Ann Martin - Dawn On The Coast

"Blond and want to be blonder?" Dad teased. He was using a deep, announcer's voice, like a TV commercial. "Try our products. That's Products for Blonds. In the pale yellow packaging."

We arranged the beach towels so that Dad was on one side of me, and Sunny and the girls were on the other. Jeff and Luke spread their towels a little ways away. I think they were looking for a place that would give them the best aim — at us — because, as we lay there in the sun, all slathered up, Jeff and Luke tossed little bits of dried seaweed and tiny pieces of shells onto our oiled backs and bellies.

"Bull's-eye!" Jeff yelled, when he got a shell right on Dad's bellybutton.

"Why don't you guys take a shell hike?" Dad suggested. He handed them the red plastic beach pail we had brought along.

"BO-RING," said Jeff.

"How about digging for clams?" Dad suggested.

"Yeah!" said Luke and Jeff at the same time. They were off and running.

Sunny, Maggie, and Jill decided to head down to the edge of the ocean and wade in. I wasn't really warm enough yet, so I decided to stay put and let the sun do its work.

"So here you are, Sunshine," Dad said when we found ourselves alone. "Sunshine in the sunshine."

Dad can be a real cornball sometimes. He grinned at me, then squinted out at the ocean.

"I'm glad you could come for a visit," he said.

"Me too."

Somebody walked by us with a radio. I could tell Dad was going to start up a serious talk, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it. Well, ready or not, a father-daughter chat was in the air. I waited for Dad to start.

"So how's it going in Connecticut?" he asked.

"It's okay," I said.

"School?"

"Fine."

"Friends?"

"Friends? Friends are great," I said. I sat up on my towel and started to push my fingers through the sand.

"How does Jeff seem to you?" Dad continued.

Jeff seemed fine, and I told Dad so. I told him again how unhappy Jeff had been in Connecticut and how much trouble he'd gotten into at school and all.

"I guess Jeff's the type who just needs to be home in California," Dad mused.

"Lucky him," I said, half under my breath. I was surprised at how sullen I sounded all of a sudden. Usually I'm about as even-tempered as they come.

Dad glanced at me and then stared out at the surf where my friends were playing.

"So how's your mother?" Dad asked after awhile.

"Oh, you know Mom," I said. "I have to check her every time she goes out of the house for — "I almost said, "for a date with the Trip-Man," but I caught myself just in time. I really didn't want to get into a discussion about the Trip-Man with Dad. I paused awkwardly, then said quickly, " — for work. Out of the house for work."

It felt silly to have something I couldn't talk to Dad about. Somehow, the whole conversation was feeling awkward to me. I didn't know what was the matter. I dug my fingers deeper into the sand.

"Is she, uh . . . doing okay?" Dad asked.

"Pretty good," I said. The truth was, Mom was doing okay. She might be scattered, but that was just Mom. She might be a little weepy every now and then, but that was natural —

her family had been split up. "She likes Connecticut," I said. "She sees Granny and Pop-Pop. She loves the farmhouse. ..."

"I hear you have a secret passageway/' Dad smiled. "Something right out of one of your ghost stories, huh?"

I told him all about the passageway, about how we had found it, and how Mallory's brother Nicky had discovered it before any of us.

"He still hides out in there sometimes," I said. "Sometimes when he just needs some solitude."

"In a family with eight kids?" Dad said. "I can see why."

"Well," I said glumly, "I don't have that problem." Again, the tone of my voice surprised me. What was the matter with me? I was in California, at the beach. . . . The last thing I should have been doing was complaining.

Dad knew right away that something was up. He waited awhile before he said anything. Dad's good that way. He gives you whatever time you need to think things through.

"A little lonely, are you?" he said.

I hadn't thought of it that way before, exactly. Maybe I was. I wasn't sure what I was feeling.

Just then Jeff and Luke ran up and dropped a little sand crab in my lap.

"Ew!" I screamed.

"Jeff. Luke," Dad said sternly.

All of a sudden I felt like running, moving, getting up, doing something. I popped up, brushed the sand crab back onto the sand, and took off for the ocean. Sunny and the others were now waist-deep in the water.

"Aughhh!" I cried as I ran toward them, into the surf. The water was cold and shocked my skin, but I plunged in, ducked under, and came up wet and dripping. I bounded out to where my friends stood. The waves crashed against us and we jumped them and laughed. I waved to Dad back on shore. Suddenly I thought how happy, how ecstatic, I was to be home.

When my friends and I came back in, we were blue-lipped and shivering. Dad bundled us up in towels and we let the sun do the rest.

I sat at the edge of my towel and built a little sand castle.

"Want to help?" I asked my friends. They didn't.

I stuck some shells in the castle for turrets. My emotions were beginning to calm. I thought, in passing, of Claudia. The sand castle looked

like something she might make. If Claudia were with us, I thought with a smile, she'd probably be building castles all up and down the shore.

After awhile we had a wonderful lunch that Mrs. Bruen had packed us — avocado salad with shrimp and sprouts and an unusual potato salad made with fresh parsley and herbs.

Yum! My friends and I gobbled it up.

When the sun started to fade, we gathered up our things and straggled back to the car.

"Blond Convention, ho!" Dad called, leading the way.

That night, much later, Dad suggested that I call Mom, just to say hi.

I wasn't sure, but I think she sounded a little shaky-voiced when she answered the phone.

"Dawn!" she said. Her voice was surprised. "So how are you?" she asked. "Are you having a good time?"

I babbled on about the beach, the weather, the housekeeper, my friends.

"We already went to Disneyland, then today we went to the beach. . . . And, Mom, I don't even have to miss the Baby-sitters Club. Saturday I baby-sit for Clover and Daffodil, and Sunny runs her club just like ours, except it's much more relaxed. ... I'm having a great

time. Jeff is real happy, and Dad is just super. . . ."

I think I must've babbled on for quite awhile. Out of nervousness? Something about it felt wrong.

"I'm so glad, honey," Mom said, when I had finished. Jeff was calling me in the background, so I put Dad on the phone.

There we were in our busy, active household, a family, and there was Mom in the farmhouse all alone. I guess, at the time, I didn't think of it that way. I certainly didn't realize how much I was really missing Mom. I guess I wasn't sure what I was thinking.

Chapter 8.

My first job for the We V Kids Club really was a great success. When I got to their house, Clover and Daffodil practically knocked each other over trying to say hello to me. Daffodil was a little more subdued — she's nine years old and more grown-up than Clover, who's only six. Clover was pulling at my sundress before I could even get through the door.

"Whoa!" I said. "It's only me."

"Dawn!" cried Clover. "My favorite babysitter in the whole wide world!"

I must admit, when one of the kids gives you a compliment like that, it's not very hard to love your job.

Mrs. Austin gave me a big hug hello. It was like I was a long-lost friend, returning from a great war or something.

"The kids have been so excited," she said. She drew me into the room.

I always loved the Austins' house, especially the living room. Mrs. Austin is a weaver. Dad said when they were young, she and her husband used to be "flower children." (I think he means hippies.) That's why Clover and Daffodil have such odd names. Now, though, Mrs. Austin weaves professionally for a few stores that carry expensive hand-crafted goods,