Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

When she moved, not if . “I’d like to keep them, if it’s all right with you.”

“Of course. You probably want some of the pictures in that box, too. I have my favorites hanging in the bedroom. I’ll take those with me.”

The lights flickered. Carolyn opened a box of presto logs. “I need to break a couple of these so we have kindling, and I’d better do it now before we lose power.” Mom told her where to find Dad’s hatchet and suggested taking one of the grocery bags under the sink to carry the pieces.

Carolyn chopped two logs into thick, pancake-size chunks; tucked a few old newspapers in the bag; and went back inside. Just as she closed the door behind herself, the lights went out and the heater shut down.

“Well, there it goes.” Mom sighed. “At least we still have some daylight, but the house is going to get cold. There won’t be heat downstairs. Why don’t you bring your things up? Dawn can sleep with me in my bed and you can have that room. We’ll keep the fire going and leave the bedroom doors ajar.”

Carolyn rearranged several boxes. “First things first, Mom. We’ve got fuel; now we need to figure out how to cook.”

“There’s a Coleman stove under Dad’s workbench.”

Carolyn went out to find it.

Dawn awakened to rain splattering the windows and a crackling fire. Granny sat quietly reading Oma’s journal. “Where’s Mom?” Dawn pushed herself up slowly, rubbing at her side.

“Out in the garage.” Granny put the journal aside.

It was growing darker by the minute. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of hours. You must have needed it.” Granny studied her. “How do you feel now?”

“Groggy. Hungry.”

“Your mom is trying to find the Coleman stove. We’ll need it if we’re going to cook. The generator went off. I’m out of propane. No light, no heat, no stove.”

Dawn heard her mother come in the back door and move around in the kitchen before entering the living room. She sank wearily into the chair closest to the fire. “Finally found it under the garage. It was with Dad’s fishing poles.”

“Logical place for it.” Granny nodded. “Did you see a down sleeping bag?”

“Yep, but it’s mildewed.”

“More stuff for the dump,” Granny muttered.

“I’ll use Dawn’s bedding, Mom.”

Granny took the flashlight and went into the master bedroom. She came back with a pile of clothes. She dropped a dark green sweatshirt and pants onto Mom’s lap and a navy blue set beside Dawn. “Dad’s. I meant to offer these things to Mitch and Christopher, but I kept forgetting. Take off those dirty pants, Carolyn, and put on the sweats. You must be frozen through.”

Mom laughed. “After all the trips in and out of the garage and up and down those stairs, I’m nice and toasty.”

“Well, you won’t be for long.”

Mom went to change. Dawn pulled on the extra layer. Papa’s sweatpants pooled around her feet. She laughed. At least they fit her waistline. “Don’t I look fetching?”

Granny chuckled. She went back into the bedroom and returned with thick pairs of Papa’s socks. She insisted on warming the stone soup. “It’s my house. I’m supposed to be the hostess.” They ate in the living room, Mom sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the fireplace, Dawn and Granny in the two yellow swivel chairs on either side of her.

Dawn relished the closeness. This was a first-the three of them sitting and talking, like three buddies at a sleepover. “I’m glad the roads are closed and the power is off.”

Granny shook her head. “Being cut off from the world is the last thing a lady in your condition should want.”

“This is fun, don’t you think? The three of us sitting around the fire, enjoying one another’s company.” Deeper conversations could happen under these circumstances. She wouldn’t push yet. God, You do it. Strip away their resistance. Open their hearts. Get them talking.

Granny tucked her hands inside Papa’s old sweatshirt. “It’s why Papa and I moved out here. We hoped this would become a gathering place for the whole family. Maybe I should keep the place, for you and Jason and your children to enjoy.”

Mom looked at her with dismay. She set her empty bowl aside and pulled her legs up against her chest, gazing into the fire. Dawn didn’t have to guess what she was thinking, and she decided it was time to make a few things clear. “Jason intends to stay in the military, Granny. He could be transferred anywhere anytime.”

“Just a thought.” Granny sighed. “Things don’t always turn out the way we hope.”

“I noticed you were reading Oma’s journal again. Did she ever come up here, Granny?”

“She drove up once to see the place, stayed for two days, and went back to Merced. We invited her to live with us, but Mama said there wasn’t anything in Jenner that mattered to her.” She pinched lint off the sweatpants.

Dawn felt her hurt, but saw no reason for it. “I doubt she meant you and Papa didn’t matter, Granny.”

“Well, what else could she mean?”

Mom glanced at her. “Oma liked meeting people.”

“There are people here.”

“She liked exploring in her car.”

“She had to give it up soon after that.”

“And she wasn’t happy about it. She started taking walks around the neighborhood, then started riding the city bus. She said it took a while to feel comfortable riding around town with strangers, but she got to know the drivers and some of the regular passengers. She rode the bus to the community college and took classes there. She was enrolled in another American history course when she passed away.”

Granny leaned back, taking in that news. “I didn’t know that.” She sat quietly, contemplating what Mom had told her. “Oma always valued education. College for Bernie, trade school for Chloe, art classes for Rikka. She was disappointed when I chose nurses’ training.”

“Why?” Dawn curled her legs into the chair and pulled Papa’s sweatshirt over her knees.

“She thought I was training to be a servant. Oma wanted me to go to the University of California.”

Mom glanced up. “Her father made her quit school. Oma told me she would have loved to have gone to a university and I should take advantage of the opportunity.”

Granny gave a soft laugh. “She said she’d pay my way if I’d go to the school she had picked out for me. I enrolled in nurses’ training anyway. It was the first time I bucked her about anything.” Her smile turned sardonic. “It makes sense she set up that fund for girls wanting to go to college. And it never occurred to me that might be the reason Mama didn’t want to live up here.”

“Did Oma ever earn a degree?”

Granny shrugged. “I don’t know. She would’ve told you, Carolyn.”

Mom smiled. “Dawn gave her the only diploma she ever received. I think Oma just liked learning new things. She took art history once so she and Aunt Rikki would have things to talk about.”

“Did she ever take biology?” Granny asked.

“She took anatomy, physiology, and biology by correspondence course while living at the cottage. When she moved to Merced, she took chemistry. She said she could’ve used your help with that one.”

Granny frowned. “Why didn’t she ever tell me?”

“She tried. She invited you over for tea every day. You always had other things to do.”

Granny sat with her lips parted, a deep frown furrowing her brow. Dawn remembered that when Oma died, Granny had grieved deeply. Was it because things had been left unsettled between them?

Granny crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I’ve been reading her journal. I’d hoped it might share some of her feelings. But it’s just recipes, housekeeping information, boardinghouse rules, farm schedules-”