Marta's Legacy Collection (68 page)

Dear Rosie,

Carolyn and Mitch are married. I am so happy for them. The wedding was lovely and held in the backyard of Mitch’s rather palatial home in Alexander Valley. The place looks like a Tuscan villa, with cypress trees lining his driveway and a vineyard on the hills behind the house with all its grand landscaping, pool, and gazebo. Bernhard was all praises about it. I was equally impressed. I remember Mitch when he was a skinny, freckled redhead on a bicycle, riding off with Charlie to do some mischief and, later, a gangly young man with eyes for Carolyn, though she never seemed aware of his adoration. He has grown handsome, competent, confident—a man who always did know what he wanted: Carolyn. My prayers for her are answered. Mitch sees her as a gift from God and will treat her accordingly.

Carolyn asked May Flower Dawn to be her flower girl, but the child refused. She sat in the front row and sulked. Hildemara made no effort to correct her rude misbehavior. I wanted to turn both of them over my knee. Dawn will stay with Hildemara and Trip until Carolyn and Mitch return from a Hawaiian honeymoon. Hildemara understands she must relinquish May Flower Dawn. Or says she does. I wonder.

I tried to talk with Hildemara about our past, but she cut the conversation short. All I can do is keep holding out the olive branch and hope one day she will accept it.

Oh, Rosie, I look back and wish I had handled things differently. . . .

22

Mom and Dad greeted them on their return from a glorious week in Hawaii. While Dad took Mitch into the living room, Mom took Carolyn into the kitchen. She looked worried. “What’s wrong, Mom? Where’s Dawn?”

“In her room. We explained everything to her, but she doesn’t fully understand.” She offered Carolyn a cup of tea or coffee. “This is the only real home she’s ever known.”

What about the house on Vineyard Avenue?
Carolyn wanted to say.
Didn’t that count?
“She doesn’t want to go with me. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“She’s only seven, Carolyn.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“I know that. It’s just going to be very hard for her to adjust to all these changes.”

Mom’s red-rimmed eyes told Carolyn her daughter wasn’t the only one having a hard time.

“I’m sorry about that, but I think the sooner we go, the better.”

“You won’t even stay for dinner?”

“Is she packed?”

May Flower Dawn clung to her grandfather. Pried loose and strapped into the backseat, she cried for an hour. Carolyn and Mitch tried to reassure her. It didn’t help. When she finally fell asleep in the backseat, Mitch took Carolyn’s hand. “Give her time.”

Mitch carried their things into the house. Carolyn unpacked Dawn’s clothes, hanging her dresses in the closet and putting the rest into the dresser. She left the Barbies and doll clothes in the box for Dawn to unpack the next morning. When she told Dawn to get ready for bed, she did. As she tucked her in, Dawn started to cry again. “I want to go home!”

“This is your home.”

“I want
Granny
!”

Pierced through the heart, Carolyn bent down and kissed her daughter’s head. “Sorry, May Flower Dawn. You’re stuck with your
mother
.”

23

Wide-awake and miserable, Dawn lay curled in a ball in the middle of her fancy new bed. Her mother had turned off the light and closed the door, leaving only a tiny night-light in the bathroom to contend against total darkness. Even though she was seven and a half, Dawn was a little nervous in this big, dark, silent room. Unlike her mother’s bungalow on Vineyard Avenue, Mitch’s house stood at the end of a long driveway lined with cypress trees, too far from the road to hear cars or see headlights.

Dawn didn’t want to live in this house so far away from Granny and Papa. Her mother wouldn’t have time for her. She’d never see her school friends again. Granny said she and Papa would come to visit soon, but what did “soon” mean? Tomorrow? Next week?

Dawn wiped away angry tears. She had initially liked Mitch, but now that he’d married Mom, she wasn’t so sure.

A soft wind and moonlight cast frightening shadows outside her window. Dawn huddled deep under the blankets, covered her head, and cried herself to sleep.

Mom opened the door the next morning and came in, all smiles and cheer. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

Dawn hated that her mother looked so happy when she was so miserable. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m making bacon and waffles.”

Dawn set her jaw, refusing to be tempted by her favorite breakfast. “I’m not going to eat anything until you take me home.” She felt triumphant when the joy dimmed in her mother’s face.

“You
are
home, Dawn. If you want to go on a hunger strike, that’s fine. If you want to come out and sit with us, even better. Either way, I won’t force you.” Her mother quietly closed the door behind her.

Dawn stared, furious. When fifteen minutes passed and Mom didn’t come back, Dawn shoved her covers off and went into the pink, green, and white bathroom. Her hair looked like a blonde mop on her head. Granny used to brush it for her every morning. Her clothes lay in a mess on the floor where she’d dropped them. Granny would have picked them up and folded them for her. Her mother always expected her to do everything herself! She’d probably force her to do dishes, too!

As Dawn approached the kitchen archway, she heard Mom talking. “A private Christian school is too expensive, Mitch. She’s my daughter. I wouldn’t feel right having you pay tuition—”

“Whoa. What’s mine is yours now. Remember? You need to get that into your head, Carolyn. We’re partners.”

“She’s been going to a public school. I’m not sure I want her in a Christian school.”

“Why not?”

Her mother spoke too quietly for Dawn to hear. Dawn walked around the corner and through the archway into the kitchen.

Mitch grinned. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead.” Dawn glared at him. His brows rose. “Oops. I guess you’re not a morning person.”

Her mother studied her coolly. “I thought you weren’t hungry.”

“I won’t eat if you don’t want me to. I can go back to my room and stay there and starve, if that’s what you want!”

Mitch breathed out a laugh. “Trying hard to be a pita, aren’t you?”

“Pita?”

“Pain in the . . . Never mind.” He stood, pulled out a chair, and bowed. “It would please us humble folk to have Your Majesty grace us with your presence at our table.” He waved his arm for her to sit.

Dawn stayed where she was, trying not to cry. Mitch had always been nice to her. She wanted him to like her, not think she was a spoiled brat.

His face softened. “Relax, Dawn. Sit with us.” Mitch scooted her chair in comfortably when she did. He squeezed her shoulders before he took his seat again. Mom put two strips of crisp bacon and a golden brown waffle on her plate, but Dawn had lost her appetite. She kept her head down, blinking back tears. Mitch and Mom had already finished breakfast. They hadn’t even waited for her.

Mitch sighed. “Think I’ll leave you two alone.” He cleared his dishes while Mom loaded the dishwasher. “Are you going to be okay?” Mitch spoke tenderly. Dawn glanced up and then realized he wasn’t talking to her. He had his arm around Mom’s waist. Mom shrugged. He kissed her. Grimacing, Dawn looked away. Mitch came over to the table and leaned down to plant a kiss on top of her head. “See you later, alligator. . . .”

She used to laugh and say, “After a while, crocodile.” That was before he married her mother.

Mom poured another cup of coffee and returned to the table. “Something wrong with the waffle?”

Granny’s waffles were darker and crisper. “It’s okay, I guess.” She nibbled the edges.

Her mother sighed. “If you’re done, you can put your plate on the counter.” Her mother put her hands around her coffee cup. “I was going to wait a few days to put you in school. Now, I think the sooner, the better. The sooner you make new friends, the sooner you’ll settle in.”

“I want to go to my old school with all my friends!”

“You’ll make new friends at your new school. Go get cleaned up, and we’ll head over there. They’ll probably even let you start today.”

Fear coursed through Dawn. “It’ll be just like when Susan came.” The girls had whispered about her and made her cry. It had been a game at first, one that made Dawn uncomfortable, but she hadn’t wanted to go against the crowd. “Nobody wanted to be her friend.”

Her mother stood and looked at her. “Well, let’s hope the people you meet in Healdsburg will be nicer than the ‘friends’ you had in Paxtown.”

Dawn felt as though her mother had slapped her.

Mom’s expression softened. “I know life isn’t easy, May Flower Dawn. Believe me, I do. I could fix your hair in a French braid and help you pick out a skirt and—”

“I don’t want to look like you!” She fled to the doorway. “And don’t call me May Flower Dawn. It’s a stupid, hippy name! I’m
Dawn
.”

Granny called that night. Dawn poured out her loneliness and anger over having to live so far away. Granny said she was sorry about that, too, and then asked if she liked second grade. “Did you make any friends today?” Several girls had come up to her and wanted to be friends. Dawn had been surprised at how nice they were.

Granny called again the next night—and the night after that.

After a few weeks, Dawn realized she enjoyed riding the bus to school with her friends. Getting off the bus after school proved harder. Granny wouldn’t be waiting at the house. She had always given Dawn a snack, then played board games or let Dawn watch TV. Mom told her to play outside or with her Barbies. “You’ve been sitting in a classroom all day. I don’t want you sitting in front of a television all afternoon.”

Every evening, Granny called right about the time Mom started clearing dishes. After a while, Mom stopped answering the telephone and let Dawn run to her room and catch it. At least she had her very own phone. That was one nice thing about living in Mitch’s house.

Dawn knew something was wrong the moment she heard Granny’s voice. “What is it, Granny?” Her heart began to pound. “Is Papa sick?”

“No. Papa is fine.” Granny sniffled. “Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not. I can tell.” Something had made her grandmother cry.

“I’m going to stop calling you every evening, honey. I’ll call you once a week instead.”

“Why? Are you mad at me?”

“No! Of course not. It’s just that . . . your mother says— ”

“She’s so mean!” Dawn was crying now too. “I want to come home! Please come and get me!”

“Honey, I can’t. I love you so much, but she’s your mother.” Granny sniffled again. “She and Mitch love you very much, Dawn. I have to go now.” Her voice broke. “I’ll talk to you in a week.”

Dawn marched down the hall to the kitchen, where her mother was putting the last plate into the dishwasher. “You made Granny cry!”

Mom turned and looked at her. “I’m sorry about that, but—”

“You’re not sorry! You’re not sorry at all! You said she couldn’t call me anymore!” Hands in fists, she screamed. “And I hate you! I wish you were dead so I could go home and live with Granny!”

All the color drained from her mother’s face, leaving her skin the color of ashes. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she turned away.

Feeling sick rather than triumphant, Dawn fled to her room.

Someone tapped on the door. Limp from crying, Dawn sat up, expecting her mother to retaliate. She tensed when the door opened. Mitch stood in the doorway, looking grim and unhappy. “May I come in?”

She shrugged, trying to pretend she didn’t care. Her palms felt moist. Had her mother told him what she’d said?

Mitch crossed the room, took her desk chair, and turned it around, straddling it and resting his arms on the back. “So, Pita. Feeling any better now that you got things off your chest?”

He’d called her Pita. Dawn heard the disappointment in his tone and felt the heat of guilt pouring into her face. She decided to lie. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I was home, in my office. I heard every word you said. Not
said
—screamed, like a spoiled two-year-old having a tantrum.”

“She told Granny not to talk to me anymore!”

“That’s the second lie you’ve told me, unless your grandmother lied to you.”

“Granny never lies!”

“Then how about the truth this time?” He spoke gently.

Dawn plucked at her skirt, eyes smarting with tears. “I want to go home.”

“Granny isn’t the only one who loves you. She’s not the only one who cries. Your mother loves you, too.”

She covered her face and sobbed. Mitch sat for a while, silent. He got up, put the chair back, and came over to her. She felt too ashamed to lift her head. “Your mother loves you, Dawn, and so do I.” She felt him kiss the crown of her head. “Maybe you could give us a chance.”