Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

Winters had always been too long out here on the coast, but bearable as long as Trip had been with her. Then, even if the roads closed and phone and power lines went down, Hildie hadn’t been alone. She and Trip joked about “roughing it” without lights, heat, television, or stove, like it was a grand adventure.

The sense of adventure died with Trip. While Hildie was still reeling from Trip’s death, Carolyn suggested Hildie sell the house and move into town. It had seemed utterly insensitive. Give up the Jenner house? after all the work Trip had put into it? He’d spent five years-and more money than they’d paid for the place-improving it and bringing it up to his standards. Throwing it all away seemed disloyal. She said as much to Carolyn, and her daughter didn’t mention moving again until a few months ago, after Hildie had taken a fall.

This year, winter had become a black hole sucking Hildie down into a vortex of despair. The last time Carolyn came out “for a visit,” she broached the subject of moving again. Hildie told her no . When Carolyn tried to keep talking about it, Hildie ignored her and turned on the television. Carolyn didn’t say anything for a long time. Hildie felt guilty and uncomfortable with the silence, but she didn’t know any other way to get her point across. Sure, she was almost eighty-seven, but so what? She still had all her faculties. She didn’t need to be put away. “All right, Mom,” Carolyn said after fifteen minutes. “Have it your way.” She left two residential care facility brochures sitting like cemetery contracts on the coffee table.

Unease filled Hildemara. Had Carolyn called Dawn and enlisted her help in getting old Granny to give up her home and move? Why else would her granddaughter fly to California when she was eight months pregnant and then insist the three of them get together at Jenner and talk? Hildemara felt her anger boiling.

“Mom?” Carolyn sounded breathless. “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“You never call unless something’s wrong.”

Was that true? When had she last called Carolyn? two weeks? a month? “Nothing is wrong. Not unless you said something to Dawn about trying to move me into an old folks’ home. She’s here .”

“At Jenner?” Carolyn sounded shocked.

“No. Not Jenner. In town. She’s staying with Georgia. She called a few minutes ago. She wants you to come to Jenner so the three of us can talk.”

“I don’t understand. Is it the baby?”

“She said she’s fine.”

“This isn’t about Jason, is it? If she’s with Georgia-”

“She sounded fine. She wouldn’t be fine if anything had happened to Jason. Just pack and get out here. Dawn said she wouldn’t come to Jenner until you arrive. I don’t know what that’s all about.” Hildie could hear Mitch saying something in the background.

“The roads are terrible, Mom. Mitch can come out and bring you back here. I could pick up Dawn.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? We need to meet here , at Jenner .” Hildie knew she sounded angry and impatient, but she didn’t want Carolyn wasting any more time.

“It can’t always be the way you want it.”

Hildie hated that phrase. Mama used to say it. “It’s not my way. It’s Dawn’s way.”

Carolyn sighed. “I’ll be on the road in half an hour.”

“I’ll call Dawn and let her know.” Hildie hung up, flipped through her address book, and punched in Jason’s old number. Georgia answered and said Dawn was sleeping and could she take a message. “Tell Dawn her mom is on her way out here. Jason is all right, isn’t he?”

“Jason’s fine. He e-mailed Dawn yesterday.”

“Thank God.” Hildie felt some relief, but then had to ask, “And the baby?”

“Dawn is as big as a house. Hang on a second. She’s awake.” Hildie heard muffled voices, then Georgia again. “Dawn will head out to Jenner in an hour.”

“Tell her to be careful. The weather is mean.”

As soon as Hildie got off the telephone, she opened the wooden accordion doors into the small bedroom off the kitchen. She had bought a pretty blue and white Laura Ashley comforter and curtains in the hope Carolyn might come out and spend a weekend now and then. No such luck. Dawn could sleep in here and use the nice, new, plush pink towels and pretty seashell soaps. Carolyn could sleep downstairs. Hildie switched on the lamp before leaving the room. The glow could be seen outside through the lacy sheer curtains. She liked the house to look like a Thomas Kinkade painting.

She debated turning on the downstairs thermostat, then decided to wait until after Carolyn arrived. Propane was expensive, and the delivery truck had gotten stuck on a nearby ranch, delaying the refilling of her tank.

How could she be so tired after doing so little? She sat in her recliner and put her feet up. Oh, for heaven’s sake! She was still wearing her fuzzy slippers and bathrobe! Maybe she was entering her dotage.

Slamming the recliner, she headed for the bathroom and turned on the electric wall heater. She put on her shower cap and washed, rinsed, and stepped out of the tub in under five minutes. Toweling dry before the heater, she pulled on her white silk Cuddl Duds leggings, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and the red velour pantsuit Carolyn had given her for Christmas. She brushed tangles from her gray hair. Carolyn had treated her to a perm three months ago. Wash-and-wear hair, her friend Marsha called it. They’d been neighbors until Marsha’s daughter flew out, packed her up, and took her back to Colorado Springs. No old folks’ home for Marsha. Her daughter insisted she move in with her family. Hildie tossed the brush in the drawer and banged it shut.

Standing in the living room, Hildie looked at the Russian River flowing wide and muddy, swollen and treacherous, from heavy rains. Rain hit the window like pebbles tossed against the glass. Surf pounded in the distance. She hadn’t been to the beach since Trip’s heart condition worsened. “My wings are clipped,” he’d said. So were hers. She hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, and he’d been irritated by his limitations. No more fishing in the surf. No more volunteer work at the visitors’ center. No long walks up the hill for the panoramic view of the coastline.

Now, the closest Hildie came to the beach was the wide spot on the curve of Highway 1 where she parked her Buick Regal and used Trip’s binoculars to watch the sea lions on the other side of the river. Her big outing these days was walking down the hill to the post office in a trailer next door to the Jenner Gift Shop. And going to the Guerneville Safeway store every two weeks for groceries.

How long could she manage that steep walk? She didn’t like to go when the road was wet and slick. How long before she would have to give up driving?

It galled her that Carolyn was right. She was getting too old to live alone.

The last time she had seen Dr. Kirk, he’d told her she had a strong heart and she’d probably live to be a hundred. Considering how difficult it was for her to get around now, the prospect had been annoying.

She picked up the information Carolyn had left and looked at the glossy photos. If she moved into one of those facilities, would she see more or less of Carolyn? Since Trip had died, Carolyn had called once a week. Duty calls, right up there with the groceries Carolyn brought every two weeks, not that Hildie needed them. With professional attendants keeping watch, her daughter wouldn’t need to check on her.

What Hildie needed and wanted was a relationship with her daughter. After so many years, it was just wishing for the moon. She’d never known how to bridge the gap to Carolyn any more than she’d ever been able to make a bridge to Mama.