Her Daughter's Dream (24 page)

It had always been that way. Granny said they had a private club with only two members and it was no use trying to break in. But Oma had welcomed Dawn today. She had seemed genuinely glad to have her come down for the week. Dawn hadn’t really expected that.

The back door opened and Oma came outside. “Mind if we join you?”

Dawn grinned at her. “As long as I don’t have to give up the swing.”

“You stay put. I have to move the sprinkler.” She went out and pulled on the hose.

Mom came outside, carrying two frosty glasses of lemonade. She set one on the side table near the swing. “I thought you might like a refill.” She sat in one of the white wicker chairs. “It’s hot out here, isn’t it? Like a sauna.”

Oma dragged the hose, the sprinkler flipping over and over. “So what do you think, Dawn?” She snapped the hose and the sprinkler righted itself. She headed back for the covered patio.

“About what?”

Oma settled into the other wicker chair. “Being down here with your mom.”

“I’m glad I came.”

“Good.” Oma put her head back and let out her breath. Her mouth curved into a Mona Lisa smile.

30

The three of them sat in the family room that evening and watched
Jeopardy!
Oma knew every question in every category before the contestants. Amazed, Dawn asked if she’d ever tried to go on the show. “You’d make a fortune, Oma!”

“Might have made sense thirty years ago when I needed the money, but I have more than I need now. What would I do with a fortune other than leave it to my kids and ruin their lives? And don’t give me that cheeky grin. It’d be even worse giving it to grandchildren or great-grandchildren. Take away all your incentive to make something of your life. It’s the hard days of scrambling for enough that you’ll look back on with fondness when you’re a dinosaur like me.”

“Granny says every parent wants to make things easier on their children.”

Oma turned the volume down with the remote while a commercial played. “Making things easier on your children is sometimes the worst thing you can do. Of course, sometimes it’s easier for you. But what does it do in the long term?” She put the remote aside. “Take your granny as an example. She was a sickly baby. If I’d kept on coddling her, she’d have grown up weak. But she’s strong. She developed dreams of her own and went after them.”

Dawn winced. “I forgot. She said to say hi to you.”

Oma grunted. “Next time you talk to her, tell her I’d rather have a call from her than a relayed message.”

Mom patted Oma’s hand and kissed her cheek before getting up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sleep as long as you want, Carolyn. You’re on vacation.”

Mom wished Dawn a good night and went up the steps into the kitchen. Oma moved to give Dawn more room on the sofa. “Since this is your bedroom, you let me know when you want it all to yourself.”

“How late do you usually stay up?”

“Depends on what’s on television. Not much these days. I usually end up reading in the living room, but I’m between books right now.”

Glancing toward the back wall, Dawn gave a quiet laugh. “You must love reading.”

“Did you find anything to interest you?”

“I have to read
Ivanhoe
next year in English.”

“Have to?” Oma got up and pulled the book from the shelf. “It wouldn’t be a classic if it hadn’t won the respect and hearts of generations.” She dropped it on Dawn’s lap. “Read fifty pages. If you’re not hooked, put it back. If you enjoy it, take it home as my gift.”

They watched a mystery in companionable silence. When it ended at ten, Oma flipped through channels, giving terse critiques. “Rerun. Stupid. Copy of a better show. Trash. More trash. I give up!” She shut off the television and put the remote on the cabinet. At home, if nothing caught Dawn’s interest, she could always load a favorite video. Oma didn’t have a VCR, let alone a library of movies.

Oma struggled to her feet and headed for the kitchen steps. “How about some hot chocolate? Now that it’s cooled off, we can sit outside and enjoy the stars.”

Dawn sat in a wicker chair, fascinated as her great-grandmother pointed out stars and constellations and told the mythological stories that went with them.

“How do you know all this, Oma?”

“I’m interested. I have
Bulfinch’s Mythology
in my library if
Ivanhoe
doesn’t catch your attention.” She waved her hand. “There’s a whole universe of things to learn.” Crickets chirped love songs while Dawn sipped cocoa and listened to Oma until she wound down and sighed.

“You made your mother very happy by coming down here.”

“I had to beg her to bring me,” Dawn admitted. “She prefers Christopher’s company.”

“Christopher never said, ‘I hate you. I wish you were dead so I could go home and live with Granny.’”

“What?” Dawn spoke weakly.

“Oh, it was a long time ago. You’d just moved to Alexander Valley. Your mother said she understood. After all, you’d spent more time with your grandmother than you had with her. And your grandmother had built her life around you.”

Dawn didn’t hear any condemnation in Oma’s voice, but felt close to tears anyway. She hadn’t thought about that in a long, long time. She remembered feeling ashamed. She remembered wanting to apologize. She remembered her mother telling her if she wanted to talk, she could call Granny. She hadn’t told Granny what she had said. She’d been too ashamed to admit it. “Sometimes people say things they don’t really mean.”

“You meant it at the time.” Oma reached out and patted her hand. “I’ve said things I regret, too, my dear. We all do.”

“Granny’s always loved me.”

“So has your mother.”

Dawn wanted to believe it. “Not like Granny does.”

“And why would that be, do you suppose?”

Why not be frank? Maybe she’d get the truth from Oma. No one else wanted to talk about the past. “Because I wasn’t planned, I guess. I was a mistake in a long line of mistakes she made.”

“When has she ever said that to you?”

“She never says much of anything to me.”

“Your mother doesn’t say much of anything to anyone, other than Mitch.”

“She talked with you all afternoon.” Dawn hadn’t meant to sound resentful or jealous. “I’ve never heard her talk that much to anyone, not even Mitch.”

“She’s safe with me.”

Dawn looked at her, waiting for more. She could see the sheen in Oma’s eyes as she looked at the sky.

“Your mother has never had to guard words with me. She can speak her mind without fear I’ll love her less.” Oma gazed at the stars in silence for a few minutes, then spoke again. “We all make mistakes. It’s how we learn. I’m quite certain your mother would admit to making her share of mistakes. Though I’m also certain she does not consider
you
to be one of them.”

“She’d probably still be in Haight-Ashbury if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with me.”

Oma scowled. “Well, now, I don’t know how you can believe that when she didn’t even know you were on the way until a month
after
she came home.”

“Granny said she came home pregnant.”

“Yes. She did. But being pregnant isn’t the same thing as knowing you’re pregnant. Your mother found out the same day your granny did.”

Dawn tried to think back on things Granny had said to her. “Maybe I got it wrong.”

Oma relaxed again. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Dawn chewed her lip for a moment. “Do you know who my father is?”

“I never asked. Have you?”

“Yes,” Dawn said in frustration, “but she always changes the subject.”

“Then you might ask yourself when and how you asked.”

“I just want to know the truth, Oma. Don’t I have a right to know?”

“That’s all well and good, but what would you do with the truth if it was given to you?”

Oma talked in riddles! “I don’t know what you mean.”

Oma pushed herself up from the wicker chair. “Then you have something to ponder, haven’t you?” She picked up her empty cup, said good night, and went back inside the house.

* * *

Over a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and biscuits the next morning, Oma talked about what her other “kids” were doing. Dawn couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Granny, in her sixties, still being considered a kid. Uncle Bernhard had received a long-deserved prestigious award for grafting lime, lemon, and orange trees. Business boomed and their son, Ed, now managed vendor and customer accounts as well as advertising so Bernie could concentrate on his horticulture experiments.

Rumors circulated in Hollywood that Aunt Clotilde would be up for an Oscar. “Apparently the costumes she designed for some science fiction movie were out of this world,” Oma joked.

Aunt Rikka still lived in her apartment in Soho. “She says she has good light for her painting and plenty of subjects. She’s doing portraits now. She just finished one of a hoodlum from the Bronx with a tattooed neck and arms. She’s calling it
Simon the Zealot
. She’s talked an IRS officer into posing as Matthew the tax collector. I don’t know who will buy these portraits, but she doesn’t care. She says she’s saved enough to paint whatever she wants for a while. If she runs short on money, she can always weld some more scrap metal together, give it a fancy name, and put it in that art gallery that loves her work. She told me she has a friend who mounted a urinal on a slab of wood and sold it for two hundred thousand dollars!” Oma shook her head. “People will make complete fools of themselves trying to keep up with whatever the latest art craze is.”

Mom took Oma’s grocery list and headed off to the store, leaving Dawn alone with Oma. Oma smirked at Dawn as Mom went out the door. “Am I babysitting you or are you babysitting me?” She got up from her recliner. “I have some watering to do. Would you like to go out in the backyard with me? We can keep an eye on each other.”

Dawn lounged on the swing. “You had four children, Oma, and they’re all so different.”

“More similar than you might imagine.” Oma tipped a watering can over a box overflowing with blue and red petunias. “All four were bright and good-looking. They all found their God-given talents. Clotilde and Rikka are both artists. Bernhard and Hildemara took to science.”

Dawn put her arm behind her head. “I don’t think I have any talent.”

Oma straightened and glowered at her. “How would you know? You haven’t tried anything yet. Other than soccer, which your mother said you play very well.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think they have any professional women’s soccer leagues.”

Oma set the watering can down and eased herself into a chair. “You probably have a good idea already what you want to do with your life.”

Get married. Have children.
She didn’t want to say all that after Mom’s nonresponse. “I’m only fifteen. How would I know?”

“Your granny was reading books on Florence Nightingale at fifteen. I left home at fifteen. I knew what I wanted, or thought I did, and made steps to go after it.”

Dawn couldn’t imagine leaving home right now, let alone leaving her country. How had Oma done that? “What did you want, Oma?” Had she run away like Mom? Maybe that was part of the bond between them.

“I wanted a chance to make something of my life, and my father thought educating a girl was a waste of time and money. He made me quit school at twelve and sent me to work at whatever menial job he could find. He didn’t think I’d amount to anything. He sent me to housekeeping school in Bern to learn how to be a servant. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I found ways to make good use of the training. I was going to own something as grand as the
Hotel Edelweiss
someday.”

“
Hotel Edelweiss
?”

“My friend Rosie’s family had a hotel. It’s still in the family as far as I know.”

“So you had to give up that dream?”

“Not completely. I owned a boardinghouse in Montreal and helped build a forty-acre ranch specializing in almonds and grapes. If my father had pampered and petted me, I might have ended up staying in Steffisburg and waiting on him for the rest of my life.” She snorted and shook her head.

All Dawn wanted to do was get married and have children. It didn’t seem like much when compared to Oma or Granny or even her mother, who had become a successful Realtor. In less than three years, Dawn would be eighteen. She’d need some kind of workable plan for her future until her dreams came true, if they did. “The idea of going out on my own scares me.” The thought was daunting.

“Probably because you’re too comfortable.” Oma chortled. “Nice big room in a big fancy house with a swimming pool, everything taken care of for you. Why would you want to leave? The people I loved most told me to go. My mother told me to fly. Rosie couldn’t wait for me to have adventures. Even my employers, Solange and then Lady Daisy, both said I had to go. They loved me, but put their needs aside for my good. People either weigh you down or give you wings. I had to shove your granny out of the nest. If I hadn’t, she’d still be single and living on the farm, thinking she had to take care of me.” She looked annoyed at the memory. “I love every one of my children, and I did the best I knew how in raising them. I just wasn’t always the mother they wanted.” She let out a soft breath. “I tried to mend the rift with your granny, but . . .” She shook her head. “It’s easier to put up a wall than build a bridge.”

“Are you sorry you never got your dream, Oma?”

“I can’t complain. Sometimes we realize our dreams in ways we never imagined. I never thought I’d ever marry, let alone have children. I wanted an education more than anything. I don’t have a high school diploma, but I can speak three languages, and I’ve read more great books than most college graduates. It’s a good thing God isn’t limited by what we have in mind for ourselves. His plan is so much bigger. When you’re as old as I am, you have time to sit still and take a long, thoughtful look back over your life and see how God’s plan was also a whole lot better.”

“Jason talks about God the way you do.”

Oma raised her brows. “And how’s that?”

“Like God cares.”

“And you don’t think He does?”

“Well, I suppose so, but . . .”

“It’s too hot out here for a philosophical conversation.” Oma fanned herself. “Let’s go inside.”

Dawn followed Oma back inside the house. They sat at the kitchen table, the oscillating fan turned on high. “As I get older, I miss the Alps more. Then again, maybe it’s just the heat.”

“Have you ever gone back?”

“Once, when I was eighty-four. Rikka went with me and made drawings of the old Lutheran church, the schoolhouse where I went, Thun Castle. I was offered a job there once.”

“In a castle?” Dawn was impressed.

Oma snorted derisively. “As a maid who’d’ve been paid a pittance for the honor of working there.” She snorted again. “I said no.”

“I never knew any of this. You should write all this down.”

Oma pushed herself to her feet, took an old leather journal from a kitchen drawer, and tossed it on the table in front of Dawn. “Rosie gave that to me as a going-away present before I left for Bern. She told me to fill it with adventures.” Oma chuckled. “I didn’t expect to have any. So I filled it with bits and pieces of useful information, things I thought would get me where I wanted to go. And eventually, I suppose some of my ‘adventures’ made it into the pages too.”