SIERRA JENSEN GAZED out the train window at the cold, wet English countryside. In an hour she and her friends
would be back at Carnforth Hall with the other ministry teams that had spent the past week in various European
countries. She wedged her hands between her crossed legs, trying to warm them against her jeans. Endless pastures,
frosted with winter’s ice, flashed past her window. Sierra let out a sigh.
“What are you thinking?” Katie asked, uncurling from her comfy position on the train seat next to Sierra. Katie’s
red hair swished as she tilted her head to make eye contact with Sierra. Even though Katie was two years older than
Sierra and they had met only two weeks ago, they had become close during the week they had just spent together
in Belfast, Northern Ireland.
“About going back to the States,” Sierra said. Her silver, dangling earrings chimed as she turned to Katie and smiled her wide, easy smile, but she was really looking past Katie. In the seat across the aisle from them, their team leader, Doug, was sitting next to his girlfriend, Tracy.
“This whole trip went too fast.” Katie folded her arms and settled back against the upholstered seat. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”
“I know,” Sierra agreed. “Me neither.” She noticed that Doug was now slipping his arm across the back of the seat.
Tracy slid closer to him.
“I’d like to come back,” Katie said. “Maybe next summer.”
“Me too,” Sierra said, watching Tracy snuggle up to Doug.
“It would be great if out whole team could be together again for another trip.”
“Me too,” Sierra said. Tracy was tilting her heartshaped faced toward Doug’s, giving him a delicate smile that, by the look on his face, was melting him to the core.
“What do you mean, ‘me too’? Of course you would be on the team.” Katie looked over her shoulder to see what
had distracted Sierra. Turning back to Sierra, Katie leaned forward and quietly said, “Don’t they just make you sick?”
“Katie,” Sierra said in a hushed voice, “I thought you guys were all best friends and had been for years—you,
Doug, Tracy, and Christy. Why would it make you sick to see those two together?”
“We’re all best friends. It’s just…well, look at them! They’re totally in love.”
“I know,” Sierra said, casting another quick glance at the couple who were now talking softly and looking deeply
into each other’s eyes. “I can’t imagine ever being in Tracy’s place and having a guy look at me like that.”
“Are you kidding?” Katie pulled back and let her bright green eyes do a quick head-to-toe scan of Sierra. “Have you ever looked in a mirror, girl? First, you have the hair going for you. You have great hair! Wild, blond, curly. Very
“Haven’t you noticed?” Sierra said, tugging at a curly loop of her long hair. “Straight, sleek hair happens to be in
“Oh sure, this week. Wait a few days. Everyone will be running out for perms so they can look just like you. And
your smile happens to be award-winning, in case you didn’t know. Blue-gray eyes that change with the weather are also quite popular. A few freckles. That’s good. Fantastic clothes, all very original. And I don’t ever want to hear you complain about your body.”
“What body? I’m shaped like a tomboy.”
“Better to be shaped like a tomboy than a fullback.”
“You’re not shaped like a fullback,” Sierra protested. “Okay, a halfback.”
“You’re both beautiful,” Stephen, the German guy on their team, inserted into the conversation. He was sitting
directly across from them and had appeared to be sleeping.
Sierra felt her cheeks blush, realizing Stephen had overheard their conversation. He was the oldest one of
their group, and his beard added to his older appearance.
“Why do women find it a sport to criticize themselves to their friends?” Stephen asked, leaning forward and taking
on the tone of a counselor. “You both are gorgeous young women on the outside and fantastically beautiful here,” he
patted his heart, “where it really counts.”
“Then you tell us why all the guys aren’t falling at our feet,” Katie challenged.
“Is that what you want?” Stephen asked, and in an uncharacteristic move, tumbled to the floor and bowed at their feet.
Sierra burst out laughing.
“Get out of here!” Katie said. “You’re making this a joke, and I’m serious.”
Stephen returned to his seat, a satisfied little grin across his usually serious face.
“You’re a guy; tell us what you’re attracted to in a girl,” Katie said.
Stephen took a quick look at Tracy and then back at Sierra and Katie. “Well,” he began, but it was too late. His
unspoken message seemed clear.
Katie threw her hands up in the air. “I knew it! Youdon’t have to say anything. You men are all alike! You all say
it’s the personality and what’s on the inside that counts. But the truth is your first choice every time is the Tracy-type,
the sweet, helpful, cute ones. Admit it! There’s little hope in this world for the few individualists like Sierra and me.”
“On the contrary. You’re both very attractive. To the right man, you will be a treasure. You just need to wait on
“I know, I know,” Katie said. “And until then, we have our own little club, don’t we, Sierra?”
Sierra remembered when she and Katie had formed the Pals Only Club at the beginning of their trip. She slapped
Katie a high five and said, “P.O. forever!”
“That’s right,” Katie said. “We may have lost Tracy, but it’s you, me, and Christy from here on out.”
“You women do not need a little club,” Stephen said. “Perhaps a caveman with a big club might be helpful…”
Instead of laughing at his joke, the girls gave Stephen a tandem groan and twisted their expressions into unappreciative scowls. He folded his arms against his chest, closed his eyes, and pretended to go back to sleep. But a crooked grin was on his lips.
“Come on,” Katie said. “Let’s get something to drink.”
Sierra followed her down the rocking aisle that led to the back of the train car. They passed through the sliding
doors and headed for the compact snack bar at the end of the next car. After buying Cokes, they stood to the side by
the closed windows.
“Guys like Stephen really bug me,” Katie said. “First they’re all sweet and full of compliments, and then they
make stupid jokes. You never know if they’re serious about all the nice stuff or not.”
“I think he meant it,” Sierra said, shifting her weight from one foot to another. She was wearing her favorite old
cowboy boots that she had worn for most of the trip. They were actually her dad’s old leather boots. Very authentic.
She had found them in the garage last summer when they were cleaning out stuff for a garage sale. Her mom had
wanted to sell them and said, “I can’t believe we still have these old boots! Howard wore them on our first date.”
That’s when Sierra knew they couldn’t be cast off to some stranger at a garage sale. She tried them on, and to
her amazement, they fit. She had worn them constantly ever since, much to her mother’s dismay.
“Enough talk about guys,” Katie said. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“It’ll be great to see all the other teams tonight and hear about everything that happened to them.”
“Yeah.” Katie agreed. “I can’t wait to hear about Christy’s week in Spain.”
“I still can’t believe they pulled her off our team at the last minute and sent her all the way to Spain after the rest of the Spanish team had already left. I don’t think I could have done what she did, traveling all by herself for two days and then joining up with a team of people she barely knew.”
“It’s like I kept saying,” Katie said, making a muscleman pose. “She is Missionary Woman.”
Sierra smiled. “I felt as if I was just getting closer to her, and then they shipped her off on a moment’s notice. It
must have been even harder for you to see her leave like that, since you guys have been best friends for so long.”
“I’m sure it was a God-thing.” Katie finished her drink and tossed her can into the bin marked “rubbish” as if she
were shooting a basketball into a hoop. She made the shot and with two fingers gave herself a score of “two points” in
Excerpted from Only You, Sierra by Robin Jones Gunn. Copyright © 2011 by Robin Jones Gunn. Excerpted by permission of Multnomah Books, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.