Her Daughter's Dream

by Francine Rivers

  Mom shook her head. “Don’t, Mitch.”

  He ignored her. “She’s been banking her commissions since we married just so she could give you this gift. If you say no, I swear I’ll turn you over my knee.”

  “Mom . . . I . . .”

  Mom shrugged. “I didn’t get to give you a car.”

  Dawn’s smile trembled. “This is a whole lot more than a car.”

  “It hurts to see you work so hard to . . .” Mom stood abruptly and went to the kitchen counter, where she picked up some papers. “You’ll need to find a place soon. I have a list of apartment complexes that offer furnished studios.” She put them on the table. “The ones closest to campus are highlighted. You’ll have to stay in a hotel while you’re looking. I have a list of those as well.” She stood, hands gripping the back of a chair. “You’re going to be on your own.” Her eyes filled.

  “She’ll be coming home for vacations.” Mitch put his arm around Dawn’s shoulders. “Won’t you?”

  It sounded more a command than a question. “Yes.” She looked at her mother. “And you’ll come down, too, I hope.”

  Dawn drove to San Luis Obispo the beginning of August. She listened to the radio on the drive, music interspersed with news reports of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, and the first U.S. troops being deployed to Saudi Arabia. Mitch had told her many high-ranking U.S. military officers were veterans of Vietnam. This war would be swift and decisive. Dawn thought of the uncle she had never met who died in Vietnam, and she turned off the radio.

  The skies were clear that afternoon and cloudy the next morning when she arose. She left her things at Motel 6 and headed out to find a furnished studio apartment close to campus for a price she was willing to pay. She didn’t want to blow through her mother’s gift like found money, but use it wisely.

  After three days, she signed a rental agreement with Bishop Peak Apartments. Her studio had a kitchenette with a small table and two chairs. The living room and bedroom were divided by an accordion partition. On one side was a sofa, one chair, a coffee table, and a hanging lamp, and on the other a full-size bed with two simple side tables and two cheap lamps. After her designer-decorated bedroom in Alexander Valley, it seemed drab, but she reminded herself of Mexico and felt thankful.

  As soon as the phone service had been turned on, she called Mom with the new number. Then she called Granny and talked about the trip down, the hunt for an apartment, what she had seen of the town. “I’m going to try one of the churches tomorrow.”

  “You sound lonely, honey.”

  “A little, I guess. I’ll get used to being on my own.”

  Over the next few days, Dawn took long walks around campus, familiarizing herself with its main buildings, the library, the dining complex. Hills dotted with oaks rose around campus with Bishop Peak in the distance. Sitting on a bench, Dawn watched others pass by. Was she really hearing God’s voice about Cal Poly? Or had she come three hundred miles from home on some sort of delusion?

  Once Dawn knew her way around the campus, she took drives to the Pacific beaches, coastal dunes, ridges, forests, and nearby lakes. She spent an afternoon at the mission, wandering through the garden with its fountain and statue of Father Junípero Serra and sitting in the chapel praying God would lead her in the days ahead.

  She met with Mrs. Townsend, a college counselor, who helped her plan out schedules to earn her degree as quickly as possible. Mrs. Townsend looked dubious. “If you find what we’ve laid out too ambitious, you can drop a course.”

  Classes started, and the first weeks felt like a grueling marathon of lectures, reading, studying. A throng of students moved from building to building. Dawn felt overwhelmed by the numbers. SRJC had nearly as many students, but somehow it had felt smaller to her, less intense.

  She hated studying in her drab apartment and started going to the Robert Kennedy Library instead. She preferred the smell of books, the soft sound of footsteps and hushed voices, to the silence in her studio or someone partying nearby. She felt more at home in the stacks than in her flat.

  Around lunchtime one day in the library, her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw she had less than an hour before chemistry class. She didn’t have time to run to the dining complex and stand in line for a full meal. The eggs and toast she’d eaten for breakfast wouldn’t carry her through the whole day.

  Gathering her notes, textbook, and purse, she headed for the library café. Better a cup of coffee and pastry than nothing.

  She’d just finished a blueberry scone and half her coffee when Jason Steward walked in. Dawn’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

  She stared, trying to calm the tumble of emotions. Jason was even more handsome than she remembered. Short hair suited him. He looked tan and fit, taller and broader through the shoulders. He was with two other young men and a pretty girl with shoulder-length dark hair and a bright, sunny smile. Was she his girlfriend? A sharp stab of pain went through her heart. She thought she’d gotten over him.

  As the four made their selections, paid, got their coffee, and sat across the room, Dawn drank in the sight of him. He talked easily, laughing at something one of the boys said. He pulled out the chair for the girl. He sat with his back to Dawn, but one of his friends noticed her and smiled. She’d seen that same smile on a dozen other male faces in the last few weeks. It usually predicated an attempt to start a conversation or ask her out. Dawn averted her eyes so he wouldn’t be encouraged.

  A few seconds later, she glanced over again and found Jason half turned in his chair, staring at her. Surprise didn’t begin to describe the expression on his face. A flood of feelings swept over Dawn. Her smile felt stiff, her insides like Jell-O. When Jason scraped his chair back, she went hot and cold all over. He said something to the others and rose. The girl looked past him to Dawn.

  Breathing in slowly, trying to slow her rapid-fire heartbeat, Dawn watched Jason cross the room. She offered a tremulous smile. He didn’t seem happy to see her. He stood at her table, hands gripping the back of the chair. “What are you doing here?”

  Why did he sound angry? He’d been the one to initiate their breakup. “I’m having coffee.”

  “I don’t mean that. I mean here, on campus.”

  “I’m a student.”

  “A student?” He frowned.

  “I’m in the nursing program.”

  Emotion flickered, and then his mouth flattened. “You could’ve gone anywhere.” His hazel eyes cooled.

  His last telephone message came back to her so clearly. She remembered pressing the button and hearing his voice. “I love you, Dawn. I’ll love you forever.” Pain lanced through her. She’d listened to that message over and over, for days, weeks, before she finally surrendered to God and erased it. Jesus, where is Your purpose in this? If she’d known Jason was attending Cal Poly, she never would have applied. She didn’t know what to say to him now, so she resorted to the mundane. “It’s good to see you again, Jason.” She spoke as though they had been mere acquaintances, not lovers.

  “Really.” He sounded doubtful.

  She blinked, wishing her heart would slow down. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” He mocked her. “I’m doing great.” He nodded toward his friends at the other table, the girl watching their exchange. He didn’t ask Dawn if she wanted to be introduced. The dark-haired girl gave her a curious smile. Jason moved enough to block her from view. Dawn could feel his animosity.

  “It took me a long time to get over you, Dawn. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

  What could she say to that? She’d never gotten over him, never would. She hadn’t realized that fully until now. Oh, Lord, why? Lowering her eyes, she put her hands around the cooling cup of coffee. She didn’t know what to say.

  “You’re wearing the bracelet I gave you.”

  She glanced at the gold chain with the delicate heart and glistening pearl. “I’ve never taken it off.
”

  He looked as though she’d punched him in the stomach. “I don’t get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “I called, Dawn. You never called back. I left you a message. I never heard a word from you. Not one. You want to explain?”

  “You know why, Jason.”

  “Yeah, right.” He sneered. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  She hadn’t planned on a public confession, but she didn’t feel like being a silent martyr. “We went too far, Jason. It was always going to be all or nothing with us. And it was all sin three years ago.” Her eyes burned. “I . . .” She had to swallow before she could confess more. “I wanted to get right with God.”

  Jason studied her face and then turned his back and walked away. Suffocating with pain, Dawn watched him sit with his friends. Was he telling them who she was, what they had once been to each other, what he thought of her now? The dark-haired girl leaned back and looked at her again. One of the guys looked, too, scraped his chair back, and got up until Jason said something that made him sit down again.

  Why was she still sitting here, torturing herself with regret and shame? She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t undo what she had done. She had no control over what Jason thought about her now.

  Gathering her things, Dawn threw away the cup and crumpled napkin and left the café. Her throat burned with tears as she hurried down the steps and along the walkway away from the library.

  Oh, God, I must’ve misunderstood. Why did I come here? This is the last place I should be. Oh, Lord, the look on his face . . . I thought I was over him. She brushed tears away and kept walking. You are my first love, Jesus, my forever love. But it hurts, Lord. I wish You had arms to hold me.

  She headed for her chemistry class.

  41

  Dawn continued studying in the library every afternoon, but didn’t go back to the café. She got up early every morning and sat at her nook window, with the sun coming in, and read her Bible. Sometimes she felt she was walking in the valley of the shadow of death, her heart trembling and broken. She feared running into Jason. She couldn’t bear to see the coldness in his eyes.

  Studying held off the pain. She’d pushed herself through class after class for three years. She would do it again. Surely God had a purpose in all this. She prayed constantly. Sometimes she talked aloud to Him when she sat alone in her apartment. What do You want me to do with the rest of my life? She could never be the Proverbs 31 wife. Maybe God intended her for the mission field. There must be dozens of organizations who needed nurses. Maybe she’d serve on an Indian reservation or in Africa or the Far East. Someplace far away, Lord, at the ends of the earth.

  Every night, she dreamed of Jason. Every morning, she woke up and cried. She begged God to stop the dreams.

  Day after day, she set her mind on attending classes, taking notes, completing assignments to the best of her ability. God had a plan for her. She would trust God to work it all out.

  She thought of Oma and how she had said she had made plans of her own and then found God had made better ones for her. She searched for God’s promises and wrote them in the leather-bound journal Oma had given her.

  I have loved you, my people, with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself. . . . I know the plans I have for you . . . plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.

  I want to believe You, Lord. Help me believe.

  Eventually, she found a church similar to CCC and finally felt at home, comforted among the flock of believers, less vulnerable than when she was by herself battling loneliness and loss. The second week she attended, she spotted Jason in the third row. She would have left if the service hadn’t already started.

  God, why are You doing this to me?

  When the pastor called for prayer, Jason didn’t just bow his head; he hunched over. Dawn felt grateful. She’d stolen his innocence, but at least she hadn’t destroyed his faith. When the congregation rose to sing, Jason stood taller than the others around him. He looked like a soldier, shoulders back, head up. Throat tight, Dawn mouthed the praise songs, unable to make a sound.

  The service ended. She thought about heading quickly for the door, but Jason rose and started down the aisle. Afraid he’d see her, she kept her head turned away as he made his way toward the doors. Departing parishioners greeted him, drawing him into conversation. She leaned down as though to get her purse as he passed by and then sat up and watched him go out the door.

  The sanctuary emptied. The praise band stowed their instruments. Dawn rose. She’d try another church next Sunday. Or maybe she’d just stay home and read her Bible.

  Monday, Dawn dragged herself out of bed and did her morning Bible reading. She barely made it to her anatomy class and had to struggle to keep her eyes open. She downed a cup of coffee before she went to her nursing history course, then went to the dining complex for a slice of pizza at BackStage. She had two hours before her next class, enough time to study in the library.

  After an hour, she felt drained. She massaged her forehead, wishing the coffee had helped the headache. She’d lived in San Luis Obispo two whole months; it felt like ten years. She didn’t know if she could stay here. Maybe she should transfer. Maybe it had been a mistake coming here, even though she had felt certain God had been directing her. She hadn’t expected more pain, more sleepless nights, more confusion. If she transferred, she wouldn’t face the risk of seeing Jason every day. She might have a chance to see what God wanted her to do.

  Someone pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. She didn’t feel like sharing her space. Gathering her notes, she tucked them quickly into a folder. She leaned over for her backpack.

  “I’ve been trying to find you.”

  Her heart lurched to a stop and then raced.

  Jason folded his arms on the table. “How are you doing?”

  Why now, Lord? I don’t know what You want from me anymore. She gave Jason a bleak smile. “I’m managing.” All the old attraction swam through her blood as he looked her over.

  Standing, she lifted her backpack onto the table and began putting her books away.

  “You look tired, Dawn.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

  “Neither have I.” He leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “Do you want to go somewhere? talk?”

  She recognized the glint in his eyes and went hot all over. She remembered all too well how it had been between them. Reason enough to withdraw. Now. “I have a chemistry class.”

  “I joined the Army.”

  “Very funny, Jason.”

  Jason caught hold of her arm and pulled her to a stop. “I joined the Army, Dawn.” When she pulled back, his hand slid away. “They’re paying for my education. When I finish, I’ll be on active service for six years.”

  Dawn went cold with guilt. “And it’s my fault.” She thought of Iraq and Kuwait and the young men being deployed. Mitch had told her things would heat up before it was over. What would that mean for Jason? Would he finish college and end up shipped off to a war? All because she’d distracted him from his studies and he couldn’t get a scholarship? Georgia Steward had every right to hate her. “I’m sorry, Jason.” An apology would never be enough. Her eyes blurred with tears. “I’m so sorry.” She stepped back. “I was the worst thing that ever happened to you.” She turned away.

  Jason caught hold of her again. “Will you just wait a minute?”

  She wrenched free. “You had everything planned out before I messed things up. You’d be at Berkeley on scholarship right now if we hadn’t . . .” Unable to say more, she spun from him and wove quickly into the throng of students, half-running.

  * * *

  Chemistry class passed in a blur. She took notes, trying to make sense of things, but she kept thinking about Jason’s announcement. The Army! He’d wanted to be an engineer or a Christian businessman—or maybe even a pastor. Now he’d be a soldier building bridges or roads into some
godforsaken battle zone. What a mess she’d made!

  Dawn emerged from class and saw Jason leaning against the wall. Pushing away, he caught up with her. “We need to talk.”

  “I think your first instincts three years ago were right on, Jason. We need to let things go.”

  “Please, Dawn.” He took her hand and pressed it flat against his chest. She felt his heart pounding hard and fast. He leaned closer. “I could barely catch my breath when I saw you sitting in the café. It’s not over, Dawn. It’s never going to be over between us.”

  Her body filled with sensations. Unthinking, she stepped forward and slid her arms around his waist. As she pressed herself against him, she heard him suck in his breath. He put his arms around her and let it out again, slowly. “I love you, Dawn. I’ll love you forever.” Dawn felt the heat of his hand press against the small of her back. His breath was ragged. “Are you finished with classes for the day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s find someplace to be alone and talk. I have a couple of roommates. What about you?” When he stepped back, she watched his eyes go dark the same way they had every time she came to the trailer while his mother had been away working. That look had intoxicated her then. It still sent curling heat into the pit of her stomach and down her legs.

  “I live alone.” She could feel the heat coming off him at that, or was it her?

  “It’s been too long, Dawn.” Jason took her hand. “Let’s go.”

  The Spirit within Dawn warned her. Alert to Him after three years of walking close, she listened and obeyed. “No.” She pulled her hand free and didn’t move from where they stood. “We can’t be alone, not with our history.” And not with the way she was feeling right then. If they were alone and he touched her, she’d forget all about what God wanted of her. Three years had obviously changed Jason. She had to find out how much.

  He didn’t pretend not to understand. Running his hands down her arms, he gave her a slow smile that melted her insides. “Okay. We’ll set rules. Kissing, but no petting, no—”