Love opens your heart, trumps fear, and paves the way for healing in all aspects of your life.
(LISSA RANKIN, MIND OVER MEDICINE)
Ryan doesn’t work on Saturday, but he picks Brenna up after her shift and drives her home.
“How old are you anyway?” she asks as he pulls into her driveway. Her father’s car is parked outside, and it reminds her of their conversation a few days ago.
“Eighteen. Nineteen next month. How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I keep thinking you’re older.”
“Is that a problem for you?” she asks, not looking at him.
“Is what a problem?”
“That I’m only sixteen.” Now she does look directly at him.
“Why would it be?” He smiles. “Is it a problem for you that I’m eighteen?”
“No.” She smiles back. “But it might be for my father. Especially the almost-nineteen part.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know me. Maybe you should invite him to hike with us.”
“Are you kidding?”
Ryan laughs. “Okay, then invite me in. When he discovers how charming and clever and charismatic I am…”
Brenna laughs and opens the car door. “Come on in then,” she says. “Let’s see how clever you really are. Charming, well, yeah, I already know about that.”
They find her dad and Naysa leaning over a jigsaw puzzle at a small table in the corner of the family room. Before Brenna has a chance to say anything, Ryan extends his hand to her father. “Hello, Mr. Yokoyama. We met once, briefly, at the door. I’m Ryan. I know Brenna from Grouse.”
Brenna’s dad clasps his outstretched hand. “Hi, Ryan. Please call me Brett. Do you know Naysa?”
“Yep, I’ve met the young math genius.”
A flicker of a smile tugs at Naysa’s mouth, but she doesn’t respond. She’s still in her pajamas.
“I’m going to get out of my bear-minding clothes,” Brenna says. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returns to the family room, Naysa is gone and Ryan is leaning over the table, telling her dad about his work at Grouse.
“You’ve finished school then?” he asks.
“For now. I’ll finish when I return to Australia.”
“When will that be?” Brenna’s dad slides a puzzle piece into place, and the completed eye of a bright-green frog stares back at them.
“Not yet determined.” Ryan places a piece to complete the frog’s mouth. It curls up into a pleased expression.
Her father’s phone rings. He answers it and wanders out of the room and down the hall to his office.
“I think that went well,” Ryan says. He grins at Brenna before returning his focus to the puzzle.
Brenna picks up a piece and examines it. She then studies the puzzle. They work in silence for a few minutes.
“Have you made any decisions about the Aid-A-Child fundraiser?” he asks.
Brenna glances at the door to the room, making sure no one is listening. “My heart’s not really in it anymore,” she says. “It was hard to admit to myself that it was never about the kids, only about me.”
While Ryan searches through the remaining puzzle pieces in the box, Brenna’s thoughts return to the meeting the previous night. Before they left, Justin had shared his involvement with Kia during her pregnancy.
“Justin seems like a really nice guy,” she says. “Imagine being the birth coach when it’s not even your own baby. I couldn’t believe he’d even considered adopting me himself.”
“Yeah, that was amazing.”
“I wonder why he and Kia never hooked up. She wrote in her journal that she was attracted to him and thought they’d be good together.”
Ryan looks up from the puzzle. “Because he’s gay.”
“He is? How do you know?”
“I sent him a friend request on Facebook when I got home last night. He accepted. You can tell from his pictures that his partner isn’t a business partner.”
“Oh. Well. That explains some of the missing pieces in the journal. Kia couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t interested in her as a girlfriend.”
“Speaking of missing pieces,” Ryan says, pointing to a hole in the puzzle, “I think this piece is missing. I’ve looked through the whole box and there are no more green ones.”
“It’ll show up,” she says. “They always do.”
“Spoken like a true puzzle nerd. I mean, master.”
She gives his arm a friendly slap.
He grins. “By the way,” he says, glancing at the door, “did you get a chance to talk to Naysa about last night?”
“No, not yet.”
The doorbell chimes. Ryan glances at her.
“Probably a casserole delivery,” she says. They can hear her father’s footsteps going down the stairs to the front door. A moment later they hear a clatter of footsteps running up the stairs, and Georgialee and Bentley burst into the room. Georgialee drops Bentley’s leash so he can gallop over to greet Brenna. She squats down to hug him. His whole body wiggles with joy.
“Hey,” Ryan says. “You must be Georgialee.”
“I am. And you’re Ryan?”
“Yep.” They both glance at Brenna, who is giving the dog a full-body scratch. “So that would be Bentley.”
Brenna eventually stands up, and Georgialee retrieves the dog’s leash. “What’s happening?”
Brenna can tell she’s sizing Ryan up.
“Your best mate—the puzzle pro—was giving me some puzzle-making advice,” Ryan says.
“Out for a run?” Brenna checks out Georgialee’s spandex tights and singlet, noting that she manages to look good even when she’s all sweaty.
“Yeah, and I was running past your house and thought I’d see what you’re doing tonight.”
Brenna glances shyly at Ryan. They’d never spent a Saturday night together, and she didn’t want to assume anything. “I dunno. Why?”
“A bunch of us are going out for sushi and a movie.” She looks at the puzzle. “If you can drag yourself away from all this fun,” she says, “you should join us. You too,” she says to Ryan.
Before Brenna can open her mouth, Ryan responds. “I’m in.”
Georgialee high-fives him. “Good,” she says. “And try to drag Brenna along. I haven’t seen much of her lately.” She pulls on Bentley’s leash. “I’ll let myself out. See you guys later.”
They clatter back down the stairs.
“She seems nice,” Ryan says, returning to the puzzle.
Brenna’s phone buzzes. She checks the screen and sees a text from Georgialee.
Not bad.
She pulls a puzzle piece out of the box and slots it into the hole Ryan had thought was missing its piece. “Seems you’re not so clever after all.”
“Puzzle nerd.”
On Sunday morning Brenna finds Naysa sprawled on the family room couch, channel-surfing. She glances out the window, checking for Ryan’s car. She checks the time on her phone, sighs and steps over to the table where the puzzle lies unfinished. “So who was the friend you were with the other night?” she asks.
“None of your business.”
Brenna is startled by the tone of her sister’s voice.
“I was just asking. She must have a name.”
“Why would I tell you anything? You’d go straight to Dad.”
“I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“Don’t bother. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine if you’re drinking and smoking,” Brenna says, her anger flaring.
Naysa glances at the door, obviously worried that their father will overhear them.
“Okay, you tell me who you were with at the Daily Grind, and I’ll tell you their names.”
Now it’s Brenna’s turn to glance at the door. “How do you know I was at the Daily Grind?”
“We were going to go in, but I saw you in the window. It was your birth mom, wasn’t it?”
“No! She’s way too young to be my birth mom.”
Naysa flicks off the TV and steps over to the window. “Ryan’s here,” she says.
Brenna’s heart stirs at the sound of his name, yet she has to know. “Why do you think—?” She doesn’t get the question out.
“Because you look just like her.”
The doorbell rings.
“I tried talking to Naysa this morning,” Brenna tells Ryan. They’re sitting on a bluff on Mount Seymour, looking over the city below them. Bentley lies at their feet, panting. Georgialee had willingly agreed to let him hike with them.
“How did it go?”
“Not good. She shut me right down. And then she asked who we were with in the coffee shop. Apparently she was spying on me.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No, I don’t want it to get back to Dad.”
Ryan sighs. He scratches Bentley’s ears. “Maybe if you shared that with her, she’d trust you with her stuff.”
Brenna shrugs one shoulder.
Ryan changes the subject. “I had a good time last night. I like your mates.”
“My friends.” She corrects him with a smile. “You’re in Canada now.”
“Okay, your friends,” he says. “The only people I know in Vancouver are the ones I’ve met at Grouse. It was nice to hang out with other people, though it reminds me how much I miss my mates back home. I mean…my friends.”
Brenna leans into him, and he strokes her hair.
“But the best part of the night was the last part,” he says quietly.
Brenna’s whole body responds as she remembers the kiss they’d shared when he dropped her off. It had started soft and gentle, his lips simply caressing hers, and her body flooded with sensation. Ryan must have felt it too, because his fingers wound through her hair and his kissing became more urgent, almost rough. His hands had begun to explore her body before he suddenly broke away and sat back.
I think you’d better go in, he’d said. We don’t want to get carried away.
She’d nodded but hadn’t moved. There was a disconnect between what her brain told her to do and what her body had wanted.
Or maybe we do, he’d said and laughed a little as he reached for her hand. A car is not the place though.
Her breathing had eventually returned to normal, but she still hadn’t wanted to get out of the car. I’ll see you tomorrow, she’d said finally and leaned over to kiss the tip of his nose.
I think we’d better bring an escort, Ryan teased.
How about Bentley? she suggested.
Perfect, he’d said. And we’ll change it up and hike Dog Mountain. Dogs are welcome there.
Now Ryan plunges his hand into Bentley’s fur. “Kinda hard for a guy to hold back when the kissing is that good,” he says, remembering.
“Kinda hard for a girl too.”
He gives her a shy glance. “You’re not on the pill or anything, are you?”
She can’t meet his eyes. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend.”
“A looker like you? I’m gobsmacked!”
She laughs at his choice of words and elbows him in the ribs.
“Then we’d better take it slow,” he says.
She nods.
“But maybe I’ll buy some condoms…just in case.”
She sits quietly for a moment. “Okay. I wouldn’t want to carry on the family tradition.”
He looks at her, puzzled.
“Becoming a teen mom.”
“Ah. Right. That family tradition.” He drapes his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close.
From: justintime@yahoo.com
To: brennayoko@gmail.com
Dear Brenna,
It was great to see you again the other night. I know you were disappointed that Angie didn’t want you to contact Kia via Aid–A-Child. I hope you’ll still consider raising funds and have someone else donate the money. The work she does is so hard and yet so important. Family secrets often have dire consequences, but that’s the kind of secret I’d encourage. Such a beautiful gesture it would be.
Anyway, let’s keep in touch. Kia would be so proud of the girl you’ve become. Maybe someday she’ll be ready to connect with you again.
J.
Sept. 29
He’s wrong. I’d be a big fat disappointment to Kia.
“Each week we could go downtown in groups of three or four and hand out food and warm clothes to the people on the Downtown Eastside. We could keep collection boxes outside the school office for donations.”
Brenna listens as Jas pitches his social-justice project to the group.
“It fits into our mandate of doing something close to home,” Jas continues, “and we won’t have to fundraise. It’s a service project that will make a difference to people in our own city. We will see firsthand what our efforts can do.”
“Isn’t that just a Band-Aid solution?” Georgialee asks. “We’re not addressing the problem of why people are homeless.”
“I say let the politicians deal with that,” Jas responds. “It’s too big for us to solve, but we can help keep people warm and fed.”
Brenna’s mind wanders as the discussion continues. They now have four social-justice projects to choose from. Two others were pitched last week. When there’s a lull in the conversation, she speaks up. “I’m withdrawing the Aid-A-Child idea,” she says. “That will make it easier to choose a project.”
Everyone turns to look at her.
“Why are you withdrawing it?” Georgialee asks.
Brenna shrugs. “I just am. I don’t really have the energy right now to spearhead it.”
There’s a quiet moment as they all regard her. Then Jas picks up a red marker and draws a line through Aid-A-Child on the list of projects written on the whiteboard.
Oct. 3
Sorry, Kia.
Sorry, Justin.
Brenna’s phone pings with a text from Ryan.
I got the job!! I start tm! Going to a game with my unc 2nite. C U on the mt. tm. xo
Brenna smiles as she texts him back.
Congratulations! xoxoxo
Even though Brenna has withdrawn the Aid-A-Child project from the Social Justice Club’s list, she still finds herself drawn to its website. She scrolls through it, following the links and reading the stories of many of the orphans. She’s so immersed in it that she jumps, startled, when she hears the key in the front-door lock. She glances at the clock and sees that it’s eleven fifteen. Naysa is fifteen minutes past her weekend curfew. Brenna hears the footsteps on the stairs and expects Naysa to poke her head into the room to say hello as usual. She doesn’t. Nor does she go into the kitchen for a snack or stop by her father’s room to say goodnight. There’s just the click of her bedroom door as it shuts.
Brenna returns to the Aid-A-Child website, scrolling through the photos again, peering into each face, looking for an aid worker who looks like her, only older.
When Brenna arrives at the bear habitat on Saturday morning, Ryan is already hard at work with a team of young guys, pulling down the fencing, preparing the mountain for the winter season when the habitat becomes part of the ski and snowboarding terrain.
Ryan waves and smiles when he sees her. He pulls off his ballcap and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. The temperature on the mountain has dropped considerably over the past week, but all the guys working with Ryan are red-cheeked with exertion. She waves and goes into Ski Wee.
“Hey, Brenna,” Mark says. “You’re looking happy today.”
She is happy, Brenna realizes, and she’s acutely aware of Ryan’s presence as she goes through her morning routine. Often when she glances over at him, he happens to look back at her at the exact same moment. She feels a full-body rush every time their eyes meet.
The bears are getting extremely fat and are moving slowly. Mark tells her they’ve also been sleeping more and more each day. She remembers how much she missed them when they hibernated last year—it was like a physical ache—but there’s a video camera in their den, so she can watch for their daily stretching sessions. The wildlife team has dubbed this activity “bear yoga.”
When she’s finished her shift she walks over to where the fence crew is working. Ryan steps away from them, taking a short break. He’s panting from exertion.
“Want to hang out tonight?” he asks.
“Sure. Why don’t you come over and have dinner with us? We can figure out what we want to do after that.”
“Sounds good,” he says. “What’s on the menu?”
“Probably casserole,” she says, laughing. “With brownies for dessert.”
“Beauty, mate,” he says. “After this day I’m going to be starved.”
“This is delicious!” Ryan says, forking the pasta into his mouth. Brenna, her dad and Naysa watch with amusement how fast he shovels it in. “What’s in it?”
Brenna shrugs. “I just pulled it out of the freezer. It didn’t come with a list of ingredients.”
Initially it felt odd to have someone sitting in her mother’s chair at the round kitchen table. The chair had sat empty for months, like a gaping hole. When the extended family had come over, they’d moved the meals to the larger dining room table. Brenna’s relieved that it’s Ryan and not someone else sitting in this chair now.
“I start my driving lessons next week,” she says, making an effort at light conversation. “And I need fifteen hours of practice time between lessons. I hope you’ll be able to take me out,” she says to her dad.
“I could go with you.” Ryan takes his eyes off his plate just long enough to make the offer.
“Thanks, but it has to be someone over twenty-five,” Brenna tells him.
“We’ll set up some times,” her father says. “And you can practice in your mom’s car.”
“You’re not planning on selling it?” Brenna asks.
“I thought we’d keep it for you girls to use.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Naysa says. She’s been quiet until now. “I’m not sixteen for another three years. It will be old by then. And Brenna doesn’t have to share with anyone from now until then.”
Brenna’s glad Ryan is having dinner with them because she’s pretty sure that either she or her dad would have lost their temper with Naysa otherwise. No one reacts for a moment, and then Brenna says, “Who knows where I’ll be in three years. I could be working in Africa, and the car will be all yours.”
“Africa?” her dad asks.
Ryan looks up from his plate long enough to glance at her before returning to his meal.
“Just sayin’,” she responds. “And I’ll be able to chauffeur you around until then, Nayse, so it will benefit you too.”
Naysa pushes her plate away. “May I be excused?”
Brenna and her father exchange glances. “Yes, Naysa, you may,” he says. “What are you up to tonight?”
“Hanging out with my friends.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of that.”
“What else is there to do?” She carries her plate to the dishwasher.
“Homework,” her dad says and smiles.
Naysa throws him a look and leaves the kitchen.
“May I have another helping, please?” Ryan asks.
Brenna scrolls through the options on Netflix. They’ve decided to stay in and watch TV. The evening has turned wet, and Brenna lights the gas fire for the first time since last spring. Brenna’s dad is in his office, and Brenna sits close to Ryan on the couch. He puts his arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles in closer.
“Shall we take Bentley on our hike again tomorrow?” she asks after they agree on a program and the opening credits roll.
“Yeah, he was a pretty good chaperone,” Ryan says. “Didn’t stop me from putting my moves on you.”
Brenna smiles.
Ryan stretches out his legs. “Though you may have to pull me up the hill tomorrow. I’m stiff all over. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a maintenance guy after all.”
The program begins, and Brenna relaxes. Five minutes later she feels Ryan’s arm get heavy, and then he begins to snore softly. She lifts his arm off her shoulder and decides not to wake him. An hour and a half later she shuts off the TV and prods him in the chest.
“Ryan. Wake up.”
He sits up with a start and looks around the room, momentarily confused.
“Did you like the show?” she teases.
“Oh man.” He enjoys a full-body stretch and rubs his face.
“You were out cold.”
He yawns and glances at the door. “Does this mean we’ve slept together?” he whispers.
“No, Ryan, it doesn’t,” she says sternly. “Because you were the only one sleeping.”
He glances at the door again and then leans in to give her a kiss. She pulls away after only a few seconds.
“I guess I’d better head home,” he says. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dud tonight.”
“You’re not a dud, even when you’re sleeping.” She kisses him, lingering a little longer this time.
On his way out, Ryan stops at the door to her dad’s office. “Thanks for having me over,” he says. “Dinner was amazing.”
“Maybe you should take the leftovers,” Brenna’s father suggests. “We’re getting a little tired of that sort of thing.”
“I won’t do that, but if they’re still in the fridge tomorrow I might eat them before our hike.”
“It’s a deal.”
Brenna sees Ryan out before returning to her father’s office. “I’m going to bed, Dad.”
“I’m not far behind.”
She gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.
“Brenna?” he says, calling her back from the hall.
“Yeah?” She stands in the doorway.
“He seems nice.”
“He is.”
“Take it slow.”
She nods.
“Have you seen Naysa yet?”
“No.”
He glances at his watch. “She’s late.”
“She was late last night too.”
His eyebrows spring up. He picks up his cell phone. “I’ll give her a call. See if she needs a ride.”
As he punches the buttons, the front door opens and Naysa appears at the bottom of the stairs. “She’s home,” Brenna tells her father and goes straight to her room, closing the door behind her. Her father can deal with this new person who used to be Naysa.
Ryan really does arrive early to finish the leftovers on Sunday afternoon. They collect Bentley from Georgialee’s and head back up Mount Seymour.
“I am sore everywhere,” Ryan complains as they walk through the parking lot toward the trailhead.
“Maybe you should reapply for your trammie job,” Brenna suggests.
“Maybe not.”
Brenna unclips Bentley from his leash when they start the trail and he gallops ahead of them, celebrating his freedom. A moment later he’s back, gazing up at Brenna, his tail wagging.
“Having fun?” she asks him.
He barks in response and bounds off again.
“I’m surprised you don’t have your own dog,” Ryan says, taking her hand as they reach a wide, flat section in the trail.
“Yeah, I’d like one,” she says. “And Mom always did too, but until recently we lived in a no-pets condo, and then Mom got sick right after we bought our house. Without Mom on my side I don’t know if I could persuade Dad to get one. Besides, I might be gone in a couple of years.”
“Gone, as in working in Africa.”
“Okay, I know that was a bit extreme, but maybe I’ll go away to school or something. Who knows? And I probably couldn’t leave my dog if I had one, so it’s best not to get one. For now,” she adds.
“I had to find a new home for my dog when I came to Canada,” Ryan says. “Max. I miss him.”
Brenna glances at his face and sees the sadness there. “I used to think about starting a dog-walking business,” she admits.
“Hey, that’s a great idea! But make it a dog-hike business.”
“Right.”
“No, seriously. Why not make a little cash while getting in shape for Seek the Peak?”
“Did I agree to do that?”
“Not yet, you haven’t.”
Brenna shakes her head. They both know his track record on talking her into things.
“I think it’d be great! I can’t hike on Wednesday afternoons anymore because of my new job. You could do Quarry Rock with dogs after school every day, make some money, and we’ll still have our Sunday hikes. Or snowshoeing, depending on the weather.”
“Sounds like a lot of hiking.”
Ryan stops to pull the water out of his pack. He takes a long drink, then looks up and down the trail. “Where’s our chaperone?” he asks. Not waiting for an answer, he leans into Brenna and begins to kiss her. Brenna closes her eyes and loses herself in his kiss. The forest is still except for the odd bird chirp. She tastes the lingering flavors of his lunch and breathes in the saltiness of his skin. A moment later Bentley nudges her hand. “Right here,” she says, breaking off the kiss. “Doing his job.”
“Oh man,” Ryan grumbles, and he follows Brenna along the trail.
“Have you thought any more about that dog-hiking idea?” Ryan asks. They’d made it to the lookout, where Bentley had rested while they stretched out under a tree, wrapped in each other’s arms. They were now headed back to the parking lot.
Brenna laughs. She’s feeling euphoric from the long, uninterrupted kisses. “When was I supposed to think about it? You only suggested it an hour ago.”
“Yeah, but it’s such a good idea. A win-win.”
Brenna doesn’t respond.
“I could come back to your house and help you make flyers to tack up around the community. You could post an ad on Craigslist and ask your friends to promote your business on Facebook.”
“Maybe you should start a dog-hiking business.”
“I already have a job.”
They walk along in silence for a while.
“Tell me honestly, Brenna. We’ve been hiking for six weeks now. Are you feeling any different?”
She thinks about it. The hikes do seem less strenuous, and she’d noticed just yesterday that her jeans were feeling looser.
“I bet a lot of people could really use the services of a dog hiker.”
Brenna still doesn’t respond. She wonders what her mom would have thought of the idea. She suspects she would have liked it. A lot. Her mom loved dogs, and she loved to hike. What’s not to love?
“Well?”
“Well, okay. There’s no harm in trying.”
They spend the rest of the afternoon and evening creating a flyer and then printing out copies. They place an ad on Craigslist. Ryan stays for dinner again and eats twice as much mac and cheese as the rest of them. They walk around the neighborhood in the evening, tacking flyers to poles.
“Now we wait for the calls to come in,” Ryan says. They’re standing at his car. He’s getting ready to leave.
“If they come in.”
“Oh, they will,” he says. He glances at the house, wondering if they’re being observed. He gives her a quick kiss and a longer hug. “Keep me posted.”
Oct. 6
If Ryan were a dog, his tail would be constantly wagging.
Brenna takes her phone out of her purse at the lunch break on Monday. She’s hoping to find a message from Ryan but is startled to see she’s missed six calls. She listens to the first one. It’s a dog-hiking request. So is the second. And the third. The fourth is a message from her driving teacher confirming her lesson, but the remaining two are more dog-hiking requests.
She texts Ryan:
I’m in business! 5 phone requests and I haven’t even checked my email yet.
His response is immediate.
Brenna slips into an empty classroom, plunks herself down at a desk and pulls her planner out of her bag. She starts returning calls and sets up appointments to meet the dogs and their owners.