Page 71 of Chasing Stardust

“We’re definitely not.”

“I still can’t believe Bowie was your grandfather,” he whispers.

“Allegedly.” I check over my shoulder before shoving a foot into the crotch of the tree. “And for the record, I don’t buy it.”

The fear of getting caught ignites a fire in my veins, and I shimmy up the trunk until I reach the lowest branch, then haul myself the rest of the way up. My arms burn as I move up the tree, running my fingers over rough bark and reading it like braille until I run out of branches that will hold my weight.

Bitterly disappointed I didn’t find a single initial carved into the wood, I work my way back down the way I came.

Playing lookout and offering moral support, Dash leans against the trunk until I have both feet planted firmly on the ground. “Nothing?”

I shake my head and march to the next tree. After tossing another look behind us, I repeat the steps from the last one.

And again, nothing.

With a loud sigh, I drop from the lowest limb to the ground.

Dash hands me my tote and motions to the towering tree erupting from a mound of exposed bedrock. “Last one.”

“Great.” I hitch my tote onto my shoulder as the last shred of hope skips through my veins. “I was really hoping I’d find her name on one of the smaller trees.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Dash takes my hand, and we hike over the smooth rock outcropping.

Lifting my gaze skyward, I survey the massive oak towering overhead. Dappled sunlight streams through leaves the size of saucers. “I guess this is it.”

Up close, the tree is even more enormous. The gnarled trunk must be close to three feet wide. As it rises into the sky, its limbs stretch out in every direction, daring me to climb it.

“How the hell am I supposed to get up there?”

“I’ll give you a boost.” Dash laces his fingers together and lowers his hands for me to use as a step. “Hop on.”

After stealing a quick kiss, I rest my sweaty palms on his shoulders and plant my foot in his hands the way I did back in my cheer pyramid days.

“Hold on.” His jaw flexes as he lifts me into the air.

My stomach flips completely upside down. As it turns out, climbing a tree is nothing like mounting a cheer pyramid.

“Can you lift me higher?” I grunt as I brace myself on the rough bark, keeping one hand flat on the trunk while stretching the other as far as I can reach. “I’m almost there.”

Dash boosts me up the thick tree, and I grab the closest branch, muscles trembling as I hoist myself up. Once I get a foothold, I clamber to the next limb, resisting the urge to scream I’m the princess of the world at the top of my lungs.

From my dizzying perch, I can clearly read the Essex House sign. “You should see the view from up here. It’s amazing!”

“That’s great,” Dash whisper-shouts from below. “But you need to look for your mom’s name before someone sees you up there.”

“On it!” My pulse hammers in my ears as I run my palms over the trunk, using the pads of my fingers to explore every knot. Every dip. Every imperfection.

A light gust of wind swirls around me, ruffling my hair and making the leaves flutter and dance. I wonder if the breeze is a sign from Mom to keep going . . . or maybe cut my losses. For an instant, I contemplate doing just that. Then my heart skips as my fingers settle into a slight indentation directly above my head. Using knots as footholds, I move upward to the next limb for a better look.

I’ve seen my mom’s handwriting probably a thousand times before—twenty years of birthday cards, permission slips, and little notes left on the refrigerator—but seeing her swirling script, even sloppily etched into the gnarled side of a tree, takes my breath away.

Blinking back tears, I rest a trembling finger in the smooth indentation, slowly tracing each letter. Thirty years may have weathered the tree, but her name is almost exactly as it was when she carved it. The wound has long since healed over, but the scar tissue remains.

I can’t help wondering how long Mom stood on this same twisted limb while she carved her name into the side. My eyes sting as I imagine her standing beside me. Resting my cheek against the scratchy bark, I wrap my arms as far around the trunk as I can while the tears I’d been holding back break free.

“Are you okay?” Dash calls up to me.

“Yes.” I choke back a sob and then another. “No. Not really.”