“I’m going home to California. I want to be with my family. I’m going to need Mom and Granny’s help. The hard part is going to be getting them to work things out between them so they can.”
Maura held out her hands. “What can we do?”
Dawn took hold. “I have to call the landlord, then call the base to store our furniture. Or sell some of it. I don’t know which.”
“If you’re driving across the country, you should have your car serviced,” LaShaye said. “Rory can do that for you.”
Between the three of them, they worked out the details. Dawn held out her hands. Maura and LaShaye each took one. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies.” She blinked back tears. “I didn’t have as long as I wanted with you.”
LaShaye squeezed tight. “Maybe we ought to pray.”
Dawn thanked God for these friends. “Yes. Please.” She felt a quiver of apprehension at the journey ahead of her. “And don’t stop.”
Dawn made all her calls the next morning. She didn’t think the landlord would return the security deposit, but when he heard the reasons, he brought the check over that afternoon. She bought a new laptop so she could continue e-mailing Jason every day on the long drive home. She studied routes on MapQuest. She decided against the straight route across the country. She didn’t want to go through Colorado and deal with heavy snows. Better to go south.
Maura came over when the movers arrived. Everything would be stored until Jason returned from Iraq. Suitcases packed, Dawn spent the night with Maura.
“How long do you think it’ll take, Dawn?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to take it one day at a time.” She would need to get out and walk around every hour or risk thrombophlebitis and edema. Main highways had rest stops. She planned to use them. “I’ll drive until I need rest.”
“The weather’s bad all across the country. You couldn’t have picked a worse time to travel.”
“I don’t have a lot of choice. I can’t wait.”
“You should have someone with you.”
“I will. I’ll have Jesus. He’ll get me home.”
She got up early the next morning, showered, dressed, and left a note on the kitchen counter beside the coffeepot.
Dear Maura,
Thanks for everything. I’ll be in touch. May the Lord bless you and yours.
Love, Dawn
For the first time in days, it didn’t snow.
51
Dawn knew, even before she had driven the short distance to Baltimore, the trip would test her physical and emotional endurance. She took one hour at a time, trying not to think how many miles she had to go. Each afternoon, after checking into a hotel and having dinner, she hooked up the laptop.
She wrote regular e-mails to Jason, as though still in New Jersey. She wrote about the baby, tidbits of good news she found in whatever newspapers she picked up in hotel lobbies, anything that might keep his spirits bolstered, and not hint she was driving cross-country alone, nearly eight months pregnant, in January. Once the e-mail was sent and the others answered, she unhooked and packed away the computer, watched television weather reports, and went to bed. After a week on the road, she awakened with night sweats and back pain. She lay in the darkness praying God would give her strength and peace of mind. She had a long, long way to go.
Christian music stations kept her spirits up throughout the day. When she made it to Oklahoma City, she felt more at home. She thought of the friends she and Jason had made, all scattered now like seeds in the wind. Some had settled in other U.S. bases, others in Germany; many had gone to Iraq. A few hadn’t made it home.
After a good night’s rest, she pushed on to Amarillo, Texas.
The baby moved vigorously, reminding her of why she was on this trip. Dawn draped her arm over her expanding abdomen. She wanted desperately to call home, but knew if she did, Mom and Mitch would be frantic. They worried enough already. “Be good, little one. Hang in there! You need to grow a little more. You need to be strong for Mommy.”
It took three days to drive from Amarillo to Flagstaff, Arizona. Pushing harder, Dawn made it all the way to Barstow the next day, but got no farther than Buttonwillow the day after. One more day, she told herself. God, help me. One more day and she could rest.
Dawn dreamed she stood on a stone arch over a black chasm. Granny stood on solid ground on one side and Mom on the other. The bridge began crumbling beneath Dawn’s feet. Granny and Mom both reached out and caught hold. Both called for the other to let go. Dawn begged them to stop! Please stop! Gripped by pain, she cried out. Her child broke free of her body and dropped into the darkness below.
Exhausted, Dawn pulled in next to Georgia Steward’s trailer and parked. Rain pounded on the roof of the car and slicked over the windshield. Mrs. Edwards peered through her living room curtains. Dawn barely had strength to get out of the car. She hadn’t walked often enough today, and her legs felt swollen and stiff. The baby had turned and now pressed down heavily inside her. Gripping the rail, Dawn climbed the few steps and knocked on the door.
“Dawn!” After a split second of shock, Georgia stepped outside and hugged her. “You’ve been on my mind for days. I called, but couldn’t get through. Your mom said she talked to you the other day and everything was fine.”
Dawn leaned on Georgia as they went inside. She had kept to her schedule of calling Granny and Mom. She apologized for not calling Georgia. “I’m sorry. I’ve been driving for days. . . .”
“You drove?”
“I couldn’t fly. I was past seven months.” Dawn sank gratefully onto the sofa and let out a deep sigh of relief.
“Honey, you look pale as a ghost.” Georgia lifted Dawn’s feet onto the couch. “Your ankles are swollen. Lie back.” She tucked a pillow under Dawn’s feet and put a blanket over her. “Are you hungry? thirsty?”
Dawn smiled weakly. “Both.” She hadn’t stopped for dinner, too eager to finish the long journey and rest. “But don’t go to a lot of trouble, please.”
Georgia opened the refrigerator. “Now I know why God had me praying for you.”
Covered with the blue fleece, Dawn listened to the rain pounding the metal roof of Georgia’s trailer. She could barely keep her eyes open. Georgia brushed her forehead. “You’re perspiring.” Her mother-in-law leaned over her, brow furrowed with worry.
“Night sweats.”
“And fever, too. I’ll find some Tylenol. Can you sit up and eat?”
Struggling into a sitting position, Dawn gave a weary laugh. “My center of gravity is off.” The baby moved strongly. “Our little Steward is protesting.” Dawn took Georgia’s hand and held it against the side of her abdomen. “I think that’s her foot.”
Georgia sat beside her. Heads together, they waited for the baby to stretch again. They didn’t have to wait long, and this time the baby kicked. Georgia laughed. “A soccer player like her mama.” She patted Dawn’s swollen abdomen. “We should call your mom. Let her know you got here.”
“No one knew I was coming.”
“No one?”
“I didn’t want everyone fretting the entire time I drove.”
“What about Jason?”
Dawn shook her head, but the question served to remind her. “I need to get the laptop out of the car and e-mail him, or he’ll wonder what happened to me.”
Georgia looked troubled. “What’s going on?”
Dawn fought tears. She shook her head and looked away, struggling with her rising emotions. She had done nothing but ponder her circumstances and plead with God for days. She didn’t have the strength to talk about what was wrong. Not now. Not tonight. Swallowing her tears, Dawn met Georgia’s worried gaze. “Don’t call anyone. I’ll explain everything in the morning.”
Pushing the covers off, Dawn was thankful the swelling in her ankles had gone down. Her stomach growled. Georgia had left a blue velour robe on the end of the bed. Pulling it on, Dawn opened the door. The rain had stopped. Daylight streamed in the living r
oom window. Georgia set aside her book and got up from her easy chair. “You look better. How do you feel?”
“Rested. Can I take a shower?”
“After dinner.”
“Dinner?” She noticed the table had already been set.
“You’ve slept eighteen hours.” Slipping on mitts, Georgia opened the oven and took out a casserole dish. “I hope you like lasagna.”
“Love it.” She pushed her fingers back through her hair.
Georgia set it on a trivet in the center of the table. She opened the refrigerator and took out a tossed green salad and small carafe of dressing. “Milk or water?”
“Milk.” The baby needed protein.
Georgia said the blessing and filled Dawn’s salad bowl. She scooped lasagna onto Dawn’s plate. “We should call your family doctor and get you in for an appointment. You’re still awfully pale. And so thin.”
“I need to work things out with Granny and Mom first.”
“They’re both in for a shock when they find out you’re here.” Georgia served herself a smaller portion. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”
Dawn had had days to plan her words, but found them stilted and tremulous now. Georgia didn’t utter a word or eat a bite. Dawn didn’t have much appetite either by the time she finished. But she had a good reason to eat at least half of what Georgia had served her, and she intended to do so, even if it took an hour.
“I don’t believe it, Dawn.” Georgia’s mouth wobbled. “God wouldn’t do that to you.” She pressed her lips together. “Jason should have some say about this. You can’t leave him in the dark.”
“Jason needs to know when to duck. He doesn’t need to be worrying about us.”
“You and the baby are not distractions. You’re his family!”
Georgia’s fierceness frightened Dawn. “Georgia. I’m begging you. Don’t tell him! He worries about me and the baby enough already.” Her eyes filled. There was a time to be gentle and a time to be blunt, even if it bordered on cruelty. “I don’t want Jason coming home in a body bag.”
Georgia closed her eyes in anguish.
“Pray. That’s what I need you to do, Georgia. That’s why I came to you first. I have to get Granny and Mom to work together and help me through this. I have to get them in one place. And they’ve never been able to talk. I have to be the bridge this time, not the wall between them.”
Dawn called Mitch at his office. She told him everything and what she wanted to do. “I have to spend time with them both, alone. Can you help that to happen?”
He cleared his throat before speaking. “You sure you don’t want to have your grandmother come to our place?”
“Granny will do better in her own territory. I’m going to call her and have her call Mom to invite her out there. Don’t tell Mom anything yet, okay?”
“I’m not sure how your mom will do. I don’t think either one of them realizes how they’ve pitted themselves against each other.”
“God got me home, Mitch. He’ll get us through all the rest.”
“What about Chris?”
“You can tell him after Mom leaves for Jenner.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “Tell him I’ll see him in a few days and we can talk then. And . . .” She had to swallow and draw a slow breath before she could go on. “Pray. Pray hard.”
“I am. Right now and every minute from here on out.” He made a hoarse sound. “Pita?” He spoke gruffly. “I’ve always loved you like you were my own flesh and blood.”
“I know. Dad.”
Dawn called Granny. “I want to spend a few days with you and Mom at Jenner.”
“When do you plan to come home? spring? The baby will be—”
“I’m here, Granny.”
“Here? Where? Alexander Valley?”
“I’m staying with Georgia right now. Mom doesn’t know I’m home yet.”
“Why didn’t you come out and stay with me?”
“I wanted to see my mother-in-law, too. And I was pretty tired when I got here.”
“Well, come now. We can visit for a few days and then call your mom.”
She needed to make things clear. “I’m not coming out until Mom’s there. I don’t want her feelings hurt.”
“I would never hurt your mother’s feelings.”
“You’d never hurt her intentionally, Granny, and neither would I; but we both do it all the time, and it has to stop.”
“What’s happened, Dawn? Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
“When the three of us are together, Granny, we’re all going to talk.”
“I’ll call your mother as soon as we’re off the phone.”
“Let me know when she gets to Jenner. Then I’ll come.”
Georgia sat on the sofa, waiting. When Dawn sat down, Georgia took her hand. “So?”
“I don’t know where to start, Georgia. I’m not a psychologist. I don’t know what’s going to happen at Jenner.”
Georgia enfolded her in her arms and leaned back into the sofa so Dawn’s head rested against her shoulder. “God didn’t bring you home to let you down, honey. And I’m going to pray for a miracle.”
Dawn closed her eyes. “We need one.”
52
Hildemara picked up the phone and punched in Carolyn’s number. Her son-in-law answered. “Mitch, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Dawn’s home. She’s staying with Georgia Steward.”
“I know. She called me at the office a little while ago. I’ll get Carolyn.” He put her on hold. His abruptness surprised her.
Hildie chewed her lip. She pulled out a chair at the kitchen nook table and sat staring out at the Russian River. It was running high, as it often did this time of year. Hildie hunched deeper into her terry-cloth bathrobe.
Winters had always been too long out here on the coast, but bearable as long as Trip had been with her. Then, even if the roads closed and phone and power lines went down, Hildie hadn’t been alone. She and Trip joked about “roughing it” without lights, heat, television, or stove, like it was a grand adventure.
The sense of adventure died with Trip. While Hildie was still reeling from Trip’s death, Carolyn suggested Hildie sell the house and move into town. It had seemed utterly insensitive. Give up the Jenner house? after all the work Trip had put into it? He’d spent five years—and more money than they’d paid for the place—improving it and bringing it up to his standards. Throwing it all away seemed disloyal. She said as much to Carolyn, and her daughter didn’t mention moving again until a few months ago, after Hildie had taken a fall.
This year, winter had become a black hole sucking Hildie down into a vortex of despair. The last time Carolyn came out “for a visit,” she broached the subject of moving again. Hildie told her no. When Carolyn tried to keep talking about it, Hildie ignored her and turned on the television. Carolyn didn’t say anything for a long time. Hildie felt guilty and uncomfortable with the silence, but she didn’t know any other way to get her point across. Sure, she was almost eighty-seven, but so what? She still had all her faculties. She didn’t need to be put away. “All right, Mom,” Carolyn said after fifteen minutes. “Have it your way.” She left two residential care facility brochures sitting like cemetery contracts on the coffee table.
Unease filled Hildemara. Had Carolyn called Dawn and enlisted her help in getting old Granny to give up her home and move? Why else would her granddaughter fly to California when she was eight months pregnant and then insist the three of them get together at Jenner and talk? Hildemara felt her anger boiling.
“Mom?” Carolyn sounded breathless. “Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
“You never call unless something’s wrong.”
Was that true? When had she last called Carolyn? two weeks? a month? “Nothing is wrong. Not unless you said something to Dawn about trying to move me into an old folks’ home. She’s here.”
“At Jenner?” Carolyn sounded shocked.
“No. Not
Jenner. In town. She’s staying with Georgia. She called a few minutes ago. She wants you to come to Jenner so the three of us can talk.”
“I don’t understand. Is it the baby?”
“She said she’s fine.”
“This isn’t about Jason, is it? If she’s with Georgia—”
“She sounded fine. She wouldn’t be fine if anything had happened to Jason. Just pack and get out here. Dawn said she wouldn’t come to Jenner until you arrive. I don’t know what that’s all about.” Hildie could hear Mitch saying something in the background.
“The roads are terrible, Mom. Mitch can come out and bring you back here. I could pick up Dawn.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? We need to meet here, at Jenner.” Hildie knew she sounded angry and impatient, but she didn’t want Carolyn wasting any more time.
“It can’t always be the way you want it.”
Hildie hated that phrase. Mama used to say it. “It’s not my way. It’s Dawn’s way.”
Carolyn sighed. “I’ll be on the road in half an hour.”
“I’ll call Dawn and let her know.” Hildie hung up, flipped through her address book, and punched in Jason’s old number. Georgia answered and said Dawn was sleeping and could she take a message. “Tell Dawn her mom is on her way out here. Jason is all right, isn’t he?”
“Jason’s fine. He e-mailed Dawn yesterday.”
“Thank God.” Hildie felt some relief, but then had to ask, “And the baby?”
“Dawn is as big as a house. Hang on a second. She’s awake.” Hildie heard muffled voices, then Georgia again. “Dawn will head out to Jenner in an hour.”
“Tell her to be careful. The weather is mean.”
As soon as Hildie got off the telephone, she opened the wooden accordion doors into the small bedroom off the kitchen. She had bought a pretty blue and white Laura Ashley comforter and curtains in the hope Carolyn might come out and spend a weekend now and then. No such luck. Dawn could sleep in here and use the nice, new, plush pink towels and pretty seashell soaps. Carolyn could sleep downstairs. Hildie switched on the lamp before leaving the room. The glow could be seen outside through the lacy sheer curtains. She liked the house to look like a Thomas Kinkade painting.
Marta's Legacy Collection Page 83