“Clam-diggers.” Carolyn laughed with her.
Dawn opened the accordion door. Hair mussed, bleary-eyed, and pale, she wore a pair of white athletic socks and Trip’s old navy blue terry-cloth bathrobe. Her blue eyes still looked shadowed with exhaustion. Carolyn greeted her before getting her jacket and going out the door.
“Where are you going, Mom? Aren’t you having breakfast with us?”
“I’m going to check under the garage, bring up some presto logs for a fire.”
Hildie turned bacon in the frying pan. “Forget the presto logs for now, Carolyn. Just open the safe downstairs and bring up whatever’s inside.” She told her the combination. “If I’m going to be downsizing, a good place to start is some of the jewelry I’ve been keeping locked up and never wear.”
Carolyn went out into the rain. Dawn eased into a chair, rested her elbow on the window, and looked out at the glutted Russian River.
Hildie studied her granddaughter. It was such a pleasure having Dawn under her roof again. “It is a beautiful view, even in flood season, isn’t it, honey?”
Silent, Dawn rubbed her back in an abstracted manner.
“You okay, honey?” In the morning light, Hildie noticed even more clearly the signs that something was wrong. Other than her swollen abdomen, the girl was skin and bones. Was she just worried, anxious about Jason and the baby they’d both hoped and prayed for, for so long?
“Hmmm? Oh.” Dawn smiled, still distracted. “Just tired.”
“Thinking about Jason?”
“I think about Jason all the time, Granny. I miss him so much, especially now. But God is using him where he is. Two guys in his unit have become Christians.”
“You picked a good man, Dawn.”
“I won’t be able to e-mail him until I get back to town. He’ll be worried. I should’ve thought of that.”
“Georgia will let him know you’re fine.”
“Jason didn’t know I was coming home.”
Hildie found that information disturbing. “I should’ve come into town instead of having you drive all the way out here. We could have been warm as toast in Alexander Valley. And you could’ve kept in touch with your husband.”
“I wanted to be out here.”
“At least someone besides me loves the place.”
“I didn’t want any interruptions.”
Troubled, Hildie looked at her, but before she could ask what was going on, Carolyn came back in the door with a stack of papers and a box covered with flowery contact paper. “Set it over there on the counter, Carolyn. We’ll go through everything after breakfast.”
Carolyn watched May Flower Dawn pick at her food. Her blue eyes didn’t have any sparkle, and her cheeks were pale. “Didn’t you sleep at all last night, Dawn?”
“I couldn’t shut off my mind.”
Her mother offered more toast. “She’s been thinking about Jason.”
“Not surprising.” Carolyn took a piece and buttered it. “The whole church is praying for him. So are we.” Carolyn noticed Dawn grimace. “Are you having contractions?”
Dawn rubbed her sides. “She’s running out of room in there.”
Carolyn folded her hands and watched her daughter closely. “You’re sure the baby is a girl?”
“She would’ve had a sonogram, Carolyn. Of course, she knows.”
“I knew long before that, Granny. I had a dream about her. She was running and playing along the edge of the surf at Goat Rock Beach.” She smiled at Carolyn. “And you and Granny were sitting together on the sand, talking like good friends.”
A nice dream. Carolyn cleared dishes. She scraped Dawn’s cold scrambled eggs into the garbage while imagining talking with her mother like that. When had there ever been a time when she hadn’t needed to be careful about every word she said?
Her mother set the pile of papers and box on the table. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” While Carolyn washed dishes, her mother and Dawn sat at the table, going through papers. “Deed to the house, car and life insurance policies, Social Security cards, wedding and death certificates, living trust, burial arrangements, list of bank accounts…” She fanned the papers, pausing over one. “Oma’s naturalization papers. I forgot I had them. She was so proud when she passed the test.”
Mom set the certificate aside. “Oma said we were the real American citizens. Those born to it didn’t appreciate it. She made us all study as if we had to take the test too, to earn the right to call ourselves Americans. She thought that until Trip went to war and then Charlie…” She picked up an envelope yellowed by age. “The letter from Charlie’s commanding officer…” She held it for a moment and set it aside unopened.
Carolyn dried her hands and picked it up. While her mom opened the box filled with smaller boxes, Carolyn opened the letter and read.
… offer my heartfelt condolences on the death of your son… excellent young man… well-respected by everyone who served with him… could always count on him… brave… a pleasure to know him… will never forget…
Mom lifted out a black velvet box and snapped it open. “Papa gave me these pearls on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.” She took them out and handed them to Dawn.
“They’re beautiful.”
“You keep them.”
“I can’t, Granny. They should go to Mom.”
Carolyn folded the letter back into the yellowed envelope and put it on the table. “Granny wants you to have the pearls.”
“You and Mitch gave me pearls for my sixteenth birthday. Remember?”
Carolyn’s mother looked hurt. “I’m not slighting your mother, Dawn. Mitch gave her better pearls than these for Christmas two years ago and a bracelet and earrings to go with them.”
Dawn fingered the necklace. “They’re lovely.” Her eyes grew moist. “Save them for my daughter.”
Her mother closed the box and opened another. Unfolding a lace-trimmed embroidered handkerchief, she showed off a gold, pearl, and jade brooch. “I gave this to Oma on her eightieth birthday. You…” Her voice faltered. “You were gone. Anyway, Oma would want you to have it.”
Touched, Carolyn accepted the box. “I don’t remember ever seeing Oma wear this.”
“She didn’t. Not once. I doubt she ever took it out of the box.” Mom pointed. “That’s real, not cheap costume jewelry. I wanted to give her something special, something she would never buy for herself.”
Carolyn understood all too well. “Like the cashmere shawl I gave you for Christmas a few years ago? or the pendant I gave you for Mother’s Day?”
Mom’s eyes widened. “They’re too special to use for every day.”
Carolyn searched her face. “I thought you didn’t like them.”
“Of course I like them. They’re the nicest gifts I’ve ever received.”
Dawn interrupted. “Maybe Oma felt the same way about the brooch, Granny.”
Mom shook her head. “I thought she’d love it, but she said I’d wasted my money.”
Seeing the sheen of tears in her mother’s eyes, Carolyn took the brooch out of the box. “This is exquisite, Mom. Maybe she was afraid to wear it.” She pinned the brooch to her sweater. “It’s beautiful. I’ll cherish it. Thank you.”
Eyes glistening, Mom gave her a wobbly smile. “You’re welcome.”
Dawn’s blue eyes shone. “Perfect.” She propped her chin in the heels of her hands. “This is exactly what I prayed for all across the country.”
“What?” Carolyn’s mother looked blank.
“That we three could just sit and talk about things that shaped our lives and our relationships.”
Carolyn had spent years sidestepping questions, pushing memories back, training herself to live in the present. Dredging up the past wasn’t her idea of an answer to prayer. She felt her mom’s glance and didn’t meet it.