Marta's Legacy Collection (89 page)

Dawn talked with her mother before setting off. She half hoped Mom would volunteer to come with her. Instead, she talked about Oma. “She loved to take long drives and explore. She would’ve loved the kind of trip you’re going on.”

Doodling on a notepad, Dawn tossed out another hint. “It’s a little daunting driving so far without any company.”

“I know. I did it once.”

“You had a friend with you.”

“Half-comatose from drugs and alcohol.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to go alone, Dawn. You could ask Granny.”

Dawn’s heart sank, and she rubbed her forehead. “I think I should go alone. I might as well grow up now and not put it off.”

“You’re growing up quite nicely, May Flower Dawn.”

The softly spoken compliment brought tears to Dawn’s eyes. “Do you really think so, Mom?” She felt like a baby, wanting to wail.

“Yes. I do. I’m proud of you.”

Dawn almost blurted out that she wanted her mother to come with her. She wanted time alone with her so they could talk. She wanted to get to know her mother before they were separated by half a continent. “I’m a little nervous about the trip.”

“Understandable, but you won’t be alone, Dawn. You’re never alone. God is with you. He goes ahead and He watches your back. He walks with you and dwells inside you. Just keep listening to Him.”

“I’m glad you finally started believing in God.”

“I’ve believed in Jesus for twenty-four years, Dawn. It’s people I never learned to trust. I’ll be praying for you. So will Georgia and a host of others. Granny, too. You know that. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to call me, let me know how far you make it each day. You don’t have to talk long.”

“Jason insisted I check in with someone every day.”

“Good for Jason.”

When they hung up, Dawn finished packing the last few things and went to bed, hoping for a good night’s sleep before she set off the next morning. But her mind wouldn’t shut down.

Twenty-four years. Isn’t that what her mother had said? That would make it right around the time she had gotten pregnant. Maybe it had been the hardship and accidental pregnancy that had driven her mother to her knees. A desperate surrender.

Dawn yearned for the open affection Mom gave Christopher. But at least now her mother felt pride in her. They could talk more. Their best days as mother and daughter had been during the worst time in Dawn’s life. Mom had known she grieved over Jason. When she came to Dawn’s bedroom that dark night of despair, and Dawn confessed, Mom never spoke a word of condemnation or disappointment. What Mom said helped Dawn change course:
Examine yourself; take what is true and do what’s right. And when others hurt you, forgive.

Maybe someday they’d be able to sit down and really talk. Maybe someday they could go back to the beginning and go deep and rise up out of the pain of the past, together.

46

Dawn set out early Saturday morning, a disposable camera close at hand. She drove north to Atascadero, cut across to Shandon, and then took the road southeast toward the Central Valley. Orchards covered the area around Blackwells Corner. She pulled in at James Dean’s Last Stop and browsed shelves of candy, dried fruit, jars of preserves and salsas, Indian art, and fifties memorabilia. After buying trail mix and a few souvenir postcards, she got back on the road. She passed rows of pink, red, and white rosebushes near Wasco before joining Highway 99 south.

She stopped at a roadside café on the other side of Bakersfield for lunch and studied the map while she ate. Later in the afternoon, she stretched her legs by walking through a Route 66 museum. Heat kept her in the car after that. Finally, as night approached, she could see a dome of light on the horizon. Las Vegas. She drove the Strip and found the hotel where she’d made a reservation.

Tossing her duffel bag on the green paisley spread, she picked up the telephone and punched the number for an open line.

Mom answered on the second ring and sounded relieved when she heard it was Dawn. “Everything go okay today?”

Dawn summarized what she’d seen in less than a minute.

“Are you in a decent place?”

“Clean, good lock, close to the Tropicana. I’m going to walk over there for dinner.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to delay you.”

Dawn realized how abrupt she must sound. “I didn’t mean to . . .” Why was it so much easier to talk to Granny than her mother?

“You go have a nice dinner, Dawn. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Call me collect.”

After a very reasonably priced buffet dinner, she returned to the hotel and wrote to Jason.

I wish I could sketch like Aunt Rikki. . . . I bought a copy of On the Road by Jack Kerouac. Maybe it will boost my enthusiasm for this trip. . . .

She spent half the next day at Hoover Dam and then drove nonstop to Hurricane, Utah, checked into a hotel, and ate at a small diner next door before calling Granny. She hadn’t talked more than five minutes when Granny started worrying about long-distance charges. When she mentioned it again a minute later, Dawn surrendered.

She left early the next morning to see Zion National Park. Mom wanted to hear all about it, but Dawn was too tired to talk long and wanted to get a letter off to Jason before she went to bed.

This will be a short letter, my love. I miss you so much! I wish you were making this trip with me. I’m trying not to rush. I know if I do, I’ll just end up sitting alone in an apartment and crying all day. . . .

The farther she drove, the lonelier she felt. She tried not to think how many more days it would take to reach Lawton, Oklahoma. Jason would be living in the barracks for three months. They’d see each other only on weekends.

She thought about her mother trying to keep her on the telephone and Granny trying to hurry her off. It seemed such a turnaround, now that she thought more about it. That night she checked in with Granny first and then called Mom.

“Jason called this afternoon. He gave me the names of two apartment complexes he wants you to check out when you get to Lawton. Both are near the base.”

Dawn jotted down the information.

“Did you make it to the Grand Canyon?”

Dawn flopped back on the bed. “I’m about ten minutes away from the south rim. Japanese tourists got there ahead of me.” She laughed. “They all had cameras. I had to wait an hour to get close to the rail.” Mom kept asking questions and Dawn kept answering.

“Are you planning to stay over tomorrow, see a little more?”

“I don’t think so. I want to keep going. I hope to make it to Monument Valley.” Dawn heard Mitch talking in the background. “Does he need the phone?” She hadn’t talked to her mother this long on a telephone ever.

“No. He just wants to know if you’re checking oil and tire pressure and making sure you have plenty of gas before you make those long hauls across the desert.”

“Tell him yes. I’m being very conscientious.”

The next day seemed to last forever. Monument Valley was an endless expanse. Worried she might overheat the car, she turned off her air-conditioning and opened the window.

Granny let her talk for five minutes that night, then told Dawn she should get a good night’s sleep. Dawn hung up and wrote another long letter to Jason.

Dawn saw the sign for the turnoff to Mesa Verde National Park and calculated how long it would take to go in, see the ruins and museum, and drive out.
Forget it!
She headed for Durango. She’d had enough of traveling alone. Even if she and Jason couldn’t live together, she still wanted to be as close to him as possible. It might cheer him up to know she was ready and waiting when he did get liberty.

Canceling reservations in Pagosa Springs and Albuquerque, Dawn headed for Amarillo, Texas. Other than stopping now and then to use a restroom, check her oil and tire pressure, fill the tank with gas, and have a fast meal, she didn’t see anything that held as much interest for her as Jason Steward in Lawton, Oklahoma.

The following afternoon, exhausted, Dawn arrived, checked into a Best Western, and called her mother. “I made it.”

“I wondered how long you’d last before you decided to make a run for Lawton. Will you be able to see Jason?”

“Probably not, but at least I’m close to him. When he calls you, give him this number.”

Dawn let a hot shower massage her aching muscles. She put on sweatpants and one of Jason’s T-shirts and fell asleep on top of the bedspread. Bleary-eyed, she looked at the time and realized she had slept five hours. The sun was going down.

Her motel room phone rang.

“You’re
here
?” Jason lowered his voice. “How close?”

“Five minutes from the gate.”

He laughed softly. “Didn’t see Mesa Verde?”

“Waved as I drove on by.”

“Durango?”

“Drove through.”

“What happened to seeing some of the country?”

“I’m only interested in one natural wonder. You.”

Jason’s old Honda was parked in the hotel lot when Dawn returned from moving their things into the apartment she’d found. He came out of the office, looking annoyed. She rolled down her window and called out to him. “Hey, handsome!” Grinning broadly, he headed straight for her like an airplane landing on a carrier. He opened her car door. She got out and threw herself into his arms. “I found us an apartment. I moved our stuff in this afternoon. All white and beige . . .”

“Don’t waste time or money fixing the place up. Okay? I’m only going to be here two more months and then Missouri.”

She closed her eyes. Another long, lonely drive lay ahead of her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think of that now. This was the path Jason had chosen. God had brought them back together so she could walk it with him. When her stomach growled loudly, she grimaced. “I’m so hungry, my stomach is about to digest my lungs.”

“We’d better feed you then.”

Dawn packed and checked out the next morning. Jason followed in his old Honda and pulled into the space beside her. “Nice complex.” He liked the apartment, though after a barracks, he said even the hotel room had been Shangri-la. While Dawn pulled sheets and pillowcases from a box and made up the queen bed, Jason talked about his training, the guys he’d met in the barracks, his instructors. Dawn stowed pots and pans while Jason set up their computer on the nook table.

“We’re all moved in.” Jason thunked his booted feet on the coffee table and draped his arms over the back of the couch.

Dawn looked at the nook table covered with computer components and printer and wires snaking everywhere. “Not very homey.”

“Functional. And we can use the coffee table for dining.” He smirked at her when she stared pointedly at his boots. “Or go out.”

She sat beside him, tucking herself under his arm. “We need groceries.” She looked through the glass doors to the naked patio. Their home needed color and spots of interest. Two patio chairs and a little table with a potted plant would perk up the outside. A couple of pillows, a simple cabinet to cover all the computer wires, a framed picture, and . . .

Jason gripped her head like a basketball. “I can hear your wheels turning.”

Monday morning, Dawn awakened alone, puffy-eyed from crying herself to sleep the night before. Jason had stayed as long as he could before heading back to base, but watching him walk out the door left an empty, aching feeling inside her. It would be five days before she saw him again. She remembered what Granny had said about sitting around all day, waiting and feeling lonely and wondering when she’d see her husband.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Dawn ate her eggs and glared at the nook. She had no place to write notes and study her Bible, and the computer was an eyesore. The apartment felt like a beige tomb. She shoved her Bible, journal, and spiral notebook into a backpack and headed out to Cameron University, only a few blocks away.

The college library felt more like home. She found a quiet table where she could read. She felt less lonely with others nearby, comfortable with the studious silence. After an hour, she looked through books on interior design. She made quick sketches and jotted down ideas. The
Lawton Constitution
and
Anadarko Daily News
had a list of upcoming garage sales.

Dawn drove to the base to fill out the paperwork for her ID, then went on a self-guided base tour of grave sites of famous Indian warriors—Geronimo and Kiowa Chief Satanta and Comanche Chief Quanah Parker.

She stopped at a large home improvement center on the way back to the apartment and bought a computer table kit, screwdriver, and small hammer. The store put on workshops for basic carpentry and home repairs. Unfortunately, most were on Saturdays. She asked if they had anything during the week; the clerk said no, but showed her a wall display of how-to books.

Jason called that night. “What did you do today?”

“Explored Lawton and the base. The wind sure blows here.” She told him about the Indian Wars, the Chiricahua Apaches. “Did you know Geronimo is buried on Fort Sill?”

Lying alone in bed that night, Dawn stared at the ceiling. During the day, she could keep busy and not feel so alone. When the night rolled in around her, the wind whistling outside, the loneliness blew in and stayed. She imagined Jason lying on his bunk in a barracks full of other soldiers. Bunching up Jason’s pillow, she hugged it close.

Seven weeks later, she packed up and followed Jason again.