Chapter 19
Dawn sat on a wooden seat with Sierra on one side and Melanie Knowles on the other, anxiously waiting for the meeting to start. It was the big city council meeting where the bridge proposal would be decided once and for all.
Too bad Warren had to work, Dawn mused. But now that she was officially dating a fireman, she had better get used to it. That was one of many things Warren had explained to her the past few days since the celebration at Hip To Knit. Being with a firefighter would be hard. She could be alone on important holidays, get stuck with childcare when he worked overtime, and be riddled with worry when his job put him in danger. Warren also shared how he could have been more sympathetic to the stress his schedule placed on his ex-wife. That didn’t excuse Raquelle’s infidelity or the way she torpedoed their finances, but it did offer insight into why she’d behaved the way she did.
“What do you think the vote will be?” Sierra asked.
“I don’t know.” Dawn rubbed her sweaty palms on her vintage jeans. “The petition has reached over seven thousand signatures now. Hopefully, that makes a difference.”
“Plus all these people who showed up.” Melanie looked behind her at the crowd. The council chamber was standing room only.
“Good thing we arrived early enough to get seats.” Dawn’s foot twitched nervously. “I wish we’d made posters though. I feel unprepared.”
“At least other people brought some.” Melanie snapped a picture. “I’m making a collage of posters to share on Harper Landing Moms right now.”
“Be sure to get one with the baby harbor seal cutout.” Sierra pointed at the back of the room. “That one’s my favorite.”
Dawn looked behind her and saw Julia Harper waving a sign with an adorable seal sunning himself on a rock that said: “Save the beach for our babies!” Dawn waved at Julia, and she smiled.
“Don’t worry, Mom.” Sierra rubbed Dawn’s back in slow circles. “You’ve done everything you could.”
“Yeah,” said Melanie. “And look at Cheryl Lowrey there in the front row. She’s taking her campaign so seriously, she’s wearing a pantsuit.”
A pantsuit that looks thirty years old, Dawn thought privately to herself. But despite the wardrobe goof, Dawn felt proud of her. The campaign kick-off had been just the boost Cheryl needed. The article Savannah had written in the Seattle Times had helped too. Dawn had never imagined that she would help organize a political campaign, but with Grace’s and Ben’s help, they were on their way.
“Mom,” said Sierra, “what’ll happen if they vote to build the bridge? What will we do next?”
“I don’t know.” Dawn chewed on a thumbnail before yanking her hand away. Her phone buzzed, and she looked at the notification. It was a message from her mom.
Typing with one hand , Beth wrote. Feeling better, but looking forward to elbow surgery. Just wanted to say I’m proud of you. Good luck tonight.
Thank you, Dawn typed back. I love you .
Love you more, Beth answered a minute later. Your dad would be proud of you too.
Dawn wasn’t sure about that. Jim hated politics. The only time he voted was in national elections for presidents. Coming to a council meeting like this—or worse, bringing a daughter along to witness it—would never have crossed his mind.
I’m not wackadoodle, she thought, but I am an environmentalist. She looked at the patchwork purse she’d made and carried for twenty-two years. She recycled clothes. She loved old furniture. She upcycled instead of shopping at Target. Dawn didn’t have a compost bin in her backyard yet, but her natural frugality was good for the planet. Her biggest environmental sin was her SUV, which she hadn’t even wanted in the first place. Mark had talked her into it.
“I’m so nervous.” Sierra grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “This is really exciting.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Dawn asked.
“Maybe next time you should run for city council,” said Sierra.
“What?” Dawn’s eyebrows shot up.
“You’d be great.” Sierra rested her head on Dawn’s shoulder.
“She’s right,” said Melanie. “The council could use some younger blood. Nobody up there has kids in school.”
“I don’t know.” Dawn swallowed. “I?—”
“You don’t have to decide now,” Melanie said. “But think about it next time a seat becomes available. I’d vote for you.”
“So would I.” Sierra nodded. “I mean, once I’m old enough to vote.”
Dawn felt glad, not that Sierra and Melanie thought she was city council material, but that her daughter was already looking forward to the day when she could cast her ballot. But then the council meeting began, and all Dawn’s nerves switched back onto high alert.
The meeting started out strong. The open comments section lasted for almost an hour as dozens of citizens took the mic and expressed their support for protecting the beach. A few people opposed, citing safety concerns at the marina, but most commenters urged the council to find a different solution. Dawn chose not to speak this time but stood behind Sierra while she read the speech she’d carefully crafted herself.
“My name is Sierra St. James,” she said, staring at her notebook paper. Sierra paused, and Dawn’s heart stopped, worrying that her daughter had stage fright. But then Sierra looked up from her speech and stared at the council. “My name is Sierra St. James,” she said again, in a louder voice. “I’ve lived in Harper Landing for eleven years, my entire life. One of the things I love about our town is that everyone can go to the beach when they are feeling sad or happy or when they have something to celebrate or mourn. I spent a lot of time at the beach when my Grandpa Jim died. My mom and I used to walk there every afternoon when I got home from school. We would eat apples and cheese while we sat on driftwood. Harper Landing Beach is a good place to think.” Shaking, Sierra began to speak faster. “I think the mayor and the city council should think too. You should think hard about what will happen to Harper Landing if you destroy something so special to the people who live here and to the animals too. I would do anything to protect the beach. You should too.” She glanced down at her paper, and her eyes scanned across the page. “The beach is worth saving,” she said when she looked back up. “You’re supposed to know that.”
Dawn clapped, and the crowd joined her. Sierra smiled and rushed back to her seat, her cheeks flushed. Dawn’s heart felt like bursting. She was so proud. She hoped Melanie had captured the moment with a photograph, so she could share it with Mark.
“You did great,” Dawn whispered, patting Sierra’s knee. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Sierra was still trembling. “Can I have a piece of gum?”
“Sure.” Dawn rummaged in her purse and pulled out a couple of sticks. She popped one in her own mouth as well. By the time the comments ended thirty minutes later and the council prepared to vote, the bubblegum flavor had disappeared.
“We’ve heard the public comments, and we’ve read the mayor’s report,” said the city council president. “Is there a motion to vote?”
“I move we vote on the bridge proposal,” said a councilwoman with gray hair.
“I second that motion,” said the councilman whose seat Cheryl would hopefully fill after the election.
“Thank you,” the president said. “All those in favor of Mayor Jordan’s bridge proposal for increasing emergency access to the marina district, please say aye.”
Dawn’s heart stopped. Her eyes opened wide. Her lungs held a deep breath. She heard four of the seven council members vote aye.
The bridge proposal passed.
A wave of boos swept across the audience. Some people rose to their feet and shouted.
Mayor Jordan banged her gavel. “Settle down, or we’ll clear this room,” she declared.
Her microphone shrieked with feedback, and Dawn covered her ears to guard against the high-pitched noise.
“What’s happening?” Sierra asked. “I don’t understand. What does aye mean?”
Dawn groaned. “It means yes.”
“Yes, it didn’t pass?” Sierra asked hopefully.
Dawn shook her head. “No, sweetie. It means they’re going to build the bridge.”
“No!” Sierra jumped to her feet. “You can’t do that!” she called.
Mayor Jordan slammed down her gavel. “Order!” she shouted.
Sierra climbed on top of her seat. “This isn’t right!” She pointed her finger at the council members who’d voted aye. “Shame on you,” she called. “You don’t deserve to sit in those chairs.”
From the corner of her eye, Dawn saw a police officer edge toward them. She grabbed Sierra’s elbow. “Come on, sweetie,” she said in a calming tone. “We’ll find another way.”
“How?” Sierra asked.
“I don’t know,” Dawn admitted as the officer came closer. “But this isn’t it.” She picked up her purse. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Sierra stepped down from the chair, holding onto Dawn for support. They scooted past Melanie, whose face was tense with worry, and fought their way through the crowd and into the night air. Being outside made Dawn feel better. In the fading twilight, Dawn looked at her daughter. Sierra was becoming more of a woman and less of a girl every day. Dawn vowed to honor her promise. They would find a way to fight the council’s decision. They had to.
“Let’s get in the car and go home,” said Dawn.
“So that’s it?” Sierra asked. “We just give up?”
“No.” Dawn shook her head. She had a creative idea about what to do next but wanted to run it by Mark first since it involved Sierra. “I need to call your father for legal advice, but I think I might know of a way to fight this.”
Sierra frowned. “We did that with the petition, and it didn’t work.”
Dawn sighed. “I know, and that’s not fair.” She thought about her father going back to Hanford day after day, risking his life on a nuclear cleanup job that seemingly had no end. “Do you know what the word perseverance means?”
Sierra shook her head. “Something to do with canning?”
Dawn smiled and unlocked the doors to her BMW with her key fob. “You’re thinking of jam making. Not preserving, but perseverance. It means not giving up, even when things get hard.”
“Oh.” Sierra opened the back door and climbed into her booster seat. “You mean like how black nail polish is really tricky to make look good, but if you’re patient and keep practicing, it can look amazing.”
One minute Sierra was changing the world, and the next, she was painting her nails. No wonder parenting a tween presented so many challenges.
“That’s right.” Dawn clicked on her seatbelt. “It’ll take perseverance to save the beach, but I know you and I are both strong enough to see it through.”
“What’s your plan?” Sierra asked.
Dawn put the car in drive, stepped on the gas, and told her.
Two hours later at ten o’clock, Dawn parked her car in the owner’s space behind the alley of the Forgotten Hug. She wore sweat-wicking exercise clothes, comfy sneakers, and her three-in-one jacket for warmth.
Sierra exited the car, wearing a head-to-toe outfit from REI that Mark had bought her for one of their many father-daughter camping trips. She turned on her flashlight but then quickly turned it off. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I should probably save the battery.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Dawn. “And no need to whisper. I rent this building. We have every right to be here.”
Dawn walked to the back of the car and opened the hatch. When she surveyed their equipment, she was grateful Mark had such high-end taste in gear and such a tiny apartment that he stored all of his camping equipment in her garage. “Here’s your backpack,” she said, holding up the straps for Sierra.
“Thanks.” Sierra clipped the snaps and grabbed the enormous water jug.
“Are you sure that’s not too heavy for you?” Dawn asked as she put on Mark’s backpack. It weighed at least sixty-five pounds, and she had to fight not to fall over. But the good news was she only had to walk three blocks.
“Um…” Sierra said, struggling to move the water tank. “Maybe you should carry this.”
“Sure.” Dawn gripped the handle. “You get the chairs. They only weigh a pound apiece.”
Sierra grinned. “I think I can manage that.”
“You can lock the car too.” Dawn gave her the key fob before hefting the water cooler. It took both hands for her to master it, but the added weight in front balanced out her load in the back.
Sierra closed the car, and they silently made their way to the beach, where they would spend the night. Mark was on his way to meet them. He supported their decision to camp out and protest but didn’t want them staying there alone. Dawn had also texted Warren to let him know what she was up to, but she hadn’t heard back. She assumed that meant he was on a call and hadn’t been able to reply.
“Where should we set up the tent?” Sierra asked. “On the sand?”
“That would be good.” Dawn adjusted her grip on the cooler. “But we need to be careful so we’re above the tideline. It wouldn’t be fun to wake up lying in a pool of water.”
“No.” Sierra giggled. “But this is fun. You and me doing something dangerous.”
“Not dangerous,” Dawn corrected. “Well, a little bit dangerous. I might be arrested. Or...”
Parents and children camped out across the Seattle area all the time due to homelessness, and they weren’t separated. This was different, of course, and couldn’t compare to the challenges unhoused families faced. But the risk of Sierra being separated from Dawn or Mark was low enough that both of them were willing to go through with Dawn’s plan. Mark had said the worst possible thing that could happen would be getting arrested and having Sierra taken into custody. But in that event, Mark’s father, Ted St. James, would deploy his firm’s entire legal defense team to get her back pronto.
When they reached the beach, Dawn turned on her headlamp, or rather, Mark’s headlamp. Dawn didn’t own any camping gear herself. She hated backpacking and didn’t look forward to sleeping on an air mattress. But as she listened to the gentle lap of Puget Sound massaging the shoreline, she knew she was in for a night like no other.
“I’m going to blow up my solar lantern first.” Sierra dropped her backpack onto the sand. “That will help make setting up the tent easier.”
Shoot. Setting up the tent. That was something Mark always handled on the few trips they’d gone on as a family before the divorce. Since Mark wasn’t here yet, Dawn would have to figure that out herself.
“Good idea.” Dawn unzipped her backpack and dug for the tent. She found the drawstring bag with the poles first and assembled them one by one.
“Don’t forget the footprint.” Sierra clicked on her lantern, and the area lit up in a bright yellow light.
“What footprint?” Dawn picked up her foot and looked at the sole of her sneaker to see what was wrong.
“Not your shoe, silly. The tarp that goes under the tent. That’ll keep moisture out.”
“Oh,” said Dawn. She offered Sierra the tent bag. “Maybe you should do that part because you have more experience.”
Sierra didn’t move a muscle. “I’ve never set the tent up all by myself before. Dad usually helps.”
“Dad’s not here,” said Dawn, still holding the tent. “But you are. And you’re a capable young woman with backpacking experience.”
“Okay, fine.” Sierra grabbed the bag. “But if it falls over, it’s not my fault.”
Sierra barked one order after another, and Dawn complied with each demand. They anchored the footprint, drove in stakes using a rock as their hammer, and attached the poles. Dawn was good at that part. It reminded her of threading elastic through a waistband when she sewed their matching Christmas pajamas. The last step was the rainfly. Mark always insisted on buying tents with a full-coverage rainfly. That was one of the things Dawn remembered about his tutelage. Pacific Northwest weather made it risky to camp without one, unless you were okay with waking up drenched.
“This looks great,” said Mark just as they were blowing up their sleeping pads. “I worried you might need my help with the stakes, but you didn’t.” He set down his backpack next to theirs.
“It was all Sierra’s doing.” Dawn hugged her. “She’s a mountain girl.”
Sierra grinned. “And a beach girl. Or else I wouldn’t be here.”
“I brought my bivy sack, so I’ll sleep outside under the stars,” said Mark. “A one-person shelter is the perfect way to do that.”
“There’s room in the tent for you if you want,” Dawn offered.
“I know,” said Mark. “But if I’m going to break the law, I want to do it in style.” He looked up at the night sky. “I wish the moon was out.”
“Maybe it’ll come out tomorrow.” Dawn shoved her pad into the tent and pulled her sleeping bag out of its sack. This was the one piece of camping gear that belonged to her instead of Mark. He’d given it to her the first year they were dating. In retrospect, the six-hundred-dollar sleeping bag was an early warning sign that they weren’t well suited for each other.
“How long do you think we’ll be out here before the council changes their minds?” Sierra asked.
Dawn paused before stowing the rest of her gear in the tent. “I don’t know.” She didn’t want Sierra to have false hope. “It could be that they won’t change their minds. This could all be for nothing.”
“Oh.” Sierra fiddled with the zipper on her backpack. Then she looked Dawn right in the eye. “But at least we’ll know we tried, right?”
“Absolutely.” Dawn nodded.
“That’s right.” Mark unrolled his bivy sack. “And this will be a family adventure for the books.”
“Because we’re still a family,” Sierra said with a smile. “No matter what.” She removed her sleeping bag from her backpack. “Maybe tomorrow night, Mikaela and Warren could come too.”
Dawn cringed, unsure of what to say. She loved the idea of Warren and Mikaela participating, but she wasn’t sure what Mark would think about them all having a “family” campout together.
“That would be great,” Mark said as he pulled off his boots. “Let’s see... Today’s Wednesday. My schedule is typically light on Thursdays, but on Friday, I have an early-morning meeting I can’t miss.” He climbed into the bivy sack. “I could still be on call, though, in case you need a lawyer.”
Dawn was relieved to hear that. Her whole plan revolved around using their privilege to impact change for the greater good. Sure, they had a right to protest, but they were also in the privileged position of being related to lawyers, having enough money to close Dawn’s shop for a few days, and suspecting that the local police would be reluctant to arrest them.
“Wait,” Dawn said before they settled down for the night. “We need to take a picture so I can post it on Harper Landing Moms and send it to the Seattle Times .” She took out her camera and set it to night mode.
“How about I take a picture with just the two of you?” Mark offered.
“No way, Dad.” Sierra knelt next to him. “We’re in this together.”
“That’s right.” Dawn stood beside her daughter and ex-husband and held out her hand holding the phone as far as she could stretch her arm. “Say cheese!”
She snapped several pictures to ensure she had good options, then they got ready for bed. Dawn snuggled into her sleeping bag. Six hundred dollars was still way too much for a sleeping bag, but she enjoyed the fluffy softness.
Lying in the dark, Dawn edited the pictures and posted the best one on Facebook. “Save Harper Landing Beach!” she wrote. “Skip your summer vacation. Come join the camping protest on Harper Landing Beach. Show the city council that we refuse to let it be destroyed!”
“Mom?” Sierra asked right as Dawn was about to post the picture. “What happens if I need to pee? They lock the bathrooms at night.”
“Don’t worry,” said Dawn. “We can use the restroom at my shop.”
She looked back at the draft of her post and added one more line. “Restrooms available courtesy of the Forgotten Hug.” She hit the post button, texted Warren, tweeted Ben Wexler-Lowrey and his friend Savannah, and tried not to get her hopes up. It was almost midnight, after all. Nobody would probably see her post until morning.
Seven hours later, when Sierra woke her up for a trip to the restroom, Dawn unzipped their tent and discovered Aaron Baxter and Matt Guevara doing yoga in the sand.
“Hey,” said Matt, Dawn’s friend from the chamber of commerce. “I know you.”
“Oh, shoot. We thought you were unhoused,” said Aaron. “Sorry about the energy bars.”
“The what?” Dawn laced up her shoes.
“The food offering.” Aaron pointed at a cluster of Big Foot Paleo bars left outside their tent flap next to a bottle of water. “Whoops.”
Matt balanced himself in tree pose. “What are you doing camping out on the beach?”
“We’re protesting the marina bridge,” said Sierra. “Mom sent pictures to the newspaper and posted about us on Harper Landing Moms last night.”
“You did what?” Matt stumbled out of tree pose and looked at Aaron. “Why didn’t you tell me about this juicy Harper Landing Moms news?”
“You mean, why didn’t Julia tell me to tell you?” Aaron asked. “I don’t know. Maybe because she was sleeping? The only reason I’m awake doing sunrise yoga is because my physical therapist recommended it.”
“Can I take your picture and post it on Harper Landing Dads?” Matt asked, pulling out his phone.
“Sure.” Dawn finger combed her hair. “Be sure to encourage everyone to join our protest.”
Matt snapped their picture. “This will be great,” he said. “We need more content on Harper Landing Dads. So far, the only interesting thing that’s happened was Dennis posting that hot picture of his wife.”
“Riding her Peloton?” Aaron whistled. “He seems to love her a lot, but Julia would be furious if I posted pictures of her like that.”
Uh oh, Dawn thought. She made a mental note to ask Warren to double-check that they weren’t talking about Dennis and Irene.
“Hello?” Mark unzipped his bivy sack and stuck out his head. “Who’s there?”
“It’s okay, Dad,” said Sierra. “It’s people we know.”
“And here come more people we know.” Dawn rose to her feet and waved. Cheryl Lowrey and her husband, Nick Wexler, walked toward them, carrying huge cups of coffee.
The scent of coffee perked her up. Her campout protest was officially underway.