51

Dawn knew, even before she had driven the short distance to Baltimore, the trip would test her physical and emotional endurance. She took one hour at a time, trying not to think how many miles she had to go. Each afternoon, after checking into a hotel and having dinner, she hooked up the laptop.

She wrote regular e-mails to Jason, as though still in New Jersey. She wrote about the baby, tidbits of good news she found in whatever newspapers she picked up in hotel lobbies, anything that might keep his spirits bolstered, and not hint she was driving cross-country alone, nearly eight months pregnant, in January. Once the e-mail was sent and the others answered, she unhooked and packed away the computer, watched television weather reports, and went to bed. After a week on the road, she awakened with night sweats and back pain. She lay in the darkness praying God would give her strength and peace of mind. She had a long, long way to go.

Christian music stations kept her spirits up throughout the day. When she made it to Oklahoma City, she felt more at home. She thought of the friends she and Jason had made, all scattered now like seeds in the wind. Some had settled in other U.S. bases, others in Germany; many had gone to Iraq. A few hadn’t made it home.

After a good night’s rest, she pushed on to Amarillo, Texas.

The baby moved vigorously, reminding her of why she was on this trip. Dawn draped her arm over her expanding abdomen. She wanted desperately to call home, but knew if she did, Mom and Mitch would be frantic. They worried enough already. “Be good, little one. Hang in there! You need to grow a little more. You need to be strong for Mommy.”

It took three days to drive from Amarillo to Flagstaff, Arizona. Pushing harder, Dawn made it all the way to Barstow the next day, but got no farther than Buttonwillow the day after. One more day, she told herself. God, help me. One more day and she could rest.

Dawn dreamed she stood on a stone arch over a black chasm. Granny stood on solid ground on one side and Mom on the other. The bridge began crumbling beneath Dawn’s feet. Granny and Mom both reached out and caught hold. Both called for the other to let go. Dawn begged them to stop! Please stop! Gripped by pain, she cried out. Her child broke free of her body and dropped into the darkness below.

Exhausted, Dawn pulled in next to Georgia Steward’s trailer and parked. Rain pounded on the roof of the car and slicked over the windshield. Mrs. Edwards peered through her living room curtains. Dawn barely had strength to get out of the car. She hadn’t walked often enough today, and her legs felt swollen and stiff. The baby had turned and now pressed down heavily inside her. Gripping the rail, Dawn climbed the few steps and knocked on the door.

“Dawn!” After a split second of shock, Georgia stepped outside and hugged her. “You’ve been on my mind for days. I called, but couldn’t get through. Your mom said she talked to you the other day and everything was fine.”

Dawn leaned on Georgia as they went inside. She had kept to her schedule of calling Granny and Mom. She apologized for not calling Georgia. “I’m sorry. I’ve been driving for days. . . .”

“You drove?”

“I couldn’t fly. I was past seven months.” Dawn sank gratefully onto the sofa and let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Honey, you look pale as a ghost.” Georgia lifted Dawn’s feet onto the couch. “Your ankles are swollen. Lie back.” She tucked a pillow under Dawn’s feet and put a blanket over her. “Are you hungry? thirsty?”

Dawn smiled weakly. “Both.” She hadn’t stopped for dinner, too eager to finish the long journey and rest. “But don’t go to a lot of trouble, please.”

Georgia opened the refrigerator. “Now I know why God had me praying for you.”

Covered with the blue fleece, Dawn listened to the rain pounding the metal roof of Georgia’s trailer. She could barely keep her eyes open. Georgia brushed her forehead. “You’re perspiring.” Her mother-in-law leaned over her, brow furrowed with worry.

“Night sweats.”

“And fever, too. I’ll find some Tylenol. Can you sit up and eat?”

Struggling into a sitting position, Dawn gave a weary laugh. “My center of gravity is off.” The baby moved strongly. “Our little Steward is protesting.” Dawn took Georgia’s hand and held it against the side of her abdomen. “I think that’s her foot.”

Georgia sat beside her. Heads together, they waited for the baby to stretch again. They didn’t have to wait long, and this time the baby kicked. Georgia laughed. “A soccer player like her mama.” She patted Dawn’s swollen abdomen. “We should call your mom. Let her know you got here.”

“No one knew I was coming.”

“No one?”

“I didn’t want everyone fretting the entire time I drove.”

“What about Jason?”

Dawn shook her head, but the question served to remind her. “I need to get the laptop out of the car and e-mail him, or he’ll wonder what happened to me.”

Georgia looked troubled. “What’s going on?”

Dawn fought tears. She shook her head and looked away, struggling with her rising emotions. She had done nothing but ponder her circumstances and plead with God for days. She didn’t have the strength to talk about what was wrong. Not now. Not tonight. Swallowing her tears, Dawn met Georgia’s worried gaze. “Don’t call anyone. I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

Pushing the covers off, Dawn was thankful the swelling in her ankles had gone down. Her stomach growled. Georgia had left a blue velour robe on the end of the bed. Pulling it on, Dawn opened the door. The rain had stopped. Daylight streamed in the living room window. Georgia set aside her book and got up from her easy chair. “You look better. How do you feel?”

“Rested. Can I take a shower?”

“After dinner.”

“Dinner?” She noticed the table had already been set.

“You’ve slept eighteen hours.” Slipping on mitts, Georgia opened the oven and took out a casserole dish. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“Love it.” She pushed her fingers back through her hair.

Georgia set it on a trivet in the center of the table. She opened the refrigerator and took out a tossed green salad and small carafe of dressing. “Milk or water?”

“Milk.” The baby needed protein.

Georgia said the blessing and filled Dawn’s salad bowl. She scooped lasagna onto Dawn’s plate. “We should call your family doctor and get you in for an appointment. You’re still awfully pale. And so thin.”

“I need to work things out with Granny and Mom first.”

“They’re both in for a shock when they find out you’re here.” Georgia served herself a smaller portion. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”

Dawn had had days to plan her words, but found them stilted and tremulous now. Georgia didn’t utter a word or eat a bite. Dawn didn’t have much appetite either by the time she finished. But she had a good reason to eat at least half of what Georgia had served her, and she intended to do so, even if it took an hour.

“I don’t believe it, Dawn.” Georgia’s mouth wobbled. “God wouldn’t do that to you.” She pressed her lips together. “Jason should have some say about this. You can’t leave him in the dark.”

“Jason needs to know when to duck. He doesn’t need to be worrying about us.”

“You and the baby are not distractions. You’re his family!”

Georgia’s fierceness frightened Dawn. “Georgia. I’m begging you. Don’t tell him! He worries about me and the baby enough already.” Her eyes filled. There was a time to be gentle and a time to be blunt, even if it bordered on cruelty. “I don’t want Jason coming home in a body bag.”

Georgia closed her eyes in anguish.

“Pray. That’s what I need you to do, Georgia. That’s why I came to you first. I have to get Granny and Mom to work together and help me through this. I have to get them in one place. And they’ve never been able to talk. I have to be the bridge this time, not the wall between them.”

Dawn called Mitch at his office. She told him everything and what she wanted to do. “I have to spend time with them both, alone. Can you help that to happen?”

He cleared his throat before speaking. “You sure you don’t want to have your grandmother come to our place?”

“Granny will do better in her own territory. I’m going to call her and have her call Mom to invite her out there. Don’t tell Mom anything yet, okay?”

“I’m not sure how your mom will do. I don’t think either one of them realizes how they’ve pitted themselves against each other.”

“God got me home, Mitch. He’ll get us through all the rest.”

“What about Chris?”

“You can tell him after Mom leaves for Jenner.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “Tell him I’ll see him in a few days and we can talk then. And . . .” She had to swallow and draw a slow breath before she could go on. “Pray. Pray hard.”

“I am. Right now and every minute from here on out.” He made a hoarse sound. “Pita?” He spoke gruffly. “I’ve always loved you like you were my own flesh and blood.”

“I know. Dad.”

Dawn called Granny. “I want to spend a few days with you and Mom at Jenner.”

“When do you plan to come home? spring? The baby will be—”

“I’m here, Granny.”

“Here? Where? Alexander Valley?”

“I’m staying with Georgia right now. Mom doesn’t know I’m home yet.”

“Why didn’t you come out and stay with me?”

“I wanted to see my mother-in-law, too. And I was pretty tired when I got here.”

“Well, come now. We can visit for a few days and then call your mom.”

She needed to make things clear. “I’m not coming out until Mom’s there. I don’t want her feelings hurt.”

“I would never hurt your mother’s feelings.”

“You’d never hurt her intentionally, Granny, and neither would I; but we both do it all the time, and it has to stop.”

“What’s happened, Dawn? Something’s wrong. Tell me.”

“When the three of us are together, Granny, we’re all going to talk.”

“I’ll call your mother as soon as we’re off the phone.”

“Let me know when she gets to Jenner. Then I’ll come.”

Georgia sat on the sofa, waiting. When Dawn sat down, Georgia took her hand. “So?”

“I don’t know where to start, Georgia. I’m not a psychologist. I don’t know what’s going to happen at Jenner.”

Georgia enfolded her in her arms and leaned back into the sofa so Dawn’s head rested against her shoulder. “God didn’t bring you home to let you down, honey. And I’m going to pray for a miracle.”

Dawn closed her eyes. “We need one.”