Her Daughter's Dream

by Francine Rivers

  This year, winter had become a black hole sucking Hildie down into a vortex of despair. The last time Carolyn came out “for a visit,” she broached the subject of moving again. Hildie told her no. When Carolyn tried to keep talking about it, Hildie ignored her and turned on the television. Carolyn didn’t say anything for a long time. Hildie felt guilty and uncomfortable with the silence, but she didn’t know any other way to get her point across. Sure, she was almost eighty-seven, but so what? She still had all her faculties. She didn’t need to be put away. “All right, Mom,” Carolyn said after fifteen minutes. “Have it your way.” She left two residential care facility brochures sitting like cemetery contracts on the coffee table.

  Unease filled Hildemara. Had Carolyn called Dawn and enlisted her help in getting old Granny to give up her home and move? Why else would her granddaughter fly to California when she was eight months pregnant and then insist the three of them get together at Jenner and talk? Hildemara felt her anger boiling.

  “Mom?” Carolyn sounded breathless. “Are you all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

  “You never call unless something’s wrong.”

  Was that true? When had she last called Carolyn? two weeks? a month? “Nothing is wrong. Not unless you said something to Dawn about trying to move me into an old folks’ home. She’s here.”

  “At Jenner?” Carolyn sounded shocked.

  “No. Not Jenner. In town. She’s staying with Georgia. She called a few minutes ago. She wants you to come to Jenner so the three of us can talk.”

  “I don’t understand. Is it the baby?”

  “She said she’s fine.”

  “This isn’t about Jason, is it? If she’s with Georgia—”

  “She sounded fine. She wouldn’t be fine if anything had happened to Jason. Just pack and get out here. Dawn said she wouldn’t come to Jenner until you arrive. I don’t know what that’s all about.” Hildie could hear Mitch saying something in the background.

  “The roads are terrible, Mom. Mitch can come out and bring you back here. I could pick up Dawn.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? We need to meet here, at Jenner.” Hildie knew she sounded angry and impatient, but she didn’t want Carolyn wasting any more time.

  “It can’t always be the way you want it.”

  Hildie hated that phrase. Mama used to say it. “It’s not my way. It’s Dawn’s way.”

  Carolyn sighed. “I’ll be on the road in half an hour.”

  “I’ll call Dawn and let her know.” Hildie hung up, flipped through her address book, and punched in Jason’s old number. Georgia answered and said Dawn was sleeping and could she take a message. “Tell Dawn her mom is on her way out here. Jason is all right, isn’t he?”

  “Jason’s fine. He e-mailed Dawn yesterday.”

  “Thank God.” Hildie felt some relief, but then had to ask, “And the baby?”

  “Dawn is as big as a house. Hang on a second. She’s awake.” Hildie heard muffled voices, then Georgia again. “Dawn will head out to Jenner in an hour.”

  “Tell her to be careful. The weather is mean.”

  As soon as Hildie got off the telephone, she opened the wooden accordion doors into the small bedroom off the kitchen. She had bought a pretty blue and white Laura Ashley comforter and curtains in the hope Carolyn might come out and spend a weekend now and then. No such luck. Dawn could sleep in here and use the nice, new, plush pink towels and pretty seashell soaps. Carolyn could sleep downstairs. Hildie switched on the lamp before leaving the room. The glow could be seen outside through the lacy sheer curtains. She liked the house to look like a Thomas Kinkade painting.

  She debated turning on the downstairs thermostat, then decided to wait until after Carolyn arrived. Propane was expensive, and the delivery truck had gotten stuck on a nearby ranch, delaying the refilling of her tank.

  How could she be so tired after doing so little? She sat in her recliner and put her feet up. Oh, for heaven’s sake! She was still wearing her fuzzy slippers and bathrobe! Maybe she was entering her dotage.

  Slamming the recliner, she headed for the bathroom and turned on the electric wall heater. She put on her shower cap and washed, rinsed, and stepped out of the tub in under five minutes. Toweling dry before the heater, she pulled on her white silk Cuddl Duds leggings, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and the red velour pantsuit Carolyn had given her for Christmas. She brushed tangles from her gray hair. Carolyn had treated her to a perm three months ago. Wash-and-wear hair, her friend Marsha called it. They’d been neighbors until Marsha’s daughter flew out, packed her up, and took her back to Colorado Springs. No old folks’ home for Marsha. Her daughter insisted she move in with her family. Hildie tossed the brush in the drawer and banged it shut.

  Standing in the living room, Hildie looked at the Russian River flowing wide and muddy, swollen and treacherous, from heavy rains. Rain hit the window like pebbles tossed against the glass. Surf pounded in the distance. She hadn’t been to the beach since Trip’s heart condition worsened. “My wings are clipped,” he’d said. So were hers. She hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, and he’d been irritated by his limitations. No more fishing in the surf. No more volunteer work at the visitors’ center. No long walks up the hill for the panoramic view of the coastline.

  Now, the closest Hildie came to the beach was the wide spot on the curve of Highway 1 where she parked her Buick Regal and used Trip’s binoculars to watch the sea lions on the other side of the river. Her big outing these days was walking down the hill to the post office in a trailer next door to the Jenner Gift Shop. And going to the Guerneville Safeway store every two weeks for groceries.

  How long could she manage that steep walk? She didn’t like to go when the road was wet and slick. How long before she would have to give up driving?

  It galled her that Carolyn was right. She was getting too old to live alone.

  The last time she had seen Dr. Kirk, he’d told her she had a strong heart and she’d probably live to be a hundred. Considering how difficult it was for her to get around now, the prospect had been annoying.

  She picked up the information Carolyn had left and looked at the glossy photos. If she moved into one of those facilities, would she see more or less of Carolyn? Since Trip had died, Carolyn had called once a week. Duty calls, right up there with the groceries Carolyn brought every two weeks, not that Hildie needed them. With professional attendants keeping watch, her daughter wouldn’t need to check on her.

  What Hildie needed and wanted was a relationship with her daughter. After so many years, it was just wishing for the moon. She’d never known how to bridge the gap to Carolyn any more than she’d ever been able to make a bridge to Mama.

  Depressed, Hildie tossed the brochures on the coffee table. So be it, Lord. If Carolyn wants to put me away, I’ll let her. Maybe it’d be the one thing she did that finally made her daughter happy.

  * * *

  Carolyn hung up the telephone and turned to Mitch. His gaze slid away from hers. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I can take care of everything here, Carolyn. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

  “Have you talked to Dawn?”

  “Briefly.”

  “What’s going on, Mitch?”

  “She wants you to meet her out at Jenner.”

  “Why?”

  He set his cup down and took her in his arms. “She’s been away from home a long time, Carolyn. She wants time alone with the two women she loves most in the world.”

  “Why now? Why out there?” Pushing away from him, she headed for the master bedroom. He said her name, dumped his coffee, and followed. She felt him watching her as she took her small duffel bag from the closet and threw it on the bed. When had Dawn arrived? today? yesterday? Why had she gone to Georgia instead of coming home? Was something wrong? Carolyn packed two tunic sweaters and two pairs of leggings that coordinated with her tiered skirt. Jenner would be cold. She added socks, cashmere scarves, and a flan
nel nightgown. What else did she need? She went into the bathroom for her toothbrush, toothpaste, brush, and deodorant, stuffing them into a cosmetics bag.

  Mitch stood in the doorway, watching her. “You’d better take a raincoat and umbrella. It’s pouring.” He didn’t say anything else, and she worried even more. He looked grim, hands shoved in his pockets.

  He took her duffel bag and walked her to the garage. “Take the Suburban.” She didn’t argue. She took the keys from the hook and tossed her coat and umbrella onto the passenger seat. Before she could slip in and get away, Mitch turned her around. “She loves you, you know.”

  “I know, Mitch, but given a choice, she always goes to someone else.”

  Mitch held her shoulders firmly, not letting her turn away. “Don’t make her choose, Carolyn. Love the two of them the way Jesus loves you.”

  “I do.”

  “Maybe you should stop stuffing your feelings. Talk to them.”

  “What would that do, other than make things worse?”

  “You won’t know unless you try.” Mitch gave her a tender, lopsided smile. “No kiss?” She went into his arms and held on tight. She burrowed her face against his chest until she had control of her emotions. “I love you, Carolyn. I wouldn’t let you go out there if I didn’t think it was important. Call me.”

  “The phones might go out. You know how it is.”

  “Stay put when you get to Jenner. Don’t come back until it’s over.” Mitch shut the door as she settled into the driver’s seat. He raised his hand as though in blessing.

  Carolyn had been watching the news and knew not to take East Side Road. Wohler Bridge was underwater. She took the freeway south and headed west on River Road. Wind-whipped eucalyptus trees cast debris on the road, filling the air with their pungent scent. She slowed, driving cautiously through flooded areas. She drove between hills covered with oak and pine, wound through groves of towering redwoods, root-locked against wind and rising water. Madrones dressed in red bark and green leaves hugged steep hillsides draped with fern boas.

  Carolyn pulled into the Safeway parking lot in Guerneville, threw on her raincoat, and ran for the front door. Mom probably hadn’t been able to get to the grocery store since the storm hit, and now she would have company for who knew how long. She quickly filled a cart with milk, vegetables, meat, and cookies. Shelves were emptying fast. “Everyone’s picking up supplies for the next storm.” The checker weighed broccoli and slid it across to the bagger. “Good thing, too. I hear another one is coming in this afternoon.”

  On the road again, Carolyn slowed through low areas where runoff had collected. Mitch was right. The Jag never would have made it. The river raged to her left, swollen and boiling with debris. The houses along the bank were flooded. How long before the road was closed?

  As she headed up Willig Drive, she had to stop and drag part of an old apple tree off the road. Drenched, she climbed back into the Suburban and drove the last hundred yards. The old redwood on the corner of Mom’s property had dropped piles of small branches. Carolyn pulled around its massive trunk and parked parallel to the house.

  The gate was locked. Carolyn dumped her duffel bag and rang the bell, then returned to the car to unload the groceries. She set down the first three plastic bags and went back for the rest. Shivering, she rang the bell again. Maybe Georgia had dropped Dawn off already, and she and Mom were too busy talking to hear the bell.

  The door slammed. “All right! I’m coming!” The latch clicked and the heavy gate swung open. Mom held an umbrella. She looked at the bags of groceries. “I didn’t tell you to bring anything.”

  “I just picked up a few things on the way through Guerneville.”

  “It looks like you shopped for a week!”

  “Could we discuss this inside? I’m soaked and freezing.”

  Her mother took two bags and headed for the back door, leaving Carolyn to bring everything else after she closed the gate and latched it. “Is Dawn here yet?”

  “No.” Mom shook off the umbrella at the back door. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with all these groceries, Carolyn. I don’t have a big Deepfreeze like you do, you know.”

  Carolyn’s frustration rose like a tide. She let it crest and recede as she put the laden bags on the counter. When would she learn her mother wanted nothing from her? “I’ll take care of it.” She wondered if her mother ate the home-cooked, packaged meals she brought out every two weeks. Probably not.

  “Dawn will be in the blue room. Take your things downstairs.”

  Carolyn hadn’t even been in the house two minutes and already felt unwelcome. “Okay.” She went back into the cold rain. It was warmer than the kitchen.

  The apartment was as chilly as a meat locker. Carolyn’s breath puffed steam as she dumped her bag on the end of the queen-size bed with its chintz spread. At least it had an electric blanket. She could hear Mom tromping around upstairs in the kitchen, probably unloading the bags. Carolyn hurried upstairs. Mom looked annoyed. “Potatoes, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, celery, onions, canned tomatoes . . . Let me guess. You want to make stone soup.”

  Carolyn nudged her aside and took out round steak. “It’s good for a cold, rainy day like this, don’t you think?”

  “And a lot of work, but you go right ahead if that’s what you want. What does it matter that it’s my house and I might have other plans.”

  “Did you?”

  “That’s not the point. I was getting around to it.” Her mother sat at the kitchen nook table. “Go ahead.” She waved her hand and looked out the window. “I’m just a little out of sorts today.”

  “What time did Dawn say she was coming?”

  “She’ll be here any minute.”

  Carolyn put the milk, eggs, bacon, and cheese into the refrigerator. “What’s this all about, Mom?” She rummaged in a drawer for a potato peeler and paring knife.

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Me?” Carolyn felt confused. “You called me.”

  Her mother looked disgruntled. “Are you sure you haven’t said anything to her about pressuring me to move?”

  “I’m not pressuring you. And no, I haven’t discussed it with Dawn.”

  Carolyn let the silence settle as she rinsed potatoes and carrots. How long before her mother realized she couldn’t stay out here alone, miles from a grocery store and medical care? She’d lost power for five days last winter! Mitch had to fight with the Coastal Commission to put in a generator. Not that she’d ever thanked him.

  Carolyn dumped peels into the coffee can under the sink. The meat browned in an iron skillet while she diced vegetables. Her mother hadn’t said a word in thirty minutes. Carolyn wanted to suggest her mother think about moving in with her and Mitch. They had plenty of room. Mom could have the never-used maid’s quarters. The apartment had a nice bedroom, private bathroom, sitting room, and kitchenette. Her mother wouldn’t even have to eat at the same table with them if she didn’t want to. But Carolyn knew better. Her mother would make some lame excuse about not wanting to be a burden. If May Flower Dawn wasn’t there, Mom had no interest in being there either.

  Still, she needed to make amends. Carolyn sat at the nook table. “I never meant to hurt your feelings, Mom. I worry about you out here all by yourself.” She didn’t want to remind her of the fall that had left her limping for weeks.

  Her mother looked like a little girl lost. “Do you?”

  “Yes. Especially this time of the year. If this rain keeps up, the roads will close. What if something happened?”

  “I haven’t fallen again.” Hildie looked toward the back door. “I hope Dawn gets here soon.”

  Dawn. Mom’s only concern.

  Carolyn let the hurt slide like water off a gull’s back and admonished herself for wishing Mom could make a little space in her heart for her. Life didn’t always work out the way you wished. At least she had Mitch and Christopher. “I forgot to call Mitch. My cell phone won’t work out here. Do you mind if I use
your phone?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Carolyn lifted the receiver. Nothing. She checked the cord, just to be sure it hadn’t been unplugged accidentally. “Too late. The phone lines are down.”

  “Here comes a car. Do you think it could be Dawn?” Mom headed for the door, flipping on the porch light before going out with her umbrella.

  Carolyn shoved the chair back and followed. Mom had left her standing in the rain for five minutes, but now opened the gate and stood waiting with the umbrella as May Flower Dawn drove up the hill. Carolyn stood under the gate overhang as her daughter parked.

  Mom didn’t wait for Dawn to get out of the car before going out and making sure she was protected from the rain. Carolyn could barely catch a glimpse of her daughter as she maneuvered herself out of the front seat. “Well, look at you!” Mom laughed. They hugged. They chattered.

  Carolyn shivered, rain dripping down the back of her neck. Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, she waited for them to remember her.

  Not surprisingly, it was Dawn who did. She stepped out of her grandmother’s embrace and came to Carolyn. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Carolyn smiled, feeling teary at the sight of her daughter. “You’re looking in full bloom.” Dawn and Jason had waited a long time for this baby. It was a time for joy. When Dawn threw her arms around her, she gave a soft gasp.

  Dawn held tight. “I’ve been dreaming about this for days.”

  Carolyn lifted a tentative hand to her daughter’s back, disturbed by the embrace. It wasn’t their usual way. “Of coming home to Jenner?”

  Dawn drew back and gave a wobbly smile. “Of having a few days alone with you and Granny. I . . .” She wiped rain from her face—or was she crying? “I’m just so happy!”

  “Well, that’s good, honey, but you’re getting wet.” Carolyn’s mother looped her arm around Dawn and herded her through the gate. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”