Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

“Well, Chris couldn’t come. His team needed him.”

“He’s in peewees! They play swarm ball! Just once, just for a couple of hours, couldn’t I be first in your life?”

“You came first for a long time, Dawn. Not that it ever mattered to anyone, especially you.”

Dawn gave up. Storming out of the kitchen, she went down the hall and slammed her bedroom door. She sat on the end of her bed and cried. Someone tapped on the door. Dawn shouted, “Go away!”

Sometimes she wished her mother would yell back instead of walking away-or responding in that cool, calm tone. Dawn wondered sometimes: How could she miss her mother so much when she’d never had her love in the first place?

1986

Dawn still felt adrift after nine months as a freshman. High school had turned out to be a complete bust. She’d gone from junior high Sky Hawks star soccer player to outcast and dweeb. The girls who had been her friends since second grade left her behind by mid-September, charging like forwards into new groups. Torie Keyes now ran with the Mexican gangbangers. Dawn saw her every day in the corridor, draped around Juan Alvarez like a bun around a hot dog. Susan Mackay hacked her hair into a butch, donned button-down shirts and black pants, and “came out of the closet” as a lesbian. Two other buddies from the Sky Hawks soccer team, Tiffany Myers and Leanne Stoddard, still hung out together. They smoked pot behind the modular buildings lining the football field. If Dawn wanted to go to a big party where booze and drugs and sex would be in abundance, all she had to do was ask Tiff and Lee. They’d know where to find one.

She scribbled more loops on her notepaper. Summer break loomed a week away with the promise of endless boredom.

She’d be stuck at home for three months without even Christopher’s company. Her little brother had an army of little buddies; hence, places to go and things to do. In addition to friends, Mom signed him up for swimming lessons and, not one, but four different vacation Bible schools. Why? Because he had four “best friends,” all in different churches, and he didn’t want to play favorites. Must be nice to be so popular, not to mention the blessing of being the first and only son.

Even more annoying, Mom, who never went to church, would volunteer at every VBS. She’d take snacks, help with art projects, do whatever she could to be involved in Chris’s life. She acted like a mother bear sometimes, as though someone might snatch Christopher away and molest him.

Tossing the pen aside, Dawn rubbed her forehead. Thinking about her mother always brought on a stress headache-ironically, the one thing they had in common. After they argued, Mom always retreated into the master suite and put cold compresses on her head or went to an AA meeting.

But their arguments were infrequent. You had to have feelings for someone to fight with them. Her mother didn’t seem to care one way or the other about Dawn. She didn’t hover over her; she just stepped back and watched from a distance, if she watched at all.

Mitch made time for her. Every month, they went on a “date.” The last time, they couldn’t find a movie worth watching and ended up eating dinner at the Western Boot. He talked about Uncle Charlie all evening. She loved hearing about Uncle Charlie. He sounded so cool. He and Mitch had gotten away with major mischief that left her laughing and in awe.

“And what about Mom? Did she get into any trouble?”

“She was a good girl.”

“Yeah, right. She never did anything wrong.”

“Nope.”

“She waited until she got to Haight-Ashbury.”

Mitch didn’t say anything to that.

“Does she ever talk to you about those years?”

He shook his head.

“And you don’t ask?” When he just looked at her, she pressed a little harder. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Your mother laid her life bare in less than a minute the first time I managed to corner her for lunch. She tore the skin off old wounds, and no, I am not going to betray her trust and tell you anything.”

“Did she say anything about my father? Does she even know who he is?”

Mitch put his napkin on the table and signaled the waiter.

Dawn hung her head. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at her stepfather through her tears. “I don’t want to go yet, Mitch. Please. I’ll behave.”

Mitch told the waiter they’d like to see the dessert selection. Dawn looked at the menu, but she wasn’t hungry. Was it so wrong for her to want to know? “I must remind her of things she’d rather forget.”

Mitch put the menu aside. “You should sit down with her and ask your questions, Dawn.”

“She’d never tell me anything. Every time I even hint, she changes the subject or says she has to go to a meeting. Maybe just talking to me makes her want a drink.”

“I’m not going to get in the middle.”

“Mom and I don’t even speak the same language.”

Dawn tried to put herself in her mother’s shoes. How would she feel if she had a kid out of wedlock, living proof of how she’d messed up her life and needed her parents to pick up the pieces and put her back together? As painful as it might be to go over the past, Dawn wanted to know something about her biological father. Not that Mitch wasn’t a great dad; he was the best. But she didn’t come from his gene pool.

Rubbing her temples, Dawn stared at the wall clock, noting another fifteen minutes before study hall ended. Maybe she’d ask her mother if she could sign up for summer school; at least it would be something to do. She’d already checked at McDonald’s about a job, but she had to be sixteen. If she didn’t find something to do, Granny and Papa would expect her to spend the summer at Jenner by the Sea again, just like last summer and the summer before that and every summer since they’d moved from Paxtown. She loved them dearly, but three months around their house with nothing to do wore her down.

They had books, of course, lots of them, most about building a house from foundation to roof, how to remodel, how to make repairs, plumbing and wiring, etc. Granny collected cookbooks. Dawn wouldn’t have minded learning to cook, but they had a “one-butt kitchen,” as Papa called it, and Granny liked being the only “butt” at the sink and stove. Last summer, Dawn found herself so desperate, she weeded every inch of Granny’s garden below the house.

The class bell rang, jolting Dawn from her reverie. She stuffed her notebook into her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for the door.

If she wanted to stay home this summer, she was just going to have to spell it out. She’d beg if needed. If Mom said no, she’d enlist Mitch and Christopher’s help. They always had better luck with Mom than she did.

Dinner was almost over before Dawn gathered enough courage to say she wanted to spend summer at home. Mom glanced up, surprised. “But you always spend the summer at Jenner.”

“I know, but I’d rather stay home this year.”

“What’s Granny said about this?”

“I haven’t told her yet.” Avoiding her mother’s look, Dawn smiled at Christopher. “Maybe I can help keep an eye on Little Dweeb when you have an open house.”

“I only do open houses on the weekends, and Mitch is here.”

So much for trust.

“What do you plan to do for three months?” Mitch cut a piece of roast beef and forked it into his mouth.

She batted her eyelashes at him. “You could teach me to drive.”

He laughed in mock horror. “No way! Besides, you’re not old enough.”

“I could learn to drive one of your tractors.”

“And risk my vineyard? I don’t think so.”