Dancing in the Rain Page 5

  “No, they’re both male,” she answers.

  “Oh, one of them is smaller. I thought he must be a she.”

  “The reason Grinder’s smaller,” Brenna explains, “is because he comes from the interior of BC. Interior bears don’t have as much protein in their diets as the coastal bears. Coola is a coastal bear, so he comes from a line of bears that have access to a lot of salmon. That seems to explain why they grow larger.” She’s heard these grizzly-bear facts so often she simply spews out the memorized information.

  “Is it true that bears have bad eyesight?” This question comes from behind her, and the voice is familiar. Brenna swings around and finds Ryan standing there, grinning at her.

  She returns the smile but can’t find the words to answer the question. After a long moment she breaks eye contact with him and sees that the tourists are waiting for an answer. “Actually,” she says, “grizzly bears, or brown bears as they are scientifically known, have good vision, probably about the same as our own. But it’s their sense of smell that’s really amazing. These boys can smell one hundred times better than us and ten times better than a bloodhound.”

  There’s a chorus of “oohs” from the crowd before a splash from the upper pond catches their attention and they move as a group to the other side of the bridge, where Grinder and Coola are now play-wrestling in the water.

  “I thought you might not be working today,” Brenna says to Ryan, who has not moved away with the rest of the visitors. Immediately she regrets her words, not wanting it to be obvious that she hoped to see him.

  “Hey, didn’t you know? I practically live up here.”

  Brenna smiles and then realizes she has no idea where he really does live.

  “I saw you arrive at the base this morning,” he says. “My tram was leaving the valley station and I looked down and saw you walking from the bus loop toward the coffee shop.”

  Brenna nods, remembering how she’d just missed a tram, which had given her time to grab a hot chocolate.

  “I have a present for you,” he says.

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh.” He looks around. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more private?”

  Seeing that the tourists are temporarily distracted by watching the bears in the pond, Brenna leads Ryan into the little cabin called Ski Wee that’s used by the wildlife team in the summer and the ski school in the winter. After a quick glance around the room, Ryan slides the pack off his back, unzips the top and pulls out a small bag. He hands it to her.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “Check it out.”

  She glances at him suspiciously, wondering if this is some kind of practical joke, but he only looks pleased with himself.

  Opening the plastic bag, she pulls out a deep-green T-shirt.

  “Look at the front,” he says, smiling at her puzzled expression.

  She unfolds the shirt. Printed on it, in bold type are the words I Survived the Grouse Grind.

  “Aha!” She laughs, holding the shirt up to herself. “I will wear it proudly.”

  “Good,” he says. “You should. And by this time next year, you will have shaved an hour off your time.”

  “What?” Brenna frowns.

  Ryan looks a little sheepish at his outburst. “You’ll have shaved an hour off your time,” he repeats. “I’m hoping you’ll keep hiking with me, and if you do, for sure you’ll find it gets easier.”

  Brenna folds up the T-shirt and puts it back in the bag. “But I don’t want to do it again. I didn’t enjoy it at all. My muscles are still hurting. I can hardly walk.”

  “Will you think about it?” he asks.

  Brenna lowers her head. It is true. She did hate it, but she does like Ryan, and the constant inner ache eased for the time they were hiking. That has to count for something.

  “Why do you want me to hike?” she asks. “I’ll slow you down.”

  “Because I need a hiking partner. See? It’s all about me. It’s not safe to hike alone.”

  Once again Brenna realizes how much she enjoys hearing him talk—his Australian accent stirs something up in her. “Yeah right. You’re never alone on the Grind. That trail is like a hiking highway.”

  Surprisingly, Ryan doesn’t have a comeback for that.

  “And besides, the Grind closes over the winter,” Brenna points out.

  “That’s when we start doing the Snowshoe Grind,” he says, smiling brightly.

  “The what?”

  “There’s a Snowshoe Grind that goes up Dam Mountain, west of here.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am, and besides, there are dozens of other local trails we can hike in the winter.”

  Brenna sighs and plunks herself onto a bench. “I haven’t had the energy to do much of anything lately,” she admits.

  Ryan sinks onto another bench, facing her. “I know,” he says. “I remember exactly how it feels.”

  She picks at her fingernails before looking up and making eye contact. Then she looks back down to her hands. “Why me?” she asks softly.

  “Why not you? I like you.”

  She glances at him again, wondering if he’s teasing. His elbows are on his knees and he leans toward her. He looks completely serious.

  “And because I really liked your mom.”

  That startles her. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Well…” He pauses, as if looking for the right words. “I believe that not only will exercise help you get stronger physically, but it will also help you build up your strength emotionally too. Helping you get stronger can be my way of giving back to someone who was kind to me.”

  Brenna doesn’t respond.

  “Your mom came into my life when I was at my lowest point,” Ryan says. “Maybe it’s time for me to pay it forward.”

  Brenna rolls her eyes. Ryan laughs, and the awkward moment vaporizes. His phone buzzes. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he says, glancing at it, “but promise me you’ll think about it.”

  She nods, and he whoops in triumph.

  “You can give me your answer when you’re heading back down. Wait for my tram.”

  “I only said I’d think about it,” she repeats, but he’s already out the door and jogging away.

  Ryan swipes Brenna’s pass before she climbs onto his tram for the trip back down the mountain at the end of her shift. “What did you decide?” he asks, already swiping the pass of the person behind her in line.

  “I’ll let you know,” she says.

  “Don’t wait too long.”

  Aug. 26

  Was he serious? Does he really think he’s returning a favor to my mom by getting me to take up hiking? I don’t buy it. Besides, do I want to be his service project?

  I am going to say no.

  But…I like being on “Mom’s mountain.” I feel close to her there. And I like being with him. He didn’t ask me to take up skiing. I would have said no to that.

  Does he think I look so out of shape that I need to be his project?!?!

  Brenna finds herself checking her Facebook messages every few hours. Will she hear back from her biological aunt? Part of her wants to see the name Angie Hazelwood appear, and part of her fears it will.

  “You already have way more volunteer hours than you need,” Georgialee says. She’s propped up on her bed, applying polish to her toenails. “You don’t need to waste a day of every weekend up there.”

  “I’m not wasting my time. I like being with the bears.” Brenna sits on the carpeted floor with Bentley snuggled up beside her. His large head rests on her leg, and she massages his floppy ears. She doesn’t bother mentioning that being on the mountain also makes her feel closer to her mom. Georgialee wouldn’t understand that. How could she? Her own mother is alive and well and cooking dinner in the kitchen one floor below them. “And I’ve decided to keep doing the Grouse Grind too,” she says, surprising even herself. She hadn’t come to a decision until that very moment.
Now that the words are out of her mouth, she’s going to have to follow through. A wave of exhaustion sweeps over her.

  “Is this with or without that Australian trammie?” Georgialee asks, the nail-polish brush poised over a toe, momentarily forgotten.

  “With.”

  Georgialee sits up straighter, but Brenna doesn’t give her a chance to say anything. “Don’t even go there, Georgia,” she cautions. “He needs someone to hike with, and, well, I need to get in better shape.”

  “Reeeeally.” Georgialee drags the word out as she studies Brenna’s face. “That first date must have gone better than you reported.”

  “It’s not what you think,” Brenna says, surprised at the defensive tone of her own voice. She doesn’t know why she can’t be completely honest with Georgialee about this. What is she hiding? There was a time when they shared everything. Not anymore. When had things changed between them?

  Georgialee returns to her nails. “Whatever. I don’t care why you’re hiking, I’m just glad you’re going to stop moping around your house.”

  Brenna’s head snaps up.

  “Sorry,” Georgialee says quickly. “That came out all wrong. It’s just good to see you…to see you moving on.”

  Brenna pushes Bentley’s head off her leg and gets to her feet. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’m sorry, Brenna.” Georgialee scrambles off the bed and tries to block the doorway. “I really didn’t mean it that way. Sometimes things come out all wrong.”

  “Whatever.” Brenna pushes her way past Georgialee and runs down the stairs, nearly crashing into Georgialee’s mom, who is at the front door, bringing in the mail.

  “Brenna!” she says, startled. “Is everything okay?”

  Brenna shakes her head and brushes past her. She doesn’t glance back.

  Aug. 27

  Moping. My mother is dead and she thinks I’m moping. Her mother asked if everything is okay. What does she think?

  NO! NOTHING IS OKAY ANYMORE!!!!

  Brenna closes the journal and flops back on her pillows. For a long time she lets the tears spill, but then, with a deep, shuddering breath, she reopens it and picks up her pen. She stares at the page and then begins to write.

  Would I have been any different if it were her mom that had breast cancer?

  Would I know what to say? To do?

  What do I want her to say? To do? Is there a right thing to say when someone dies? Maybe there are only wrong things.

  Ryan gets it. He had a brother who died. He doesn’t have to say or do anything. He just knows.

  Brenna watches Naysa pour milk over her cereal. She’s shocked to see the dark smudges under her sister’s eyes. When had they appeared? With a guilty pang she realizes she hasn’t spent any time with her sister lately. She thinks back to her mom’s last words to her. Take care of Naysa for me. At the time, Brenna had resented the words. After all, who was going to take care of her? Now she felt she was letting her mother down.

  “How are you feeling about starting high school today?” Brenna asks.

  Naysa shrugs. “I don’t think it will be much different from my old school.”

  “Actually, it is,” Brenna says. “The teachers expect you to be more independent.”

  Naysa nods but continues eating in silence.

  “There are a lot more kids too, so you can make new friends if you want.”

  Naysa still doesn’t respond.

  Brenna wonders if Naysa’s friends are any better than Georgialee is at finding the right things to say. She swallows a mouthful of her cereal but finds she has no appetite so pushes her bowl away.

  “At least going back to school will be…a distraction,” Brenna says. There’s no need to say what the distraction is from.

  Naysa shrugs again and then wipes a lone tear off her cheek.

  Brenna knows she hasn’t helped at all. In fact, it seems she’s made things worse. “Text me if you get lost or anything. I’ll find you.”

  Naysa finally looks up from her bowl. Brenna can see the misery in her eyes. Do her own eyes look like that?

  “Thanks,” Naysa says. “I’ll be okay.”

  But Brenna knows she won’t be okay. The only way that either of them would ever be okay again is if they could turn back the clock, back to the time before their mother got sick.

  six

  No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

  (FARAAZ KAZIR)

  Dear Brenna,

  Thanks for your message. I wasn’t sure if I was completely out of line contacting you, but somehow I felt I needed to.

  How cool that you have a sister! I think you must have just turned 16, right? That must mean you are in your final few years of high school. It’s weird, I still think of you as a baby. How silly. I’m certainly not the little girl I was when you were born, so I don’t know why I can’t imagine you growing up too.

  I hope you’re coping okay during these sad days following your mom’s death. Know that I am sending kind thoughts and strength your way.

  Angie

  Brenna stares at the words. They say so little, and yet Brenna feels a surge of relief that Angie has at least responded. It is a link, however fragile, to her biological mother. The mother who is still alive.

  The first day of school had been agony. There were so many people she hadn’t seen or spoken with since her mom died, and the awkward moments became overwhelming. Some of her classmates tried to ignore what had happened, said hi cheerfully and then quickly looked away. Others apologized for not contacting her sooner. They didn’t know what to say. They’d been so busy. Brenna found herself having to assure them that it was okay, that she understood. A few others collapsed in tears when they saw her and simply hugged her. They didn’t try to say anything. Although these hugs made her cry too, she preferred them to the more awkward verbal responses. She’d had lunch with Georgialee, and neither of them said anything about Brenna’s hasty exit from Georgialee’s house a few days earlier. At least Georgialee knew enough to drop that subject.

  Brenna wonders how Naysa survived her first day. She expects the reaction of Naysa’s classmates will have been much the same but probably even more awkward, as they are younger and would have even less idea about how to respond to a classmate whose mother has died. She knows she should go talk with Naysa, offer some comfort, but, just like many of her own peers, she doesn’t know how. She heard Naysa come home, heard her bedroom door click shut, but that was it.

  Brenna thinks about writing to Angie again, asking about Kia, but what would she say? Instead, she pulls Kia’s journal out of the drawer. She holds it for a moment, letting her thoughts drift to her “other” mother. Where is she now? Why didn’t Angie say anything about her?

  She turns the pages and begins to read from where she’d left off.

  March 5

  A picture is worth a thousand words.

  I’ve seen her. She’s real. This detour is worth every extra mile, pitfalls and all!!

  I don’t care about baseball or summer camp. I’m busy growing a baby. She’s all there. I am creating her. It is so amazing.

  And Justin is there with me.

  Brenna flips back a page and rereads the previous entry before skimming the new one again, startled by the change in tone. Kia has gone from resenting her unborn child to being elated with her pregnancy. If only she’d read one more entry the last time she was reading the journal. It would have spared her a lot of anguish. She turns the page, wondering if Kia’s mood will flip-flop again.

  March 12

  Shawna is wrong.

  He is the perfect partner.

  Our feelings are mutual and right.

  It can work.

  It will work.

  Turning to the inscription on the inside cover, Brenna remembers that it was Shawna who gave Kia the journal. Shawna was clearly a good friend. So what was she so wrong about? And is he Justin the minister?

  She keeps reading.


  March 24

  There are so sides. Me against everyone else. Why did I say anything? Now that I’ve said it I can never go back. It changes everything.

  Dear Peanut,

  I haven’t felt you move yet, but I know you’re there and I luv you. It’s so easy for everyone else to tell me I have to give you up—you are not a part of them. But you are as much a part of me as my own heart is. There is no one to talk to anymore. I thought Justin understood. I thought we had the same feelings for each other.

  I thought wrong. I’m so stupid.

  So Kia hadn’t hated her! She’d loved her!

  The knock on Brenna’s door is soft, but she flinches, startled from her thoughts.

  She quickly slides the journal back into the drawer. “Come in,” she says. The door opens and Naysa is standing there, holding a sheet of paper. “Hey, Nayse,” she says, trying not to show how much she doesn’t want to be interrupted right now. “How did your first day of high school go?”

  Naysa shrugs noncommittally and holds up the sheet of paper. “Wanna see my courses?”

  Brenna notices Naysa’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes. She slides over and pats the bed beside her. “Come here. Let’s see what teachers you have.”

  Naysa props herself up beside Brenna, and together they go over her courses and discuss the teachers. Brenna tries to be enthusiastic, sharing stories about the teachers and giving advice, but her mind is only partly there. Kia’s feelings for Justin—is that what Shawna is wrong about? And does Kia continue to love her unborn baby, or does she go back to resenting it?

  When their father gets home, they move their conversation to the kitchen so they can help get dinner started. Brenna escapes the chatter by folding a load of laundry while they wait for the rice to cook, but she still has to field first-day-back questions from her dad while they eat their stir-fry.

  Now Naysa decides that she really does need some school supplies, so after dinner they drive to the mall. Brenna quickly grabs some paper and binders, but Naysa seems to take forever, weighing the merits of different pens, sticky notes and index dividers. In the meantime their dad gets distracted in the electronics department. Brenna waits in the car, wishing she’d brought the journal along.