The odd part was that such behavior was the opposite of her personality. Up until this point in her life she had always been the initiator. She had been the “Randy” at school and church, trying to make everyone else feel welcome. Now she was the new girl, and she didn’t know how to play the role.
“Well, when you decide you’re ready to conduct interviews for a buddy, I’d like to apply for the job.”
Sierra let her smile surface. She felt foolish and immature for being unwilling to talk to him.
“Randy,” she began, “it’s hard—”
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “You haven’t tried yet.”
Sierra wished she had some magic words to make everything better. Words that she could use like a ticket to allow her to try this ride again.
Then she remembered something one of the speakers had said on her missions trip to England. She had written it in her notebook and had noticed it a few nights ago. He had said, “When all is said and done, there will only be two phrases to sum up every relationship. The first is ‘Forgive me.’ The second is ‘Thank you.’ Say the first one often in your youth, and you will need only the second one on your deathbed.”
“Randy,” Sierra said quickly, “forgive me.”
“Okay. But what am I forgiving you for?”
“For being a brat. I would rather be your buddy.”
Randy tossed her one of his crooked smiles. “You mean I got the job?”
“Yup.” She stood up and held out her hand to shake on it. “You’re hired.”
Instead of a handshake, Randy looped his arm around her shoulders and gave Sierra a sideways hug.
“Pals?” Randy asked.
Sierra remembered the Pals Only Club she and Katie had joked about. “Pals,” she echoed.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”
Sierra grabbed her backpack and tossed her crumpled-up ad for a new friend into the trash can on their way out the door. For the first time, she had someone to walk with her to class.
After school, Randy and two other girls, Amy and Vicki, stopped her before she reached her car in the parking lot. Sierra had talked with some of the girls before, and they had both tried to pursue a friendship with Sierra, but she hadn’t done much to reciprocate.
Amy looked Italian with thick black hair and dark, expressive eyes. More than once she had come to school wearing an outfit similar to one of Sierra’s.
Vicki was very popular. Her stunning looks had something to do with that. She wore her silky brown hair parted down the middle, and it billowed at her shoulders with a slight wave. Her almond-shaped green eyes were arched by thin eyebrows, and she had a rather “womanly” figure. Because Vicki was so attractive, Sierra had assumed she was stuck-up and hadn’t thought much about talking with her before.
The three friends gathered around Sierra and said, “We’re going to McDonald’s. You want to come?”
“I have to work,” Sierra said. “Today’s my first day. I have to be there by four.”
“Where do you work?” Vicki asked.
“It’s a little shop on Hawthorne that makes cinnamon rolls.”
“Mama Bear’s?” Amy said. “I love that place. You know where it is, Vicki. On the same side of the street as my favorite dress shop, A Wrinkle in Time.”
“Oh yeah,” Vicki said. “Maybe we should go there instead of McDonald’s.”
Sierra swallowed hard. This making new friends thing was pretty awkward for her. Starting a brand-new job would probably be uncomfortable too, but combining both activities sounded like a disaster. She felt relieved when Randy said, “They don’t have burgers there, do they? I’m in search of some real food.”
“Aw, come on, Randy,” Amy said. “They have lattes.”
Apparently the lure of fancy coffee drinks wasn’t enough to coerce Randy to change his mind. “How about another time?” he suggested.
“Sounds good to me.” Sierra let out her breath, which she realized she was holding.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Vicki said.
They turned to go. Sierra unlocked the car door and then stopped and called out, “Hey!” They turned around. “Thank you,” she said.
“Sure,” Randy answered for the three of them. He didn’t seem quite clear on what she was thanking them for.
Sierra felt good as she drove to Mama Bear’s. She was making progress. This wasn’t a result of chance. When peace came blowing in like this, riding on the wind of the Holy Spirit, God was at work.
She rolled down her window, stuck out her elbow into the cool afternoon air, and peeked through the windshield into the cloudy sky. “Thank You,” she whispered.
thirteen
“SIERRA, IS THAT YOU?” Mom called from the kitchen.
“Yes, it’s your very own walking disaster.” Sierra dragged herself into the kitchen, dropped into a chair, pulled her hair back, and held it on top of her head in a ponytail. “You will not believe what happened.”
Mom turned down the flame on the big pot of soup and said, “Oh, I might. Give me a try.”
Sierra let down her hair and started her story. “I got to Mama Bear’s on time. A little early, actually. They had this nice blue apron waiting for me, and Mrs. Kraus started to show me how to make cappuccinos. Should be simple, right?” Sierra shook her head. “I go to make my first one for this guy who’s standing right there watching me, but I didn’t tighten the little filter thing enough. You know, the thing with the handle that you use to put the coffee grounds in and clamp it onto the part where the super-hot water comes out.”
“Don’t tell me,” Mom said.
“I did. I turned on the machine, and it spit scalding water all over my pretty new apron, all over the floor, and all over the counter. When I tried to stop it, it spewed soggy coffee grounds all over. And I do mean all over. It was a disaster.”
“That’s awful, honey!”
“Wait. There’s more. Mrs. Kraus is nice, calm, and sweet, and she tells me to start over and not to worry about it. So I clean up everything, and I try again, very carefully. Everything is perfect. The steamed milk frothed up just right. Wonderful. Only one problem. I forgot to put any coffee grounds in the machine. All he got was hot water and steamed milk. I can’t believe it! I was so worried about the machine that I wasn’t paying attention to the cup. Then I hand the guy his cappuccino after he’s been waiting for ten minutes. He takes one sip and practically sprays it out of his mouth and all over the counter.”
“Oh, Sierra,” Mom sympathized.
“He gets really mad, and in front of about ten customers, he demands his money back and says he’s never coming back. I thought he was going to throw the cup at me. I thought Mrs. Kraus was going to fire me right then and there.”
“Did she?”
“No. She was totally calm and said, ‘These things happen. Try again.’ ”
“What a marvelous attitude.”
“I know. She’s a very sweet woman.”
“And did you try again?”
“Yes. I got it right the next time. I made another cappuccino for the very next customer. He was smiling at me the whole time, which made me slightly nervous. Then when I handed the cup to him, he handed me a dollar tip and said, ‘I think all champions should be rewarded.’ ”
Mom smiled and shook her head. “Only you, Sierra. And all this on your first day!”
“That’s not all,” Sierra said.
“You’re kidding!”
Dad had entered the kitchen with Brutus’s dog leash in his hand. As he hung it on the hook of the back door, he asked, “Is this the recap of day one at the bakery? What have I missed so far?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Mom said. “Just listen. She’s on a roll.”
Sierra started to laugh. She laughed until little tear crystals shimmered in her eyes. “Actually,” she said, “the roll was on me.”
“This ought to be good,” Dad said, resting his arm on Mom’s shoulder and giving Si
erra his full attention.
“I reached for a box of a half-dozen cinnamon rolls that was on this rack behind the cash register. I didn’t know, of course, that the box was open. I wasn’t paying attention, and the whole thing tumbled onto me.” She held up the ends of her hair. “Frosting everywhere.”
“I wondered what happened to your hair,” Mom said. “But frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.”
“Well, now you know. I tried to wash some of it out in the sink at work, but it was impossible. I can’t believe they didn’t throw me out and threaten my life if I ever darkened their doorway again. Oh, and then the grand finale. Right before it was time for me to leave, I caught my apron on the edge of this big mixer they have in the back, and I tore the apron.”
“A lot?” Mom asked.
Sierra held up her two index fingers in the air to indicate a rip of about seven inches.
Mom covered her mouth. Sierra knew her mother was trying hard to suppress her laughter.
“And they still want you to come back on Saturday?” Dad asked.
“Yes. Absolutely amazing, isn’t it?”
“By any chance did the job description call for someone to provide comic relief?” Dad teased. “You know, perk up the business a little by putting on a sideshow. Customers will be lining up on the days you work just to see what’s going to happen next.”
Sierra grabbed a pot holder off the counter next to her and threw it at her dad. “You meanie!”
“Meanie?” Dad said, catching the pot holder before it hit Mom. “What happened to ‘wonderful Daddy-o’ who was checking on airline tickets for you?”
“What did you find out?” Sierra asked, ducking as the pot holder came flying back at her.
“What’s for dinner, honey?”
“Chicken soup. It’s ready.”
“Dad!” Sierra pleaded.
“Chicken soup?” he said, lifting the lid and giving it a stir. “Who’s sick?”
“You’re going to be if you don’t tell me about the airplane tickets!” Sierra jumped up and grabbed his arm before he could reach for another pot holder.
“Oh, getting tricky in your old age, are you?” Dad leaned over and took a whiff of Sierra’s hair. “I like your new perfume. It has that fresh-from-the-oven fragrance. Subtle, yet tasty.”
“You’re going to be fresh from the oven if you don’t tell me about the tickets!”
“Okay, okay,” Dad said, raising both hands in surrender. Some numbers were written in blue ink on the palm of his right hand.
“What’s this?” Sierra said, grabbing his hand and taking a closer look.
“I didn’t have a piece of paper handy. I was on hold for so long that when they finally came back on the line …”
Mom shook her head at her husband’s antics.
“That one in the middle,” he said, pointing, “is the fare into John Wayne. It’s the best price.”
“John Wayne?”
“That’s what they call the Orange County airport. Do you think you can come up with the money in less than three weeks?”
“I think so,” Sierra said, twisting her head to read the last two numbers. “Is that a two or a five?”
“Five. I think. Let me see. Yeah, that’s a five.”
“When do I leave, and when do I come back?”
“You would leave on Friday evening and return the following Thursday. No seats were left for a return on the weekend, and they only had a few seats left on Thursday at the reduced price.”
“You asked them to hold it for me, didn’t you?”
Just then the phone rang and Mom reached for the extension on the wall.
“I most certainly did. What kind of secretary would I be if I didn’t make reservations for my boss?”
“Oh, dear,” Mom said.
Sierra and Dad stopped their teasing and turned their attention to Mom.
“Yes … I see … Thank you for calling right away. Good-bye.” She hung up. Her face was creased with worry lines. “We need to go right now,” she said.
“Was it the hospital? Were they calling about Granna Mae?” Sierra asked.
Mom nodded. “Sierra, can you serve dinner to the boys? They both need baths, and they need to be in bed by eight. Tawni should be home from work around nine-thirty. Call us at the hospital if you need anything.”
“Is she okay?” Sierra asked.
“I’m not sure. Howard, are you ready to go?”
“Right with you, sweetheart. Let’s take the van. I have the keys.”
With a whoosh, they were out the door. The kitchen, which had rung with laughter only moments before, had turned painfully still. Sierra forced herself to take a deep breath. “Gavin! Dillon!” She called out the back door. “Time to eat.”
fourteen
SIERRA STEPPED OUT of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. She fought the urge, which had been nagging her for the last two and half hours, to call the hospital. The boys were fed, bathed, and in bed. She had solemnly loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. Tawni should be home soon. And Sierra really needed to start on her paper for English. It was due tomorrow, and procrastinator that she was, she hadn’t begun the five-page report.
Fortunately for Sierra, she managed to come out of such situations unscathed. Her teachers wrote on her report card in the comment column, “Sierra is bright and intelligent. She has not yet pushed herself to her full potential.” It was true. She had never been motivated to try harder. Why should she, when, with a minimum effort, she could meet the class requirements and come home with a sterling report card?
She slipped into her favorite T-shirt pajamas and searched under her bed for her fuzzy slipper. Not there. She tried the closet. Nope. Sierra glanced around the room, looking for the missing slipper. Then, as if she truly noticed her side of the room for the first time, she said aloud. “What a slob! No wonder you can’t find anything, girl.”
That did it. She couldn’t stand the mess another minute. In a frenzy of motion, Sierra kicked into high gear and started to clean her room. It didn’t matter that it was after nine and she still had a paper to do. She could not stand to live in this messy room another second. She was actually feeling sympathetic for Tawni, who had to look at her disastrous mess every day.
Panting hard, her wet hair dripping down her back and wearing only one slipper, Sierra worked with lightning speed to hang up clothes, throw away papers, stuff necessary junk into drawers, and clean off the top of her dresser. She even stripped her bedsheets and jogged to the hall closet for clean, neatly folded sheets that smelled like lemon fabric softener. With a few quick folds and a snap of her comforter, Sierra’s bed was made—probably for the first time since they had moved here.
Then, scooping up an armful of dirty clothes, she trucked down to the washer in the basement and started up a load. Her clothes from a few days earlier were all folded and waiting for her in a plastic laundry bucket. On top of clothes was the missing slipper—a clean, fresh contrast to the one of her foot. In the slipper was a little note in Mom’s handwriting. “Some bunny wuvs you!”
I wonder if I’ll be such a terrific mom someday, Sierra thought, lugging the clean clothes upstairs. Just as she reached the entryway, a key turned in the front door. Tawni stepped in.
“Mom and Dad were called to the hospital,” Sierra said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Why didn’t you call the hospital?” Tawni said, hanging her purse on the same peg she always used on the hall coat tree.
“I thought they would call or just come home if everything was okay.”
“What time did they leave?” Tawni asked, heading for the kitchen phone in a huff.
“Around six-thirty.”
Tawni dialed the number for St. Mary’s written in chalk on the wall blackboard. She asked for Granna Mae’s room. They waited while it rang. “No one’s answering,” Tawni said. “What do you think is happening? Wouldn’t a nurse answer it at the station?”
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“I guess. I don’t know.” Now Sierra was feeling panicked. “Do you think we should go to the hospital?”
“Are the boys asleep?”
Sierra nodded.
Tawni held out the phone for Sierra to hear it ring. “That’s the seventh ring. Nobody is there.” Hanging up the phone, Tawni headed for the door. “I’m going. You stay here with the boys.”
“Call me as soon as you get there,” Sierra said.
“I’ll try.” Tawni swished out the door, closing it hard behind her.
Sierra stood in the entryway next to the full laundry basket. She didn’t know what to do. Finally, she reached for her backpack, took it back to the office. With supreme concentration, she turned on the computer and began to punch out her report.
Her mind was only half in gear as she waited for the phone to ring. Then, to make sure the phone was working, she reached over, picked it up, and checked for a dial tone. It was working. Sierra went back to her paper. She wrote nonstop for twenty minutes.
Come on, Tawni! Call me! What is keeping you?
Sierra pushed herself to finish the report. It was like walking uphill against the wind. She checked the wall clock every few minutes and picked up the phone twice to call but decided to wait for Tawni.
Her paper was almost finished. Sierra glanced out the French doors at the inky black backyard. It reminded her of the verse she read in Isaiah. Something about “my soul I have desired You in the night.” Sierra sat in the silent room, staring at the phone, praying for Granna Mae.
She forced herself to finish her paper, ran a spell-check, and then pressed “print.” As soon as she heard the printer kick in, Sierra went into the kitchen and dialed the hospital. It was 10:40, more than an hour since Tawni left. The phone rang in Granna Mae’s room. Mom answered it on the second ring.
“Mom, is everything okay? What’s going on? Tawni was supposed to call me.”
“I know,” Mom said calmly. “I’m sorry we didn’t call. Why don’t you go to bed? We’ll be home shortly.”
“Can’t you tell me what’s going on?” Sierra asked.