athletic socks and slipped quickly between the warming sheets. Shivering violently, she snuggled down deep into the covers, waiting for the warmth to soak in, while above her, Mom and Dawn went on talking.
Carolyn felt her throat close. Hadn’t it always been this way? How could it be any other way when her daughter had spent the first six years of her life completely dependent on Mom? Carolyn didn’t want to be bitter. She owed Mom gratitude for taking care of Dawn. If not her mother, it would have been some indifferent babysitter earning minimum wage in an overcrowded day care center.
Footsteps crossed the room above her-two pairs this time, one toward the master bedroom, the other toward the refurbished front bedroom. After that, she listened to the storm rattle the windows.
Closing her eyes, Carolyn listened to the surf and wind and rain. She dreamed she was a child again, walking in a forest of mustard flowers. Bees hummed around her, but she wasn’t frightened of them. She came to a barbed- wire fence and climbed through. Her dress caught and tore. She stood behind a white house watching a man in overalls walk among two rows of white boxes on wooden pedestals. He removed a lid, setting it aside, and then carefully and slowly lifted out a wooden frame filled in with honeycomb. Breaking off a piece, he turned and smiled at her. “Come on over, honeybee. I won’t hurt you.”
Carolyn awakened abruptly, heart pounding. It took a few minutes for the dream to recede. Shivering, she turned the electric blanket to ten and pulled the covers over her head.
54
Dawn awakened when the Black Forest cuckoo clock struck three. She curled onto her side, listening to the rain coming down like the cadence of a marching band. She and Granny had talked after Mom went to bed. Granny wanted to know about Jason, and she wondered what Dawn had done with her latest house. Dawn wanted to talk about Granny’s future. After some resistance, Granny gave in.
“You know your mother wanted me to move right after Papa died. It was just too soon to make any changes. And I’ve been fine here by myself.” She let out her breath. “At least until this past year.”
“What happened?”
“Last winter the power went out for five days. If your mom could’ve gotten out here, I would’ve started packing. As soon as the weather improved, your mom and Mitch went to all the trouble of putting in that generator. They had to hire a lawyer. Heaven knows how much they spent on the whole project. It wouldn’t have been much of a thank-you if I’d said ‘Oh, by the way, I’m ready to move now.’ And besides, it can be very nice out here most of the year.”
Dawn grinned. “And you always said Oma was stubborn.”
Granny put her head back. “I didn’t think I was being stubborn. But I guess that’s how it looked. Then after my fall a few months back, your mother brought up the idea again.”
“But you’re ready to move now. Aren’t you?”
“As ready as I’m ever going to be.” Granny glowered. “But I want a place of my own, not a room in some senior care facility.”
“You don’t want to live with anyone, Granny?”
“I don’t want to live with
Dawn caught something in Granny’s tone that gave her hope. “What about moving in with Mom and Mitch?”
Granny gave a derisive laugh. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“It just won’t, that’s all. And don’t go asking your mother about it. You’ll just put her in an awkward position.” Granny had changed the subject after that.
Sleepless, Dawn pulled the covers over her shoulders and snuggled down into the flannel sheets.
Dawn ran her hand over her belly. Her daughter would be arriving soon. She wanted it to be a time of joy, a chance to come together and celebrate. Dawn didn’t want them at odds with one another, seeing one another through past hurts. The stakes were too high for that now.
Hildie awakened early. The house creaked like a ship adrift in rough seas; the rain still pounded. She had a flashlight on her side table and pointed it at her clock. Six fifteen. Trip had always been first up and started the coffee. Oh, how she missed that man! Trip had been the only man she ever loved.
If she wasn’t careful, she could sink into despair over her losses. She still missed her son, Charlie. She missed Carolyn, too, aching for what might have been. It was too late now. And she would never stop missing Mama-or wishing they had somehow made peace before the end. Dawn had been the light that pulled her up out of the darkness after Charlie was killed and Carolyn came home like a starving waif. Feeling needed, Hildie stepped in, wanting to help. Dawn had been God’s blessing.
Hildie pushed the covers off, tucked her feet into her fuzzy slippers, pulled on her robe, and went into the bathroom. When she finished her morning ablutions, she turned on the lamp in the living room and went into the kitchen to set up the coffeemaker, decaf.
A few minutes later, the back door opened. “I heard you get up.” Carolyn came in, hair in a French braid, and wearing another sweater over her long hippy skirt and leggings, blue this time, the exact shade of her eyes. Trip’s eyes.
Hildie apologized. She hadn’t meant to awaken anyone. In truth, she was glad of the company. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Okay.” She poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Do you realize how long it’s been since you stayed overnight out here?”
“Christmas, before Dad died.” Carolyn sat at the table.
“I want a house, Carolyn, not an apartment or a room.”
Carolyn raised her brows in surprise. “Like the one you and Dad built for Oma?”
Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little house on Carolyn and Mitch’s property? Close enough to be a part of their lives, but not so close she’d be in their way. A dream for her, probably a nightmare for Carolyn. She’d better set her daughter’s mind at ease. “There’s a nice trailer park in Windsor, seniors only, right around the corner from the church.” Why was Carolyn frowning like that?
“Well, we can look there if you like.”
“What’s wrong with that idea?”
“I just can’t see you in a trailer park, Mom.”
No doubt, she’d like it better if her mother were under lock and key with guardians to keep an eye on her. “We had wonderful trips in our trailer.”
“Yes. I guess we did.”
“You guess?”
“It was a travel trailer. Not something to live in.”
“Well, I’m not talking about moving into a travel trailer. I’m talking about one of those double-wides.”
“Okay. Don’t get upset.” Carolyn sipped her coffee. “Did Dawn tell you why she drove out here?”
“She told both of us.”
“Did she give you any other reason why she wanted to do something as foolish as drive cross-country in winter when she’s about to have a baby?”
“Being with family isn’t foolish, Carolyn. It’s a good enough reason, if you ask me.” She had thanked God countless times Carolyn came home when she did. They might never have known what happened to her otherwise, though at times she wondered if she knew much of anything about her daughter.
“I hope so.”
