“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Carolyn had always been overly sensitive. “A girl usually wants her husband or mother around when her time comes.” A shadow flickered across her daughter’s face, and Hildie felt a twinge of remorse. She had sent Carolyn to Boots. Hildie had cried buckets over that decision, but she and Trip knew it was the only way to protect Carolyn from all the gossip. They’d both been depressed for ages after she left. They’d lost Charlie in Vietnam. They’d no sooner gotten their daughter back than they had to send her away. It had hurt even more believing she would give up their only grandchild for adoption.
When Boots told them Carolyn wanted to keep the baby, Hildie had been overjoyed. Boots said she’d love to have Carolyn live with her, but Hildie wanted her daughter back. She wanted to hold her grandchild. She told Trip she wanted to quit nursing and stay home. They didn’t need the money, and Carolyn would need help. They sat down and laid out a plan to help their daughter recover from the lost years in Haight-Ashbury. They wouldn’t ask questions. They’d leave the past behind them. And Carolyn had done so well. She’d finished college and excelled in the real estate office.
Hildie thought they’d go on as they were. It had been a shock when Carolyn said she wanted to move out. Hildie had seen something in her eyes. Her daughter couldn’t wait to get away from them. And, oh, the pain, when she had to give up Dawn.
“The sun’s coming up,” Carolyn said. “Not that we can see much of it through the clouds.”
“More rain through today and tomorrow.” Hildie sipped her lukewarm coffee. “I’m a little worried we’ll run out of propane. The truck is supposed to try again on Monday.”
Carolyn got up. “‘Through waves and clouds and storms, He gently clears the way.’ Let’s hope the roads are open on Monday.” She took the carafe from the coffeemaker. “Would you like your coffee warmed up?”
“One cup is about all I can handle these days.”
Carolyn replenished her own. “Didn’t Dad buy presto logs?”
“They’re under the garage.”
“I’ll bring some up, just in case.” She sat again. “I should take a look at what’s under there anyway.”
“Why don’t you wear a pair of my pants so you don’t ruin your nice skirt? Take a look in my closet.” While Carolyn went to see about the pants, Hildie took out eggs and bacon. Carolyn came into the kitchen wearing a pair of red polyester slacks that hit midcalf. What a difference four inches in height could make. Hildie laughed. “High- water pants.”
“Clam-diggers.” Carolyn laughed with her.
Dawn opened the accordion door. Hair mussed, bleary-eyed, and pale, she wore a pair of white athletic socks and Trip’s old navy blue terry-cloth bathrobe. Her blue eyes still looked shadowed with exhaustion. Carolyn greeted her before getting her jacket and going out the door.
“Where are you going, Mom? Aren’t you having breakfast with us?”
“I’m going to check under the garage, bring up some presto logs for a fire.”
Hildie turned bacon in the frying pan. “Forget the presto logs for now, Carolyn. Just open the safe downstairs and bring up whatever’s inside.” She told her the combination. “If I’m going to be downsizing, a good place to start is some of the jewelry I’ve been keeping locked up and never wear.”
Carolyn went out into the rain. Dawn eased into a chair, rested her elbow on the window, and looked out at the glutted Russian River.
Hildie studied her granddaughter. It was such a pleasure having Dawn under her roof again. “It is a beautiful view, even in flood season, isn’t it, honey?”
Silent, Dawn rubbed her back in an abstracted manner.
“You okay, honey?” In the morning light, Hildie noticed even more clearly the signs that something was wrong. Other than her swollen abdomen, the girl was skin and bones. Was she just worried, anxious about Jason and the baby they’d both hoped and prayed for, for so long?
“Hmmm? Oh.” Dawn smiled, still distracted. “Just tired.”
“Thinking about Jason?”
“I think about Jason all the time, Granny. I miss him so much, especially now. But God is using him where he is. Two guys in his unit have become Christians.”
“You picked a good man, Dawn.”
“I won’t be able to e-mail him until I get back to town. He’ll be worried. I should’ve thought of that.”
“Georgia will let him know you’re fine.”
“Jason didn’t know I was coming home.”
Hildie found that information disturbing. “I should’ve come into town instead of having you drive all the way out here. We could have been warm as toast in Alexander Valley. And you could’ve kept in touch with your husband.”
“I wanted to be out here.”
“At least someone besides me loves the place.”
“I didn’t want any interruptions.”
Troubled, Hildie looked at her, but before she could ask what was going on, Carolyn came back in the door with a stack of papers and a box covered with flowery contact paper. “Set it over there on the counter, Carolyn. We’ll go through everything after breakfast.”
Carolyn watched May Flower Dawn pick at her food. Her blue eyes didn’t have any sparkle, and her cheeks were pale. “Didn’t you sleep at all last night, Dawn?”
“I couldn’t shut off my mind.”
Her mother offered more toast. “She’s been thinking about Jason.”
“Not surprising.” Carolyn took a piece and buttered it. “The whole church is praying for him. So are we.” Carolyn noticed Dawn grimace. “Are you having contractions?”
Dawn rubbed her sides. “She’s running out of room in there.”
Carolyn folded her hands and watched her daughter closely. “You’re sure the baby is a girl?”
“She would’ve had a sonogram, Carolyn. Of course, she knows.”
“I knew long before that, Granny. I had a dream about her. She was running and playing along the edge of the surf at Goat Rock Beach.” She smiled at Carolyn. “And you and Granny were sitting together on the sand, talking like good friends.”
A nice dream. Carolyn cleared dishes. She scraped Dawn’s cold scrambled eggs into the garbage while imagining talking with her mother like that. When had there ever been a time when she hadn’t needed to be careful about every word she said?
Her mother set the pile of papers and box on the table. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” While Carolyn washed dishes, her mother and Dawn sat at the table, going through papers. “Deed to the house, car and life insurance policies, Social Security cards, wedding and death certificates, living trust, burial arrangements, list of bank accounts…” She fanned the papers, pausing over one. “Oma’s naturalization papers. I forgot I had them. She was so proud when she passed the test.”
Mom set the certificate aside. “Oma said we were the
Carolyn dried her hands and picked it up. While her mom opened the box filled with smaller boxes, Carolyn opened the letter and read.
Mom lifted out a black velvet box and snapped it open. “Papa gave me these pearls on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.” She took them out and handed them to Dawn.
“They’re beautiful.”
“You keep them.”
