Over Christmas Eve dinner, Papa announced he’d put in for retirement. He figured it was about time. He didn’t want to have another heart attack. Besides, the law was now working against police officers. Arrest a criminal and the courts would let him loose.
“We’ve been thinking about moving,” Granny said.
“Moving?” Dawn gaped. “But you love Paxtown!”
“Well, of course we do, but we love our family more. We only get to see you a couple of times a year.”
That wasn’t true. They came to visit for every holiday, and Dawn spent time with them every time she had a school break.
Mom set her knife and fork down. “What about Oma?”
“We invited her to come with us.” Granny sawed at a tender slice of turkey like it was shoe leather. “She said no.”
Papa put his hand on Granny’s wrist. “I told you not to bring it up, Hildie.” He faced Mom. “We haven’t made a final decision yet. We wanted to ask if it would be all right with you if we moved closer.”
Dawn couldn’t bear the look on Granny’s face. “That’d be great, Mom! Wouldn’t it?” Say something! Mom opened her mouth, but no words came.
Mitch spoke. “It’d be great to have you two closer. You’re the last set of parents I have.”
“Thanks, Mitch,” Papa said. Granny relaxed a little. Papa glanced at her, his face softening. Then he looked at Mom. “We’ve missed you more than you know, Carolyn.”
Mom winced. Dawn jumped in again to break the tension. “You could live right next door!”
Papa laughed. “Sorry, honey. We can’t afford this neighborhood.”
Granny’s shoulders relaxed. “Healdsburg seems like a nice little town.”
Christopher started to fuss in his high chair. Mom got up quickly and released him, lifting him in her arms and holding him closer while Papa talked.
“I was thinking of something a little farther out. We don’t want to park ourselves on your front doorstep.”
Mitch poured more sparkling cider. “Stay with us while you’re looking. We have plenty of room.”
When Dawn came into the kitchen the next morning, she found her mother sitting at the table, rubbing her forehead while she talked on the telephone. “I’d feel better if you were coming, too.” When she saw Dawn, she got up and took the portable phone into the family room. “We have plenty of room. You could live with us. Mitch would . . . Why not? Why would she care?”
Dawn knew Mom was talking to Oma. Pouring herself a bowl of cereal, she lingered and listened.
“Just think about it, Oma. Please?” Mom pleaded.
Dawn knew her mother loved Oma, but she didn’t know why. Granny stayed away from her, so Dawn did too.
Dear Rosie,
My daughter doesn’t know how to let go. She has decided to sell the big house and property (including my cottage) and move to Sonoma County. She would like it if she could live right next door to May Flower Dawn, though I think Trip will put his foot down over that. I’m not sure what I will do. I had hoped to live here for the rest of my life. I should have seen this coming when Trip put in for retirement.
I’m not sure where I will live now. Hildemara said I can come with them, but doing so might make it look like I approve. She doesn’t consider how this will affect Carolyn’s budding relationship with Dawn. In truth, I think Hildemara is a little jealous, though she would never admit it.
Bernhard and Elizabeth think I should move in with them. Clotilde offered a condo in North Hollywood. Rikka invited me to stay part of the year in her Soho apartment. She has many artistic friends, all like tropical birds chattering about their flights of fancy. Two weeks and I’m ready to migrate back to California.
As much as I love my children, I can be on my own. Why do they think I need a keeper? I may have gray hair, wear glasses, have certain limitations, but I am not in my dotage. I still have dreams. They say I’m being stubborn. So be it.
I miss the Central Valley. I miss the heat, the scent of sand, orchards, and vineyards. I miss putting flowers on Niclas’s grave. Merced is centrally located. I can afford a bungalow there. I could drive to Yosemite in an hour and enjoy the mountains for a day. Who knows? Maybe, after all these years, I could finally go to college. . . .
25
1980
Granny and Papa’s Paxtown property sold quickly. A moving company stored everything while they stayed in Alexander Valley and looked for another home. They stayed in the second suite at the other end of the house from Mom and Mitch. Dawn was in-between. Granny made afternoon and evening appointments with their Realtor. That way, Dawn could go with them to see houses. Granny wanted to live at the north end of Healdsburg. Papa wanted to look at Cloverdale. Granny said that was too far away. So were Windsor and Santa Rosa. Granny said maybe they’d find something on Dry Creek Road.
Finally Granny decided on a house in Healdsburg. She talked about the nice guest bedroom with private bath, the neat houses along the street, the small, easily maintained backyard. And it was so close to Dawn’s school. “You could have lunch with us!”
Papa looked at Dawn in the rearview mirror and didn’t say a word until they got back to Alexander Valley. “Go on in the house, Dawn. Granny and I are going to have a little talk before we come in.”
They sat in the car for almost an hour. When Granny came inside, she headed straight for the guest suite. Papa went into the family room and sank into an easy chair. Mitch raised his brows. “Is everything okay?”
“We’re going to take a long drive tomorrow, by ourselves, and see a little more of the area.” Mom came into the family room, Christopher in her arms. Papa looked at her with a sad smile. “Healdsburg is a nice little town, but I’d like to be forty-five minutes to an hour away. Somewhere on the coast, if we could afford it.”
Papa found just the house he wanted at the end of the Russian River in Jenner by the Sea. The house was tucked into a hillside, almost hidden by a row of overgrown, shaggy cypress trees. He said the place needed some work, but he claimed it would have a “million-dollar view” when the trees were topped and the deadwood cut out and hauled away. Granny argued vehemently against buying it, but Papa won in the end.
Just before Christopher’s first birthday, Mitch flabbergasted Dawn by asking if he could adopt her.
Her stepdad was the coolest guy she knew, and she loved him, but she was torn. She asked for some time to think about it. Her mother didn’t like that, but Dawn didn’t want to make a rash decision and hurt anyone’s feelings. She went out to Jenner by the Sea for the weekend and talked it over with her grandparents. She hoped they’d give their blessing.
Papa didn’t say much about it other than, “It’s up to you, honey.” Granny remained silent on the subject until the next morning, when she insisted she and Dawn go to the beach for a walk. They hadn’t gone to the beach in months, so Dawn knew Granny had something to say. Granny let loose in the car on the drive over. She reminded Dawn that Mitch wasn’t her father; that Papa had paid all the bills for the first five years of her life; Papa had rocked her to sleep. Papa had read stories to her; Papa had played with her. Of course, he’d been hurt when Dawn told him about Mitch’s offer. How could he not be? Of course, he’d hide his feelings and say it was up to Dawn! Granny parked and wiped tears away. Besides all that, Dawn was the last Arundel in the family. Yes, of course, she’d get married someday and take her husband’s name, but until then, it meant a lot to them.
Dawn couldn’t bear to hurt her grandparents, and she knew Mitch would understand.
When she came home, she told Mitch she was honored, but thought she’d like to leave things as they were. Mitch looked disappointed, but accepted her decision with grace. He even kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her mother stood silent, eyes glacier blue. She opened her mouth to say something, then pressed her lips together and left the room without speaking. Mitch followed her, closing the door of the master suite behind them. Her mother talked
then, loud enough for Dawn to hear the tone, but not the words.
Dawn tried to talk to her the next morning. She wanted to explain it had nothing to do with Mitch. She loved Mitch. “I’m sorry if you’re upset, Mom. I just don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“You don’t want to hurt Granny’s feelings. You don’t care who else you hurt.”
“Mitch seemed okay with it.”
“They’re your grandparents, Dawn! Isn’t that enough?”
“They’ve always been there for me.”
Her mother blinked. “So you hurt Mitch to get back at me?”
“No!”
Mom turned her back and continued making Dawn’s bag lunch. She didn’t have to say she didn’t believe Dawn; her posture said it all.
“Can we talk about it, Mom?”
“Why? You made your decision. Everything will be the way Granny wants it, and it’ll stay that way. It always does.” She shoved the sandwich into a Baggie and put it in the paper bag. “You’d better get your stuff together, or you’ll be late for the bus.”
1985
Dawn struggled with feelings of ecstasy, anger, and misery. She had kicked the winning goal in the final junior high team championship soccer game, and Mom wasn’t even in the stands. Mitch had come. Her stepfather always made an effort to support her. Just once, couldn’t Mom make the effort, too—especially since this was the last and most important game of Dawn’s life? Of course, Mom would have an excuse. Chris always had something going on somewhere else. Mom hadn’t even bothered to show up at Mary’s Pizza Shack for the season-ending party. When Dawn and Mitch came into the kitchen, there they were, sitting at the table, Mom smiling over something Chris had said. She glanced up. “How’d it go?”
“Dawn kicked the winning goal. I got it all on film.”
“That’s great. Congratulations, Dawn. Chris’s game started late. We just got home. He wanted to stop at Burger King.”
Mitch ruffled Christopher’s curly red hair. “How’d you do, Tiger?”
“We lost.” Her little brother—still adorable at almost six—never got upset about anything. “Can we watch Dawn’s game?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Christopher was on his feet, hamburger forgotten. He and Mitch trooped into the family room while Mom gathered up the remains of their take-out meal. “You seem upset.”
“No, Mom. Why would I be?”
“Where are you going?”
“To my bedroom.”
“Aren’t you going to watch the game video?”
“I played the game, remember? Seeing it on video isn’t the same as being there, is it?”
Her mother stood at the trash compactor. “You had a cheering section. Mitch went. And Granny and Papa were there.”
“Why should it matter whether Granny and Papa are there? It’d be nice to have you and Chris at one of my games.”
“Well, Chris couldn’t come. His team needed him.”
“He’s in peewees! They play swarm ball! Just once, just for a couple of hours, couldn’t I be first in your life?”
“You came first for a long time, Dawn. Not that it ever mattered to anyone, especially you.”
Dawn gave up. Storming out of the kitchen, she went down the hall and slammed her bedroom door. She sat on the end of her bed and cried. Someone tapped on the door. Dawn shouted, “Go away!”
Sometimes she wished her mother would yell back instead of walking away—or responding in that cool, calm tone. Dawn wondered sometimes: How could she miss her mother so much when she’d never had her love in the first place?
26
1986
Dawn still felt adrift after nine months as a freshman. High school had turned out to be a complete bust. She’d gone from junior high Sky Hawks star soccer player to outcast and dweeb. The girls who had been her friends since second grade left her behind by mid-September, charging like forwards into new groups. Torie Keyes now ran with the Mexican gangbangers. Dawn saw her every day in the corridor, draped around Juan Alvarez like a bun around a hot dog. Susan Mackay hacked her hair into a butch, donned button-down shirts and black pants, and “came out of the closet” as a lesbian. Two other buddies from the Sky Hawks soccer team, Tiffany Myers and Leanne Stoddard, still hung out together. They smoked pot behind the modular buildings lining the football field. If Dawn wanted to go to a big party where booze and drugs and sex would be in abundance, all she had to do was ask Tiff and Lee. They’d know where to find one.
She scribbled more loops on her notepaper. Summer break loomed a week away with the promise of endless boredom.
She’d be stuck at home for three months without even Christopher’s company. Her little brother had an army of little buddies; hence, places to go and things to do. In addition to friends, Mom signed him up for swimming lessons and, not one, but four different vacation Bible schools. Why? Because he had four “best friends,” all in different churches, and he didn’t want to play favorites. Must be nice to be so popular, not to mention the blessing of being the first and only son.
Even more annoying, Mom, who never went to church, would volunteer at every VBS. She’d take snacks, help with art projects, do whatever she could to be involved in Chris’s life. She acted like a mother bear sometimes, as though someone might snatch Christopher away and molest him.
Tossing the pen aside, Dawn rubbed her forehead. Thinking about her mother always brought on a stress headache—ironically, the one thing they had in common. After they argued, Mom always retreated into the master suite and put cold compresses on her head or went to an AA meeting.
But their arguments were infrequent. You had to have feelings for someone to fight with them. Her mother didn’t seem to care one way or the other about Dawn. She didn’t hover over her; she just stepped back and watched from a distance, if she watched at all.
Mitch made time for her. Every month, they went on a “date.” The last time, they couldn’t find a movie worth watching and ended up eating dinner at the Western Boot. He talked about Uncle Charlie all evening. She loved hearing about Uncle Charlie. He sounded so cool. He and Mitch had gotten away with major mischief that left her laughing and in awe.
“And what about Mom? Did she get into any trouble?”
“She was a good girl.”
“Yeah, right. She never did anything wrong.”
“Nope.”
“She waited until she got to Haight-Ashbury.”
Mitch didn’t say anything to that.
“Does she ever talk to you about those years?”
He shook his head.
“And you don’t ask?” When he just looked at her, she pressed a little harder. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“Your mother laid her life bare in less than a minute the first time I managed to corner her for lunch. She tore the skin off old wounds, and no, I am not going to betray her trust and tell you anything.”
“Did she say anything about my father? Does she even know who he is?”
Mitch put his napkin on the table and signaled the waiter.
Dawn hung her head. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at her stepfather through her tears. “I don’t want to go yet, Mitch. Please. I’ll behave.”
Mitch told the waiter they’d like to see the dessert selection. Dawn looked at the menu, but she wasn’t hungry. Was it so wrong for her to want to know? “I must remind her of things she’d rather forget.”
Mitch put the menu aside. “You should sit down with her and ask your questions, Dawn.”
“She’d never tell me anything. Every time I even hint, she changes the subject or says she has to go to a meeting. Maybe just talking to me makes her want a drink.”
“I’m not going to get in the middle.”
“Mom and I don’t even speak the same language.”
Dawn tried to put herself in her mother’s shoes. How would she feel if she had a kid out of wedlock, living proof of how she’d messed up her life and needed her parents to pick up the p
ieces and put her back together? As painful as it might be to go over the past, Dawn wanted to know something about her biological father. Not that Mitch wasn’t a great dad; he was the best. But she didn’t come from his gene pool.
Rubbing her temples, Dawn stared at the wall clock, noting another fifteen minutes before study hall ended. Maybe she’d ask her mother if she could sign up for summer school; at least it would be something to do. She’d already checked at McDonald’s about a job, but she had to be sixteen. If she didn’t find something to do, Granny and Papa would expect her to spend the summer at Jenner by the Sea again, just like last summer and the summer before that and every summer since they’d moved from Paxtown. She loved them dearly, but three months around their house with nothing to do wore her down.
They had books, of course, lots of them, most about building a house from foundation to roof, how to remodel, how to make repairs, plumbing and wiring, etc. Granny collected cookbooks. Dawn wouldn’t have minded learning to cook, but they had a “one-butt kitchen,” as Papa called it, and Granny liked being the only “butt” at the sink and stove. Last summer, Dawn found herself so desperate, she weeded every inch of Granny’s garden below the house.
The class bell rang, jolting Dawn from her reverie. She stuffed her notebook into her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for the door.
If she wanted to stay home this summer, she was just going to have to spell it out. She’d beg if needed. If Mom said no, she’d enlist Mitch and Christopher’s help. They always had better luck with Mom than she did.
Dinner was almost over before Dawn gathered enough courage to say she wanted to spend summer at home. Mom glanced up, surprised. “But you always spend the summer at Jenner.”
“I know, but I’d rather stay home this year.”
“What’s Granny said about this?”
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