Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

“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.”