Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

Mom wiped tears from her cheeks, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t seem shocked or disgusted. Carolyn wondered if she could keep going and decided it was worth the risk. “You asked me why I didn’t believe you loved me.When I came home, you and Dad were ashamed of me. I could see it in your faces. When you found out I was pregnant, that was the last straw.”

“No, Carolyn. It was a shock, that’s all.”

“You and Dad asked Rev. Elias to talk to me. He told me not to come back to church.”

“What?” Mom spoke weakly, eyes wide.

“He didn’t believe I was truly repentant. He said enough to convince me I wasn’t good enough to set foot inside any church. When I came home, Dad made a point of asking me if I’d taken everything Rev. Elias said to heart. I did. Then you and Dad told me you were sending me to Los Angeles to live with Boots. You couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

“No. No! ” Mom looked furious, tears streaming down her white cheeks. “We asked Rev. Elias to talk to you because we thought he’d give you wise counsel. For heaven’s sake, if we’d known what he said to you, we would’ve left the church! Why didn’t Oma tell me about this?”

“Oma didn’t know, Mom. I never told anyone.”

“Then she must have guessed, because she left the church right after you did.”

“I assumed you and Dad felt the same way he did.”

“Of course not! If your father had known, he would’ve raised holy hell. We sent you away to protect you, not get rid of you.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. “I sent you to Boots. She was my best friend! I knew she’d love you and take good care of you.” Her mouth wobbled, tears still streaming. “I wouldn’t have entrusted you to anyone else.”

Carolyn wanted to believe her, but evidence stood in the way. “The day I walked into the house, I saw a wall of pictures, all of Charlie.”

“We wanted to honor his memory.”

“I looked around the house when you and Dad went to work. There wasn’t a single picture of me anywhere. Not one.”

Her mother clenched the crumpled, damp handkerchief in her lap and looked straight into her eyes. “I put them away a few months after you disappeared. We loved you, Carolyn. We agonized over you. The truth is we grieved more over you than Charlie. We knew what happened to him. He was killed in the line of duty. Don’t forget your father was a police officer. He worked in forensics. He dealt with homicides. He had nightmares when he came home from the war. He had worse ones when you disappeared. I put your pictures away because he died a little more inside every time he looked at one. I couldn’t bear to lose everyone I loved.”

Carolyn’s heart hurt. She pressed her hands against her chest, wanting to make it go away. She had spent so many years hiding the pain, not asking why things had been the way they were, afraid the answers might hurt even more.

Mom’s eyes warmed, and she gestured toward her bedroom. “I cherish your pictures. Your wedding portrait is on my dresser, your senior picture on my wall, where I can see both of them every night before I go to sleep. All the rest are in an album over there in the cabinet.” Her mouth trembled. “I love you. How could I not? You’re my own flesh and blood.”

Carolyn searched her mother’s face and saw raw pain. “How would I know? I haven’t stepped foot in your bedroom since I was three years old.” She never opened any cabinets except those in the kitchen. She gave a broken laugh. “Oh, Mom… we’ve both been so good at hiding what we feel.”

“I just told you I love you, Carolyn. Do you believe me?”

Carolyn looked into her eyes, eyes the same color as Oma’s. “Yes.” She felt all the tension drain from her body. She smiled. “And in case you don’t know it, I love you, too.”

Dawn was thankful Mom and Granny weren’t arguing anymore. She shifted her body, trying to get more comfortable. She could feel the pressure of tiny arms and legs stretching inside her. Taking two pillows and the comforter from the bed, she sat near the door. She covered herself with the comforter, scooted down, and tucked the pillows under her knees. The solid carpeted floor felt better than the soft bed.

Let the words keep flowing, Lord. Dawn knew others were praying for them, too. Georgia and the women of CCC, Pastor Daniel, Mitch, all the people who loved Mom and Granny. Her eyes grew heavy, but she forced herself to stay awake. It gave her joy and hope to hear them talking openly with one another. She probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she had been praying for this for so long that she felt she had to hear it to believe it.

Her mom was talking again. “I used to be afraid to love anyone. Charlie died. Then Chel. Oma. Dad. I don’t even want to think about losing Mitch.”

“Your dad and I rooted for him.”

“Mitch told me he was going to marry me that first time he came over for dinner.”

“And not for your cooking, I’ll bet,” Granny teased.

Dawn’s mother laughed. “Thanks a lot.”

“We knew he had a crush on you when he was a boy. It was hard to miss when he came over all the time.”

“To see Charlie.”

“And you. It is frightening to lose someone you love. I loved your dad every bit as much as you love Mitch… and the way Mama must have loved Papa. We all die sometime. Someday you’ll lose me, too, you know.”

“Yes, but I’d rather not think about that.”

“At least we’ll be speaking to one another.”

Dawn put her hands over her face and tried not to cry. Some things might never be worked out. Granny might never believe Oma had loved her.

Granny spoke. “I’m sorry about Rev. Elias, Carolyn. God forgive him. And I’m sorry you didn’t understand why we sent you to Boots.”

“It was the best thing you could have done for me. She recognized a dry drunk when she saw one and took me to my first AA meeting. She had a band of friends who were full of hope and experience and didn’t mind sharing. They all thought I should give up my baby. Boots wanted me to keep May Flower Dawn and stay with her.”

“You’ll never know how happy Dad and I were when you decided to come home.”

“I didn’t know I could until you sent that car seat. And then Dad laid down all the rules, and you quit your job so you could take care of May Flower Dawn…”

“We wanted to help you get back on your feet.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want you staying with Boots.”

Dawn heard the tension building in Granny’s voice, as though quick words could ward off something she didn’t want to hear. But Mom wasn’t going to let her get away with it this time. She spoke gently. “I loved Boots, but I didn’t want to depend on her. I’d lived off Chel for too long.”

“I wanted to help, Carolyn.”

“I know.”

“You wouldn’t have made it on your own.” Granny sounded defensive.

“Georgia did.”

“Because she didn’t have any choice. Her parents kicked her out. We wanted to help.”

“Yes. You helped yourself to May Flower Dawn.”

Dawn sat up and held her breath. She’d known for years she was the cause of much of their contention. She’d grown up in the middle. Granny had stepped in when needed, then held on. For a long time, Dawn had helped Granny win the tug-of-war. It wasn’t until she had sex downstairs with Jason that she understood how guilt and shame could imprison a person, keep her silent, keep her distant. Like Mom.

When Georgia held up the mirror before Dawn’s face, and Jason suggested they stop seeing one another, it had been her mother who came in and sat silently on the end of Dawn’s bed, empathizing with her pain. It had been Mom’s careful words that planted the seeds to let go and let God work, to follow the Lord and not her own deceitful heart and flesh. Mom had understood what Granny couldn’t.