Her Daughter's Dream

by Francine Rivers

  Dawn hung her head. She could imagine how hard Georgia Steward had prayed. She must have assumed the girl who’d caused her son so much grief had gone after him again.

  Georgia’s eyes glistened. “Jason thanked me the other day. When I asked him what for, he said you told him I’d been kind to you.” She smiled bleakly. “He apologized for assuming I’d said the same things to you that I’d been saying about you for weeks before that last fiasco.” She shook her head. “And I know everything you’ve done, even forgiving me, has been out of love for my son.” Her voice broke.

  Dawn realized she wasn’t the only one consumed by guilt. “You weren’t wrong about me.”

  “Oh, I was very wrong. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When I looked at you, I saw myself at fifteen—arrogant, selfish, defiant. I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. I didn’t care what anyone thought. You listened. You repented. When I got pregnant, my world fell apart. My boyfriend dumped me and moved on to a new girl. My parents kicked me out. I was living on the streets when Jason was born. It took five years to crawl up out of the gutter life I’d made for myself. I don’t even want to remember the things I did to put bread on our table. And then, feeling holier-than-thou, I had the audacity to ambush you. I dug a hole and tried to bury you under my hurt and bitterness. Everything I said to you was all about the girl I’d been. I didn’t even see you.”

  Dawn let out a shuddering breath. She’d prayed so hard about this meeting and now felt the warmth of God’s answer filling her. “But don’t you see? I was all the things you said, Georgia.”

  When Georgia opened her mouth, Dawn raised her hand. “Let me finish. If you’d been gentle, I might not have listened. It took you speaking the truth the way you did to get through to me. I’m grateful that you did. God used your words to draw me to Himself, and that’s when the Lord started working. Maybe if someone had spoken to you the way you spoke to me, things would have turned out differently for you too.” She’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to say a word when she walked through the front door, but words flowed naturally and with a love she hadn’t known she possessed for Jason’s mother.

  Georgia let out a long breath. “Just to be clear: I couldn’t be more pleased you’re marrying my son.”

  “Me, too.”

  They laughed together.

  “Well. All that being said . . .” Georgia leaned forward and lifted the plate. “Have a cookie. And then let’s talk about how I can help put on a beautiful wedding.”

  * * *

  From the day Dawn told her family she and Jason were getting married, Granny had pressured Dawn to go shopping for a white wedding dress. Dawn didn’t feel entitled to wear a white gown, but she didn’t want to hurt Granny by explaining why not. She didn’t know what to do until her mother offered the pale pink gown and veil she’d worn when she married Mitch. “I think it’ll fit you.” Her mother seemed shy about it. “If you want it.”

  “I do.” She’d felt her mother stiffen slightly when she hugged her. Sometimes Dawn wondered why her mother seemed so uncomfortable with physical affection, unless it came from Christopher or Mitch.

  On the morning of the wedding, deaconesses were on hand to decorate the church with the poinsettias Georgia had delivered, and by eleven, the place was packed with well-wishers. Dawn saw Jason’s gaze fixed on her as Mitch walked her down the aisle. She gave white roses to Granny and Mom. When Pastor Daniel pronounced them man and wife, the congregants erupted in applause and cheers. On the way back up the aisle, Dawn paused and gave Georgia a white rose and kissed her cheek. She had two left, one to throw and one to keep.

  While pictures were being taken, deacons rearranged chairs and set up tables. Caterers covered everything with linens and spread platters with enough fancy sandwiches and salads to feed an army. A three-tiered wedding cake stood on a central table. The stack of beautifully wrapped packages grew on two back tables. After the receiving line, Jason and Dawn sat at the head table and nibbled at lunch. They cut the cake, carefully feeding each other small bites, and then danced to the music of the professional band Mitch had hired.

  Jason held Dawn close as they waltzed, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “Can we go now?” he whispered against her ear. His hand spread on the small of her back. “We’ve cut the cake and had our dance.”

  She laughed softly. “The reception is supposed to last another hour.”

  Mitch cut in. “Dad’s turn.” Grinning broadly at Jason, he took Dawn in his arms. “You look like you can’t wait to get her out of here, but you won’t want to drive your Honda anywhere until you run it through a car wash.”

  Jason grimaced. “I’m going to—”

  “Do nothing.” Mitch chuckled. “Carolyn will give you the keys to my Bonneville.”

  “Thanks, Mitch.” Jason stepped forward. “Can I have my wife back now?”

  “Not so fast. You have duties to perform. Dance with your mother and mother-in-law first. And I’ve been informed Dawn still has to throw her rose to a gaggle of single girls. And you have to toss her garter to that pack of wolves you call friends. Then Pita’s all yours for the rest of your life, buddy boy.”

  Laughing, Dawn punched him.

  It was a long, dark drive and well after ten before they reached Fort Bragg and signed into the Harbor Lite Lodge as Mr. and Mrs. Jason Steward. The suite was larger than Dawn’s studio apartment. Someone had already lit the fire in the small Franklin stove. She opened the sliding-glass door and went out on the small balcony overlooking the Noyo River. A light rain sprinkled, and fog curled around the security lights on the docks below.

  Jason slid his hands around her waist and drew her back against him. “Finally. We’re alone.” He kissed the curve of her neck, sending warm tendrils through her body. “And married.”

  * * *

  After spending two nights and two days in their suite, with only brief outings for meals, Dawn and Jason returned to Alexander Valley for the family Christmas celebration. “Wait until you see!” Christopher bounded ahead of them to her bedroom and threw the door open. All the wedding presents had been stacked, waiting to be unwrapped. Dawn gaped.

  Jason dumped their two small suitcases inside the door and stared. “Holy cow!”

  Mom peered in. “Welcome home, you two.” Her eyes shone. “It seems you both have a lot of friends who wanted to help you set up housekeeping.”

  Mitch, standing right behind her, nudged her into the room. “Don’t panic. Once everything is opened, pick what you need and leave the rest here for later.”

  Granny asked Dawn and Jason to come out to Jenner for a few days after Christmas, but Jason said they needed to go home to San Luis Obispo. He had to move his stuff into Dawn’s apartment, and they needed to get settled in before classes started.

  Dawn knew another reason Jason didn’t want to go to Jenner. She waited until they were alone that night to ask his forgiveness for what she brought about in the downstairs apartment.

  “You weren’t alone, you know.” Jason touched her cheek. “I stayed overnight hoping you’d come downstairs. I could have stopped things if I’d wanted, Dawn. It wasn’t all your idea.” He drew her close and kissed her.

  * * *

  1991

  It didn’t take long for Jason and Dawn to decide they had to study somewhere other than in the apartment. With two small desks and the nook table, they didn’t have room to spread their books and reports. They made other adjustments as well. Dawn liked to do her Bible study before the sun came up pink-yellow over the hills. Jason, a night owl, studied Scripture at night.

  They walked to campus together. They ate lunch together, and they spent every spare minute studying at the library. Dawn cooked and did laundry on Saturdays. Sunday, they went to the early service and then took long walks, went to the beach, talked over Chinese food, and hung out with Dod Henson and Alice Jeffries, their closest friends on campus. Sometimes Jack Kohl joined them, if he had a new girlfriend.

 
They talked of nothing but the war in Iraq, the need to protect the oil fields and Persian Gulf, the hope for success with the air campaign and bombing of leadership targets in Baghdad. Coalition ground forces drove on Iraqi forces in Kuwait. After four days, Iraqi forces agreed to a cease-fire and retreated from Kuwait. The push to reach Baghdad halted. Jason and Dod sneered over U.N. objectives being met. Even when Iraq agreed to a permanent cease-fire, they saw trouble ahead. “Saddam Hussein fancies himself the second Nebuchadnezzar. He’s not done. They’ve just given him time to coil for another strike.”

  44

  Life felt regimented, but comfortable and with frequent moments of delight. The only dark cloud was approaching summer break. Jason would be leaving for two months, undergoing military training at Fort Lewis, Washington. Dawn knew she had to keep busy or be miserable while he was gone. Still intent upon finishing college as quickly as possible, she registered for a summer session psychology class.

  The week before finals, Dawn had difficulty sleeping. One morning she rose while it was still dark and quietly slid the partition between the living room and bedroom closed. Turning on the swag lamp over the kitchen nook table, she opened her Bible and workbook. She and Jason had been married five months, and she still hadn’t finished all the sections. She’d been taking her time, praying over the questions, and examining herself, asking God to reveal areas of her life that needed change.

  As the warmth of the sun spilled in the window, she heard a soft click. Startled, she glanced toward the bedroom. Jason stood there holding a camera. “Perfect.” Grinning, he set it on the coffee table.

  “You took a picture?” She was still in her robe and slippers, her hair loose and wild.

  Leaning down, he hemmed her in with his hands planted on the table. He nuzzled her neck. “I love the way the sun lights up your hair in the morning. You look like an angel studying God’s directives for the day.” Straightening, he put his hands on her shoulders. “And I wanted something more natural than a wedding picture to keep me company while I’m at Fort Lewis.”

  * * *

  The first thing Dawn saw when she walked into the apartment after her last final exam was Jason’s physical training uniform hooked on the closet trim, ready to be worn. She burst into tears. They’d been married only five months, and he’d be gone tomorrow morning. He’d spend a month in cadet troop leadership training and then be off to airborne school right after that. “Two months,” she muttered. “Two months!”

  He said the camp was designed to develop leadership skills, teamwork, water safety, land navigation, fire support, weapons use, and tactical and physical training. Portions of it sounded ominous and dangerous to her, but he dismissed her worries. Thankfully, the war in Iraq had ended in March. Lord willing, Jason would not see actual combat during his military service. Dawn didn’t know how she would cope with that.

  Jason had told her he first started thinking about ROTC after her grandfather had regaled him with World War II stories. After their breakup, Jason started thinking more about the military. He’d sought out Mitch and asked questions about the Vietnam War and his military experience. Mitch had told him the military had a lot to offer and the country always needed good men trained and ready. His school counselor told him to talk to the ROTC recruiting officer at Cal Poly. When he learned the Army would give him the financial aid he needed to get through college in exchange for six years of his life, Jason decided it was a generous offer. Without discussing it with his mother or Pastor Daniel, he entered the program freshman year.

  Dawn dumped her backpack on the bed. Jason admitted he hadn’t consulted God about that decision, but whether he had or had not wasn’t an issue now. God was sovereign. Man might plan, but God would prevail. She believed that with all her heart. She just hadn’t realized how much military life might suit Jason—or how much it might demand of her.

  Jason took her in his arms. “I’m not gone yet.”

  “You’ll be jumping out of airplanes, Jason.”

  “Yeah.”

  He sounded excited about it. She pushed away and looked at him. He looked excited, too. “You can’t wait, can you?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you.”

  “I know.” She’d overheard him talking with Dod and Jack. In truth, all three were looking forward to the training, like it was some kind of grand adventure!

  Letting out her breath, she withdrew. “I’m just being ridiculous.” Would she rather he was miserable and wishing he didn’t have to follow through on his obligations to the military? When she reached for the duffel bag, he grabbed it and slung it onto the bed. She started packing for him. “I’ll be all right. I’ll keep busy.”

  “I’ll call you every chance I get.”

  * * *

  Jason called to let her know he’d arrived safely at Fort Lewis. After less than a minute, she heard another man asking to use the phone. After that, she waited in vain to hear from him. His second call came before he headed into airborne training, though Dawn still couldn’t understand why an engineer needed to know how to jump out of an airplane. She didn’t waste time asking. They talked for fifteen minutes before he had to hang up so someone else could make a call.

  To keep from being depressed, Dawn poured herself into her psychology class. While going through lecture notes on symptoms of abuse, she thought about her mother for some odd reason. Dawn realized she knew very little about her mother’s past, other than what Granny had told her.

  What had kept Mom away from church for so many years? Why did she withdraw from any show of affection, unless it came from Mitch or Christopher? Granny took a step toward her, and Mom retreated. What caused the tension between them? When Dawn thought more about it, she realized her mother had always had difficulty with relationships, especially if they were casual. She served, but didn’t mingle; she watched from a distance, but didn’t attempt to participate. Dawn had this mental picture of her mother peering over a protective wall while keeping the gate to the outside world locked.

  What might have caused that? Could it have something to do with the Haight-Ashbury years? Dawn didn’t know much about that time in her mother’s life. Granny said the past was best forgotten, and Mom never talked about it. Anytime anyone mentioned the turbulent sixties, Mom became very quiet.

  Maybe she should ask. . . .

  Dawn tried to during one of her weekly calls home. As usual, Mom stayed on the phone less than five minutes, leaving it to Christopher to report the family’s news. Dawn didn’t even get close to broaching the subject with her.

  Dawn asked Granny what Mom had been like as a little girl. “Beautiful.” Granny sounded wistful. “Quiet. There weren’t any other little girls her age on our road, but she always seemed content playing by herself.”

  “Did she ever seem nervous or exhibit any odd behavior?”

  Granny chuckled. “The trouble with studying psychology is you begin to imagine symptoms of all kinds of neuroses in everyone you know. Your mother was a perfectly normal child, just a little quieter than most.”

  “So Mom never had nightmares or sucked her thumb . . . ?”

  “Oh, there was a while when she used to sneak into Charlie’s room and sleep with him or on the floor beside his bed. It didn’t last long. I put a stop to it as soon as I knew.”

  “And she was fine with that, no crying or arguments?”

  Silence for a moment. “She started sleeping in her closet. But really, Dawn, you’re making way too much of it.”

  “I know, Granny. I’m just curious. That’s all.”

  “We started leaving a night-light on in the bathroom. She seemed fine after that. Or maybe it was Oma.”

  “Oma?”

  “She came to live with us about that time.” Her tone turned brisk. “Either way, your mom stayed in her own bed after that.”

  On impulse, Dawn called her mother that evening and asked if she remembered having nightmares as a child.

  “Why do you ask?”

 
“I’m taking psychology.”

  “Oh. Well. I suppose all children have bad dreams. Don’t they?”

  “Granny said you used to sneak in and sleep with Uncle Charlie.”

  “Did she?”

  “And when she put a stop to it, you slept in your closet.”

  Silence.

  “Mom?”

  “What started this line of questioning?”

  Dawn winced. Mom might as well have said interrogation. “I’m taking psychology, and the lectures have been on child abuse.”

  “I was never beaten, May Flo—” She stopped. “Dawn.” She spoke the correction quietly.

  “We’ll have to talk about my name someday.” Dawn tried to keep her tone light. When her mother didn’t respond, she apologized for asking such personal questions. “I was just curious.”

  Her mother’s reticence only served to make her more so.

  * * *

  Dawn sat at the nook table, flipping through her class notes. Slapping her binder closed, she stared out the window. She’d studied enough. She didn’t want to think about psychology or come up with any more theories on why her mother was the way she was. She’d never know anything more about her than she did now. It wasn’t her business anyway.

  She knew what the problem was: she had too much time on her hands. She needed something to do other than go to class, study, and hang around the apartment, waiting for Jason to call. She had to stop counting the days until he’d come home. She looked at the bare white walls, the worn beige couch, the drab chipboard coffee table sitting on the beige rug. Life without Jason was as colorless as the apartment.

  The place needed cheering up. It needed color!

  Grabbing her keys and purse, Dawn left the apartment. She drove downtown and bought half a dozen women’s magazines. She spotted notices on the coffee shop bulletin board: garage sales popped up like weeds every Friday afternoon. She’d always thought it might be fun to visit a few, see what treasures she might find among the piles of junk. On the way back to the apartment, Dawn stopped by a hardware store and picked out paint color strips.