“I still miss you, Charlie,” Carolyn whispered and closed the book. Her brother had always had a contagious laugh. Had he lived, he’d be married with grown children and grandchildren by now.
She put her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. Her heart still ached. Being cooped up and feeling like a third wheel didn’t help. Mom and May Flower Dawn were close. That was good.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
She couldn’t undo the past. She couldn’t reclaim what had never belonged to her.
God, grant me the courage to change the things I can.
Maybe it was time to talk about the past… if she could do so with love. As much as she wanted to say it didn’t matter, it still had the power to torment her. She’d come out to the beach a hundred times and written her sins in the sand, watching them wash away. But the guilt and shame always came back to haunt her.
“God won’t take you where His love won’t protect you,” Boots had told her. “You lived through it. You’re a survivor. The past doesn’t have any power over you anymore.”
Only the power she gave it.
Boots knew about the circumstances of her pregnancy. Carolyn had told her about her life in Haight-Ashbury and Rachel Altman. She’d even confessed her relationship with Ash-sordid, abusive, heart- and soul-crushing. But she’d never told her about the beekeeper who lived next door and what she’d done with him.
God, grant me the wisdom… Your will, not mine be done.
Your will, Lord. Not Mom’s or mine or even May Flower Dawn’s.
Calm again, she stacked the yearbooks on top of the box of presto logs and headed back upstairs.
Mom sat in her recliner, reading a magazine. She glanced up as Carolyn came in the back door. “It must be freezing down there.”
“Cold and damp, but not too bad.” Dawn was asleep on the couch, the white afghan tucked around her. Carolyn set the box of presto logs on top of the other one and put the yearbooks on the coffee table. “She’s awfully pale.”
Mom put the magazine away. “She is, isn’t she? And so thin.”
“Did she tell you what made her drive across the country?”
“Just what she told us already. Pregnant women get strange urges. Maybe we’re like salmon. We want to return to the stream where we were born.”
“Then she should’ve headed for LA.” Carolyn saw Mom wince and wished she hadn’t said it. “I found Charlie’s high school yearbooks.”
Pain flickered across Mom’s face. “I haven’t looked at them in years. I won’t have any room for them when I move.”
When she moved, not if. “I’d like to keep them, if it’s all right with you.”
“Of course. You probably want some of the pictures in that box, too. I have my favorites hanging in the bedroom. I’ll take those with me.”
The lights flickered. Carolyn opened a box of presto logs. “I need to break a couple of these so we have kindling, and I’d better do it now before we lose power.” Mom told her where to find Dad’s hatchet and suggested taking one of the grocery bags under the sink to carry the pieces.
Carolyn chopped two logs into thick, pancake-size chunks; tucked a few old newspapers in the bag; and went back inside. Just as she closed the door behind herself, the lights went out and the heater shut down.
“Well, there it goes.” Mom sighed. “At least we still have some daylight, but the house is going to get cold. There won’t be heat downstairs. Why don’t you bring your things up? Dawn can sleep with me in my bed and you can have that room. We’ll keep the fire going and leave the bedroom doors ajar.”
Carolyn rearranged several boxes. “First things first, Mom. We’ve got fuel; now we need to figure out how to cook.”
“There’s a Coleman stove under Dad’s workbench.”
Carolyn went out to find it.
Dawn awakened to rain splattering the windows and a crackling fire. Granny sat quietly reading Oma’s journal. “Where’s Mom?” Dawn pushed herself up slowly, rubbing at her side.
“Out in the garage.” Granny put the journal aside.
It was growing darker by the minute. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A couple of hours. You must have needed it.” Granny studied her. “How do you feel now?”
“Groggy. Hungry.”
“Your mom is trying to find the Coleman stove. We’ll need it if we’re going to cook. The generator went off. I’m out of propane. No light, no heat, no stove.”
Dawn heard her mother come in the back door and move around in the kitchen before entering the living room. She sank wearily into the chair closest to the fire. “Finally found it under the garage. It was with Dad’s fishing poles.”
“Logical place for it.” Granny nodded. “Did you see a down sleeping bag?”
“Yep, but it’s mildewed.”
“More stuff for the dump,” Granny muttered.
“I’ll use Dawn’s bedding, Mom.”
Granny took the flashlight and went into the master bedroom. She came back with a pile of clothes. She dropped a dark green sweatshirt and pants onto Mom’s lap and a navy blue set beside Dawn. “Dad’s. I meant to offer these things to Mitch and Christopher, but I kept forgetting. Take off those dirty pants, Carolyn, and put on the sweats. You must be frozen through.”
Mom laughed. “After all the trips in and out of the garage and up and down those stairs, I’m nice and toasty.”
“Well, you won’t be for long.”
Mom went to change. Dawn pulled on the extra layer. Papa’s sweatpants pooled around her feet. She laughed. At least they fit her waistline. “Don’t I look fetching?”
Granny chuckled. She went back into the bedroom and returned with thick pairs of Papa’s socks. She insisted on warming the stone soup. “It’s my house. I’m supposed to be the hostess.” They ate in the living room, Mom sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the fireplace, Dawn and Granny in the two yellow swivel chairs on either side of her.
Dawn relished the closeness. This was a first-the three of them sitting and talking, like three buddies at a sleepover. “I’m glad the roads are closed and the power is off.”
Granny shook her head. “Being cut off from the world is the last thing a lady in your condition should want.”
“This is fun, don’t you think? The three of us sitting around the fire, enjoying one another’s company.” Deeper conversations could happen under these circumstances. She wouldn’t push yet. God, You do it. Strip away their resistance. Open their hearts. Get them talking.
Granny tucked her hands inside Papa’s old sweatshirt. “It’s why Papa and I moved out here. We hoped this would become a gathering place for the whole family. Maybe I should keep the place, for you and Jason and your children to enjoy.”
Mom looked at her with dismay. She set her empty bowl aside and pulled her legs up against her chest, gazing into the fire. Dawn didn’t have to guess what she was thinking, and she decided it was time to make a few things clear. “Jason intends to stay in the military, Granny. He could be transferred anywhere anytime.”
“Just a thought.” Granny sighed. “Things don’t always turn out the way we hope.”
“I noticed you were reading Oma’s journal again. Did she ever come up here, Granny?”
“She drove up once to see the place, stayed for two days, and went back to Merced. We invited her to live with us, but Mama said there wasn’t anything in Jenner that mattered to her.” She pinched lint off the sweatpants.