Free Brave by The 12 NAs of Christmas, Zoe Dawson Page A

didn’t have all the latest trappings.”
    “I
have popcorn and cranberries. Want to make a garland for the tree?”
    She
looked at me. Her expression said that she thought that was the
sweetest thing I had ever said.
    “Yes.
I can’t think of anything better. But, what are you doing with
cranberries?”
    “Cranberry
sauce,” I said. “Don’t you like it?”
    “I
do. Were you going to make yourself a Christmas dinner?”
    “I
was.” I had thought about it when I picked up supplies, but
only now realized that I hadn’t really decided if I would or
not. “Something simple. I have a ham, and both sweet and white
potatoes, rolls, the whole damn thing. I didn’t know I would be
sharing it with you.”
    “And
you say you’re no hero.”
    We
bundled up and she gripped her walking stick as I first checked to be
sure her ankle brace was firm, and then instructed her on how to
maneuver in snow shoes. It was actually easy on her ankle, less
movement. “It’s more of a shuffling gait than actually
picking up your feet.”
    “I’ll
manage,” she said as we headed out. After walking for about
fifteen minutes, we came upon a copse of evergreens. Alissa’s
gasp of delight when she saw them traveled through me like a golden
light.
    “Beautiful.
Almost too beautiful to cut down.”
    “I
can say an Indian prayer for the tree, if you want. Receiving
something from the earth as a gift.”
    “What
kind of prayer?”
    “A
Lakota prayer.”
    “You’re
Lakota?”
    “Part.
I never belonged to a tribe. My mother married my father and left and
never returned. She made her stand with him, she often said. I have
to say, I like that about my parents standing together. It was
something that grounded me in childhood.”
    “What
about now? Why are they not here? Why aren’t they helping you?”
    “You
have to be open to receiving help. I pushed them away and refused to
hear anything but my own thoughts. It might have been wrong, but at
the time it seemed to be the only way to handle my blood-soaked
memories.”
    “Don’t
say that, Dakota.”
    “It’s
true. It’s what happened.” I turned to her. “But
things have a way of changing, shifting beneath your feet, like sand.
I feel like you’re the foundation and I’m just the
shifting sand.”
    “Let
me be your foundation then, Dakota. Seek help. That would be what I
would wish for you, and yes, I’d like you to say a prayer,”
she said, giving me a warm smile. I smiled back.
    “Kinship
with all creatures of the earth, sky and water was a real and active
principle. For the animal and bird world there existed a brotherly
feeling that kept the Lakota safe among them, and so close did some
of the Lakota come to their feathered and furred friends that, in
true brotherhood, they spoke a common tongue. So it’s said.”
    “And
do you believe that?”
    I
shrugged. “Like I said, I wasn’t raised in a tribe. My
family is my tribe and I know I hurt them. I know they’re
worried about me, but they’ve honored me in giving me the
solitude I asked for.”
    “I
think that’s a bunch of bullshit.”
    “What?”
    “You
don’t need solitude. I don’t think that’s helped
you at all. You need people, and the kind of people who know how to
help you through this. I’m just a poor substitute.”
    “No,
you’re not. You’ve helped me more than you know.”
    “I
can only hope that’s true.”
    “It’s
true. Now pick out a tree before we freeze to death.”
    She
walked around and looked and finally pointed to a beautiful
evergreen, easily the most full and lush of all of them. I approached
it and, before I sank the ax in, I said a short prayer asking
forgiveness, and expressing appreciation that the tree would give up
its life for our benefit.
    I made
quick work of getting it to the sled and back to the cabin, all the
while with Alissa’s words tumbling around inside my brain. Had
I been a complete idiot, running from civilization, trying to find a
balance out here alone