Dancing in the Rain Read online

  Finally they’re home again, and Brenna is free to read some more. She brushes her teeth, puts on her pajamas and climbs under her comforter. She pulls the journal out of the drawer and holds it for a moment, running her hand over the coarse cover and thinking about Kia and how she reached for this journal each time her mood either spiked or plummeted. She’d bared her soul here, not realizing that the unborn child she was writing about would someday read it.

  April 4

  Dear Peanut (I have to think of another name for you),

  Feeling you move is too amazing! I can’t believe I have a little person inside of me who I’ve never met. It almost seems like you’re an alien! But keep moving, it’s so awesome.

  I wish I could read Justin’s mind. He seems as fascinated by all this as I am. Is it me that turns him off? My age? Or is it just because I'm in the Youth Group?

  April 11

  What will be worse?

  Liking them and having no reason NOT to give her up?

  Or not liking them and having to choose again?

  Brenna holds the journal to her chest. It’s too painful to read. Clearly, the decision that Kia was writing about was what to do with her, Brenna, when she was born. Kia was so right—her decision really would decide the fate of Brenna’s life…did decide the fate.

  Brenna pulls her own journal out of the drawer.

  Sept. 3

  Reading her most intimate thoughts…about me…it feels so strange. I feel like I know this girl, but she is no longer a girl…she is a woman. How does she feel now about the decision she made… to give me up for adoption? What would my life be like if she’d raised me herself? She loved me before I was born. Would that have changed if having me felt like it wrecked her life?

  I can’t imagine not having Mom and Dad as parents. But if they hadn’t adopted me, I would never have known them so I wouldn’t miss them. I wouldn’t even know Naysa. Weird.

  Kia got pregnant with me by accident. She didn’t want me but grew to love the baby growing inside her. My father, Derek—it appears he never did want me or grow to love me. Yet he is my “real” father. Or is he? What is real? Mom and Dad chose me. They told me they desperately wanted me. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? Wouldn’t that make them “real” parents? But now that Mom is gone…how would Kia feel about me now? Would she be able to dig up that love she once felt for me? Or has she moved on, purposely forgetting that time in her life, and the baby she conceived…

  Angie sounds like a nice lady…did she tell Kia about my mom dying? How would that make Kia feel? Why hasn’t Angie said anything about her in her messages? I could ask Justin what he knows.

  Sighing, Brenna closes her journal and puts them both away. She has too many questions, just as Kia once had.

  “I swear this mountain has gotten steeper since last time.” Brenna moves to the side of the trail to let a couple of hikers pass. She leans forward, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  Ryan steps beside her and rubs circles in the middle of her back, just as her dad often did. “You’ll be jogging up here in no time,” he says.

  Despite being aware of how sticky with sweat her T-shirt must be, Brenna enjoys the feel of his touch, the pressure exactly right, so doesn’t straighten up too quickly. A few more hikers climb past them.

  “I don’t know, Ryan,” she says, starting up the trail again. “Maybe some of us aren’t cut out for mountain climbing.” On her previous volunteer shift she had told Ryan that she’d decided to be his hiking partner. He’d whooped and high-fived her. She’d tried to set aside her reservations about being his “service project” and think only about getting stronger and doing that on her mom’s mountain, but the doubts lingered. “And I should have known not to do it after working my shift,” she complains. “Doing both in one day is too much.”

  Ryan ignores her whining and changes the subject. “How did the first week back at school go?” he asks.

  She shrugs. “It was all right.” It was, after the initial day, and it had been somewhat of a distraction, as she’d promised Naysa. “What year did you graduate?”

  Ryan doesn’t answer immediately. Brenna looks over her shoulder at him, noticing the slight frown on his forehead.

  “I didn’t, actually,” he says.

  “Oh, but I thought…”

  “I know. I probably implied that I came to Canada after I finished school…”

  Brenna keeps climbing the steep path, curious about this sudden change in his story. She hears him sigh and glances back again. He is staring at the ground, still frowning.

  “My uncle lives just down the road. He’s been in Canada for years.”

  “So you live with him?”

  “Yeah, he took me in when things…when things got too bad at home. My mom, well…”

  Brenna moves to the side of the path again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Ryan steps around her and begins to lead the way. “You didn’t. I just don’t usually like to get into the reason that I ended up in Canada. It was because my brother died, but it wasn’t actually my choice. I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest.”

  “That’s okay.” Brenna doesn’t know what else to say. “My mom, the one you knew, she wasn’t my real mom,” she blurts out, as if she should now share a secret too.

  “Huh?” Now it’s Ryan’s turn to glance at her, puzzled.

  “I was adopted.”

  “Your parents adopted you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then I think that makes Joanna your real mom.”

  “Well, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

  Ryan doesn’t respond. They hike in silence for a few minutes.

  “So you didn’t really choose to come to Canada?” she says.

  “No, I didn’t want to leave Mom when she needed me.”

  “So why didn’t you stay in Australia then?” Struggling for breath, Brenna finds it hard to talk.

  Ryan steps off the path. Brenna joins him and reaches into her pack for water.

  “It’s complicated,” he says after a moment. “But my mom isn’t well, and my uncle felt I’d be better off with him for a while.” He takes a long sip from his own water bottle.

  “Where’s your father?”

  “I’ve never met him.”

  “Oh.” Brenna is at a loss for words.

  “Anyway,” he continues, “I’m sure it was for the best, and now that I’m making a life here, I’m reluctant to go home.”

  “So stay.”

  “Not so easy. For a lot of reasons.” He sighs. “But let’s talk about other things.”

  He smiles brightly, but Brenna can see it’s forced. She decides to confide some more in him, though she doesn’t know why. “My biological aunt recently messaged me via Facebook,” she tells him as they start up the trail again. It seems to be a day for sharing secrets.

  “Really? Have you met her?”

  “No, I didn’t even know she existed until a few weeks ago.”

  “Huh.”

  Brenna is about to tell him more but is interrupted by more hikers passing them. She feels a drip on her head, and then a second one. “Uh-oh.” She looks up, but the canopy of trees prevents her from seeing the sky.

  “Did you bring a rain jacket?” Ryan asks.

  “No. Did you?”

  “No, it was completely clear when we started out. We’d better hustle.”

  “Hustle?”

  Ryan smiles at her. “Okay, hustle’s the wrong word. But we’d better concentrate. We’re at the three-quarters mark. Not far to go now.”

  Three-quarters may sound close, Brenna thinks, but it still feels incredibly far. She does her best to keep up with Ryan, but it’s hard. She’s almost grateful for the sudden downpour, as it keeps her cool. When they finally reach the top, Ryan leads her directly to the tram. “We may be okay now, but we’ll get chilled if we don’t get home and changed into something dry soon.”

  Brenna nods and st
eps into the tram behind him. He greets the trammie and she listens to their easy banter. She thinks back to their early conversation, and how he admitted that it wasn’t actually his choice to come to Canada. He hides his troubles well. She wonders if people would say the same about her.

  She lets him drive her home again, even though she now realizes how far he has to travel out of his way.

  A shiver runs through her as they pull up to her driveway.

  “You’re getting chilled,” he says. He pats the dashboard. “Sorry, no heat in Big Red. Get into a hot shower and you’ll be good to go.”

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Same time next week? Or could you squeeze one in some evening?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I think it took me a week to recover from the last one.”

  “It will get easier faster if we do it more often.”

  “Wednesday night?”

  “That’s the spirit!” he says, raising his hand to smack hers. She responds grudgingly. “See you at four o’clock on Wednesday then.”

  She lets herself out of the car. “Okay.”

  He beeps the horn and waves as he pulls away, and she wonders how he remains so cheerful given that he too has a mom who can’t be there for him.

  The rain continues throughout the weekend. Finding herself alone on Sunday afternoon, Brenna takes Kia’s journal to the family room. She settles in the big easy chair and tucks her legs up beside her, noticing how sore all her muscles are but not really minding. In a way it feels okay, like she’s used them in a good way. She thinks again about going to a yoga class and stretching them out. Maybe later.

  As she opens Kia’s journal to where she left off, she notices the tug of anticipation in her belly. She hopes Kia doesn’t go back to resenting her, the unborn baby.

  April 14

  I feel like I have a split personality and both of me are having a big fight inside my head. I can’t stand it. It goes like this.

  Me #1—They’re perfect. Brett’s cool. Joanna’s wonderful.

  Brenna blinks, startled by seeing her parents’ names. It’s surreal hearing about them before they’d even adopted her.

  Me #2—But this is our baby. Giving it away—even to THE PERFECT PARENTS—will be like giving away an arm, a leg, even our heart!

  Me #1—But we’ll be able to go visit. She’ll know we are her birth mom.

  Brenna stops reading again, wondering about this. Had Kia ever actually visited her?

  Me #2—Maybe she’ll know she is our flesh and blood, but her real mom will be Joanna. Joanna will be the one rocking her to sleep, kissing her scrapes and bruises, reading her bedtime stories…

  Me #1—Quit being so romantic! Joanna will also be changing stinky diapers, getting up in the middle of the night and listening to her whine. We’ll just get to enjoy her.

  Me #2—My baby won’t whine.

  Me #1—Get a life.

  Brenna smiles at Kia’s writing—she’d had a sense of humor even though she was clearly struggling.

  Me #2—I can’t give her away. Even to THE PERFECT PARENTS.

  Me #1—Yes, you can. And you will.

  Me #2—Not if I can help it.

  Me #1—I’ve got our parents and Justin and Sadie on my side. Now I’ve got Brett and Joanna too, as well as every other living person we know!

  Me #2—Yeah, but…

  Me #1—But what?

  Me #2—I’ve always had more pull than you.

  Me #1—LOL We’ll see now, won’t we?

  Me #2—(deep sigh) Yes, I guess we will.

  Brenna sinks back and closes her eyes. What a struggle. She’d never imagined the decision had been so difficult. She glances at the entry again, and her heart aches a little, knowing Me #1 won. Even though she knows it’s foolish, Brenna feels sad for the loser, Me #2.

  May 3

  I have to give her up.

  There.

  I’ve said it.

  Brenna puts the journal down and stares out the window, feeling deeply for this girl, this girl who is now a woman. She has to remind herself that she was the baby who was soon to be given up.

  Needing a distraction, she picks up her phone. She doesn’t have his number, but she thinks about talking to Ryan. She’d love to hear his voice—he’d make her laugh, snap her out of the mood that reading the journal has brought on. She puts the phone down. Even if she had his number, she wouldn’t call. That would be pushing it. He’s okay with going on hikes with her—she’s his service project, after all—but chatting with her between hikes? That’s not part of the deal.

  She checks Facebook for another message from Angie. She thinks about responding, coming right out and asking about Kia, but a little part of her doesn’t really want to know. For some reason Kia had stopped sending cards, had stopped visiting—if she ever had. Brenna is afraid to know why. Maybe she simply stopped caring about her.

  She picks up Kia’s journal and with a deep sigh continues to read, trying hard to process the struggle Kia endured. She learns that Kia’s pregnancy also impacted her parents and her sister. She reaches the final few entries.

  July 28

  I’m scared. It’s going to hurt so much! The birth, the adoption, everything!

  I don’t want to be me.

  Aug. 14

  She called me courageous and generous.

  What a joke. I’m scared and greedy.

  I don’t want to share my baby.

  I want her all to myself.

  There’s a second entry for August 14. Brenna flips the page and sees that it is the last one, and it appears to be a letter to her, the unborn baby.

  Aug. 14

  Tomorrow is your “birth” day. We will finally meet face to face, even though I already feel like I know you. I have never felt a love like this before.

  You will be going home with Joanna and Brett and I believe their love for you is every bit as strong as mine. They want you as badly as I do. Their love must feel different than mine, for you are a part of me, and loving you is really like loving myself, but their love is just as real.

  I know they will make excellent parents. After all, I chose them especially for you. You’ll know from reading this journal that giving you away is not what I wanted to do, but what I had to do, for your sake. It is the best thing for you, even though it doesn’t feel like the best thing for me right now. My hope is that you’ll learn wisdom, compassion and love from Joanna and Brett, for they have so much of it to offer.

  I will love you always, little daughter.

  Your mom,

  Kia

  Closing the journal, Brenna wipes away the tears that are running down her cheeks. Kia was right—her mom and dad did have a lot of wisdom, compassion and love to offer, but so did Kia, even though she was only seventeen years old.

  Curling into a little ball in the big armchair, Brenna wonders where Kia is now. Did she still love her like she said she always would? If she did, why did she stop communicating with her? Me #2, the part of Kia that had wanted to keep her, said she’d keep on visiting. What had happened to that?

  There is one person who would know. Angie. But for some reason, Angie has not yet mentioned Kia’s name. And Kia has not contacted Brenna herself.

  seven

  …nothing remained but loneliness and grief

  (LOUISA MAY ALCOTT, LITTLE WOMEN)

  Brenna stares at her planner, numbly processing the schoolwork that is piling up: a math quiz to study for, three chapters to read for biology, an essay to write for English. She also has the new-drivers’ manual to study. She slumps back in her chair, unable to tackle any of it.

  After a few moments she slides her laptop in front of her. Signing into Facebook, she begins to compose yet another message to Angie.

  Hi again,

  I’ve just finished reading the journal that Kia wrote when she was expecting me. In it she said she was going to visit me after I was adopted. Can you tell me why she never did?

  She stares at
what she’s written and then deletes it. Part of her really doesn’t want to know the answer.

  Swiveling her chair around, she stares at her bed. It looks so inviting. Maybe a short nap. Her aunt had told her it was okay to nap, that sometimes people sleep more when they’re sad.

  Her phone rings. Georgialee again. She can’t avoid her forever.

  “Hey, Georgialee.” She can hear the lack of enthusiasm in her own voice.

  “Brenna! What’s going on? How come you haven’t been answering my calls?”

  A bunch of lame excuses come to Brenna’s mind, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “Okay, you’re mad at me. I can be insensitive. I get it. Let’s get together next Saturday and take Bentley for a long walk, and we’ll talk.”

  Brenna almost smiles. It’s astonishing to hear Georgialee admit to being insensitive. “I have my volunteer shift on Saturday.”

  “Are you still doing that? I thought we agreed that you already had more than enough volunteer hours.”

  “We didn’t agree on anything. You thought I should quit.”

  Georgialee is quiet for a moment. “Is it that guy…what’s his name? Ryan? Is that why you keep going up there?”

  Brenna shakes her head. How can she explain that being on the mountain helps her keep her mom’s spirit alive—in a good way, as opposed to a sad way, as it was the rest of the time? Ryan being there? That was just a bonus. “No.”

  “Okay, how about Sunday afternoon then?”

  “Can we make it Sunday morning?”

  “No, my group has a run. What are you doing in the afternoon?”

  Brenna considers lying. If she mentions the hike, Georgialee will know it is with Ryan, and then there’ll be more questions, but she can’t come up with anything else. “I’m hiking.”

  “Hiking?”

  “The Grouse Grind.”

  “Again? With that same guy?”

  “Uh-huh. I told you I was going to keep doing it. He’s trying to make a Grinder out of me.”

  “Brenna, you’re keeping secrets from me!”

  “It’s not a secret. It’s just something that has…evolved.”