Her Daughter's Dream (23 page)

29

Mom wanted to leave early. Dawn packed shorts and tops, sandals and toiletries in a duffel bag and set her alarm for five. She didn’t want Mom leaving without her. She lay in bed wide-awake thinking about Jason. He’d be working right now, stacking cans on shelves or sweeping and polishing the floors of the grocery store. He’d probably met some pretty checker a couple of years older and wiser, some fast girl who’d promise him a good time and know how to keep herself out of trouble. Rolling over, Dawn punched her pillow. She hoped Jason had been listening to Pastor Daniel. She hoped he’d run like Joseph did when Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce him.
Run, Jason! Run!

Bleary-eyed in the morning, Dawn dressed and took her duffel bag into the kitchen. Mom sat with a cup of coffee, a pensive look on her face. She glanced up in surprise. “I thought I’d have to wake you.”

“I set my alarm. I didn’t want you sneaking off without me.”

Her mother gave a soft, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t do that. Would you like breakfast before we leave?”

“I’d rather eat along the way. Could we?”

Mitch came out in sweatpants and a T-shirt, his red hair sticking up all over his head like a little boy’s. Mom’s eyes softened and glowed.

“Didn’t want you going without a kiss.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’ll be in the car.” She grabbed her duffel bag. One thing hadn’t changed in the eight years Dawn had known Mitch. He still couldn’t keep his hands off her mother.

It would be nice if Jason felt that way about her. Just thinking about him made Dawn’s blood warm.

Mom followed her out. “I thought we’d take our time and use country roads. Do you know how to read a map?”

“Not really.”

Mom opened a California map and refolded it. “We’re here. Just follow the yellow highlighted roads. We’re going to follow this little black line to Calistoga and meet up with Highway 29 through Yountville and Napa.” She traced the route with her finger. “We connect here with Highway 12 and then head east through Rio Vista.”

“Great.” Dawn tried to make sense of the map. “Have you gone this way before?”

“Yes, but you haven’t.”

“We could end up in Sacramento with me as guide.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Christopher probably talked Mom’s ear off when they went on their excursions. Dawn didn’t feel much like talking. She kept thinking about Jason, trying to figure out a way to see him before school started. She looked out the window at the hedgerows of blooming roses. Mitch had rosebushes all around his vineyard too. He told her they drew bees for pollination, but were sensitive to disease and gave vintners early warning so they could take preventive measures if necessary to save their vines.

The road went through Napa and took them south of town onto Highway 12. Dawn watched for signs. “There’s the turnoff to Interstate 80.” The road snaked through the hills and curved onto the interstate. Dawn warned of the exit to Rio Vista.

Mom smiled as she took the off-ramp. “Good job.”

Dawn felt inordinately pleased. “Thanks.” She gave her mother a bright smile. “I can relax now, right? We’re on the road to Lodi.”

“Oh, Lord, stuck in Lodi again.”

Dawn looked at her, wondering what on earth her mother meant.

“It was a Creedence Clearwater song.” Mom shrugged. “Way back when.”

The road narrowed and took them over undulating hills covered with dry grass. A C-130 military transport took off from Travis Air Force Base and flew overhead. Dawn leaned forward, watching it make a wide circle. “Practice landings, probably,” Mom told her, eyes straight ahead.

“Didn’t you and Mitch take Christopher to an air show at Travis while I was at Jenner last summer?”

“We didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Dawn hadn’t been asked, but then bringing that up would only build a thicker wall between them. They crossed over a delta slough and drove on to Lodi, where they found a small diner. Dawn ordered waffles and scrambled eggs with bacon.

“You must have Oma’s metabolism.” Mom ordered a small bowl of fruit and a cup of coffee. The waitress went off to place the order.

Dawn toyed with the menu and tucked it back into the stand that held the sugar dispenser, salt and pepper shakers, and a bottle of ketchup. “Did Papa teach you how to read a map?”

“No. I learned on my own.” Mom put her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl. “I once drove from San Francisco to Bethel, New York, and back again.”

Dawn stared at her, amazed. “By yourself?” That sort of an adventure didn’t fit her mother.

“I was with a friend.”

“What was in Bethel, New York?”

“Woodstock.”

Bemused, Dawn pictured the little yellow bird in a Charlie Brown cartoon. “Woodstock.”

Her mother looked amused. “Ancient history, I guess. It was a rock concert.”

Dawn laughed in disbelief. “You drove thousands of miles across country to go to a rock concert?”

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Me, Chel, and lots of other people from around the country. It wasn’t just a rock concert. It was a happening.”

Chel seemed an odd name. “Was Chel a guy?” Her father, perhaps?

“Rachel Altman. She was my best friend.”

“Oh.” Then why didn’t her mother ever talk about her? Why hadn’t she ever heard the name? Dawn played with the silverware. “How was it?” She glanced up. “Woodstock, I mean.”

“Great. The music, at least.”

Talking to her mother was like trying to scrape burned spaghetti out of a pot. “What wasn’t great about it?”

“Well, it rained. The field turned to mud. There wasn’t any shelter. The few outhouses overflowed. The food ran out.” She shrugged. “The organizers didn’t think any more than two hundred thousand would come. Five hundred thousand showed up.”

“Five hundred thousand?” Dawn tried to imagine that many people in an open field and couldn’t.

“Everyone came to celebrate the music.” Mom’s expression became distant. “We all talked of peace and love, though it was already too late. We were so naive.”

Naiveté had never been one of the faults Granny laid at Mom’s feet.

The waitress brought their breakfasts. Mom thanked her and unrolled her silverware from the paper napkin. She might as well have put up a sign:
Silence, please!
Dawn ignored it. “I’ve never heard you talk about Rachel Altman, Mom.” Not that it was all that surprising. She’d never heard her mother talk about anyone! Now that Dawn had a name from her mother’s past, she wanted to know more.

“Haven’t you?” Mom didn’t raise her eyes. “I thought Granny might have mentioned her.”

“Nope.” If Granny had, Dawn couldn’t remember. “Are you still in touch with her? I mean, if you were best friends and all . . .”

“No.” The word came out firm and flat. End of conversation. Her mother poked at the fruit and speared a piece of melon. “What classes are you taking this year?”

“English, geometry, social studies, PE, biology.” She’d be studying human anatomy and physiology this year, too.

“What about Spanish? You’ll need a foreign language if you want to go to a university.”

“Spanish, too. I forgot. Not that I’m all that excited about going to college.”

Mom glanced up. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to get married. I want to have children. I want to be a housewife.” Dawn laughed at herself. “Hardly considered a worthy goal, is it? I’m supposed to want a career.” Dawn forked eggs into her mouth, pleased to have shocked her mother. At least she was getting some reaction out of her.

When they headed off again, Dawn yawned. “I’m so tired.” She looked at the map. “I hardly slept last night.”

“I wouldn’t have left you behind.”

Dawn had hoped they’d talk all the way down, but the silences grew longer. She might as well take a nap so the time would go more quickly. As she dozed off, she thought she felt her mother’s fingers lightly brush the hair back from her face.

* * *

Dawn awakened when the car stopped. “We’re here!” Mom sounded light and happy. They were parked in front of a small house with a single-car garage. Dawn got out and went around the back for her duffel bag. She stood on the sidewalk looking down a long, straight street lined with old elm trees and small houses that all looked alike except for the color and landscaping. Oma’s house was yellow with white trim and a bright red door. Red, yellow, and white roses bloomed profusely below a front window. A cement walk led to the front steps and postage-stamp porch.

The front door was opened by a wizened old lady with permed white hair and wire-rimmed glasses. She was wearing a blue dress with white polka dots and collar. “It’s going to be a scorcher.”

Mom hurried up the steps and hugged Oma. Dawn felt shy. Oma’s hands looked like bird claws on Mom’s back. “It’s good to see you,
Liebling
. And I noticed you brought someone special with you.”

Mom straightened and turned, eyes glistening with tears. “Dawn asked to come along.”

“Did she?” Oma smiled at Dawn. “Well, come on in where it’s cool.”

An oscillating fan whirred on a stool set up in the kitchen doorway, stirring the heavy air across the tiny, simply furnished living room. A gilt-framed print of snow-covered mountains and green meadows hung on the wall. A recliner sat near the windows with a white crocheted afghan tossed over one arm. A reading lamp stood on one side and a side table stacked with books on the other.

Oma waved toward the short hall. “Carolyn, you can take the front bedroom.” Mom disappeared around the corner with her suitcase. “Dawn, the family room is through the kitchen and down the steps on your right. You can use the hide-a-bed.”

Dawn stepped around the stool with the oscillating fan and went into the kitchen. She liked the glossy yellow walls with white trim and colorful chicken-print curtains. An ancient gas stove and a small, round-fronted refrigerator were on her right. Three red vinyl, chrome-leg chairs and a table covered with a blue- and white-checkered oilcloth sat against the back wall. A big window looked out onto a large backyard with a stretch of green lawn and a tree loaded with lemons, oranges, and limes.

Dawn went through the side doorway at the back of the kitchen and stepped down into the family room. It looked more like a library. Shelves laden with books covered the back wall. Dawn dumped her duffel bag beside the green hide-a-bed with needlepoint pillows and took a closer look at Oma’s collection. Each shelf held books on a different topic: the ancient history of Egypt; Babylonian, Assyrian, Chinese, European, and British history; American history; biographies. Several shelves held books on farming and business management. One shelf held novels, all classics, all on Dawn’s college preparatory reading list.

The backyard beckoned. Stepping outside, she inhaled the sweet scent of wisteria, roses, and sweet alyssum mingling with freshly mown lawn. Bees buzzed in the Joseph’s Coat roses climbing posts supporting the white lattice patio cover. Two white wicker chairs with green- and white-striped cushions and a yellow and white couch swing looked inviting. Red, purple, and pink fuchsias spilled from hanging pots.

The kitchen window slid open. “May Flower Dawn!” Oma called out to her. “Iced tea or lemonade?”

How long since anyone had called her May Flower Dawn? Only Mom ever did it, and not very often.

“Lemonade, please.” She came back inside and found Mom sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of iced tea. She looked so relaxed and pretty, her blue eyes shining. “It’s so good to be here, Oma.” She clearly meant it.

Oma’s hand shook, spilling some lemonade, as she set a glass in front of Dawn.

“Drat it all. Lucky I didn’t spill it all over you. I’m shaking worse than ever.”

“What did the doctor say?” Mom wanted to know.

“He said I’m getting old.” She snorted. “As if I didn’t know. I see myself in the mirror every morning when I put in my dentures.” She scowled. “But let’s get serious. Angel food cake now or after supper?”

Mom laughed. “How about now
and
after supper?”

“That’s my girl.” Oma winked at Dawn. “Still has her sweet tooth. How about you, Miss May Flower Dawn?”

Just Dawn,
she wanted to say, but stopped herself. She’d never seen her mother in such a lighthearted mood and didn’t want to spoil it. “Any time is a good time for dessert.”

“Good answer.”

Mom told Oma to sit; she’d take care of serving. Oma eased herself into a chair. While Mom cut the cake, Oma asked about Christopher and Mitch. One question from Oma and words spilled from Mom’s mouth. Dawn had never heard her mother talk so much or so easily. Nor had Dawn ever tasted anything as good as Oma’s angel food cake. Granny’s didn’t come close.

“And what about you?” Oma asked Dawn. “What’s going on in your life?”

“Not much.” Dawn shrugged. “Other than I have a massive crush on a gorgeous guy I met at a youth group.” She couldn’t believe she had blurted out that bit of news. Oma was practically a stranger.

“And you left him all alone to come down here and visit an old lady? I’m flattered.”

“Unfortunately, Jason barely knows I exist.”

Dawn collected the empty plates and put them in the sink. “Would you mind if I sat outside on your patio? It’s so pretty out there, and I love your swing.”

Oma waved her hand. “Make yourself to home.”

Dawn stretched out on the swing, one foot on the patio to push off. She gazed dreamily through the red, orange, and golden blossoms of the Joseph’s Coat above her. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she liked it here. Granny said Oma could be unapproachable and rather cold, a woman who expected perfection, but so far, Dawn hadn’t gotten that feeling. Maybe age had mellowed Oma. If her great-grandmother had always expected perfection, why would she and Mom be such bosom buddies? Mom had broken moral laws and Granny’s heart right along with them.

With the kitchen window cracked open, Dawn could hear Mom and Oma talking inside the house. Though words were indistinct, the constant babble and frequent laughter told her clearly how well they got along, how much they loved each other.