Dancing with the Sun

by Kay Bratt

“What do you want to talk about?”

  “Tell me about you and Dad and how you met,” Lauren said. “It will keep my mind off the pain.”

  “You already know the story.”

  “So tell me again.”

  Sadie sighed. She and Tom were over. It hurt to think about it, and going back to those early memories wasn’t something she relished doing. But if it would help Lauren.

  “Fine. Well, I was your age. A sophomore in college. Two of my girlfriends and I were headed to a James Taylor concert, but I needed some cash, so I pulled up in line at an ATM, right behind the car your dad was driving. We were blasting the music, singing along at the top of our lungs. I could see him looking at me in his mirror while he waited for his cash, and I smiled. He smiled back.”

  “You fell for him,” Lauren said. “Just like that.”

  Sadie nodded, and she felt her cheeks flush. “I did. My friends couldn’t believe that I—the normally shy and awkward one—jotted down my number and then got out and ran up to the car and shoved the paper at him.”

  “You scared him half to death.”

  Sadie laughed even as she was nodding. “He jerked away from the window because he didn’t know what I was doing. Probably thought I was going to attack him for being so slow at the machine. I didn’t really think he’d call me, but the next morning my phone was ringing at eight o’clock. He said he hoped I wasn’t a late sleeper, but he’d been up for two hours already, just waiting to call. The rest is history.”

  “That was so brave of you,” Lauren said, her voice wistful.

  Sadie snorted. She thought of the instant terror the bear print had made her feel. “That was the last of my bravery, obviously.”

  Lauren turned to look at her briefly. “I’d say judging by last night, you’re wrong on that one.”

  Sadie didn’t reply, even if she agreed that last night had been a victory of sorts. She’d kept Lauren safe and found her water. She’d also taken control to get them a fire and kept Lauren somewhat warm, at least enough to keep hypothermia at bay. She could pin that one as a win. But she didn’t want to count her chickens too soon. They hadn’t reached safety yet.

  “You taught me to be brave too,” Lauren said.

  “I did?”

  Lauren nodded. “Remember when Julia stopped being my friend and turned everyone against me?”

  Sadie remembered. It had been excruciating to watch her daughter lose her best friend, then traverse the battleground of mean-girl bullying, especially when barbs had been thrown around about her ethnicity. The girls had picked on her for being adopted, for her coloring, and even for her eyes. Because of that, Lauren had gone through a phase where she’d hated everything about being Asian. She’d tried to isolate herself, though Sadie had refused to let her quit the clubs that looked good to college scouts. Instead she’d spent more time with her, filling in as a study mate and a partner for school projects. Sadie had even stepped in as a temporary best friend, accompanying Lauren shopping and to the movies on the weekends—a position that Julia had filled until she’d gone haywire.

  Hanging out with an emotionally charged teenager so much was exhausting, but Sadie had never let on that she hadn’t enjoyed every minute of it.

  “You told me that I only had to get through high school. That it was a test of my tenacity, and when I got to college, I’d find my tribe.”

  “I remember that,” Sadie said quietly. She was surprised, however, that Lauren did. At the time, it had felt like she was talking to herself.

  “You challenged me to be brave. I decided to wait it out and see if you were right. And you were. College is completely different. I’m accepted for me—for what’s on the inside. Not judged by what’s on the outside. If you hadn’t had that lecture with me or pushed me not to give up, I’d have never been able to make it through all that crap.”

  Sadie smiled. It was nice that Lauren was mature enough now to acknowledge some of the hard things a mother had to do.

  “Julia reached out to me on Facebook a few months ago to apologize,” Lauren said. “I forgave her.”

  Sadie wasn’t surprised. Lauren was merciful that way. Another trait that could’ve come from Tom. Or maybe it was just how she was genetically wired. Either way, they were lucky.

  But Lauren hadn’t been an angel. That was for sure. They’d gone through trials—episodes of her sneaking out, hanging out with the wrong crowd a time or two, and challenging their authority. She’d even come home smelling like pot once, then cried when she admitted she’d tried it but hated it. All normal things a child did when going through puberty. Things that Jacob never got to experiment with because he’d been snatched away so young.

  That thought accompanied every occurrence of teen angst that Sadie had dealt with, making them that much more impactful. But other than some major door slamming, a few episodes of restriction, and a lot of tears, they’d made it through without too much damage.

  She glanced at Lauren. She was slowing down now, going a foot or two at a time before pausing to catch her breath. It was the exertion of trying to keep her weight mostly on one leg, and perhaps she did have a fever, after all.

  “So tell me about something you and Dad used to do together before I came along,” Lauren said as she stopped and hugged a tree, breathing heavily. “I’m trying to keep my mind off my hunger.”

  “Fine, but keep walking,” Sadie said, urging her forward.

  Lauren let go of the tree, albeit reluctantly.

  They moved slowly but methodically.

  “We were married a year before we got our first computer. It was a big, bulky desktop that took up most of our kitchen table because we didn’t have room for an office and couldn’t afford a desk anyway. We ate ramen and sandwiches for months, but your dad was thrilled when we finally saved enough for that computer. It came with some discs to get you started. Free trials of this and that—I don’t know. I only remember the one your dad focused on. It was a game in a fantasy setting, and I wanted nothing to do with it.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Lauren said sarcastically.

  She stumbled, and Sadie kept her from falling. They paused for a second, then began again.

  “Tell me more,” Lauren said. “This is good stuff.”

  “Well, maybe this will surprise you, then. When I saw how much it meant to him for us to explore it together, I gave in, and he set me up as a player. I’d never done any type of role game, and at first I was horrible at it. But your dad taught me what to do, and before long, I was enjoying it. Wasn’t half bad, either.”

  “You? Playing a video game?” Lauren sounded incredulous, and she turned her head to look at Sadie, disbelief in her eyes. “What was it called?”

  Sadie guided Lauren around a pile of brush as she laughed. “It was called Legends of Terris, and let me tell you, it was addictive. I started playing even when your dad was at work in those days when I was supposed to be job hunting. I met so many gamers and even stayed friends with them for years afterward.”

  “Anyone I know?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes. The McClains from Florida.”

  “Seriously? Isn’t he a lawyer?”

  Sadie nodded. They hadn’t seen the McClains in years, but Tom still counted them as some of their oldest friends. “We met them at a convention in Milwaukee. Tom talked me into going. It was my first outside experience with the world of gaming and was a weekend devoted to nothing but playing, which is something I’m not very good at now, as you know.”

  “I just cannot see you there,” Lauren said. “This is officially mind-blowing.”

  “I know,” Sadie said, laughing again. “Some of the players traveled all the way from Australia to meet other fans of the game in person. We all went to a dinner theater that weekend too. It was a cool place we heard about that you had to follow a lot of back alleys to get to and then needed a password to enter. All very mysterious and fun. And I’ll have you know I won a round of drinks for doing the best improv that night.�
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  “What were you doing?”

  Sadie shrugged. “I don’t remember much. Something about interacting as though we were being directed by Quentin Tarantino.”

  “That’s awesome, Mom,” Lauren said wistfully. “Why don’t you guys do anything fun like that together anymore?”

  Sadie didn’t answer. What could she say? But she felt a moment of yearning—a need to revisit something akin to that weekend in Milwaukee, when they’d been young and in love and open to new experiences.

  “I never knew Dad liked gaming,” Lauren said.

  “He sure did. But then he got into other things, like his fascination with nature and owls. I went to work and was too tired to play anymore, so he put away the games for good.” She didn’t mention that when Jacob had been born, Tom had been adamant that his son would spend more time in the outdoors experiencing life than indoors in front of a screen, so he’d wanted to be an example. Even though he’d had healthy fun at it, gaming had become an obsession to the younger generation, and he hadn’t wanted his son to be a part of it.

  “I wonder if he misses it.”

  Sadie felt sure he missed a lot of things. Suddenly the good memory began to fade, and she felt angry again. He was probably off having plenty of fun with whoever was giving his house slippers a new home.

  She changed the subject back to Lauren, and they talked about the photography phase she’d gone through and the contests entered, though none of her photos had won or even placed. Sadie once again emphasized that it wasn’t about winning but rather the tenacity to finish a project. Lauren laughed at that, calling her ridiculous, but at least it garnered a smile. Sadie had managed to lift Lauren’s mood then, and today Sadie needed to stay positive as well in order to keep her daughter’s spirits from crashing. Her own body screamed silently, berating her for all the stiffness and pain it was forced to carry, but Sadie breathed deeply, finding comfort in the cool air she pulled deeply into her lungs.

  “Someone has got to be out here this morning,” Lauren said, interrupting the oncoming train of pain Sadie was trying to still in her head.

  “We should start yelling every so often,” Sadie said. “Maybe someone will hear us and come lead us out of here.”

  Lauren shrugged, and Sadie could see the pain filtering across her face.

  “Get ready. I’m going to yell,” Sadie said, then stopped walking. “Hello . . . ,” she screamed as loud as she could.

  Lauren put her hands over her ears.

  “Sorry,” Sadie said, then yelled out again, this time even louder. Her voice echoed back at her, teasing as the sound fluttered away.

  “Mom,” Lauren said, “come on. Let’s just keep going. I’m thirsty. And starving.”

  “I know you are.” Sadie felt like a failure once again. But the only thing they could do was keep moving until they found their way out or ran into someone who could help them.

  Her mention of hunger must’ve initiated some deep wilderness thinking because not a hundred yards later, Lauren stopped and pointed to the right at a group of small trees. “Look over there,” she said. “See the dandelions? We can eat those.”

  Sadie looked, straining to see the ground through the thick vegetation. Eventually she spotted some scraggly bunches of yellow tops alongside a spread of smaller pines.

  She turned to Lauren. “Are you sure? We can’t afford to get sick out here.”

  Lauren nodded. “I’m sure. You go grab them, and I’ll wait here.” She extracted herself from leaning against Sadie and hopped over to a tree, using it as support as she lowered herself to the ground to sit in front of it.

  Sadie looked behind them, listening intently for a moment. When she heard nothing but the birds, she crossed the distance and crouched down in front of the dandelions.

  There was nothing intriguing about the flowers. They could’ve been one of any bunch of irritating dandelions one would find sprouting up uninvited in a subdivision yard. Sadie grabbed one bundle at the roots and pulled them out of the ground, then held them to her nose and inhaled. They smelled earthy, with a slight whiff of something tangy or sour.

  “Bring them over, Mom,” Lauren called out.

  Sadie stood and walked back to Lauren. “I don’t know,” she said, handing them down. “Why don’t we keep moving for a while before resorting to eating in the wild?”

  Lauren took them and looked closely, scrutinizing the leaves and the few faded flowers. “It’s safe. Cooper gave me a crash course on edibles here in Yosemite. This was one of them.”

  “But are you sure he knows what he’s talking about, Lauren?”

  Lauren gave her an exasperated look, then separated out a set of flowers and leaves and took a small bite.

  Sadie watched nervously. Eating wild plants wasn’t something she’d ever thought she could simply stand back and watch her child do. But Lauren seemed confident, even smiling as she chewed.

  “How does it taste?” Sadie asked, lowering herself to sit on the ground too.

  “Not bad at all,” Lauren said, taking another bite and then handing the rest up to Sadie. “The flowers have a meaty flavor, but the leaves taste like a salad from Panera, if you don’t think about it too hard.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” Still, if the plants were toxic, Sadie wouldn’t let her daughter be poisoned alone. She took a tentative bite, getting only leaves, and chewed.

  Lauren was right. They weren’t too bad. Sharp, even. She hoped she and Lauren would survive the experiment and that it would lessen their shared hunger.

  “We could try to find some pine nuts too. We might luck out, if the squirrels haven’t stripped out every pine cone within reach,” Lauren said.

  Sadie had to admit she was impressed with Lauren’s knowledge of edibles in the wilderness, but it made her nervous to think of Cooper spending so much time with her daughter. It reminded Sadie that Lauren had news to share, but given all they were dealing with, Sadie no longer felt anxious to hear it. And she definitely was feeling reluctant to share her own.

  “I’ll keep an eye out for chickweed too,” Lauren said. “If we can find it, we can chew on it to put some moisture in our mouths.”

  Moisture would be nice. Pure flowing water would be heaven, but Sadie tried to stop thinking of it, pushing away the visual of the scattered bottles of water that were in Lauren’s trunk.

  They ate the rest of the small bundle of dandelions, Sadie lost in thought as she chewed, until they were gone.

  Sadie stood. “Time to get moving,” she said, then held her hand down to her daughter. “The dandelions were a good call.”

  “So was the idea to use the juice box to collect water,” Lauren said. “Looks like we make a good team.”

  Sadie looked at her daughter and smiled. When had she grown up so much? Lauren’s expression was victorious—Sadie could see that she felt good about contributing something positive to their situation.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sadie held back a large bunch of brush, letting Lauren pass by without having to fight through it as she’d done. After the dandelions, they’d both felt a small burst of energy, but it had faded fast and left a sour taste in Sadie’s mouth.

  She could tell that Lauren was trying with all her might to hide her pain and fatigue, keeping her complaints to herself. Her daughter was tougher than Sadie had given her credit for, and she’d tell her that if and when they ever got out of there. Tom would be proud—not that they’d pulled such a stupid stunt as getting lost but that they hadn’t let desperation and confusion paralyze them.

  However, Lauren’s ankle had begun to hurt worse, prompting them to stop frequently.

  “I’m sorry. I’m slowing us way down,” Lauren said, her brow furrowed with worry as she glanced at Sadie.

  “You’re doing the best you can. That’s all that counts.”

  The best.

  Two words that had been a common theme throughout Lauren’s childhood. Sadie had pushed her to not only do the best she cou
ld but to be the best. She saw now how hard that must’ve been.

  When they came around a bend, Lauren exclaimed, “Look, Mom!” She pointed to just beyond the path they were making at a bunch of overgrown brush. Out of it peeked a weathered sign.

  It was barely visible, but as they moved closer, they could read the lettering.

  YOSEMITE VALLEY, it read, with an arrow pointing the way.

  “Good eye, Lauren,” Sadie said, feeling a rush of confidence that maybe they weren’t out in uncharted wilderness.

  They rejoiced. Lauren thought once they made it to the valley, they could pick up Snow Creek Trail and would be sure to run into someone who could call for help. That gave them a destination and picked up their spirits.

  They moved quickly, hoping to get there before the afternoon disappeared in front of them.

  But it no longer felt right. There didn’t appear to be any sort of path, overgrown or otherwise.

  “This can’t be the way,” Lauren said, pausing to push her sweaty hair out of her face before continuing on. She looked as bedraggled as Sadie had ever seen her, the jeans now splattered with more mud and her shirt wrinkled and damp.

  Sadie didn’t trust her own sense of direction any longer—or Lauren’s, for that matter. “Just keep moving. We can’t keep turning, or we’ll just make one big circle, and all the ground we’ve gained will be for nothing.”

  So they kept hiking, or at least their version of hiking, slowly but surely.

  They were going downhill now, and the terrain had turned wilder, forcing them through the thickest brush she’d ever seen, making her wish for a machete to forge a path. At some points they’d been forced to go laterally, finding a less dense way through. The slight confidence they’d gained upon seeing the sign slowly dwindled until their hope was far behind them again.

  Lauren struggled more than Sadie did, and it crushed Sadie. There was nothing harder than seeing your child in pain and not being able to do anything about it.

  She felt like screaming, but she held it all inside. All she wanted at this point was to find a marked trail or a clearing of some sort so she could get her bearings. They were both cut up, their hands taking the worst of it as they held them out as shields. They thought they’d heard a creek somewhere nearby but thus far had not found it. Sadie didn’t think they should drink from one anyway, considering that some hikers probably urinated upstream. But it would’ve been nice to wash the grime from their hands, arms, and faces.