Her Daughter’s Dream

more inside every time he looked at one. I couldn’t bear to lose everyone I loved.”

Carolyn’s heart hurt. She pressed her hands against her chest, wanting to make it go away. She had spent so many years hiding the pain, not asking why things had been the way they were, afraid the answers might hurt even more.

Mom’s eyes warmed, and she gestured toward her bedroom. “I cherish your pictures. Your wedding portrait is on my dresser, your senior picture on my wall, where I can see both of them every night before I go to sleep. All the rest are in an album over there in the cabinet.” Her mouth trembled. “I love you. How could I not? You’re my own flesh and blood.”

Carolyn searched her mother’s face and saw raw pain. “How would I know? I haven’t stepped foot in your bedroom since I was three years old.” She never opened any cabinets except those in the kitchen. She gave a broken laugh. “Oh, Mom… we’ve both been so good at hiding what we feel.”

“I just told you I love you, Carolyn. Do you believe me?”

Carolyn looked into her eyes, eyes the same color as Oma’s. “Yes.” She felt all the tension drain from her body. She smiled. “And in case you don’t know it, I love you, too.”

* * *

Dawn was thankful Mom and Granny weren’t arguing anymore. She shifted her body, trying to get more comfortable. She could feel the pressure of tiny arms and legs stretching inside her. Taking two pillows and the comforter from the bed, she sat near the door. She covered herself with the comforter, scooted down, and tucked the pillows under her knees. The solid carpeted floor felt better than the soft bed.

Let the words keep flowing, Lord. Dawn knew others were praying for them, too. Georgia and the women of CCC, Pastor Daniel, Mitch, all the people who loved Mom and Granny. Her eyes grew heavy, but she forced herself to stay awake. It gave her joy and hope to hear them talking openly with one another. She probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she had been praying for this for so long that she felt she had to hear it to believe it.

Her mom was talking again. “I used to be afraid to love anyone. Charlie died. Then Chel. Oma. Dad. I don’t even want to think about losing Mitch.”

“Your dad and I rooted for him.”

“Mitch told me he was going to marry me that first time he came over for dinner.”

“And not for your cooking, I’ll bet,” Granny teased.

Dawn’s mother laughed. “Thanks a lot.”

“We knew he had a crush on you when he was a boy. It was hard to miss when he came over all the time.”

“To see Charlie.”

“And you. It is frightening to lose someone you love. I loved your dad every bit as much as you love Mitch… and the way Mama must have loved Papa. We all die sometime. Someday you’ll lose me, too, you know.”

“Yes, but I’d rather not think about that.”

“At least we’ll be speaking to one another.”

Dawn put her hands over her face and tried not to cry. Some things might never be worked out. Granny might never believe Oma had loved her.

Granny spoke. “I’m sorry about Rev. Elias, Carolyn. God forgive him. And I’m sorry you didn’t understand why we sent you to Boots.”

“It was the best thing you could have done for me. She recognized a dry drunk when she saw one and took me to my first AA meeting. She had a band of friends who were full of hope and experience and didn’t mind sharing. They all thought I should give up my baby. Boots wanted me to keep May Flower Dawn and stay with her.”

“You’ll never know how happy Dad and I were when you decided to come home.”

“I didn’t know I could until you sent that car seat. And then Dad laid down all the rules, and you quit your job so you could take care of May Flower Dawn…”

“We wanted to help you get back on your feet.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want you staying with Boots.”

Dawn heard the tension building in Granny’s voice, as though quick words could ward off something she didn’t want to hear. But Mom wasn’t going to let her get away with it this time. She spoke gently. “I loved Boots, but I didn’t want to depend on her. I’d lived off Chel for too long.”

“I wanted to help, Carolyn.”

“I know.”

“You wouldn’t have made it on your own.” Granny sounded defensive.

“Georgia did.”

“Because she didn’t have any choice. Her parents kicked her out. We wanted to help.”

“Yes. You helped yourself to May Flower Dawn.”

Dawn sat up and held her breath. She’d known for years she was the cause of much of their contention. She’d grown up in the middle. Granny had stepped in when needed, then held on. For a long time, Dawn had helped Granny win the tug-of-war. It wasn’t until she had sex downstairs with Jason that she understood how guilt and shame could imprison a person, keep her silent, keep her distant. Like Mom.

When Georgia held up the mirror before Dawn’s face, and Jason suggested they stop seeing one another, it had been her mother who came in and sat silently on the end of Dawn’s bed, empathizing with her pain. It had been Mom’s careful words that planted the seeds to let go and let God work, to follow the Lord and not her own deceitful heart and flesh. Mom had understood what Granny couldn’t.

And now, Dawn had come home to create a bridge between them, one built on truth and love. She needed them to mend their relationship. She prayed fervently they wouldn’t allow Satan to rebuild his stronghold. Please, God, not now. Not ever again.

“I’ll take the blame for everything else, Carolyn, but don’t you dare accuse me of stealing your daughter. That’s not fair!”

“You didn’t steal her.” Mom spoke tenderly. “I placed her in your arms.”

“I was helping!”

“Yes, but you didn’t leave room for me.”

“Of course I did!”

Dawn wept at Granny’s pain and defensive tone. God, help her see the truth!

“When? I came home aching to nurse her, and you’d already given her a bottle. You wouldn’t even let me hold her. You’d tell me she’d been fussy and you’d just put her down and I shouldn’t wake her. I worked on Saturdays. You took her to church every Sunday. I never had time with her.”

Granny cried, but insisted, “It wasn’t my fault Dawn bonded to me. I was the one with her all the time.”

“But I wanted to be. You even changed her name.”

“Because people thought she was named after the Pilgrims’ ship.”

“Because you and Dad thought it was a hippy name. Dawn told me. It wasn’t a suitable name for an Arundel.”

Granny blew her nose. “I suppose I did cut you out.”

“I saw how much you loved her, Mom. I was jealous, but I was grateful, too. You and Dad didn’t give me a handout. You gave me a hand up. When I finally got on my feet, I tried to win Dawn back. When I married Mitch and we moved to Alexander Valley, I thought I might have a chance.”

“And we followed you.” Granny sniffled. “I would’ve lived next door if Trip would’ve allowed it.”

“Dawn told me she hated me for making you cry, and I gave up. Dad reminded me you wanted to help. Looking back now, I think he saw how much we were both hurting.”

“My mother ‘helped,’ too,” Granny said bleakly, “and I never really forgave her. It still hurts. Can you forgive me?”

Dawn heard movement and turned so she could see into the living room. Mom knelt in front of Granny. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Granny laid a hand against Mom’s cheek. “But it still hurts.”