“Yes, but maybe we’ll heal now. I saw as a child, but now I see through a woman’s eyes. I’m glad it was you and not some stranger in a day care center.”
Granny cupped Mom’s face and kissed her. “I’m glad it was Oma and not Mrs. Haversal.”
Dawn got up carefully. She braced herself against the dresser until the pain eased. Stooping cautiously, she gathered the pillows and comforter and put them back on the bed. She slipped beneath the covers and thanked God for answering her prayers.
She knew her biological father, though nameless, had been a kind, young vet suffering post-traumatic stress like her mother. She knew why Mom named her May Flower Dawn. And Mom and Granny were finally talking. Love would win this time.
58
Carolyn got up first, stoked the fire and added two presto logs, then went into the kitchen to start the Coleman and get some water boiling for coffee. She heard a loud, ominous crack from somewhere outside. The house shuddered. Another loud boom, and the house jumped on its foundations. The kitchen picture window cracked. Carolyn clambered away.
“What happened?” Her mother came rushing in, gray hair sticking out in all directions, her robe half-on. “What crashed?” She tied the sash around her waist and opened the back door.
“Wait! Mom, don’t go out there.” Carolyn pulled her back.
The redwood tree had fallen on the garage. Two-by-fours protruded in all directions. The deck tilted.
“My car!”
“I parked it on the road yesterday so I could sort things in the garage. It should be okay.”
“Oh. Good.” Her mother started to giggle. “We’re going to have a lot less to sort through now.”
Carolyn took her by the arm. “Let’s go sit in the living room.”
“Why? Because the kitchen seems to be tilting?”
“It’s not. Is it?” Carolyn’s insides quivered as her gaze darted around the room.
As they headed for the living room, her mother glanced out the door again. “At least we won’t have to worry about firewood. We have a mountain of it.”
Carolyn sat near the fire. “I can’t believe Dawn slept through that!”
Mom sat across from her. “Thank goodness that’s the only tree in front of the house.”
“As long as the house doesn’t slide down the hill.”
“Well, aren’t you the optimist.” Mom gave her a humorless smile. “Dad said this house is built on rock.”
“Did he mean granite… or Jesus?”
“Let’s hope he meant both.” They sat in companionable silence. “I wonder what all that redwood is worth,” Mom mused. “Maybe enough to pay for a new garage.” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you one thing. I’m more than ready to get out of here now.”
Carolyn chortled. “I would hope so.”
Dawn came out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed. “What’s all the noise?”
They told her while she made herself comfortable on the couch, the white afghan around her shoulders again. “Can we get out?”
“I don’t know.” Carolyn studied her. “Do we need to?”
Dawn smiled. “No.”
Carolyn brushed aside a niggling worry. “I’m going to take a look around, anyway.”
The gate was stuck, but she managed to shove it open after several tries. The unearthed roots of the redwood tree stood seven to eight feet high, and they had pulled up most of the road. A steady flow of rainwater raced down the hill, undercutting the cracked macadam. She went back inside. “I have four-wheel drive. We can drive up the hill and around.”
“No, we can’t,” her mother informed her. “That road has been closed for the last week. There’s a big crack down the middle of it.”
“We’re nice and cozy and all together,” Dawn said, perfectly calm. “Let’s not worry about it. Let’s just talk.”
“Granny and I talked most of the night.”
“I know. I’m afraid I was eavesdropping. I heard everything.”
Heat spilled into Carolyn’s cheeks. What “everything” did she mean?
Dawn hugged the blanket closer. “The young veteran who played the guitar was my father, wasn’t he?”
So her daughter had heard everything. Carolyn desperately wanted Dawn to understand. “Biologically. But I never thought of him as your father. To me, you were always a gift from God.”
Dawn smiled. “I know, Mom. That’s why you named me May Flower Dawn.”
“Oh!” Carolyn’s mother spoke with sudden comprehension. “You said it was May and the flowers were blooming in the grass, and the Lord appeared to you at dawn.” Mom’s eyes grew moist. “No wonder you were so hurt when I changed it.” Her mouth softened. “You couldn’t have chosen a better name, Carolyn.”
Dawn grinned. “You could’ve called me Epiphany.”
Carolyn laughed as the tension dissolved. “I almost did.”
Mom spoke slowly, in wonder, eyes glowing. “May… Flower… Dawn.”
After a breakfast of cereal, they went through the other boxes. Dawn felt odd and edgy. She wanted things settled. Now. She didn’t have time to wait anymore.
“Now that you don’t have a garage, Granny, are you going to park your car in front of an American bungalow in Santa Rosa or a pretty Tuscany villa in Windsor?” She had something else in mind, but her mom would have to bring it up.
“Windsor’s closer to Alexander Valley.”
Dawn looked pointedly at her mother and raised her brows.
Dawn’s mother frowned slightly and sat back on her heels. Then she turned to Granny. “Do you want to live with me and Mitch?”
Granny gaped. “Well, I didn’t think you’d want me too close.”
“We have maid’s quarters we’ve never used. There’s a living room, bedroom with full bath, and a little kitchen.”
Granny just stared at her.
“You don’t have to live with us. I just thought maybe you’d think about it. I wanted to ask you after Dad died, but you wouldn’t even discuss it. You insisted you wanted your independence.”
“Then it’s your own fault for believing every stupid thing I say!” Granny burst into tears. But she was smiling. “And I thought Marsha had all the luck!”
Mom said they could remove the furnishings, and Granny could bring whatever she wanted, within reason. “Not that old faded couch, please. Let’s get a new one.”
Dawn felt everything recede in a gray cloud of pain and pressure. Then silence.
“Dawn?” Mom spoke. She and Granny were both staring at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to wait-” Something popped inside her, like a balloon. She gasped as she felt a pool of warm slickness spreading beneath her. “Oh!” Drawing in her breath sharply, she struggled to lift herself off the couch. The moisture went down her legs, soaking through Papa’s old sweats and spilling onto his thick socks. “Oh,
Carolyn tried not to panic while she helped Dawn lie down in the bedroom.
Her mother stood close, speaking with authority. There was an eighty-six-year-old nurse in the house, and
