Kim always made a point of telling Dawn when Jason planned to come home. Dawn didn’t attend services on those Sundays. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving and Dawn’s suggestion that she and Granny go back to Jenner Saturday afternoon that Mom spoke up about it.
“You can’t avoid Jason forever, Dawn.”
When Christmas came around, Mom, Mitch, and Granny ganged up on her and insisted she attend church with the family. She said she would if she could drive her own car.
Jason sat in the third row with his mother. Dawn and her family sat in the middle on the same side. She tried to concentrate on what Pastor Daniel said, but her eyes kept drifting to Jason. He’d cut his hair, had grown a little taller, broader. As soon as the service ended, Dawn stood and made her way toward the exit. Kim stopped her, a perplexed expression on her face when Dawn made a quick excuse, gave her a quick hug, and headed for the door, where Pastor Daniel stood shaking hands.
“Great sermon, Pastor Daniel.” When he offered his hand, she took it. He gripped her hand firmly and asked why she seemed in such a hurry to get out the door. She didn’t dissemble. “You know why. Jason’s here.” He gave her a sad smile and let go.
She didn’t stop until she was safely inside her car, key in the ignition. Jason stood at the door with his mother. When he looked toward her, she started her car, backed out, and put it quickly into gear. She glanced in her rearview mirror one last time before she pulled out onto the street and headed home. Jason stood with all their old friends, home from college.
Her telephone was ringing when she walked into the house. She put her purse on her desk and sat on the bed as her answering machine picked up with her recorded message. “This is Dawn. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message at the sound of the beep.” No one spoke. Her heart pounded harder the longer the silence stretched. The answering machine clicked. She breathed again. The phone rang again. The machine picked up. Again, the long silence.
You have nothing to offer Jason.
She hadn’t forgotten what Georgia Steward said or the truth of most of it. She didn’t have anything to offer Jason.
The phone rang again. Sobbing, she put her hands over her ears.
A few days later, Dawn drove Granny home to Jenner by the Sea. “That young man you used to date, Jason what’s-his-name . . . ?”
“Steward.”
“He was at church on Christmas.”
Dawn focused on the road.
Granny studied her. “When you got up and headed out, he never took his eyes off you. I think he was trying to catch up with you, but people kept getting in the way.”
“He has a lot of friends.” Her voice came out with a soft catch in it. She adjusted her sunglasses.
“So do you, Dawn.” Granny spoke quietly and didn’t ask about Jason again.
1989
Mom and Mitch gave her the gift of another mission trip to Mexico. Since she had the equivalent of four years of Spanish classes under her belt, Pastor Daniel lined her up with another church that planned to put on a vacation Bible school in Tijuana. He also thought the preparatory meetings held on Thursday evenings rather than five in the morning on Wednesdays would be an added benefit to her. “Your parents said you’re burning your candle at both ends.”
The work in Mexico felt like a vacation after her grueling school and work schedule at home. And though she loved the children, she knew by the end of Easter week she was not meant to be a teacher. When she shared that conviction, Granny talked about her nursing days.
Fall enrollment at Santa Rosa Junior College rolled around, and Dawn signed up for human anatomy. By midterm, she decided to work toward a bachelor of science degree in nursing. Mom didn’t seem surprised by the idea, saying Granny would be pleased to know Dawn intended to follow in her footsteps. Mitch said Dawn could always do real estate later if nursing didn’t pan out, to which Dawn replied she hoped to finish at the junior college and transfer to a four-year college by the end of the following year. Mom seemed a little taken aback by that announcement. “You’ll be going off to college.”
Mitch leaned down and kissed her. “You’ll still have Christopher around. And me.” He straightened. “With your grades, Dawn, you can go anywhere you want. Why not consider UC Berkeley? It’s not too far from home.”
UCB was a great school, but Dawn knew the competition would devour her. She’d considered UC Santa Cruz, but it had the reputation as a party school. UC Davis was too close, UC San Diego too far away. Her counselor had graduated from Cal Poly, and she spoke highly of it. Dawn researched a dozen colleges, all good, some too expensive. Something had nudged her toward Cal Poly. Maybe it was the location—half a day from home, close to the coast. When people asked why there, her inclination was to ask, “Why not?” She couldn’t really explain.
40
1990
All Dawn’s old friends came home from college that summer, except Sharon, who had found a job in Santa Rosa and moved into an apartment near the Coddingtown Mall. Dawn caught up with their news after Sunday services. Most had lined up summer jobs at the downtown mall or various businesses in Healdsburg or Windsor. Kim called a few days after coming home from Pepperdine. “We’re going to get together every Wednesday evening. It’ll be better than old times.”
“Who all is coming?”
“Everyone but Jason. He’s off doing some kind of training this summer.”
“I’ll come when I can.” Rather than drive back and forth twice a day to Healdsburg, she had quit the job at Java Joe’s and worked at a coffee shop near the junior college, saving time and gas money.
All the old gang turned up at the Archer house the next Wednesday evening, eager to hang out with old friends. Kim and Tom had become engaged. Amy King had lost twenty-five pounds and added blonde streaks to her brown hair. Steven Dial had shot up six inches and now towered over Dawn.
Kim’s mom stood in the front doorway and announced she was going to have a ladies’ night out with friends from church. “Coffee’s ready, and there’s hot water for any who prefer tea. Lots of cookies. Popcorn for those of you who are worried about your weight, which seems to be just about everyone these days.” She waggled her fingers at Kim. “You’re in charge. If it turns into a wild party, it’ll be your head on the block, not mine. Good night, children.” She closed the door behind her.
Everyone lounged around the living room talking about old times. Two hours passed before they got around to talking about what Bible book to study over summer. Tom Barrett suggested Song of Solomon and earned a round of guffaws and teasing remarks, while Kim reminded him, in hushed tones, they would be going through premarital counseling and could discuss all that some other time.
“Oh, yeah.” Tom groaned loudly. “Like I’m going to feel so at ease talking about sex with your father.”
Kim blushed crimson. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
The unattached of the bunch voted Song of Solomon down and suggested Proverbs. “It’s practical.” Pam grinned. “And God knows, we need practical advice on how to live the Christian life in the midst of a pagan culture.”
“As long as we skip chapter 31.” Kim smirked at Tom, and she added in an aside to Dawn and Pam, “Last thing I need right now is hearing what I have to do to be the perfect wife.”
Grinning, Tom slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “Come on now, babe. Aren’t you the one who’s been telling me all Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training . . .” He let out a yelp. “She pinched me!”
While the others laughed, Steven paged through his Bible. “We don’t have time to finish all this.”
Amy reached into a bowl of popcorn. “How about Philippians? Only four chapters and lots of encouraging words.” They put it to a quick vote and settled it.
Lying in bed that night, Dawn thought about all the steps she had taken over the past three years to grow closer to the Lord. Even though she knew she didn’t have a fu
ture with Jason, she still harbored a dream of being a wife and mother, God willing. She hadn’t considered God would have a definition for the perfect wife. Pushing the covers aside, she turned on the desk light and opened her Bible. She felt depressed after reading Proverbs 31. How could any woman be all those things? Of course, it had taken the woman time. Her children were old enough to call their mother blessed, and her husband had gained enough standing in the community to be respected as a leader, and she managed servants.
Dawn covered her face. Lord, I’ve worked so hard to become better, to become someone who could be a proper helpmate to a godly man. I know I was all wrong in the way I pursued Jason. Is it too much to hope that even so, You might have a husband and children in store for me someday?
I love you. The answer came from the depths of her. Nothing was ever wasted, not even the damage she had done. Hadn’t shame and guilt sent her down a new path?
I’ll never be perfect, Lord. I’ll never be good enough for someone like Jason.
My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.
Slipping the leather journal Oma had given her from the top drawer, Dawn wrote: How to Be a Good Wife. But as she wrote, she searched for traits that would please God rather than a man.
Pam called and asked Dawn if she’d like to get together. “We could do a little shopping and then go to Bakers Square for pie.” Dawn knew something was up. Pam hated to shop. She suggested possible days and times, and they set a date to meet at the entrance of Ross Dress for Less.
Spotting her friend coming across the parking lot, Dawn laughed. Pam looked like she had an appointment for a root canal rather than an afternoon of shopping. “What are we looking for, Pam?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who always loved to shop.” Pam shrugged and stood outside the store. “I need your help. You always look like a fashion model, so put-together. I sort of agreed to a date with Steven.”
“What sort of date?” Dawn knew they’d gone to their high school prom together as friends, but she hadn’t noticed anything more between them.
“Dinner.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Oh, shut up. I wish I’d never . . .”
Dawn took her by the arm and pulled her through the front doors. “Did he say where you’re going?”
“How would I know? I mean, he could’ve meant he was taking me to Taco Bell. Something casual, I guess.” She looked around, her expression one of panic.
“You could’ve asked him where he plans to take you.”
“I did! All he’d say is it would take us an hour to get there.”
“Well, then it’s not Taco Bell. Someplace nice, probably. No jeans. No T-shirt.”
Pam rolled her eyes. “Just shoot me now.”
Dawn laughed. “Relax. This is going to be fun!” She started pulling things off racks. “Start with these. The dressing room is back there.” She pointed. “I’m going to keep looking. I’ll be there before you have the first outfit on.”
Holding half a dozen garments on hangers, Pam looked baffled. “What outfit?”
“This skirt, this top. Now go!”
After a few changes, Pam grumbled. One hand behind her head and the other on her hip, she struck a pose. “How about this one?”
“Not bad, but not all that great either. Take it off. Try these.” She hung more garment possibilities on the hook and took the discards. After an hour, Pam had had enough of being a model and pleaded for an end to the torture. Dawn pointed. “The black skirt and tunic with the red belt. It looks great on you. What about shoes?”
“Shoes?” Pam sounded horrified.
Ignoring further protest, Dawn thrust the favored garments into her friend’s arms, grabbed the others, and handed them over to the attendant on the way out of the dressing rooms. Dawn ushered Pam to the racks of shoes. She pointed out several pairs that would look nice. Pam found reasons not to try them on—too high, too red, too fancy, “You have got to be kidding me. No way!” When Pam picked up a pair of purple sneakers, Dawn grabbed them and shoved them back on the shelf. Pam reached for them again, and Dawn slapped her hand. They both laughed like little girls and finally settled on a pair of black slip-ons with two-inch heels.
“Boring, but serviceable.” Dawn shook her head in dismay. “Do you have new nylons?”
Pam seemed to shrink. “I’ll get them on the way home. I promise!”
They went to Bakers Square and sat in a booth by the front windows. Pam ordered apple pie à la mode, Dawn, caramel pecan silk supreme. They lingered and talked about college. Pam attended Arizona State and had declared a physical education major.
“How many applications have you sent out?”
Dawn debated whether to say anything. “One.”
“One? You know what they say about putting all your eggs in one basket. Which college?”
“Cal Poly.”
“Why there? I thought it was an engineering college.”
“High rep for technology and sciences. I’ll be in the nursing program.”
“Is that where Jason went?”
“Jason?” Dawn’s heart turned over.
“Jason Steward.” Pam gave her a wry smile. “Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten him.”
“No, but I thought he went to UCLA.”
“He applied, but didn’t qualify for a scholarship.”
“Oh.” Pinched by guilt, Dawn winced.
Pam frowned. “I can’t remember where he went. He doesn’t come home very often.” She shrugged. “San Diego, maybe.” She moved on to other subjects.
Jason Steward. Dawn’s mind drifted into a vortex of bittersweet memories. Sending up a quick prayer, she asked God’s blessing on him and let him go.
Mom and Mitch sat Dawn down and told her they intended to pay for her last two years of college. The first two years hadn’t cost them anything, and they’d set aside money that would enable her to concentrate on school instead of having to work a part-time job. When she argued, Mitch turned adamant. “You’ve done nothing but study and work the last three years, Dawn. You have no life.”
“I go to church. I go to the college group.”
“Two hours a week.”
“Everyone works. You work; Mom works.”
“You’re nineteen. You should have a little time to enjoy life.”
Mitch handed her a checkbook and told her how much would be deposited each month—enough for tuition, books, and a studio apartment. He also handed over a credit card and gave her a limit, plenty for living expenses like food and gas. She’d even have enough to pay for car insurance.
Stunned, Dawn felt the tears coming. “You don’t have to do this, Mitch.”
Mitch’s mouth tipped. “I’m not, Pita. It’s all your mother’s doing.”
Mom shook her head. “Don’t, Mitch.”
He ignored her. “She’s been banking her commissions since we married just so she could give you this gift. If you say no, I swear I’ll turn you over my knee.”
“Mom . . . I . . .”
Mom shrugged. “I didn’t get to give you a car.”
Dawn’s smile trembled. “This is a whole lot more than a car.”
“It hurts to see you work so hard to . . .” Mom stood abruptly and went to the kitchen counter, where she picked up some papers. “You’ll need to find a place soon. I have a list of apartment complexes that offer furnished studios.” She put them on the table. “The ones closest to campus are highlighted. You’ll have to stay in a hotel while you’re looking. I have a list of those as well.” She stood, hands gripping the back of a chair. “You’re going to be on your own.” Her eyes filled.
“She’ll be coming home for vacations.” Mitch put his arm around Dawn’s shoulders. “Won’t you?”
It sounded more a command than a question. “Yes.” She looked at her mother. “And you’ll come down, too, I hope.”
Dawn drove to San Luis Obispo the beginning of August. She listened to the radio on
the drive, music interspersed with news reports of the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, and the first U.S. troops being deployed to Saudi Arabia. Mitch had told her many high-ranking U.S. military officers were veterans of Vietnam. This war would be swift and decisive. Dawn thought of the uncle she had never met who died in Vietnam, and she turned off the radio.
The skies were clear that afternoon and cloudy the next morning when she arose. She left her things at Motel 6 and headed out to find a furnished studio apartment close to campus for a price she was willing to pay. She didn’t want to blow through her mother’s gift like found money, but use it wisely.
After three days, she signed a rental agreement with Bishop Peak Apartments. Her studio had a kitchenette with a small table and two chairs. The living room and bedroom were divided by an accordion partition. On one side was a sofa, one chair, a coffee table, and a hanging lamp, and on the other a full-size bed with two simple side tables and two cheap lamps. After her designer-decorated bedroom in Alexander Valley, it seemed drab, but she reminded herself of Mexico and felt thankful.
As soon as the phone service had been turned on, she called Mom with the new number. Then she called Granny and talked about the trip down, the hunt for an apartment, what she had seen of the town. “I’m going to try one of the churches tomorrow.”
“You sound lonely, honey.”
“A little, I guess. I’ll get used to being on my own.”
Over the next few days, Dawn took long walks around campus, familiarizing herself with its main buildings, the library, the dining complex. Hills dotted with oaks rose around campus with Bishop Peak in the distance. Sitting on a bench, Dawn watched others pass by. Was she really hearing God’s voice about Cal Poly? Or had she come three hundred miles from home on some sort of delusion?
Once Dawn knew her way around the campus, she took drives to the Pacific beaches, coastal dunes, ridges, forests, and nearby lakes. She spent an afternoon at the mission, wandering through the garden with its fountain and statue of Father Junípero Serra and sitting in the chapel praying God would lead her in the days ahead.
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