Love, Oma
Dear Rosie,
Carolyn brought May Flower Dawn with her this year. I had given up hope of ever getting to know my great-granddaughter. She was such an obnoxious child, so full of herself, so spoiled by Hildemara and critical of Carolyn—not that it was entirely her fault. Christopher usually comes with Carolyn, but Dawn asked to come this time. I see that as a miracle. I didn’t think she liked me.
Dawn has a “crush” on a young man who barely knows she exists. I doubt that. The girl is a beauty—long blonde hair, blue eyes, nicely proportioned. I was taken aback. She is the mirror image of Elise. Thankfully, she is very different in temperament. May Flower Dawn and I had several very nice, long conversations. I was surprised to discover she has a teachable spirit. I am quite taken with her. She may very well turn out to have the best of Hildemara Rose and Carolyn in her, and perhaps a little of me as well. Not too much, I hope.
Dawn sent a gift. According to the diploma she had made, I graduated magna cum laude from the University of Hard Knocks. I laughed and wept when I saw it, and I wept more when I read her sweet note. May Flower Dawn wants to come again. I am filled with joy! Dare I hope she might be the one to bring my daughter home to me? Oh, how I would love to sit and serve Hildemara, Carolyn, and May Flower Dawn tea on my patio. Think of it, Rosie! Four generations of women together at last. We could drink in the scent of summer roses and talk. Oh, how I would love that. . . .
32
Three weeks later, Granny called. When Oma didn’t answer her telephone, her neighbor had gone over to check on her. She found Oma sitting in her recliner. She’d died peacefully, Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America open on her lap.
The memorial service took place in a Methodist church in Merced, the front two rows packed with relatives and the rest packed with friends. No air-conditioning and late August heat made the sanctuary almost unbearable. Uncle Bernie and Aunt Elizabeth; Ed; Granny and Papa; Aunt Cloe and her producer husband, Ted; and Aunt Rikki and an old friend and widower named Melvin were all there. Dawn sat beside Mom in the pew behind Granny and Papa. Mitch sat on the other side of Mom, his arm wrapped around her as though holding her together. Christopher sat on the other side of Mitch, leaning against him.
Dawn had never lost anyone, and she felt more regret than grief. She’d liked Oma immensely and wished she’d spent more time with her. But the depth of her mother’s grief frightened her. Mom had cried for three days after Granny called with the news. She hadn’t eaten in a week. Now, she sat ashen-faced, tears streaming down her cheeks as the minister spoke of heaven and the hope God gave everyone who believed in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord.
Granny glanced back at Mom, her expression pained, almost angry. Dawn had overheard her speaking to Mom in the pastor’s office before the service. “Are you going to be all right, Carolyn?” She had sounded impatient.
“She’ll be fine, Hildie.” Papa put his arm around Granny’s waist. “Come on. We need to go in and sit down.”
“No.” Granny stepped away from him and kept staring at Mom. “If you can’t hold yourself together better than this, Carolyn, maybe you should stay in here and cry your heart out.”
Mom gasped as though struck.
Mitch’s face darkened. Dawn had never seen him so angry. “There’s no shame in grieving over someone she loves!”
“No shame at all.” Papa took Granny firmly by the arm. Granny’s face crumpled before she turned away.
Mitch looked chagrined and muttered the first foul word Dawn had ever heard him say. He folded Mom in his arms and whispered to her. Christopher looked confused and distressed. Dawn put her arm around him and told him everything would be okay, though she wondered if it would.
Now, as the service wore on, she studied her mother’s worn face and wanted to weep. She took her hand and found it cold. While the minister droned on, Dawn remembered things Granny had said. “Your mother was always going off by herself, even as a little girl. She liked being on her own in her dream world. She’d play outside with the dog for hours.”
Dawn thought that meant her mother hadn’t cared deeply about anyone but herself, that she didn’t need anyone. Clearly, she cared deeply about Oma.
Mitch decided they would leave Merced shortly after the reception started. “She’s taken all she can take,” he told Papa.
“We have to stay,” Papa said. “The lawyer will be going over the will tomorrow morning. Apparently, Oma managed to make some good investments.”
Mom stared out the front passenger window on the drive home. Tears streamed down her white cheeks. Mitch looked worried. Christopher put his head in Dawn’s lap and slept most of the way. Dawn didn’t know what else to do but pray. God . . . God . . . Even then, words wouldn’t come.
* * *
During the last two weeks before school started, Mom went about her daily chores like an automaton. Even Christopher couldn’t lift her spirits with his cheerful inane chatter and repertoire of new puns and knock-knock jokes. When Granny called, Dawn escaped to Jenner by the Sea. Papa asked how her mom was doing, and Granny jumped in.
“You know very well how she’s doing, Trip. I told you I called a few days ago and Mitch said she wasn’t up to talking to me.”
“Maybe she’s feeling better now.”
“She won’t even speak to me!”
“She isn’t talking to anyone, Granny.” Fighting tears, Dawn went into the blue bedroom off the kitchen and closed the wooden folding doors. She could hear her grandparents talking in low voices at the table. Papa raised his voice.
“You’re madder at Carolyn for grieving than you’re sad over your mother dying.”
Dawn heard Granny crying and then quick footsteps retreating to the back bedroom. Opening the door slowly, Dawn peered out and saw Papa still sitting at the kitchen table, staring out at the Russian River. When she sat with him, he gave her a pained smile and quipped, “Women. You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.” He let out his breath. “Things wouldn’t be nearly so bad if everything had been sorted out between your granny and Oma years ago.”
“What wasn’t?”
He scratched his balding head. “Nothing that’s ever going to get fixed now.”
* * *
Home again, Dawn left Mom alone and went out to wander through the garden and vineyard alone. Mitch had started building a new tasting room last spring, and now he pitched in with the carpenters. Maybe he just wanted to be out of the house so Mom could grieve in private.
Hot and tired, Dawn came back inside and found her mother sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of steaming hot tea. Dawn sat with her. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mom?” She’d already finished the laundry and folding. She wouldn’t need to start dinner for another three hours.
“It’ll just take time.” Mom put her hands around the cup. “I wish you’d known her better.”
“So do I. It’s my fault I didn’t.” Dawn hurt for her mother. She hurt for Granny, too. They should be comforting one another. Instead, they didn’t even speak. “Do you want to talk about Oma? Would that help?”
Mom raised her head and offered a sad, rueful smile. “Maybe you should think about being a shrink.”
Dawn gave a soft laugh and started to cry. Angry with herself, she covered her face. “I’m sorry. I just wish I could make things easier on you and Granny. She cried all weekend.”
“Did she?”
Dawn wiped the tears from her cheeks. “She’d smile and pretend everything was fine, and then she’d disappear into the garage and cry.”
Mom rubbed her temples. “You’ll be a great comfort to her.”
“What about you, Mom?” Dawn could see the effort it took for her to sit at the table. Her mother leaned forward, heels of her hands pressed hard against her eyes. Was she trying to stop another onslaught of tears?
“I won’t run away to Haight-Ashbury,” she half whispered hoarsely.
“I won’t run . . .”
It seemed such an odd thing to say, but Dawn didn’t want to make things worse by asking what she meant. “Christopher needs you, Mom.” Maybe that would be enough to shake her out of despair.
Her mother raised her head with an effort, eyes bleak. “And you don’t.”
Dawn felt impelled to admit what she never had before. “Yes, I do.” She slid her hand across the table, lifting her fingers in invitation, hoping her mother would understand. Silent, pale, her mother stared. Dawn waited, counting the seconds. Just when she’d almost given up hope, her mother slid her hand across the table and wove her fingers into Dawn’s. The first spark of life came back into her mother’s eyes as they held tight to each other.
33
“You have mail.” Mom came into Dawn’s room and handed her two envelopes. Dawn set Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice aside and tore open the large envelope first. Members of the CCC youth group had sent a condolence card with wishes she would return to meetings soon. Even Pastor Daniel had signed it. The second envelope held a note from Jason Steward.
Dear Dawn,
Kim told me about your great-grandmother passing on. I’m sorry for your family’s loss and hope you take comfort in the Lord Jesus. I hope to see you when school starts again. If you’d like to talk, I’d listen.
Sincerely yours,
Jason Steward
She spent the rest of the afternoon obsessing about Jason’s note. Did he want her to call? Was he inviting her into a relationship? If so, what sort? friendship only or something more?
It took all night and most of the next day to gather enough courage to look up his telephone number. Her heart pounded in her ears as she pushed the numbers. Losing her nerve, she hung up after two rings. She picked up her portable phone half a dozen times before she finally had the nerve to try again.
A woman answered. Stammering, Dawn asked if she could please speak to Jason Steward. The woman’s voice became cold. “Who’s calling?”
“Dawn Arundel.”
“Just a moment.” Dawn could hear muffled voices. Time stretched and with it Dawn’s nerves. Had she made a mistake calling Jason? Maybe he’d sent the note only to be polite.
“Dawn?” His voice made her pulse skyrocket. She hadn’t talked to him in weeks.
“Hi.” She winced at the high-pitched tension she heard in that one word. She let out her breath and tried to calm down. “I just called to thank you for your note.” When he didn’t say anything, she wondered if they’d been cut off. “Jason?”
“I’m here. Hang on a second.” Again, the muffled receiver, the indistinct voices. Then he came back on. “How are you doing?”
“So-so, I guess. Better than my mother. Oma’s death has hit her hard. They were extremely close.”
“Was it expected? Her death, I mean. Your grandmother’s. I mean your great-grandmother.” He let out a tense breath.
He sounded more nervous than she was. That pleased her, for some odd reason. “She was in her nineties. It wasn’t exactly unexpected.”
“Oh. Yeah. Dumb question.”
“I didn’t mean that. My mom and I spent a week with Oma this summer. She was really, really cool.” Dawn rolled her eyes, thinking she sounded really, really dumb.
Jason’s mother said something. He told Dawn to hang on a second again.
“Dawn?”
“Yes?”
“I have to go. I have something I have to do before I go to work tonight.”
“Okay.” Dawn felt heat flood her entire body. “Bye.” She clicked the phone off and tossed it on the bed. She shouldn’t have called. How would she face him when school started?
Kim called later that evening. “Did Jason call you?”
“No,” Dawn drawled cautiously. “Why would he?”
“Well, I don’t know, but he called me an hour ago and asked for your number.”
“He did?”
Kim giggled. “Dad thought Jason wanted to ask me out. I didn’t dare tell him he wanted your number.”
“I guess your dad doesn’t like me very much.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” Kim said quickly. “It’s just that Jason is exactly the sort of guy my father wants me to marry. Are you coming back to youth group? Jason said he had Wednesday night off this week.”
When Jason didn’t show up, Kim shrugged. “I guess he had something else he had to do.”
* * *
Dawn took special care getting ready for the first day of school. She wanted to catch Jason’s attention and make a lasting impression. When she came out for breakfast, Mitch leaned back in his chair and gave her a wry grin. “Who’s your prey?”
She blushed. Angry, she pulled her chair out and sat down. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Ah, Pita. I see trouble ahead.” Mitch tossed his napkin on the table and stood. He kissed Mom on the cheek. “I’ll buy a shotgun on the way home.” Laughing, he headed out of the kitchen.
Mom raised her brows at Dawn.
Dawn stared back at her. “What?” She had chosen jeans that fit her like a second skin and a pink scoop-neck T-shirt that showed off her tan. She’d left her hair down and put on touches of eye shadow and glossy pink lipstick. It wasn’t that big a deal, was it?
“You look very nice. That’s all I was going to say.”
As the bus turned off Prince Street into the school driveway, Dawn caught a glimpse of Jason in the student parking lot with Tom Barrett and Kim Archer. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Dawn got off the bus.
“Dawn! Wait up!” Kim caught up with her. Jason held back with Tom, talking while looking at Dawn. Did he like how she looked? His expression showed nothing. He didn’t even wave at her. “He bought a car!”
Dawn pulled her gaze from Jason. “Who?”
“Jason! Who else? He gave me and Tom a ride to school.” She kept talking as they went inside together to their lockers. Dawn wished she lived in Windsor instead of Alexander Valley. Then, maybe, he would offer her a ride.
Jason and Tom came in the door after them. She stood with her back to them as she opened her locker. Every nerve quivered when Jason came closer. “Hi, Dawn.” He spoke quietly. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder without meeting his eyes and gave what she hoped was an equally nonchalant greeting.
After that, she didn’t see Jason until the lunch hour. He was with Kim and Tom again, sitting at a table in the cafeteria. Matt Cavanaugh came over and blocked her view. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around school. My name’s Matt. And you’re . . . ?” He left the question hanging.
“Dawn Arundel. I was here last year.”
He grinned at her. “How did I miss you?”
“Maybe you were too busy getting dents in your football helmet.”
He laughed easily. “Where are you sitting for lunch?”
She peered around and saw the seats at Jason’s table had already filled up. Sharon glanced toward her in question. “Outside, I guess.” She headed for the door, not expecting Matt to follow.
He got to the door ahead of her and opened it. “You can sit with me in the senior court.”
Joe Hernandez and two other seniors joined them. They flirted outrageously, each trying to outdo the other, which gave her a feeling of power and made her laugh. She finished her lunch quickly and excused herself, going back inside the cafeteria. Sharon, Steven Dial, Pam Preston, Linda Doile, and Amy King still sat at the table. Kim, Tom, and Jason had left.
“Where have you been?” Sharon asked.
“Sitting with Matt in the senior court.”
“If you’re looking for Jason, he and Kim and Tom went to do a Bible study in one of the courts. I’m not sure which one.”
Dawn spotted Jason in the hallway as she headed for her Spanish class. He barely looked at her as he passed by.
The next few days were no different, other than she managed to avoid Matt and his friends. Jason hung out with Tom and Steven Dial, and sometimes Kim. He made no effor
t to single Dawn out or even speak to her. When she sat down, he got up and left the lunch table. She wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What’s with you and Jason?” Sharon kept pace on the way to class. Dawn had just spent another miserable lunch hour of wondering why Jason seemed so determined to avoid her.
She shrugged off Sharon’s question. “I’ve got to get my books.”
Spanish passed slowly, Dawn struggling to concentrate on conjugating verbs. She kept glancing at the clock. She wouldn’t see Jason until tomorrow, and he’d probably ignore her again. When the bell rang, she headed for biology and then realized she’d forgotten her textbook. She hurried to her locker and grabbed the book she needed. Turning, she bumped into Jason. Her heart jumped and she stepped back, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“My fault. Can we talk?”
Now he wanted to talk? After almost a month of acting as though she didn’t even exist? “I’m going to be late.” She stepped around him, but he moved to block her.
“I tried calling you.”
“When?”
“This summer. After you called me.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Once I stayed on the line long enough to hear your voice on the answering machine. I didn’t leave a message.”
She looked at him. “Why not?”
“I chickened out.” A muscle tensed in his jaw.
“Your note said if I wanted to talk, you’d listen. I guess I know now that was bull.” She stepped around him and raced to class, slipping into the room just as the bell rang.
She didn’t expect to see Jason waiting for her when she came out.
“Would you like to go for a soda after school? We could talk then. I have a car. I could drive you home.”
After so many weeks of nothing from him, she couldn’t quite take in his sudden warmth. False hope and wrong conclusions would just add to the hurt. “I know you have a car. Kim told me you’ve been picking her up every day.”