dark straps. His brown, wavy hair was cut short and combed back on the sides. A few rebellious strands curved at his right temple, and across his broad forehead were hints of thin worry lines. His stormy, blue-gray eyes met hers and stayed locked on her for an unblinking moment.
“Hi,” he finally said.
Unsure of what to do or say, Sierra swallowed her disappointment over this not being the fairy-tale reunion she had planned. She found her shaky voice and whispered back, “Hi.”
seven
“OH, GOOD!” Lindy Mackenzie declared, making a grand entrance into the kitchen. “There you two are. So you’ve found each other. Isn’t this wonderful? I’ve been looking forward to this get-together more than I can tell you.” She stepped over to Sierra’s side and gave her a quick, around-the-shoulder hug. “How about something to drink for you two? I see a pitcher of lemonade there on the table. Would either of you like some?”
Sierra couldn’t answer. She didn’t want lemonade. She wanted Paul’s arm around her instead of his mother’s. And she wanted him to stop staring at her and to smile. Really smile. Smile the unspoken message that he had been looking forward to this get-together more than his mom had and that he was happy to see Sierra.
Before either of them could answer, the group from the living room had made its way into the kitchen, and with the crowd came noise and confusion. Sierra was instructed by her mother to wake up Granna Mae from her nap. Lindy announced that they weren’t eating at the house, as Paul had supposed. They were going out to dinner and planned to leave in five minutes.
Sierra turned away from her mom, preparing to head back to the hallway, which meant she had to walk past Paul. Maybe he would duck out with her, and they could have their hug in the hallway. But when she turned, Paul had disappeared.
She strode to the hallway, hoping he was already there waiting for her, but the hall was empty. Sierra tapped on the first closed door and called out for Granna Mae. When Sierra heard no answer, she opened the door and tapped again lightly. Granna Mae was asleep on top of a blue and white floral bedspread with a thin blanket over her legs. Her soft, white hair billowed between her head and the pillow, making it look as if she were sleeping on a cloud. Her wrinkled face wore a blissful expression.
Leaning over, Sierra touched her grandmother’s shoulder and whispered, “Granna Mae, time to wake up.”
Granna Mae’s eyelids fluttered open. The instant she looked at Sierra, Sierra knew her sometimes-confused grandmother didn’t recognize her. A cloudy look was in Granna Mae’s eyes, and her blissful expression had turned into irritation. “What?” the old woman said impatiently.
“Granna Mae, we’re at Tawni’s engagement party, and we’re all going to go out to eat for dinner now. Are you ready to wake up so you can come with us?”
“What?”
Sierra repeated the information more slowly and then gently coaxed her grandmother to get up. “That’s good,” Sierra said as Granna Mae swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had some dinner.”
“I’m not sick,” Granna Mae snapped.
“I know you’re not sick. It’s just that it’s dinnertime, and we’re all going to a restaurant now.” Sierra realized she looked different to Granna Mae, since she had never dressed up like this before; the transformation could have been confusing even to someone who didn’t have memory lapses. Sierra’s appearance certainly hadn’t impressed Paul.
Sierra held out her hand. After scrutinizing her for another moment, Granna Mae hesitantly took her hand and allowed Sierra to lead her out of the bedroom.
Mrs. Jensen met them in the hallway and gave Sierra a raised-eyebrow look that Sierra knew meant, “How’s she doing? Is she coherent?”
Sierra shook her head and lowered her eyes, letting her mother know that this was not one of Granna Mae’s clearer moments. When Granna Mae was thinking clearly, she would call Sierra by her childhood nickname, “Lovey.” For some reason, Sierra was the family member Granna Mae recognized most often in her fuzzy spells, which was why Mrs. Jensen had sent Sierra in to wake up her grandmother.
“We’re going in Jeremy’s car,” Mrs. Jensen said to Granna Mae. “We’re all going out to a Mexican restaurant for dinner.”
Granna Mae looked at Sierra and then at her mother. “I don’t know anyone named Jeremy. Where’s Paul?”
Mrs. Jensen and Sierra snapped a glance of surprise at each other. Sierra was the first to respond. “Paul is here. He’ll be glad to see you, too.”
Sierra had no way of knowing if Granna Mae truly meant Paul Mackenzie or if she was referring to her son Paul, who had been killed in Vietnam. Granna Mae had met Paul Mackenzie when she was in the hospital more than a year ago. Paul had paid he
r an unannounced visit and brought her a daffodil, which Granna Mae declared was her favorite flower. Earlier Paul had seen Sierra parading down the street with her armful of daffodils for Granna Mae in the hospital, and he had dubbed her “Daffodil Queen” shortly after that in a letter.
They stepped into the crowded entryway, and Sierra could tell all the loud voices were frightening Granna Mae. She looked at the group as if she didn’t know anyone, not even her own son Howard, who was Sierra’s dad. Granna Mae clutched Sierra’s hand tighter, and together they maneuvered through the group and out the front door. As soon as they were outside, Granna Mae seemed to start breathing again, and she loosened her grip on Sierra’s hand. Sierra was amazed at how soft her grandmother’s hand felt even though the skin was sagging around her bony fingers and wrist.
“Mom said you’re going to ride in Jeremy’s car,” Sierra said slowly, leading Granna Mae to the driveway, where all the cars were packed in, bumper to bumper. “You and Mom will ride to the restaurant with Jeremy and Tawni.”
“And you,” Granna Mae said, quickly tightening up on Sierra’s hand.
Sierra didn’t know how to tell her grandmother that Sierra’s secret plan was to go in Paul’s car—just she and Paul, alone at last so they could talk. She hadn’t spotted Paul since he had disappeared from the kitchen, but she had thought through the seating arrangements in the car, as well as when they arrived at the restaurant. Her plan was to put herself next to Paul the whole time—not next to Granna Mae.
“Well, Mom will be with you,” Sierra said. The others were following Sierra and Granna Mae out to the driveway, and Sierra expected to turn around and see Paul any second.
Granna Mae held tightly to Sierra’s hand and looked confused.
“My mom,” Sierra explained slowly. “My mom, Sharon Jensen, will be with you in the car.”
“Sharon?”
“Yes. You know, she married your son Howard.”