“I told you I did well with investments, Carolyn.”
“Slight understatement, I’d say. Are you sure you don’t have a wife and twelve children hiding somewhere? The place is big enough.”
“Only four bedrooms.”
Not counting the maid’s quarters, complete with kitchen and living room. She didn’t know what to say.
He smiled at her as he put a tall glass of iced lemonade in front of her. “I want a family. I tend to plan ahead. I’ve only ever wanted one wife. You.” His eyes warmed. “We’re going to make beautiful babies together and have fun doing it.”
Fighting down the heat he roused in her so easily, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Mitch. I don’t have your confidence.”
“Yes, you do.” He came around the counter, turned her on the stool, and cupped her face. “You knew before I brought you up here.” He kissed her firmly. “I’m not letting you chicken out.”
1978
They’d been talking to one another every night and seeing one another every weekend for six months. Finally, one evening in May, Mitch told Dawn over dinner that he wanted to marry her mother. “How do you feel about that?”
“Does she want to marry you?”
“I think so.” He winked at Carolyn. “But I haven’t formally asked her yet.” He looked back at Dawn. “I wanted your permission first.”
“I guess it’s okay.” Dawn seemed bemused at the idea, and she clearly had no idea how it might change her life. Carolyn wondered if she should explain that it would mean leaving Granny and Papa. It would mean moving away and seeing them only on occasion. Would May Flower Dawn be so indifferent then?
“Maybe we should talk about this later.” Carolyn gave Mitch a pleading look. “Alone.”
But once alone, talk wasn’t uppermost on their minds. “Good thing you brought Dawn with you.”
“Our chaperone has been asleep for an hour.”
He put his fingers over her mouth. “Don’t tempt me. Let’s set a date, Carolyn. How much time do you need to put together a church wedding?”
She broke out in a cold sweat. “Why don’t we just go to Reno?” A church wedding implied a minister who would be willing to perform the ceremony, a white gown, bridesmaids, flowers, music, a church organ or piano playing, a congregation of witnesses, a reception in the social hall.
“I’m in a hurry, Carolyn, but not that big a hurry. Every woman wants a nice wedding and you’re going to have one.”
“If that’s the condition, the answer is no.”
“No? You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”
“What has love got to do with it? What would I wear, Mitch? Black? Who’d stand up with me? You think my parents would want to foot the bill for my wedding? And who’d want to come?” Fighting tears, she pushed away.
Mitch turned her around, his eyes dark with pain. “I could name a hundred people who’d want to come.”
“All your friends.” No one knew any of hers. AA was an anonymous program. First names only.
“Yours, too. You have more than you realize. I’ll bet Candace would jump at the chance to stand up with you. Dawn could be part of the wedding party. I’ll pay for it.”
“No.”
He rubbed her arms. “We’ll keep it small—family, friends. Your grandmother, your parents, aunts, uncles, cousins . . . They’re going to want to come, Carolyn. You can’t cut out the people you love. Only one thing I won’t bend on. I want my pastor to perform the ceremony. If you don’t want it in a church, okay. We can have it here, in the gazebo. How about August, just before Dawn has to start school?” He held her shoulders. “What do you say?”
When she looked up at him, she knew May was still a month of miracles. May, the month Jesus sat with her on the grass in Golden Gate Park, spoke her name tenderly, and sent her home. She hadn’t known she carried a child then, but God had. “That sounds perfect, Mitch.” She placed her hand on his chest and felt his warmth, his strength, the steady beat of his heart. God had given her a man she could trust. Even so, it took courage to say the words. “I love you.”
“I know.” His mouth tipped in a teasing smile. “But I’ve loved you longer.”
“You’re getting the raw end of the deal, Mitch.”
“No, I’m not. And don’t ever say that again.” He touched her as though she were the most precious thing in the world to him. “I’m getting the woman I want. I feel as though I’ve loved you forever.”
She knew he meant it.
Their wedding day turned out to be a perfect, sunny day. Carolyn’s father gave her away while Mom and May Flower Dawn sat in the front row of folding chairs. Dawn didn’t want to be her flower girl, so Carolyn didn’t have one. Mitch’s pastor performed the wedding ceremony before a gathering of Mitch’s close friends and Carolyn’s relatives. She was surprised they all came, including Aunt Rikka, who flew in from New York. Boots drove up from Topanga Canyon. Mitch had arranged for a professional photographer who took candid shots as well as formal poses. He’d also hired a catering service to put on a wedding luncheon.
Oma patted Carolyn’s cheek before she and Mom and Dad headed home. “You’ve done well for yourself. I’m proud of you.” Mitch bent down to receive her kiss of blessing. “Take good care of my girl.” He promised he would. He had a honeymoon planned, but wouldn’t tell Carolyn anything about it. May Flower Dawn was “going home with Granny and Papa.” Mitch reminded Dawn home was now Alexander Valley, and he and her mother would be picking her up in ten days. Dawn looked less defiant after that. Mitch saw the last guests out while the caterers cleared everything away. Within a few hours, the folding chairs and tables, the linens, trays, and china had been loaded into vans, leaving the gardens and house spotless and silent.
Mitch took Carolyn’s hand and led her to the master suite. She felt a bubbling fear in her belly as all the old memories rose up. Mitch sensed something was wrong. He didn’t push. He took his time. Even so, he knew she hadn’t experienced the pleasure he had. He didn’t ask questions, just held her close. Emotionally exhausted, she fell asleep in his arms. He awakened her with kisses and coffee at three thirty in the morning. “Time to get dressed.”
“Where are we going?”
“Hawaii. A limo is picking us up.”
“What? I haven’t packed!”
“Your mom took care of that. Anything you don’t have, we’ll buy when we get there.”
Dear Rosie,
Carolyn and Mitch are married. I am so happy for them. The wedding was lovely and held in the backyard of Mitch’s rather palatial home in Alexander Valley. The place looks like a Tuscan villa, with cypress trees lining his driveway and a vineyard on the hills behind the house with all its grand landscaping, pool, and gazebo. Bernhard was all praises about it. I was equally impressed. I remember Mitch when he was a skinny, freckled redhead on a bicycle, riding off with Charlie to do some mischief and, later, a gangly young man with eyes for Carolyn, though she never seemed aware of his adoration. He has grown handsome, competent, confident—a man who always did know what he wanted: Carolyn. My prayers for her are answered. Mitch sees her as a gift from God and will treat her accordingly.
Carolyn asked May Flower Dawn to be her flower girl, but the child refused. She sat in the front row and sulked. Hildemara made no effort to correct her rude misbehavior. I wanted to turn both of them over my knee. Dawn will stay with Hildemara and Trip until Carolyn and Mitch return from a Hawaiian honeymoon. Hildemara understands she must relinquish May Flower Dawn. Or says she does. I wonder.
I tried to talk with Hildemara about our past, but she cut the conversation short. All I can do is keep holding out the olive branch and hope one day she will accept it.
Oh, Rosie, I look back and wish I had handled things differently. . . .
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 w
rong, 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.”
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.
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