“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.”
“I can help with laundry and cooking.”
Mom spooned a second helping of mashed potatoes onto Christopher’s plate. “Your grandparents will be disappointed. They expect you to spend time with them.”
“I could go out one weekend a month. It’s not like I’m saying I don’t want to spend any time with them.”
Mitch gave her mother a look. “It might be nice having Pita here for a summer. She’s not going to be around that much longer, you know. Three more years and she’ll be off to college.”
“I’m not looking for a fight, Mitch. You know how things are.”
Mitch put his napkin on the table. “I’m going to be late for the elders’ meeting.” He leaned down and kissed Dawn on the cheek. “It’ll be good to have you around this summer, Pita.” He came around the table and kissed her mother full on the mouth. “Won’t it?” He kissed her again. He ruffled Christopher’s thatch of curling reddish brown hair. “No dragging your feet about going to bed tonight, buster. You still have a couple of days of school left.”
Her mother sent Christopher to take a bath and gathered the dinner dishes. She glanced at Dawn’s plate. “You didn’t eat much.”
“Wasn’t hungry. I can help around the house, Mom. Do the dishes. Do the laundry.”
“That’d be nice.” Mom stood at the sink. “Okay.” She turned and looked at Dawn. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You have to tell your grandparents.”
Dawn gave her a half-pleading smile. “I was hoping you would help me with that.”
“No way.” Her mother turned to rinse the plates before putting them in the dishwasher. “They wouldn’t believe me if I told them you’d rather be here than out there with them.”
* * *
Dawn worried and rehearsed the call for two days.
“Was it your mother’s idea to make you stay home all summer?”
“No.” Just say it, Dawn! She let her breath out slowly. “I’ve never been home for an entire summer, Granny.”
Silence.
“You’ll still come out on weekends, won’t you?”
Dawn chewed her lip. “Not every weekend, Granny.”
Another silence.
“We were thinking about taking you on a trip to Yellowstone. Papa isn’t getting any younger. This will probably be the last year for doing this kind of thing.”
Granny knew how to apply the screws. “I know you and Papa will have a great time.” She plucked at her bedspread. “I love you, Granny. I’ll call you soon.” She hung up before Granny could add anything else to make her feel even more guilty.
“Everything all right?” Mom stood in the doorway, expression guarded, hands tucked into her apron pockets.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Good.” Her mother took her hands out of her pockets and smiled. “Come on in the kitchen. You can go through my cookbooks and decide what you want to fix for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night? But I don’t know how to cook.”
“Cooking is easy. All you have to do is follow directions.”
Panic set in.
Her mother walked ahead of her down the hall, pulled several cookbooks off a shelf, took a pad of paper and a pen from a drawer, and dropped them on the kitchen table. “Figure out what you’d like to cook, make a list of ingredients, and I’ll pick up whatever you need tomorrow morning.” Her mother slung her purse onto her shoulder.
“Aren’t you going to help me?”
“I can’t. Chris’s class is having an end-of-year party.” She opened the refrigerator and took out a bowl of potato salad.
“Mom?”
Her mother paused in the doorway and looked back at her. Dawn wanted to say she hadn’t stayed home to be alone, but to spend time with her mother. The silence stretched, the words sticking in her throat.
Her mother’s expression softened. “Don’t look so worried, Dawn. You’ll do fine without me.”
Dawn listened to the garage door open and close. She flipped open the Joy of Cooking and turned the pages. Shoving the book aside, she put her head in her arms and cried.
27
Two weeks at home felt like a year. Christopher had a packed social calendar, Mom as chauffeur, while Dawn got to hang around the house, do laundry, plan and fix meals. At least she had company today. Christopher had
a rare day at home, and Mom trusted her enough to act as lifeguard while he swam in the backyard pool.
Dawn rubbed sunscreen on her legs while keeping an eye on her little brother. Christopher stopped and sputtered, wiping hair back from his face and treading water in the deep end. Tossing the tube of Coppertone aside, she stood. “Need me to fish you out?”
“No!” He set off again.
Dawn walked to the end of the pool and waited for him. When he grabbed hold of the edge, she tapped him on the head. “Enough already, Chris.” He cleared his eyes and looked at her. She held his wrist. “You’re doing great. Just take a rest, would you please? You’ve done four laps. If you do another, I’m going to have to drag you out and give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
“Gross!” He let her haul him out of the water. Christopher’s wet feet slapped along the smooth concrete. He threw his towel around his shoulders, but still looked like a half-drowned mouse.
She grabbed her towel off the chaise longue and rubbed his hair dry. “I couldn’t even do one lap when I was six.”
“If I can do six laps without stopping, I can be a dolphin. And then I can learn to dive.” Her little brother flipped out his towel and sprawled on his stomach. “Dawn, will you go to VBS with me tomorrow?”
“I’m too old for VBS, buddy.”
“You could be a helper.”
“Doing what? Handing out graham crackers and apple juice? Taking kids to the potty?”
“Come on. Please.” He put his hands together and gave her his practiced puppy-dog look. “Pretty please. I’m supposed to invite someone.”
“Someone from kindergarten to fifth grade, Chris. I’m telling you they don’t sign up sophomores for VBS.”
“High school kids come. They have a band! They help in the classes; they play outdoor games with us.”
“Sounds like VBS has more than enough help already.”
“I told the band kids I have a sister. I said you were pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“I said I’d bring you tomorrow.”
When she glared at him, he stuck out his lip. He could be cute. “Do you get extra points or something?”
“No. But if you go to VBS, you can’t do the wash and Daddy won’t have to wear pink T-shirts.” He grinned broadly.
“Okay. That’s it!” Dawn jumped up, grabbed him by an arm and a leg, and headed for edge of the pool. “Time for a few more laps!” He squealed with laughter as she swung him back and forth and launched him into the deep end of the pool. He popped up quickly, grinning from ear to ear and hollering for her to do it again.
* * *
Cornerstone Covenant Church turned out to be a large warehouse with metal roll-up doors in the Windsor Industrial Park. Volunteers had pitched two huge tents in the empty back lot. It looked more like a circus than a church.
Christopher grabbed Dawn’s hand. “We have to go to chapel first!” He hauled her into a huge concrete-floored room with basketball hoops on either end. No pews, just folding chairs. Bright colored banners hung on the walls. Faith. Hope. Joy. Love One Another. The largest was purple with gold names appliquéd: Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace, Jesus, King of Kings.
Mom laughed. “It’s not exactly what I expected either.” She carried a tray of iced cupcakes and nodded toward a door. “The kitchen is that way.”
“No, Mom. Dawn has to come with me.” Christopher pulled her into the throng of kids. “Come on! They’re going to start in a minute. My class is down front.”
Her heart jumped when she spotted Jason Steward, one of the best-looking guys at school, on the raised platform with four other teens. They wore black Levis and canary yellow T-shirts with Christ is Lord emblazoned in red letters. Kim Archer, a pretty brunette who was a cheerleader at Healdsburg High, and another girl, Sharon something-or-other, had been in Dawn’s PE class. Both had seemed nice. One of the guys plugged a guitar into an amplifier while the other did a drumroll and hit the cymbals. Jason caught a hand microphone tossed by a man near the stage. Raising one hand, he held the mike to his mouth. “Good morning, everybody!”
The children shouted back. “Good morning!”
He laughed. “Is that the best you can do?” He put his hand to his ear. “I can barely hear you!” The guitar player made a loud, warbling chord that had everyone shouting good morning again. Jason called out, “This is a day the Lord has made!” Another loud chord, more cheering. “Let’s rejoice and be glad in it! Let’s hear you! Good morning!”
Dawn wanted to cover her ears.
“That’s better! Come on, everybody! Let’s worship the Lord!”
The drummer went wild, his head bobbing up and down, while Jason and Sharon sang and Kim played keyboard. It seemed more like a rock concert than vacation Bible school.
A hundred children, plus teachers and volunteers, clapped their hands and sang the words projected on an overhead screen. Christopher kept pulling her forward, waving wildly. “Hey, Jason! I brought my big sister!”
Dawn wanted to duck down among the throng and hide. She pulled Christopher’s arm down. Too late. Jason Steward looked straight at her and smiled broadly as he sang.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“That’s Jason Steward! He told me to bring you! Isn’t he the coolest?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Don’t go!” Christopher grabbed her hand again. Dawn pried loose and looked for escape. Boxed in with children all around her, there was no path out of this mob. Christopher joined in the clapping and singing. Dawn locked her attention on the overhead screen and lip-synched the words.
She’d spotted Jason her first day of high school. Who wouldn’t? He was drop-dead gorgeous with black hair, hazel eyes, and olive skin. He looked a mix of Caucasian, Hispanic, and Asian. He’d been standing in the corridor of lockers, talking with a couple of guys. He had a contagious laugh. Later, she had seen him sitting at a picnic table under the redwoods, having lunch with a group of kids. She caught a glimpse of him every day on her way to English class. He’d caught her staring at him once and smiled. Mortified, she’d been careful not to stare after that.
Instead, she’d sit where he wouldn’t notice her, watching him toss a football back and forth with the jocks during lunch break. Jason Steward was nice to everyone—geeks; pretty, popular cheerleaders; and even gangster types. She’d see him standing under the redwood trees near the student parking lot, talking with people. She’d seen him alone only a couple of times during the whole year, and she had never had the courage to utter hello.
Was her face still as red as it felt?
After three more songs, Jason handed the microphone over to Pastor Daniel Archer, who prayed, made some announcements, and then dismissed the children by groups.
“I’m going to go help Mom.”
“No, you’re not!” Christopher grabbed her hand again. “You have to come to my class.”
“What am I? your show-and-tell?”
“I told Jason you’d help.”
She let her brother lead her out of the chapel into the blinding morning sunlight and through the gate in the cyclone fence. “Come on!” He pulled her along. Glancing back, he let go, and his face broke into a broad smile. “Hey, Jason!”
Dawn gulped, but didn’t turn around. She prodded Christopher. “You have to get to your class. Where is it?”
“Wait for Jason.”
She wanted to throttle him. “We’ve gotta go.”
Jason caught up with them. “Hi.” He smiled at her, and she felt the heat rising into her cheeks again.
“Hi.” She cast a quick smile in his general direction. “Bye.” She ducked inside the tent after her brother. Heart knocking, she stayed in back as Christopher grabbed a square of carpet and ran forward to sit among a gaggle of other leggy boys and girls his age. His teacher, Mrs. Preston, had a felt board. Oh, boy. Oh, boy.
Jason came inside the tent and stood beside her.
“Christopher said he’d bring his sister today. You go to Healdsburg High, don’t you? I’ve seen you around.”
“Yeah.” Gawking at him, most likely. She glanced up briefly and then fixed her gaze on the back of Christopher’s head.
“Chris didn’t tell me your name.”
“May Flower Dawn Arundel.” Her face went hot again. What possessed her to say her whole name? “People call me Dawn.”
“People call me Jason.” He stepped in front of her and held his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Dawn. Thanks for agreeing to help.” When his fingers closed around her hand, she tingled all over. His expression turned curious. “Arundel? Not Hastings.”
Once he released her hand, she breathed easier. “Christopher is my half brother.”
“He’s a great kid.”
“He has his moments.” She swallowed hard. “Now that I’m here, I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
“Help me set up the art project.” He smiled and gestured toward two long tables covered with butcher paper on the left side of the tent. “They’re making burning bushes today.” While Mrs. Preston gave a dramatic reading of Moses fleeing into the wilderness, Jason laid out the trays of supplies. “They’re going to glue down twigs to make a bush, drop paint, and use a straw to blow it around like flames.”
“Clever.”
His dark eyes shone with amusement. “Yeah, well, tomorrow’s lesson is on the plagues of Egypt. They’re making green paper-plate frogs. You are coming back to help, aren’t you?”
“Let’s see how today goes.” She’d be back. She just didn’t want to sound too eager. She laid a piece of paper and a small pile of twigs by each folding chair.
Jason put out paint, brushes, and straws. “Christopher told me he wants to be in a rock band.”
“Last week, he wanted to be an astronaut; yesterday he wanted to be a dolphin in swim class so he can learn to dive.”
Jason laughed. “Reminds me of myself at his age.” It took them less than five minutes to put everything needed on the table. “Our work’s done for the moment.” He pulled out a folding chair for her, turned another around, and straddled it. Crossing his arms on the back, he looked her straight in the eyes and smiled warmly. “What about you?”