Her Daughter's Dream (19 page)

22

Mom and Dad greeted them on their return from a glorious week in Hawaii. While Dad took Mitch into the living room, Mom took Carolyn into the kitchen. She looked worried. “What’s wrong, Mom? Where’s Dawn?”

“In her room. We explained everything to her, but she doesn’t fully understand.” She offered Carolyn a cup of tea or coffee. “This is the only real home she’s ever known.”

What about the house on Vineyard Avenue?
Carolyn wanted to say.
Didn’t that count?
“She doesn’t want to go with me. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“She’s only seven, Carolyn.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“I know that. It’s just going to be very hard for her to adjust to all these changes.”

Mom’s red-rimmed eyes told Carolyn her daughter wasn’t the only one having a hard time.

“I’m sorry about that, but I think the sooner we go, the better.”

“You won’t even stay for dinner?”

“Is she packed?”

May Flower Dawn clung to her grandfather. Pried loose and strapped into the backseat, she cried for an hour. Carolyn and Mitch tried to reassure her. It didn’t help. When she finally fell asleep in the backseat, Mitch took Carolyn’s hand. “Give her time.”

Mitch carried their things into the house. Carolyn unpacked Dawn’s clothes, hanging her dresses in the closet and putting the rest into the dresser. She left the Barbies and doll clothes in the box for Dawn to unpack the next morning. When she told Dawn to get ready for bed, she did. As she tucked her in, Dawn started to cry again. “I want to go home!”

“This is your home.”

“I want
Granny
!”

Pierced through the heart, Carolyn bent down and kissed her daughter’s head. “Sorry, May Flower Dawn. You’re stuck with your
mother
.”

May Flower Dawn

23

Wide-awake and miserable, Dawn lay curled in a ball in the middle of her fancy new bed. Her mother had turned off the light and closed the door, leaving only a tiny night-light in the bathroom to contend against total darkness. Even though she was seven and a half, Dawn was a little nervous in this big, dark, silent room. Unlike her mother’s bungalow on Vineyard Avenue, Mitch’s house stood at the end of a long driveway lined with cypress trees, too far from the road to hear cars or see headlights.

Dawn didn’t want to live in this house so far away from Granny and Papa. Her mother wouldn’t have time for her. She’d never see her school friends again. Granny said she and Papa would come to visit soon, but what did “soon” mean? Tomorrow? Next week?

Dawn wiped away angry tears. She had initially liked Mitch, but now that he’d married Mom, she wasn’t so sure.

A soft wind and moonlight cast frightening shadows outside her window. Dawn huddled deep under the blankets, covered her head, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Mom opened the door the next morning and came in, all smiles and cheer. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

Dawn hated that her mother looked so happy when she was so miserable. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m making bacon and waffles.”

Dawn set her jaw, refusing to be tempted by her favorite breakfast. “I’m not going to eat anything until you take me home.” She felt triumphant when the joy dimmed in her mother’s face.

“You
are
home, Dawn. If you want to go on a hunger strike, that’s fine. If you want to come out and sit with us, even better. Either way, I won’t force you.” Her mother quietly closed the door behind her.

Dawn stared, furious. When fifteen minutes passed and Mom didn’t come back, Dawn shoved her covers off and went into the pink, green, and white bathroom. Her hair looked like a blonde mop on her head. Granny used to brush it for her every morning. Her clothes lay in a mess on the floor where she’d dropped them. Granny would have picked them up and folded them for her. Her mother always expected her to do everything herself! She’d probably force her to do dishes, too!

As Dawn approached the kitchen archway, she heard Mom talking. “A private Christian school is too expensive, Mitch. She’s my daughter. I wouldn’t feel right having you pay tuition—”

“Whoa. What’s mine is yours now. Remember? You need to get that into your head, Carolyn. We’re partners.”

“She’s been going to a public school. I’m not sure I want her in a Christian school.”

“Why not?”

Her mother spoke too quietly for Dawn to hear. Dawn walked around the corner and through the archway into the kitchen.

Mitch grinned. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead.” Dawn glared at him. His brows rose. “Oops. I guess you’re not a morning person.”

Her mother studied her coolly. “I thought you weren’t hungry.”

“I won’t eat if you don’t want me to. I can go back to my room and stay there and starve, if that’s what you want!”

Mitch breathed out a laugh. “Trying hard to be a pita, aren’t you?”

“Pita?”

“Pain in the . . . Never mind.” He stood, pulled out a chair, and bowed. “It would please us humble folk to have Your Majesty grace us with your presence at our table.” He waved his arm for her to sit.

Dawn stayed where she was, trying not to cry. Mitch had always been nice to her. She wanted him to like her, not think she was a spoiled brat.

His face softened. “Relax, Dawn. Sit with us.” Mitch scooted her chair in comfortably when she did. He squeezed her shoulders before he took his seat again. Mom put two strips of crisp bacon and a golden brown waffle on her plate, but Dawn had lost her appetite. She kept her head down, blinking back tears. Mitch and Mom had already finished breakfast. They hadn’t even waited for her.

Mitch sighed. “Think I’ll leave you two alone.” He cleared his dishes while Mom loaded the dishwasher. “Are you going to be okay?” Mitch spoke tenderly. Dawn glanced up and then realized he wasn’t talking to her. He had his arm around Mom’s waist. Mom shrugged. He kissed her. Grimacing, Dawn looked away. Mitch came over to the table and leaned down to plant a kiss on top of her head. “See you later, alligator. . . .”

She used to laugh and say, “After a while, crocodile.” That was before he married her mother.

Mom poured another cup of coffee and returned to the table. “Something wrong with the waffle?”

Granny’s waffles were darker and crisper. “It’s okay, I guess.” She nibbled the edges.

Her mother sighed. “If you’re done, you can put your plate on the counter.” Her mother put her hands around her coffee cup. “I was going to wait a few days to put you in school. Now, I think the sooner, the better. The sooner you make new friends, the sooner you’ll settle in.”

“I want to go to my old school with all my friends!”

“You’ll make new friends at your new school. Go get cleaned up, and we’ll head over there. They’ll probably even let you start today.”

Fear coursed through Dawn. “It’ll be just like when Susan came.” The girls had whispered about her and made her cry. It had been a game at first, one that made Dawn uncomfortable, but she hadn’t wanted to go against the crowd. “Nobody wanted to be her friend.”

Her mother stood and looked at her. “Well, let’s hope the people you meet in Healdsburg will be nicer than the ‘friends’ you had in Paxtown.”

Dawn felt as though her mother had slapped her.

Mom’s expression softened. “I know life isn’t easy, May Flower Dawn. Believe me, I do. I could fix your hair in a French braid and help you pick out a skirt and—”

“I don’t want to look like you!” She fled to the doorway. “And don’t call me May Flower Dawn. It’s a stupid, hippy name! I’m
Dawn
.”

* * *

Granny called that night. Dawn poured out her loneliness and anger over having to live so far away. Granny said she was sorry about that, too, and then asked if she liked second grade. “Did you make any friends today?” Several girls had come up to her and wanted to be friends. Dawn had been surprised at how nice they were.

Granny called again the next night—and the night after that.

After a few weeks, Dawn realized she enjoyed riding the bus to school with her friends. Getting off the bus after school proved harder. Granny wouldn’t be waiting at the house. She had always given Dawn a snack, then played board games or let Dawn watch TV. Mom told her to play outside or with her Barbies. “You’ve been sitting in a classroom all day. I don’t want you sitting in front of a television all afternoon.”

Every evening, Granny called right about the time Mom started clearing dishes. After a while, Mom stopped answering the telephone and let Dawn run to her room and catch it. At least she had her very own phone. That was one nice thing about living in Mitch’s house.

* * *

Dawn knew something was wrong the moment she heard Granny’s voice. “What is it, Granny?” Her heart began to pound. “Is Papa sick?”

“No. Papa is fine.” Granny sniffled. “Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not. I can tell.” Something had made her grandmother cry.

“I’m going to stop calling you every evening, honey. I’ll call you once a week instead.”

“Why? Are you mad at me?”

“No! Of course not. It’s just that . . . your mother says— ”

“She’s so mean!” Dawn was crying now too. “I want to come home! Please come and get me!”

“Honey, I can’t. I love you so much, but she’s your mother.” Granny sniffled again. “She and Mitch love you very much, Dawn. I have to go now.” Her voice broke. “I’ll talk to you in a week.”

Dawn marched down the hall to the kitchen, where her mother was putting the last plate into the dishwasher. “You made Granny cry!”

Mom turned and looked at her. “I’m sorry about that, but—”

“You’re not sorry! You’re not sorry at all! You said she couldn’t call me anymore!” Hands in fists, she screamed. “And I hate you! I wish you were dead so I could go home and live with Granny!”

All the color drained from her mother’s face, leaving her skin the color of ashes. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she turned away.

Feeling sick rather than triumphant, Dawn fled to her room.

* * *

Someone tapped on the door. Limp from crying, Dawn sat up, expecting her mother to retaliate. She tensed when the door opened. Mitch stood in the doorway, looking grim and unhappy. “May I come in?”

She shrugged, trying to pretend she didn’t care. Her palms felt moist. Had her mother told him what she’d said?

Mitch crossed the room, took her desk chair, and turned it around, straddling it and resting his arms on the back. “So, Pita. Feeling any better now that you got things off your chest?”

He’d called her Pita. Dawn heard the disappointment in his tone and felt the heat of guilt pouring into her face. She decided to lie. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I was home, in my office. I heard every word you said. Not
said
—screamed, like a spoiled two-year-old having a tantrum.”

“She told Granny not to talk to me anymore!”

“That’s the second lie you’ve told me, unless your grandmother lied to you.”

“Granny never lies!”

“Then how about the truth this time?” He spoke gently.

Dawn plucked at her skirt, eyes smarting with tears. “I want to go home.”

“Granny isn’t the only one who loves you. She’s not the only one who cries. Your mother loves you, too.”

She covered her face and sobbed. Mitch sat for a while, silent. He got up, put the chair back, and came over to her. She felt too ashamed to lift her head. “Your mother loves you, Dawn, and so do I.” She felt him kiss the crown of her head. “Maybe you could give us a chance.”

* * *

Dawn didn’t sleep well. Gathering her courage the next morning, she headed for the kitchen to say she was sorry. Her mother was at the sink.

Dawn stood in the doorway, chewing her lower lip, not sure what to do. “Where’s Mitch?”

Her mother’s head lifted slightly. “He went to work.” She turned mechanically, removed the lid from a frying pan, and scooped a portion of scrambled eggs onto a plate. She brought it to the table, poured a glass of orange juice, and moved away.

Dawn poked at her breakfast. The hollow feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with hunger. She didn’t know what to say to break the silence. Her mother went back to the sink and stood there, staring out the window, arms wrapped around herself. Did she have a stomachache, too? After a few minutes, she went into the laundry room off the kitchen and began sorting clothes.

Dawn scraped her uneaten eggs into the garbage disposal. Rinsing her plate and silverware, she put them in the dishwasher. Trembling inside, she went to the laundry room door. She gulped. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Her voice came out tight.

Her mother went still. She didn’t look up. “If you want to talk, call Granny when you get home from school.”

It didn’t matter that she’d won. Dawn felt awful. She wanted to say she was sorry; she didn’t hate her; she’d just been so mad. She wished she could take the words back, but they still hung in the air like a foul stench.
Mommy,
she wanted to cry out.
Mommy, I’m sorry.
“I . . . I . . .” She couldn’t get the words past the hard, hot lump in her throat.

24

Dawn called Granny as soon as she got home from school. “Mommy said I can call you—”

“I know, sweetie. Your mother called me. She didn’t tell me what made her change her mind. Do you know?”

Dawn knew, but didn’t want to say. “She said she knows I love you.” That was true, at least.

“Oh. Good. I was afraid . . . Oh, never mind. Why don’t you tell me all about your day, honey? I’m eager to hear everything. Who did you play with?”

Dawn didn’t want to tell Granny it was the worst day of her life. Her teacher asked a question twice before Dawn realized she was supposed to answer. Everyone laughed. She spent recess crying in the back stall of the girls’ bathroom. On the way home, she sat in the back of the bus, worrying about how things would be when she got home, but Mom acted normal, even asked how Dawn’s day had gone. Dawn could muster only one word: “Fine.” Her mother sighed and said she could go call Granny.

“You’re a little quiet tonight, sweetie.”

Dawn couldn’t think of anything to say. “I have homework, Granny.” It was true.

“I suppose I should get Papa’s dinner going. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too.” Dawn hung up and put her head in her arms.

When Mitch came home, he stuck his head in her room to say hello. “Apologize yet?”

She shrugged. “I tried.”

Later, Mitch called her to the dinner table. He talked easily about his day. Mom paid close attention to everything he said. She glanced in Dawn’s direction several times, passed serving dishes, asked if Dawn wanted more milk, more mashed potatoes. But whenever Dawn looked at her, Mom turned away without meeting her eyes. When Mom started to clear dishes, Dawn picked up her own. Mom held her hand out for them. “I can do that.”

Mom carried the dishes to the sink. Dawn looked at Mitch, hoping he could do something to make things better. He gave her a sad smile. Pushing his chair back, he went to her mother. He draped his arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear.

Feeling left out, Dawn wandered away from the table.

* * *

Without consulting her, Mom registered Dawn for soccer. “Your friends play, don’t they? Mitch is going to be your coach.”

“Assistant coach,” Mitch clarified. “Football is my game. Joaquin Perez is coach. He knows everything there is to know about soccer.” He grinned at Dawn. “We’ll both be learning from scratch.”

On the first day of practice, she spotted four classmates: Torie Keyes, Tiffany Myers, Leanne Stoddard, and Susan Mackay. They had all played soccer since kindergarten. “Swarm ball,” Torie laughed.

After several practices, Coach made Dawn a forward. “You’re a natural.” Mom encouraged Dawn to invite her friends over to play. Soon they were practicing soccer on the big lawn behind the house.

Dawn’s days filled with activity. She went to church with Mitch, though her mother never attended, staying home alone. Mitch said Mom liked being alone with God, and she had fellowship when she went to AA twice a week in Santa Rosa.

* * *

1979

Dawn dumped her backpack in her bedroom, changed for soccer practice, and went searching for Mitch, eager to leave. “Mitch! Where are you? It’s time to go!”

“We’re in here!”

She found Mom and Mitch sitting close together in the family room. Mitch had a grin on his face. Her mother looked oddly uncomfortable. “What’s going on? We’re going to be late for practice.”

“Sit down, Dawn. We have some good news to share.” He kissed Mom’s temple. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

“She’ll take it better from you.”

Mitch laughed, his eyes alight. “We’re going to have a baby! You’re going to have a little brother or sister about six months from now. What do you think of that?”

Dawn didn’t know what to say. “That’s great.” But was it?

“I think she’s in shock.” Mitch kissed Mom again and stood. He clapped his hands on Dawn’s shoulders. “You’ll get used to the idea.” He turned her around. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Her mind had gone blank.

“Soccer practice!”

Mitch told Coach Joaquin, and a few players overheard. Soon everyone knew Dawn’s mother was pregnant. Dawn swung between embarrassment and worry. Where would she fit into the family after a baby came?

“Oh, wow, do I pity you,” Torie said. “It’s bad enough when you have a brother or sister close to your own age, but eight years apart . . . The baby will be the star, and you’ll be the babysitter.”

Soon after soccer season ended, Granny called and asked to speak with Mom. Dawn knew something was wrong. She handed the telephone over to Mom and stayed around to watch and listen.

“What? When? Why didn’t you call us sooner?” Mom sounded shaken. “We’ll come right down. . . . Why? . . . Does he have to be so stubborn? This weekend then.” She listened again, her expression growing more troubled. “I don’t know, Mom.” She glanced at Dawn and then turned away. “The weekend. A couple of days.” She hung up.

She held up calming hands at Dawn’s flurry of questions. “Papa had a mild heart attack, but he’s okay. He’s spending another two nights in the hospital just to be sure.”

Dawn started to cry. Didn’t people die of heart attacks? When her mother put her arms around her, Dawn stiffened at the unexpected show of affection. Mom let go and stepped back.

“He’ll be home for a while,” Mom added. “On bed rest. We’ll go see him this weekend. Granny wants you to stay at the house.”

Papa looked more disgruntled than sick when Dawn came flying into the house. He was in plaid pajamas and a robe, wearing old, worn leather slippers and sitting in his recliner in the living room. When he started to get up, Granny told him she’d march him straight back to bed if he did. He grinned at Dawn. “Granny’s got her nursing cap on. Heaven help me. Climb on up here and give me a hug!”

Mom had noticed Oma’s car was missing. Granny said she was gone again. “She came home to see Trip—I mean Dad—and then decided to spend a week with Uncle Bernie and Aunt Elizabeth.”

Mom and Mitch asked Papa questions, but Granny answered. Papa glowered. “I’m still alive. I can speak for myself. It’s not as bad as she makes it sound.”

Granny scowled back at him. “It was bad enough.”

Granny’s lips trembled. Papa took her hand and kissed it and suggested she start dinner.

Mom offered to help. Granny said she could manage, then asked Dawn to set the table. Papa kissed Dawn’s cheek before she got off his lap. Mitch and Papa talked in low voices. Mom didn’t say anything. In the kitchen, Granny ran her hand over Dawn’s hair. “Papa looks better now that you’re home.”

Papa was too tired to sit at the dinner table. Dawn went along while Granny walked with him back to the master bedroom and settled him into the hospital bed they’d rented. She prepared a dinner tray for him. “Why don’t I make up a tray for you too, honey? You’re better medicine for Papa than anything the doctor prescribed.” Granny stayed at the dining room table with Mom and Mitch.

While they ate dinner together, Papa asked Dawn how she liked living in Alexander Valley. She had grown to like it a lot, and she told him about her new friends, about Mitch acting as assistant soccer coach. She loved soccer. Did he want to know how many goals she’d kicked? Twenty-six! Mitch was teaching her to swim now, and she practiced every day in the backyard pool. Papa’s eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep while she was talking. She kissed his cheek, then left the bedroom. She heard Granny talking in the kitchen.

“Well, you could ask her, couldn’t you? The school year is almost over. She wouldn’t miss anything.”

“We didn’t plan on leaving Dawn behind, Hildie.”

“Well, I told Carolyn—”

“We were talking about this weekend, Mom. Two days, not the whole summer.”

Dawn walked into the kitchen just as Mom got up and left the table. Mitch gave Granny a grim look and pushed his chair back, following Mom into the living room. Mom picked up her sweater and pulled it on, then picked up her shoulder bag. They spoke in low voices. Dawn asked Granny what was wrong. Granny said nothing, nothing at all; it was just a little misunderstanding and nothing to worry about. Mom stood in the entryway. “We’ll be at the Paxtown Hotel. We’ll be back in the morning, Dawn.”

Granny looked furious. “You’re leaving now? What about dessert? I made a chocolate cake. It’s your favorite!”

“It’s Dawn’s favorite.” Mom turned to Dawn. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” She went out the door.

Mitch said he’d be right with her. He leaned down and whispered in Dawn’s ear. “Be wise. Don’t take sides.”

“It’s just like your mother to run away!” Granny stacked dinner dishes and headed into the kitchen. She asked if Dawn wanted to play a board game. Dawn hadn’t played games since moving to Alexander Valley. There were too many other things to do now. When she didn’t say anything right away, Granny added, “Or we could watch TV.”

Granny checked on Papa and joined her in the living room. She talked more than she watched. She and Papa sure missed Dawn. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could stay longer than the weekend? How long before school ended? Two weeks? She didn’t have any plans for summer, did she? Remember how much she loved the county fair? And with the baby coming, her mother would have all kinds of things to do: doctors’ appointments, getting the nursery ready, shopping, that sort of thing. She wouldn’t have time for Dawn, not like Granny and Papa. They would have all the time in the world for her.

Dawn knew what Granny wanted. Maybe she
should
spend the summer. Granny seemed so certain Papa would get better fast if she did.

She loved Granny and Papa, but this wasn’t her home anymore. She wanted to be in Alexander Valley with Mom and Mitch. She wanted to be there when her baby brother or sister was born. But how could she say that to Granny without hurting her feelings?

Mom and Mitch came back in the morning. Granny said she would have breakfast ready shortly, but Mitch said they’d eaten at the hotel. Granny seemed hurt. She said she thought Dawn wanted to spend the summer. Mom said that didn’t surprise her. Mitch asked, “Is that what you want, Dawn?”

“Granny said Papa will get well faster if I’m here.”

He frowned at Granny. “No one can argue with that without sounding like a heartless wretch.”

Granny’s face turned beet red. “I wasn’t pressuring—”

“It’s probably true, Mitch,” Mom said quietly. “Dad will do better if Dawn is here. But she has two more weeks of school. I’m not leaving her now.”

“That’ll be fine.” Granny smiled, relieved. She hugged Dawn against her side. “We’ll have all summer together.”

“One month, Mom. Not the whole summer.”

“What about the county fair?”

Mom turned to Dawn. She held her gaze for the first time in months. “One month or the whole summer, Dawn?”

Mitch interrupted. “Your little brother or sister is expected the middle of July. Remember?”

“I . . .” Dawn looked from Mom to Granny and then at Mitch. “Um . . .” She felt pulled and torn. “I . . .” She wanted to cry. No matter what she decided, someone would be hurt and upset.

“One month,” Mitch decided. He smiled at Granny. “I’ll miss her too much. She can come home the end of June and stay until the baby comes. Then she can make up her mind about the rest of the summer. Is that agreeable to everyone?” He looked to Mom to answer. She nodded.

Granny harrumphed. “I guess I don’t have anything to say about it.”

Papa spoke from the doorway. “I think you’ve had too much say already.”

* * *

Dawn enjoyed her time with Granny and Papa, but was ready to go home by the end of June. Mitch drove down to get her. Her friends had been calling. When she asked how Mom was doing, he said, “Bursting at the seams.”

She settled in again and spent hours on the telephone with Torie and Tiffany. She swam every day. She rode double on Torie’s horse. Mom vetoed any idea of having one of her own. “I just can’t imagine you mucking out a stable. . . .”

“Dawn!” Mitch awakened her in the middle of the night. “Baby’s coming. Up and at it, sugar. I’ve already called Tiff’s folks. They’re expecting us.” He dropped her off on the way to the hospital, Mom huffing and puffing and saying they’d better hurry.

Two days later, Tiffany’s mom brought her home. Dawn charged into the house, dumped her duffel bag. “I’m home! Where are you?”

Mitch appeared at the master room door, finger to his lips. Mom sat in a new rocking chair by the windows, holding the most adorable creature Dawn had ever seen.

“May Flower Dawn, meet your brother, Christopher Charles Hastings.” Dawn had never seen that look on her mother’s face. She was enraptured, in love, her lips curved in a soft smile. She held the baby so close, as though he were the most precious human on the planet.

Mitch put his hands on Dawn’s shoulders. “So? What do you think of your baby brother?”

She looked at the baby again, her mouth wobbling. “He’s so cute.” She stepped forward. “Can I hold him?”

Mom seemed slightly alarmed at the idea. “Not yet. In a few days. We’ll see.” She studied Dawn’s face and looked relieved. Gazing down again, she ran a tender finger along the baby’s smooth cheek. “I think your sister likes you.” His tiny mouth worked.

“Uh-oh.” Mitch laughed. “He’s hungry again.” He ushered Dawn out of the room so her mother could nurse the baby.

* * *

Dawn decided not to go back to Paxtown. She wanted to stay in Alexander Valley with Mom, Mitch, and her new baby brother. Christopher fascinated her. He had the cutest little ears, and he was so soft. She loved when he grasped her finger, holding on tight. Mitch let her hold him once, but Mom took him back after a few minutes.

Once, she snuck into the master bedroom to watch him sleeping in his crib. She touched his hand and watched him start, his fingers opening wide, then closing on her thumb. Leaning down, she kissed his forehead. He even smelled good.