Page 23 of Dreams and Desires

We stroll through the park, our steps in sync, until we find the perfect spot under a sprawling oak tree. The tree’s ancient branches stretch out, offering a canopy of cool shade that beckons us to sit and stay awhile.

We lay out our blanket, the soft fabric a cushion against the earth, and I can’t resist the urge to capture this serene moment. I pull out my camera, eager to freeze these peaceful seconds in time. Meanwhile, Jacob busies himself setting up the picnic, carefully laying out sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a thermos filled with homemade lemonade. The scene is picture-perfect, like something out of a storybook where everything is right in the world.

As I snap a few photos, trying to capture the vibrant greens of the grass and the deep blue of the sky, my mind betrays me. Thoughts of Zade creep in, uninvited. His smug smile, those piercing eyes that seem to see right through me—it’s infuriating how he lingers in my thoughts. I shake my head, determined to push him out. He doesn’t belong here, in this tranquil place that’s meant for peace, not for the likes of him.

“Hey, Juniper,” Jacob calls out, waving a sandwich in front of my face to get my attention. He's messing around, but I can tell he's actually worried. “You with me?”

I blink, snapping out of my thoughts and refocusing on the present. “Yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought,” I admit, trying to sound nonchalant as I lower my camera and take the sandwich from him.

“Anything I should worry about?” He teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Nope. Just appreciating the view,” I reply, flashing him a smile as I take a bite of the sandwich. The simple pleasure of good food, fresh air, and my brother’s company is enough to make me feel grounded again.

As I chew, savoring the flavors, I hear a voice that pulls me away from my thoughts. “Hey Juniper, long time no see.” I turn to see Mrs. Williams, one of the town’s oldest residents and a former teacher of mine. Her presence is both comforting and unsettling. For a moment, I hesitate, unsure of how to react. She knows, just like everyone else in this town, about the incident from sixteen years ago. It’s a shadow that’s followed me, a mark I can’t erase.

But then she surprises me with her next words. “I heard you’ve been stirring things up at the town meetings. Way to go, girl! Proud of you.”

I blink, momentarily stunned. Her words hit me in a way I didn’t expect, filling me with a warmth that spreads from my chest to my fingertips. “Yeah, just trying to keep Cody the way we love it,” I manage to reply, feeling an unexpected sense of validation.

“Well, keep it up. We need people like you,” she says with a nod, her eyes twinkling with approval before she moves on, leaving me standing there with a strange but comforting sense of acceptance.

"Looks like you're getting yourself a fan club," Jacob jokes lightly, watching Mrs. Williams walk off. He's clearly having fun with this.

“Yeah, it’s weird. But good weird,” I admit, feeling a glow of pride that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s like a small victory, a step toward being accepted again in this town that I once felt so alienated from.

After lunch, we decide to explore more of the park. The paths wind through the trees, leading us past blooming flower beds and tranquil ponds that mirror the sky.

I find myself snapping more pictures of Jacob than anything else. His laughter, the way his eyes light up when he sees something new—it’s all too precious. I know he’s sick, and the fear of losing him is always there, lurking in the back of my mind. But today, he’s happy, and that’s what matters most. I want to capture every bit of his joy, like I’m storing up sunshine for the darker days ahead.

As we walk along a familiar path, something catches my eye—a small group of deer grazing nearby. They move with such grace, almost blending into the peaceful surroundings. Then, I notice a doe with a scar on her hind leg.I blink hard. It’s her. That scar. No doubt it’s her.

"Oh, my God. Look, Jacob,” I whisper, excitement bubbling in my voice as I point my camera toward the group. “It’s Bambi. And her babies. See the scar on her leg?”

Jacob leans in, looking closely at the doe. A soft smile spreads across his face as he recognizes her. “It really is her.”

Seeing Bambi brings back memories from a few years ago, when we first found her. Jacob and I had gone off the main trail during a family visit to this park. That’s when we stumbled upon a small fawn lying hidden in the bushes. She was hurt, with a deep cut on her hind leg, and looked so weak and helpless.

I remember our dad looking at the wound and shaking his head. “She won’t make it with that injury,” he said sadly.“It’s too bad, but we should leave her alone.”

But it was Grams and Jacob who didn’t give up. All three of us insisted on staying with the fawn, carefully cleaning the wound with water from his bottle, and using the small first aid kit Dad always carried. Jacob wrapped her leg with gauze, while Grams kept talking softly to her the whole time.

Dad sighed, but he didn’t stop us. Instead, he stood nearby, watching as we did what we could. We stayed with the fawn for hours, making sure she was stable, before finally leaving her behind. Walking away was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I didn’t think we’d see her again.

But a few months later, when we visited the park again, there she was—Bambi, as we’d named her. She was healed, running with a small herd, the only reminder of her injury being a scar on her leg. I remember how Jacob’s face lit up when he saw her.

Now, here she is again, with her own babies by her side. Seeing her, healthy and strong, brings a lump to my throat. It’s a reminder that even when things seem hopeless, healing and survival are possible. Jacob looks at me, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

As the sun begins to set, we know it’s time to leave. Jacob has his appointment soon, and we need to get to the hospital. We pack up our things, reluctantly saying goodbye to the peace of the park, and call for an Uber.

While we wait, I take a few last pictures of the sunset, wanting to hold on to the beauty of this day.

The Uber arrives, andwe climb in. The ride to the hospital is quiet. Jacob rests his head on my shoulder, his energy waning after the day’s activities. I love my brother so much. His resilience, his strength, and his ability to find joy even in the darkest times amaze me. I’d do anything to make sure he gets through this.

As we approach the hospital, I gently nudge him awake. “Jacob, we’re here.”

He blinks sleepily, then gives me a tired smile. “Thanks, Juniper. Let’s do this.”

We walk into the hospital together, the sterile smell and fluorescent lights, totally opposite from the vibrant park we just left. The walls are lined with bright posters, but there’s a coldness to the place that’s hard to shake.

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