“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 strangers.”
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. Lord, they never really talk to each other, do they? They love each other, but they don’t see love is shared.
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.
Love one another, You said, Lord. Help me show them how.
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.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Carolyn had always been overly sensitive. “A girl usually wants her husband or mother around when her time comes.” A shadow flickered across her daughter’s face, and Hildie felt a twinge of remorse. She had sent Carolyn to Boots. Hildie had cried buckets over that decision, but she and Trip knew it was the only way to protect Carolyn from all the gossip. They’d both been depressed for ages after she left. They’d lost Charlie in Vietnam. They’d no sooner gotten their daughter back than they had to send her away. It had hurt even more believing she would give up their only grandchild for adoption.
When Boots told them Carolyn wanted to keep the baby, Hildie had been overjoyed. Boots said she’d love to have Carolyn live with her, but Hildie wanted her daughter back. She wanted to hold her grandchild. She told Trip she wanted to quit nursing and stay home. They didn’t need the money, and Carolyn would need help. They sat down and laid out a plan to help their daughter recover from the lost years in Haight-Ashbury. They wouldn’t ask questions. They’d leave the past behind them. And Carolyn had done so well. She’d finished college and excelled in the real estate office.
Hildie thought they’d go on as they were. It had been a shock when Carolyn said she wanted to move out. Hildie had seen something in her eyes. Her daughter couldn’t wait to get away from them. And, oh, the pain, when she had to give up Dawn.
“The sun’s coming up,” Carolyn said. “Not that we can see much of it through the clouds.”
“More rain through today and tomorrow.” Hildie sipped her lukewarm coffee. “I’m a little worried we’ll run out of propane. The truck is supposed to try again on Monday.”
Carolyn got up. “‘Through waves and clouds and storms, He gently clears the way.’ Let’s hope the roads are open on Monday.” She took the carafe from the coffeemaker. “Would you like your coffee warmed up?”
“One cup is about all I can handle these days.”
Carolyn replenished her own. “Didn’t Dad buy presto logs?”
“They’re under the garage.”
“I’ll bring some up, just in case.” She sat again. “I should take a look at what’s under there anyway.”
“Why don’t you wear a pair of my pants so you don’t ruin your nice skirt? Take a look in my closet.” While Carolyn went to see about the pants, Hildie took out eggs and bacon. Carolyn came into the kitchen wearing a pair of red polyester slacks that hit midcalf. What a difference four inches in height could make. Hildie laughed. “High-water pants.”