headache-ironically, the one thing they had in common. After they argued, Mom always retreated into the master suite and put cold compresses on her head or went to an AA meeting.
But their arguments were infrequent. You had to have feelings for someone to fight with them. Her mother didn’t seem to care one way or the other about Dawn. She didn’t hover over her; she just stepped back and watched from a distance, if she watched at all.
Mitch made time for her. Every month, they went on a “date.” The last time, they couldn’t find a movie worth watching and ended up eating dinner at the Western Boot. He talked about Uncle Charlie all evening. She loved hearing about Uncle Charlie. He sounded so cool. He and Mitch had gotten away with major mischief that left her laughing and in awe.
“And what about Mom? Did she get into any trouble?”
“She was a good girl.”
“Yeah, right. She never did anything wrong.”
“Nope.”
“She waited until she got to Haight-Ashbury.”
Mitch didn’t say anything to that.
“Does she ever talk to you about those years?”
He shook his head.
“And you don’t ask?” When he just looked at her, she pressed a little harder. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“Your mother laid her life bare in less than a minute the first time I managed to corner her for lunch. She tore the skin off old wounds, and no, I am not going to betray her trust and tell you anything.”
“Did she say anything about my father? Does she even know who he is?”
Mitch put his napkin on the table and signaled the waiter.
Dawn hung her head. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at her stepfather through her tears. “I don’t want to go yet, Mitch. Please. I’ll behave.”
Mitch told the waiter they’d like to see the dessert selection. Dawn looked at the menu, but she wasn’t hungry. Was it so wrong for her to want to know? “I must remind her of things she’d rather forget.”
Mitch put the menu aside. “You should sit down with
“She’d never tell me anything. Every time I even hint, she changes the subject or says she has to go to a meeting. Maybe just talking to me makes her want a drink.”
“I’m not going to get in the middle.”
“Mom and I don’t even speak the same language.”
Dawn tried to put herself in her mother’s shoes. How would she feel if she had a kid out of wedlock, living proof of how she’d messed up her life and needed her parents to pick up the pieces and put her back together? As painful as it might be to go over the past, Dawn wanted to know something about her biological father. Not that Mitch wasn’t a great dad; he was the best. But she didn’t come from his gene pool.
Rubbing her temples, Dawn stared at the wall clock, noting another fifteen minutes before study hall ended. Maybe she’d ask her mother if she could sign up for summer school; at least it would be something to do. She’d already checked at McDonald’s about a job, but she had to be sixteen. If she didn’t find something to do, Granny and Papa would expect her to spend the summer at Jenner by the Sea again, just like last summer and the summer before that and every summer since they’d moved from Paxtown. She loved them dearly, but three months around their house with nothing to do wore her down.
They had books, of course, lots of them, most about building a house from foundation to roof, how to remodel, how to make repairs, plumbing and wiring, etc. Granny collected cookbooks. Dawn wouldn’t have minded learning to cook, but they had a “one-butt kitchen,” as Papa called it, and Granny liked being the only “butt” at the sink and stove. Last summer, Dawn found herself so desperate, she weeded every inch of Granny’s garden below the house.
The class bell rang, jolting Dawn from her reverie. She stuffed her notebook into her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for the door.
If she wanted to stay home this summer, she was just going to have to spell it out. She’d beg if needed. If Mom said no, she’d enlist Mitch and Christopher’s help. They always had better luck with Mom than she did.
Dinner was almost over before Dawn gathered enough courage to say she wanted to spend summer at home. Mom glanced up, surprised. “But you always spend the summer at Jenner.”
“I know, but I’d rather stay home this year.”
“What’s Granny said about this?”
“I haven’t told her yet.” Avoiding her mother’s look, Dawn smiled at Christopher. “Maybe I can help keep an eye on Little Dweeb when you have an open house.”
“I only do open houses on the weekends, and Mitch is here.”
So much for trust.
“What do you plan to do for three months?” Mitch cut a piece of roast beef and forked it into his mouth.
She batted her eyelashes at him. “You could teach me to drive.”
He laughed in mock horror. “No way! Besides, you’re not old enough.”
“I could learn to drive one of your tractors.”
“And risk my vineyard? I don’t think so.”
“I can help with laundry and cooking.”
Mom spooned a second helping of mashed potatoes onto Christopher’s plate. “Your grandparents will be disappointed. They expect you to spend time with them.”
“I could go out one weekend a month. It’s not like I’m saying I don’t want to spend any time with them.”
Mitch gave her mother a look. “It might be nice having Pita here for a summer. She’s not going to be around that much longer, you know. Three more years and she’ll be off to college.”
“I’m not looking for a fight, Mitch. You know how things are.”
Mitch put his napkin on the table. “I’m going to be late for the elders’ meeting.” He leaned down and kissed Dawn on the cheek. “It’ll be good to have you around this summer, Pita.” He came around the table and kissed her mother full on the mouth. “Won’t it?” He kissed her again. He ruffled Christopher’s thatch of curling reddish brown hair. “No dragging your feet about going to bed tonight, buster. You still have a couple of days of school left.”
Her mother sent Christopher to take a bath and gathered the dinner dishes. She glanced at Dawn’s plate. “You didn’t eat much.”
“Wasn’t hungry. I can help around the house, Mom. Do the dishes. Do the laundry.”
“That’d be nice.” Mom stood at the sink. “Okay.” She turned and looked at Dawn. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“
Dawn gave her a half-pleading smile. “I was hoping you would help me with that.”
“No way.” Her mother turned to rinse the plates before putting them in the dishwasher. “They wouldn’t believe me if I told them you’d rather be here than out there with them.”
Dawn worried and rehearsed the call for two days.
“Was it your mother’s idea to make you stay home all summer?”
“No.”
Silence.
“You’ll still come out on weekends, won’t you?”
Dawn chewed her lip. “Not every weekend, Granny.”
Another silence.
“We were thinking about taking you on a trip to Yellowstone. Papa isn’t getting any younger. This will probably
