Ann Martin - Dawn On The Coast

When Dad came home from work I sat him down to prepare him for my decision.

"I've decided to leave California and go back to Connecticut," I said.

Phew! Was that ever a hard thing to get out.

"I like both places," I continued. "I like them a lot. But I've made my home at Mom's now. It's time for me to go back."

Dad's eyes were all misty as I was explaining.

"I know," he said. "I guess I knew it all along."

Jeff, who had been standing in the doorway, turned around and stomped down the hall. It would take him another day or two to adjust to the disappointment.

"Well," said Dad, "for such a young girl you've had a big decision to make. You've got two homes. Just remember — this is always your home, too. We'll always be in touch, you can always visit. Your room here is reserved. And so is your place in our hearts."

Oh, Dad! What a cornball. By the time he finished his speech, my eyes were all misty,

too. Okay, they were more than misty. Tears were streaming down my cheeks like rain.

"Dad," I blubbered. "Can I call Mom?"

"Sure, Sunshine," he said.

He left the room so I could be alone.

I think Mom was surprised to hear my voice all shaken up.

"I was wondering," I asked her. "Could you bring Mary Anne along to the airport with you?"

"Of course," said Mom. "I'll call her up as soon as we hang up."

Mom stopped talking. So did I.

"Dawn, honey," she said. "Is everything all right?"

WeU, I hadn't meant to tell Mom that I had been thinking about staying in California, but somehow it all came flooding out.

"You know how it is, Mom," I said. "Avocados, the beach ..."

"Oh, Dawn," she said, "I knew when you went out there you'd start thinking about moving back."

How come everybody seemed to know more about me than 7 knew? Dad had known I was going to decide to go back to Stoneybrook. Mom knew I was going to think about staying in California in the first place. Parents!

"You know, Dawn," Mom continued, "if

you do want to stay in California, we could give it some thought. I know it's been difficult for you. I know you love it out there."

"I made my decision/' I said. My voice was cracking. "I'm going to come home."

"Dawn," Mom blubbered. "I would've missed you so much."

We certainly were a weepy family that night. Yup, the four of us were a family, even though we were split up in two different houses and separated by thousands of miles. And as far as understanding goes, I sure got a lot of that from my parents. From both of them. My dad might be on one coast and my mom on the other but, parent-wise, I guess I'm pretty lucky.

Friday, my last full day in California, was a pretty busy day. That morning I baby-sat one last time for Clover and Daffodil. Daffodil asked if she could write me. And Clover (always Clover) told me she might come visit me by spaceship. When Mrs. Austin came home, she slipped a thin package into my hand along with my pay.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Open it and see," she smiled.

Inside was a hand-woven purse that Mrs. Austin had made and lined in silk. The threads were red and a deep golden color.

"Like sunshine," she said. I blushed. Had Dad told her my nickname?

After the job, I ran over to Sunny's house for one last meeting of the We V Kids Club. Actually, it was more like a party, a good-bye party for me. Sunny, Jill, and Maggie had made all kinds of treats — fresh pineapple wedges, zucchini bread, carrot cake. They had a big tray of food that they set down in the center of our circle.

Sunny banged her hand on the floor, like a gavel.

"This party will now come to order," she teased.

Believe me, there was no need to call us to the food.

The party was interrupted only twice by job calls. Maggie took one and Jill took the other.

There really wasn't enough work here to go around, I thought. In a way, it was good I was leaving.

When the "meeting" adjourned, Sunny pulled two packages out from under her bed.

"Surprise!" she said. "You can't go without your presents."

I knew it. I knew Sunny couldn't say goodbye to me without some sort of surprise.

One package, the first, was a book, I could

feel it. I tore open the wrapping paper. Kids Can Cook . . . Naturally.

"Thanks, you guys/' I said enthusiastically. "This is great!"

"Open the other," said Sunny.

The other was my very own recipe file. The three of them had made it for me. The file box itself was blue, and they had pasted a picture of a sun on front. Inside were all their recipes, copied in their three different handwritings.

"You guys!" I cried. "You guys!"

What I was trying to say was, I just loved it.

I said good-bye to everybody. Then it was time for me to head home, for my last dinner with the California branch of the Schafer fam-fly.

Dad and I had discussed it, and we'd decided that, for the last night, it would be fun to go out. Dad had suggested a Mexican restaurant, a big favorite of mine and usually a favorite of Jeff's, too. Jeff, though, was still a little upset. He was my last hurdle, the last peace I had left to make. As we drove to the restaurant, Jeff kept a pouty look on his face. He squinted his eyes and puckered his mouth.

"What're you going to order, Jeff?" Dad asked in an effort to draw him out.

"Dunno," said Jeff.

"How about chicken enchiladas? You always like those."

"Yuk," said Jeff.

Dad and I exchanged quick smiles.

When we got to the restaurant, Jeff began twisting his fingers into the hem of the tablecloth.

"Dawn," he said sullenly. "How come you're leaving? Is it because we're boys?"

"No," I laughed. Jeff looked hurt. I tried to look as solemn as I could. "You thought I was leaving because you and Dad are boys? Not at all. I just have to go back."

"Maybe you can visit Dawn this summer," Dad suggested.

"Maybe she could come back and visit again here," Jeff insisted.

Jeff would always be true to California.

"Anyway, I had a good time with you," he said grudgingly.

"So did I." I smiled back.

"I liked when I took your picture at Disney-land/' he said. "And I liked when I dropped the crab in your lap at the beach."

The very thought perked Jeff right up. Despite himself, he started to smile.

"Hey, how come you and your friends all wear those bikinis, anyway?" he asked. "Those things are really gross."

I had to laugh. And so did Dad.

When the waiter came, Jeff didn't even bother to look at the menu.

"Chicken enchiladas," he said.

That's our Jeff.

The meals came and we all ate hungrily. Dad ordered coffee before we left.

"You really can come back any time you want, Sunshine," he said. "Anytime during the summer, any vacation."

He took a sip from his cup.

"And hey," he said, suddenly inspired. "Why not bring all those friends of yours? All your friends in the Baby-sitters Club. I've certainly heard enough about them."

"Really?" I asked.

"How many would that be?" he calculated. "Six?"

"Six girls!" Jeff choked. "No way!"

"And all of them baby-sitters," Dad laughed. "Jeff, they'd have you corralled in no time."

The Baby-sitters Club in California? It was a great idea.

"Could I really bring them?" I asked. "When?"

"When?" Dad smiled. "Whenever!"

Chapter 15.

Well, it was C-Day again, only this time "C" stood for Connecticut, not California. That morning we had to get up pretty early to get me to my flight — because of the time change, the plane east leaves much earlier than the one going west. The neighborhood was quiet when we woke up, and the three of us sat groggily at the breakfast table, slowly coming awake.

"Mmm, coffee," Dad said, sipping from his cup.

That's about all the conversation any of us could muster.