If there’s a real storm, we could end up stuck out there.”
“Too late, Pita.” Mitch gave her a cajoling smile. “Your mom agreed, and rightfully so. Granny said this is probably the last year she’ll have the family gathering, and she has her heart set on it.” He looked across at Mom. “She’ll pass you the baton.”
“Did she say that?” Mom sounded hopeful.
“Not exactly, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“It’s not about time, Mitch.” Mom looked defeated. She glanced at Dawn. “You’d better pack extra clothes. They’ll want you to stay through New Year’s.”
Dawn’s heart sank. “Maybe Christopher could stay this time.”
“No, Christopher can’t. Besides, you haven’t spent a weekend out there in over two months.”
Before Dawn could protest, Mitch spoke up. “If Jason wants to see you badly enough, he’ll drive out.”
Christmas went exactly as Dawn expected. When Mom tried to help, Granny acted like a pit bull guarding her territory. Only Dawn was allowed into the kitchen “so she’ll know what to do when she has a home of her own.” Sometimes Dawn wondered if Granny just wanted Mom out of the way and things back to the way they used to be when she was a little girl and Granny was her nanny.
After hours of labor, dinner disappeared in less than thirty minutes. Mom insisted on doing the dishes. “You cooked; I clean.” It started to turn into an argument before Papa and Mitch stepped in. Mitch said he’d help, and they’d open gifts when the dishes were washed and put away.
Papa took Granny by the arm and escorted her into the living room, where she sat nervous as a cat, staring at the closed door to the kitchen. She couldn’t stand to be idle. Papa told her to put on one of her old Christmas movies. “How about
“There’s no time for
“How about
“We don’t have that one,” Granny said.
“How about
“A BB gun,” Dawn corrected him.
“We don’t have that one either,” Granny said.
“How about
“It’s not a Christmas story.”
When Papa put his head back and let out a heavy sigh, Granny got up. “We can have some nice Christmas music.”
Things eased up after Mom and Mitch came into the living room. Mom looked more relaxed. Mitch held her hand. When they sat on the couch, he put his arm around her and pulled her in tight against him. Christopher played elf and passed out the presents. Papa put out a big box so they could wad up wrapping paper and “shoot baskets.” Christopher pleaded to camp out in the living room so he could enjoy the colorful Christmas lights on the tree and the fire burning low in the fireplace. Mitch thought that was a grand idea and whispered something in Mom’s ear that made her blush.
“How’s Santa going to come if you’re here in the living room?” Papa teased Christopher.
“He’s not coming. We already opened all the presents.” Christopher grinned. “Besides, Papa, how’d he get down your chimney with a fire burning?”
They all laughed, even Granny, who sat with the robin’s-egg blue velvet robe with embroidered trim Mom had given her. She kept stroking it.
Mitch stood, drawing Mom up with him, and bid everyone good night. Granny smiled and nodded and told them to feel free to sleep in the following morning, then watched Mom leave the room, a pained and wistful look on her face.
Long after Granny and Papa had gone to bed and Christopher had settled down in a sleeping bag on the living room floor, Dawn lay awake.
Jason didn’t call.
Mom, Mitch, and Christopher piled everything into the Suburban and headed home after breakfast the next morning, leaving Dawn at Jenner with Granny and Papa. “We’re going to have such a good time together,” Granny promised, and Dawn didn’t want to disappoint her. While Papa dozed in front of the television, Granny made an angel food cake. Dawn sat at the kitchen table and talked about Jason. She showed off the bracelet he’d given her, though she left out personal details of what had happened during their gift exchange.
“Your first love.” Granny smiled. “It’s a milestone.”
“He’s my last love, too, Granny.”
“That’s the way it was for me and Papa. He was the first man I dated and the only one I’ve ever loved.” She slid the angel food cake into the oven. “I think it was that way with Oma, too. Fidelity must run in the family, just skipped one generation.”
Dawn recognized the reference to Mom’s hippy years and ignored it. “What was Opa like?”
Granny sat across from her. “He was grand. Tall, blond, handsome. He was at least a head taller than Mama. And strong as Atlas. I remember him lifting me as though I didn’t weigh more than a feather. He worked hard. So did Mama, of course, but my father enjoyed life more. He didn’t allow things to worry him the way Mama did. He sang in the orchard. My mother never sang, except in church. And he had the patience of Job, especially with Mama. She’d get so het up about things, had to have her way.”
Dawn held back a smile, thinking Granny could fit that description, not that she’d like hearing it. “Do you have any pictures of him?”
“Just a couple. There’s one in the bedroom on my dresser. They had it taken before Bernie went away to college. Bernie had copies made later on. Photographs were expensive in those days, and they never had a lot of money to spare. Rikka drew pictures of Papa and Mama and had them framed. They’re probably in one of the storage boxes out in the garage.”
Dawn followed Granny into the bedroom later while she put some towels away. She picked up the portrait and sat on her grandparents’ old king bed to study it. Oma, with dark hair cut short and pushed back from her plain face, stood straight, shoulders back, chin up, eyes straight ahead, lips curved into a taut smile. She stared straight into the camera lens, expression grim, as though having her picture taken was the last thing she wanted to do. Opa, on the other hand, looked at ease, a relaxed smile on his lips. Strikingly handsome in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, he stood with one shoulder behind Oma, his head tilted toward her. Dawn imagined he had his arm around her waist, holding her in place. “Opa was sure handsome.”
“Blond hair and blue eyes.” Granny tucked away the towels and came out of the pink- and black-tiled bathroom. She took the picture and studied it with a smile. “Bernie got his looks. All the girls at school fell in love with him. Cloe and Rikka got his coloring, too.” She set the picture firmly on her dresser. “I took after Mama.”
36
Jason called two days after Christmas. “We just got back from LA.” When she asked if he’d gone to Hollywood or down to Disneyland, he said no. His mom wanted him to walk the campuses at UCLA and USC and Pepperdine.
“I thought she wanted you to go to Berkeley.”
“We’re not talking about Berkeley anymore.” He changed the subject before she could ask why. “When are you coming home?”
