Her Daughter’s Dream

a girl with romantic inclinations. Jason, is it? He’s the one you want to marry?”

Dawn blushed. “I can hope.” Covering her embarrassment, she gave Oma a smug smile. “I finished Ivanhoe last night.”

“Did you now? Well, aren’t you the smart little cookie?” Oma looked pleased. “Go ahead and read my journal. It’s only the first section that’s in German. I started practicing my English as soon as I could. If nothing else, it’ll help put you to sleep.”

Dawn flipped through pages. “Any recipes for love potions or advice on how to win a boy’s heart?”

Oma laughed. “You’re on your own there, my girl. I only went out with one man and ended up marrying him. But there’s advice on how to mend fences and build bridges. Not that I’ve ever been good at either.”

31

That night, after Mom and Oma had gone to bed, Dawn stayed up reading the worn journal. The first pages, in German, looked like lists and maybe recipes. The journal switched to English beginning with a heading, “Tea Service for Lady Daisy.” A recipe for spicy chicken sandwiches was followed by advice on how to wash linens, polish silver, and clean wood floors. Sometimes a line would be written that wouldn’t fit in among the rest.

Another year and I will forget why I came to England. Do I want to be as hopeless as Miss Millicent?

She’d filled one page with information on crop rotation and how to prune almond trees and grapevines.

I bought a car today. Niclas is not happy. I am!

More menus followed, along with a list of “Summer Bedlam Activities.” Oma had filled the last two pages with Scripture.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths. Proverbs 3:5-6

Oma had made a vine and grape border around this Scripture. The second stood alone with more space around it than anything she had written on the other pages.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a (wo) man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:11-13

Dawn turned the last page.

I have lived out my mother’s hope and pray I have given wings to my daughters’ dreams.

Leaving space, she wrote again.

A coddled child grows up crippled.

The last entry put an ending to the journal.

I lived and loved the best way I knew how, trusting God to keep His promise never to lose one of His own. I hold fast to what Mama taught me. In Him, we live and breathe. In Him, we will one day find one another again. In Him, we are one. In this life, we will not love perfectly. In the next, God promises we will. I hold to that hope. I cling to that dream.

* * *

On the way home to Alexander Valley, Mom fell into her habitual silence. It didn’t bother Dawn as much this time, not after a week with Oma. “Can I go back with you next summer?”

Mom smiled, eyes straight ahead. “So you enjoyed yourself.”

“Very much.” She didn’t want to be left out or left behind again. “Christopher and I could camp outside on Oma’s lawn.”

“He’d like that.”

Well, her mother hadn’t said she couldn’t come. “Oma knows more than anyone I’ve ever met.” She gave her mother a teasing smile. “Even Mitch.”

Mom let out a soft laugh. “She’s lived decades longer.”

Dawn enjoyed the new rapport between them. “Could we go to a stationer’s on the way home? I’d like to get a thank-you gift for Oma.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A diploma.”

They stopped on the way through Santa Rosa. “I want something that looks like a real diploma. It has to look authentic. This one.” She pointed. “‘This certifies that Marta Waltert has graduated magna cum laude from the University of Hard Knocks.’”

Mom laughed. “She’s going to love it!”

When they picked up the framed diploma, Dawn wrote a note and put it in the box before sending it by Federal Express to Merced.

Dear Oma,

I learned more from you in one week than I’ve learned in ten years of school. I hope to visit again soon.

Love, Dawn

Ten days later, a package arrived Priority Mail from Oma. Dawn opened it at the kitchen table with Mom watching. “A leather journal! Just like the one her friend Rosie gave her.” Dawn ran her hand over the beautifully etched tan cover. When she opened it, a note fluttered to the floor. Mom picked it up and handed it to her.

If you learned more from me in one week than you learned in ten years of school, you weren’t paying attention! Open those lovely blue eyes and look at the world around you! Open those cute shell-shaped ears and listen! Get busy on going after your dream. Thank you for my diploma. I have it hanging on my bedroom wall where I can admire it every night and pray for the blessed child who sent it.

Love, Oma

Dear Rosie,

Carolyn brought May Flower Dawn with her this year. I had given up hope of ever getting to know my great-granddaughter. She was such an obnoxious child, so full of herself, so spoiled by Hildemara and critical of Carolyn-not that it was entirely her fault. Christopher usually comes with Carolyn, but Dawn asked to come this time. I see that as a miracle. I didn’t think she liked me.

Dawn has a “crush” on a young man who barely knows she exists. I doubt that. The girl is a beauty-long blonde hair, blue eyes, nicely proportioned. I was taken aback. She is the mirror image of Elise. Thankfully, she is very different in temperament. May Flower Dawn and I had several very nice, long conversations. I was surprised to discover she has a teachable spirit. I am quite taken with her. She may very well turn out to have the best of Hildemara Rose and Carolyn in her, and perhaps a little of me as well. Not too much, I hope.

Dawn sent a gift. According to the diploma she had made, I graduated magna cum laude from the University of Hard Knocks. I laughed and wept when I saw it, and I wept more when I read her sweet note. May Flower Dawn wants to come again. I am filled with joy! Dare I hope she might be the one to bring my daughter home to me? Oh, how I would love to sit and serve Hildemara, Carolyn, and May Flower Dawn tea on my patio. Think of it, Rosie! Four generations of women together at last. We could drink in the scent of summer roses and talk. Oh, how I would love that…

32

Three weeks later, Granny called. When Oma didn’t answer her telephone, her neighbor had gone over to check