37

1987

Dawn didn’t hear from or see Jason until school started again. He stood waiting when the bus pulled in and fell into step beside her as she headed inside to her locker. “We have to talk.”

“You could’ve called.” Hurt, angry, she walked on.

“I couldn’t. Mom and I had a big fight when I got home.”

The blood drained from her head, and she felt faint with fear. “Did you tell her?”

“No.” Glancing around, he leaned closer while she worked the combination and opened her locker. “How long before we know if you’re . . . ?” She could feel his embarrassment. She looked at him and let him see her fear and hurt, and he frowned. “Things will work out.” When Jason took her hand, she wove her fingers through his and held tight, afraid he’d fall out of love with her as quickly as she had fallen in love with him.

Every day, he gave her that questioning look, and she shook her head. After three weeks had passed, he said he’d try to get a home pregnancy test. “I might not be able to buy one this week. Bill is working the same shift I am, and if he sees, he’ll say something to Mom.” Agitated, he raked a hand through his hair.

Mom awakened Dawn Saturday morning. “Your grandparents are going to be here in an hour.”

Dawn sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

Fear shot through her. Did her mother know? Had she some extrasensory perception that she could guess? “I’m fine.”

She showered, dressed, and threw her hair into a ponytail. A car honked loudly, and she drew back the sheer curtains. Granny and Papa had arrived in separate cars, Papa in a white Buick and Granny in their shiny black Sable. When Dawn opened the front door, Granny dangled the keys. “The Sable is all yours.”

Papa grinned. “Happy sixteenth birthday!”

“What?” Dawn stared. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.” Granny took her limp hand and dropped the keys into it, closing Dawn’s fingers around them. “We wouldn’t kid about something like that.”

Dawn shrieked and threw her arms around Granny and then Papa. “Thank you, thank you!”

Mitch, Christopher, and Mom appeared and asked what was going on. Dawn darted out the door and ran her hands over the freshly polished Sable. “They said it’s mine!” she called back, happy for the first time in weeks. “I have wheels!”

Mom’s eyes widened. “You should’ve talked to me about it first.”

Granny scowled. “We’re doing it as much for you as for Dawn, Carolyn. You have Christopher in sports and music lessons and church group. Dawn can’t take a bus everywhere, you know. She needs a car. Now she has one.”

Mom’s face reddened. “It’s not for you to make that decision.” She turned to Mitch, who stood beside her. He looked grim.

Dawn came back, wanting the freedom the car offered. “You won’t have to drive me to Jenner, Mom. I can drive out all by myself.”

Granny beamed. Papa patted Dawn’s shoulder. “Everything’s been checked out. It’s a good car, Carolyn.”

“I know, Dad. That’s not—”

“That little baby won’t need any repairs for a long time to come. All the paperwork is in the glove compartment, Dawn. This car will run for another hundred thousand miles easily. You won’t find a better used car anywhere, and it gets good gas mileage.”

“It’s beautiful, Papa.” She kissed his cheek and embraced her grandmother. “I love it.”

Mom headed for the house. Granny’s expression soured. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Carolyn . . .” She stepped around Dawn and went after her.

Papa looked worried now. “Maybe we did get a little ahead of ourselves.”

“Yeah,” Mitch said solemnly. “You did. But it’s too late now to take it back, isn’t it?”

Dreading the argument she knew was brewing, Dawn went to the kitchen. Granny stood with her hands gripping the back of a kitchen chair, making her case, while Mom stood, back to her, at the sink peeling potatoes. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong.” Granny sounded exasperated, not sorry.

“Can I say something?” Dawn pleaded. The swelling fear of the last three weeks made her feel even more vulnerable when Granny and Mom were at odds. “I really, really want the car, Mom, but I won’t even ask to drive it until after I have my license and you and Mitch are both satisfied that I’m a safe driver.”

Mom turned slowly and studied her. “What about insurance and gas?”

“We’ll pay for her insurance and give her an allowance, since it seems you won’t.”

Spots of pink bloomed in Mom’s cheeks. “No, we won’t, and you won’t either.” She blinked as she said it, as though surprising herself. Granny’s lips parted.

Things were going from bad to worse, and Dawn knew she was in the middle of the battlefield. “I have some savings, Granny, and I can get a part-time job after school at Java Joe’s.” At Granny’s blank expression, she added, “It’s a coffee shop near the square.” She looked between them. “It’d be fun. It’d be good for me.”

“We’ll talk about it later, Dawn.” Mom turned her back to both of them and resumed peeling potatoes.

Granny pulled the chair out and wilted into it. “I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry, Dawn, but maybe . . .”

Mom put her hands on the sink. “Dawn can keep the car.” She sounded tired and defeated.

Dawn stood between the two women she loved most in the world and wanted to weep. Oma suddenly popped into her mind like a specter. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we all had tea?” Oma had said the same thing every day when she and Mom visited her in Merced. Mom turned toward her. Face crumpling, she muttered a soft excuse and left the kitchen.

“She hasn’t gotten over Oma yet.” Dawn spoke into the silence.

Granny’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t think she ever will.”

Mitch and Papa and Christopher carried the conversation through dinner. When Mom got up to clear the table, Mitch suggested they all go into the family room. Papa kept glancing at Granny, who sat silent and distracted. Mom called everyone into the kitchen. She had set out a sheet cake decorated with pink flowers and Happy 16th Birthday, May Flower Dawn written in white across the icing. “Chocolate!” Dawn forced a brightness into her voice that she didn’t feel. “My favorite.” She smiled at her mother and thanked her. She felt Mitch squeeze her shoulder.

Leaning down, he kissed her cheek the way Jason had the morning before Dawn changed everything between them. “You’re growing up, Dawn.”

Maybe more than he could even imagine.

She opened Christopher’s gift first and raised her brows at him. “A soccer ball? Are you sure this is for me?”

“You played really, really well.” He grinned impishly. “You can teach me.”

“Thanks, sport.” She ruffled his hair and gave him a hard hug.

Mom and Mitch gave her a pearl necklace and pearl stud earrings. “Pearls for innocence.” Dawn felt Mitch’s hand on her shoulder.

Her mother spoke from across the table. “They’re also a rite of passage into womanhood.”

Dawn couldn’t raise her head for fear of what they might see in her face. She wasn’t innocent anymore, and she didn’t feel like a woman either. She touched the luminous pearls and swallowed the tears gathering and almost choking her. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

She lay in bed that night crying softly, silently confessing her sin and pleading with God that no baby had been made. Startled, she heard a tap on the door, and Mom came in. She sat on the end of Dawn’s bed. “What’s wrong, Dawn? Are you upset because Jason didn’t remember your birthday?”

“I didn’t tell him.” She’d forgotten all about it. Her mind had been too filled with worries and fears to think about anything else.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you? You haven’t been yourself for the last few weeks.”

“I’m okay.” One lie. “I just feel so stirred up all the time.” True. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Another lie. They didn’t come as easily after she’d just been begging God for mercy.

“I’m just worrying about the future.” That was true, at least. She wanted to bury her head in the pillow again and sob, but she couldn’t do that with her mother sitting so close. Dawn felt her mother’s hand through the blanket.

“You won’t turn eighteen for another two years. You have plenty of time to make decisions.”

Dawn gave a hoarse laugh. “I know.” She’d already made one. A bad one.

Her mother squeezed her foot. “You can talk to me, you know.” She waited a moment. “About anything.” She waited again. Minutes passed. She let out a soft sigh and got up. “Good night, May Flower Dawn.” She stood at the open doorway. “If you can’t talk to me, you know you can always go to Granny.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

After two more days of feverish prayers of repentance and promises of chastity and obedience, God answered her prayers.

Jason met her at the bus stop the next morning. His mouth curved in an uncertain smile. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect!”

For the first time, Jason kissed her there in front of everyone. He took her hand as they walked into school together, both forgetting the door they had opened and the untamed beast that now prowled loose.

Mitch and Mom thought it would be a good idea if she got a part-time job. Java Joe’s manager, Dennis Bingley, didn’t even ask her to fill out an application, but hired her on the spot. “The boys will be lining up for coffee when they see you.” She worked Monday through Friday afternoons from three to five. Jason drove her downtown, bought one coffee, and stationed himself at one of the small tables tucked in a back corner, where he did homework until four thirty. Boys did line up, but she didn’t pay any attention. Whenever she cleared and cleaned a table, she’d stop by Jason’s. Mitch picked Dawn up on his way home.

After six weeks, and hours of practice driving with Mitch, Dawn felt ready to face the DMV test. She passed with flying colors and drove the Sable home. Mom told her over dinner that night she could drive the car to school. Dawn said she’d take turns with Sharon driving to youth group, but she wanted to continue riding the bus to school. That way, she’d save money for the next insurance premium as well as gas.

“And Jason will still give you a ride to work.” Mitch gave her a smirk that said she wasn’t fooling anyone. She conceded that was part of her reasoning.

The first Saturday after she gained driving privileges, she drove to the Windsor Trailer Park. The double-wide looked old, but well-tended, with potted flowers on a small deck with green- and white-striped awning and a pebble driveway, where Jason’s Honda was parked. Jason, dressed in sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt, opened the door before she even knocked. He came out barefoot and admired her car. An elderly lady opened her screen door just across the way. “A friend of yours, Jason?”

“Study partner,” he called back. “How are you doing this morning, Mrs. Edwards?”

“Can’t complain.” She sat in a rocker on her little porch.

Jason opened the front door, and Dawn entered a carpeted living room with a worn green plaid couch, two matching chairs, and a coffee table facing a small television on an old cabinet. Beige drapes and sheers let a shaft of light through the front window.

“It must feel claustrophobic to you,” Jason said grimly.

“It’s cozy. Comfortable.”

A small Early American table with two chairs was cluttered with books, an open binder, and papers. “You’re studying.”

“Every spare minute.” He drew her into his arms. “I needed a break.” He kissed her. One gentle, tentative kiss led to another and another.

Breathless, she began to worry. “Where’s your mom?”

“Working. Until noon.”

“Maybe I should go.” When he didn’t let go, she wondered if she had said the words aloud or just thought them. He asked if she wanted to see his room. Of course, she did. Things quickly got out of hand, not that either tried to stop, not until someone rapped on the door. Jason pulled away and got off the bed. “It’s probably Mrs. Edwards.” Another rap sounded, louder this time. “If I don’t answer, she’s going to think something’s going on.”

Think something is going on? Dawn wanted to laugh hysterically. “Wait!” She ducked into the bathroom and leaned against the door. Adjusting her clothing, she raked fingers through her hair. She could hear Mrs. Edwards.

“I don’t think your mother would want a girl here when she’s not.”

Jason said they were just talking. “Then where is she? I don’t see her sitting on the sofa.”

Dawn flushed the toilet and ran the water noisily before stepping out of the bathroom. She pretended surprise. “Oh, hi.” Mrs. Edwards muttered something to Jason and went down the steps. “What’d she say?”

He gave a brief laugh. “She told me I’d better behave myself.”

Blushing, Dawn shrugged her purse onto her shoulder. Neither one of them had been doing a good job of that lately. “I’d better go.”

Jason walked her to her car. He said he wished she wouldn’t go. They stood and talked awhile. Mrs. Edwards sat in her rocker watching them. Jason asked if Dawn was planning to go on the mission trip to Mexico. She said she was and had already gotten the financial backing she needed from Mom and Mitch and her grandparents. “Plus I’m putting in some of my own money,” she added, proud of herself. “What about you?” He said he wasn’t sure yet, but he hoped so. Before Dawn got into her car, she waved at Mrs. Edwards and said it was nice meeting her.

The following Saturday, Dawn brought her backpack full of books, and they did study, for a little while. She left an hour before Georgia Steward was due home. The Saturday after that, they didn’t even bother to open a book.