“I can’t, Granny. They should go to Mom.”
Carolyn folded the letter back into the yellowed envelope and put it on the table. “Granny wants you to have the pearls.”
“You and Mitch gave me pearls for my sixteenth birthday. Remember?”
Carolyn’s mother looked hurt. “I’m not slighting your mother, Dawn. Mitch gave her better pearls than these for Christmas two years ago and a bracelet and earrings to go with them.”
Dawn fingered the necklace. “They’re lovely.” Her eyes grew moist. “Save them for my daughter.”
Her mother closed the box and opened another. Unfolding a lace-trimmed embroidered handkerchief, she showed off a gold, pearl, and jade brooch. “I gave this to Oma on her eightieth birthday. You…” Her voice faltered. “You were gone. Anyway, Oma would want you to have it.”
Touched, Carolyn accepted the box. “I don’t remember ever seeing Oma wear this.”
“She didn’t. Not once. I doubt she ever took it out of the box.” Mom pointed. “That’s real, not cheap costume jewelry. I wanted to give her something special, something she would never buy for herself.”
Carolyn understood all too well. “Like the cashmere shawl I gave you for Christmas a few years ago? or the pendant I gave you for Mother’s Day?”
Mom’s eyes widened. “They’re too special to use for every day.”
Carolyn searched her face. “I thought you didn’t like them.”
“Of course I like them. They’re the nicest gifts I’ve ever received.”
Dawn interrupted. “Maybe Oma felt the same way about the brooch, Granny.”
Mom shook her head. “I thought she’d love it, but she said I’d wasted my money.”
Seeing the sheen of tears in her mother’s eyes, Carolyn took the brooch out of the box. “This is exquisite, Mom. Maybe she was afraid to wear it.” She pinned the brooch to her sweater. “It’s beautiful. I’ll cherish it. Thank you.”
Eyes glistening, Mom gave her a wobbly smile. “You’re welcome.”
Dawn’s blue eyes shone. “Perfect.” She propped her chin in the heels of her hands. “This is exactly what I prayed for all across the country.”
“What?” Carolyn’s mother looked blank.
“That we three could just sit and talk about things that shaped our lives and our relationships.”
Carolyn had spent years sidestepping questions, pushing memories back, training herself to live in the present. Dredging up the past wasn’t her idea of an answer to prayer. She felt her mom’s glance and didn’t meet it.
Dawn rose. “Why don’t we go through the boxes from the garage?” She went into the living room, not waiting for them to follow. “They should be full of memorabilia.”
Carolyn’s mother studied her. “You don’t seem particularly enthused.”
Carolyn hadn’t moved from her seat. “Are you?”
Her mom pushed her chair back, but didn’t get up. “Maybe we
Was that how she saw it? “There are some things I don’t want Dawn to know.”
“Do you think anything could change how much Dawn loves you?”
“What about you?”
“Me?” Her mom searched her face, comprehension seeping into her eyes. “I’m your mother.” She shook her head. “I wonder if we know one another at all.”
“Are you two coming?” Dawn called from the living room.
Dawn had already opened a box and pulled out a navy blue dress with white cuffs, faded red buttons, and a red belt. “Wow! This looks like old Hollywood, Granny.”
“Your great-aunt Cloe designed and made that for me when I went away to nursing school.”
“You’d get a small fortune for it on eBay now. Clotilde Waltert Renny first design…”
“Hardly the first.”
Carolyn opened the
“What’s wrong?” Carolyn’s mother looked from her to the box. “What did you find?”
“Pictures of Charlie.”
Dawn lowered an ashes-of-roses dressing gown. “Are you okay, Mom?”
The hurt rose, squeezing tight around her heart. “I’d better get the presto logs. Just in case the generator goes out.”
Dawn put the dressing gown aside and pulled over the box her mother had opened. “Pictures of Uncle Charlie.” She took out a high school graduation picture. “I remember these. They were on the wall in the Paxtown house.” Every picture was of Charlie, a few of Granny and Papa with him.
“Our memorial wall.”
Granny used to tell her stories about her uncle: how well he played football, baseball, basketball; how popular he had been, how handsome. Mitch had added to her uncle’s legend by telling stories about their teenage angst and antics, things Granny and Papa wouldn’t have known. “Did he and my mom get along?”
“More than got along, honey. She idolized him. They were polar opposites. He always watched out for her. Charlie was outgoing. Your mom was shy. He had lots of friends. She was a loner. Charlie was like my brother, Bernie. Everyone was so taken with him they never noticed his little sister.”
“Mitch told me he had a crush on Mom in high school. He wanted to ask her out, but never got up the nerve. That’s why he came back to Paxtown-to look her up.” Dawn set Uncle Charlie’s picture on the coffee table. “Did you ever meet Mom’s friend, Rachel Altman?”
Granny tilted her head. “So she told you about her.”
“A little.”
“Carolyn brought her home once, just before Charlie went to Vietnam. They were both still attending Berkeley at the time. Rachel came from wealth. She rented a house. That’s when things started to go downhill. They dropped out and disappeared. We didn’t hear from your mother for two years, and then one day, I came home and there she was sitting by the front door.”
Dawn sat on the couch and curled her legs up under her. “Were you angry with her?”
“Angry?”
“She was gone so long. It must have been awful for you and Papa.”
“You can’t even imagine how awful.” Granny sounded distressed. “Don’t ask her about those days. She was worrying just now in the kitchen, thinking it would make a difference in how you feel about her. She doesn’t want to talk about it. We tried a few times to open the subject, but learned to leave well enough alone.”
Dawn wasn’t convinced. “Maybe if she talks about it, it won’t haunt her so much.”
“She put it all behind her and moved on with her life.”
“I’d like to know who my father was.”
Dismayed, Granny shook her head. “Did you ever think she might not know? And asking would just make her feel worse about it.”
“I love her, Granny. No matter what she tells me, that’s not going to change.”
“So do I. That’s why I don’t ask.” Granny’s mouth worked, as though she fought tears. “Just leave things alone. I lost her once; I don’t want-”
The back door clicked open. Mom came in with a box of presto logs and set them beside the fireplace. She gave Dawn a questioning glance. “Is something wrong?”
Dawn shook her head and couldn’t think of what to say.
Mom looked at both of them and headed for the back door again.
Dawn struggled to her feet. Pain stabbed into her side. Sucking in her breath, she went outside and leaned over the rail above the stairs. “Mom, wait.”
Mom glanced at her, expression bleak.
