“Life isn’t easy.” Dad’s mouth flattened. “We won’t be around forever, picking up the pieces. You need a way to support yourself. Without an education, you’re not going to get much of anything. We tried to tell you—”
Mom cleared her throat.
May Flower Dawn began to cry, a whimper at first, then louder, her little mouth opening and quivering as she wailed. Carolyn wanted to do the same thing. She started to stand. “Let me take her, Mom.”
Mom stood, too, and shook her head. “She’ll be fine. You and Dad need to talk.” She took the baby into the back bedroom and closed the door, leaving Carolyn alone in the dining room with her father. He hadn’t finished laying down the rules.
“You’ll pay us rent. Not much, and not until you start working, but after that, we want eighty percent of whatever you make. It’ll go for room and board and to repay the money we sent to Boots. And the hospital bill.”
The full weight of what he expected fell on her like a load of bricks. How many years would it take to pay off her debts—ten? twenty? May Flower Dawn would be grown and gone by then. She could hear her baby crying and wanted to go after her, wanted to grab hold of May Flower Dawn and run.
“Excuse me.” Carolyn stood.
“Where are you going?”
“She’s hungry.”
She didn’t tap at the bedroom door. She walked in. “She needs to nurse, Mom.”
Mom smiled. “Sit here beside me and I’ll give her to you.”
Were there going to be conditions on everything now? Maybe there always had been. She hadn’t understood the rules she had to follow to earn love. When Mom didn’t rise from where she sat on the edge of the big double bed, Carolyn obeyed. Mom handed over May Flower Dawn, but didn’t leave her alone.
Mom put her hand on Carolyn’s knee. “I know you probably won’t believe this right now, but Dad and I aren’t doing this to ruin your life. We’re not trying to make things even harder for you; we’re trying to help you learn how to stand on your own two feet.”
Carolyn looked into her mother’s eyes and saw compassion. She also saw pain, and she knew she had caused it. “I know, Mom.”
She also knew the price they asked: May Flower Dawn.
* * *
What her parents demanded wasn’t in writing. They didn’t ask for her signature on any document. But it was a binding contract nonetheless, and Carolyn agonized over it. She could see no way out, nor did she feel she had the right to seek one. For the next six weeks, she pondered what she would have to do to make a way for herself and her daughter. If she went back to Boots, she would destroy a friendship that had weathered more than thirty years. She couldn’t do that to her mother or to Boots.
So Carolyn signed the college application, put May Flower Dawn into the car seat, and drove into Hayward to hand-deliver it. Every course she had completed at UCB would count at State. At least that was something, though she would still have two and a half years of coursework to complete while working part-time. If she went to school half-time, it would take her five years.
Could she do it? She spoke with the employment office. They assured her they would be able to find something for her when the semester began.
Time passed too quickly. She grasped every moment with May Flower Dawn, holding her, playing with her, watching her sleep. When Mom gave two weeks’ notice at the hospital, Carolyn wept.
The first week of separation from May Flower Dawn proved agonizing. Her milk came in when she would have been feeding her, and the pain was excruciating. By the time she returned home, her mother had given May Flower Dawn formula, bathed her, changed her, and rocked her to sleep. Carolyn was left to take a warm shower and watch her milk flow down the drain.
She got a job in the library. She worked twenty-five hours a week, minimum wage. At the end of the month, she signed over her paycheck to her father. Dad had given her an accounting. Most of her check would go toward the hospital bill and Boots repayment, then toward room and board. Once the hospital bill and Boots had been taken care of, Carolyn could chip away at what she owed for tuition and books. He gave her twenty-five dollars to call her own. What she didn’t spend on gas for Charlie’s Impala went into a savings account.
Depressed, driven, Carolyn thought about drinking again. At least drunk she wouldn’t feel the pain, the loneliness. Frightened by the craving, she found an AA meeting in Hayward. It helped to have friends who understood, a place where she could draw hope from others’ experiences. But it took another hour out of her day, an hour she might have spent with May Flower Dawn.
Between classes, work, and AA meetings, Carolyn missed every milestone in May Flower Dawn’s first year. Carolyn wasn’t there when her baby daughter rolled over, learned to grasp a toy, sat up, or began to crawl. She didn’t hear her say Mama. Mom and Dad began calling her daughter Dawn, and when she needed comfort or wanted something, she didn’t reach out to Carolyn. She wanted Granny.
* * *
1974
Finally growing weary of her library job, Carolyn used a portion of her savings to buy business attire and applied for part-time work as a receptionist in a real estate office owned by Myrna Wegeman, an attractive, ambitious overachiever, who hired her and started Carolyn at fifty cents more an hour than she’d been earning. Carolyn still had nights and Sundays free to study and attend AA meetings, but hardly any time at all with three-year-old Dawn. Mom and Dad didn’t complain, and Dawn didn’t miss her.
With a constant stream of new listings, Myrna handed Carolyn an expensive camera and sent her out to take pictures of properties. Carolyn studied the houses from every angle before shooting the pictures. Myrna couldn’t have been more pleased with the results.
“I’m getting more calls on the properties you’ve shot than the ones I’ve done. You have a talent for this. Ever think about becoming a real estate agent?”
The more Carolyn did for Myrna, the more Myrna expected of her. When Myrna began asking her to oversee open houses on Sunday afternoons, Carolyn asked for double pay. Myrna reluctantly agreed.
This time, Carolyn ran into resistance at home. Mom balked at the idea of longer hours. “You’re hardly ever home as it is.”
Dad didn’t like the idea either. “Your mother could use a break once in a while.”
So could I! Carolyn wanted to say. She never had a day off, not that she dared ask for one. “I can take May Flower Dawn with me.” The idea of having her daughter to herself for an entire afternoon excited her, but Mom nixed that idea.
“Maybe she should take Dawn with her, Hildie. Give Carolyn a chance to find out how hard it is to take care of a child.”
Mom gave Dad a quelling look. “You make it sound like labor. I love taking care of Dawn. She’s no bother at all!”
Dad gave up on Mom and directed his logic at Carolyn. “You’ve got plenty of time. You don’t have to be in such a hurry. You’re making good enough headway on your debts.”
Carolyn realized they had no concerns over how much time she’d already lost with May Flower Dawn.
Oma came over early one Sunday before heading to church. She no longer attended church in Paxtown, but drove to a neighboring town. Mom had commented on it once. “Oma can’t stand to be in the same building with Thelma Martin. Not that I blame her. But I’m not letting that gossip drive me away.”
No one ever suggested Carolyn return. Certainly Rev. Elias never did.
Oma set her purse on the breakfast counter. “When was the last time you spent more than an hour with your daughter?”
“I don’t have an hour, Oma. I have classes. I have to study. I have to work.”
Oma watched Carolyn write notes. “Your mom and dad are doing what they think is right. They’re doing the best they can for both you and May Flower Dawn.”
Carolyn looked up from her textbook. “I know. I’m not complaining. It’s just the way things are.” Flipping the page in her text, she tried to refocus on her studies. “Sorry. I don’t mean to ignore
you, but I only have a couple of hours to study before I have to leave for an open house.” She could feel Oma looking at her. How long since they had sat on the patio and had tea together?
“Maybe you should speak up about what you’re feeling, Carolyn.”
“Feeling?” Carolyn gave a bleak laugh. Speaking up wouldn’t change anything. It would make things a hundred times worse! Oma didn’t move. Frustrated, Carolyn stopped writing and looked at her. “And you don’t have to say it. I already know. By the time I have a place of my own, Dawn won’t be mine anymore.”
“It’s never been about possession.”
“Maybe not, but that’s the way it’s turned out. And I’m losing ground with every day that passes.” No matter how little time she spent with her child, she loved her. She longed to have her back in her arms. Why else did they think she worked so hard? She wanted her life back, a life that centered on May Flower Dawn.
Oma reached over and gripped her wrist, eyes flashing. “I took care of you when you were little more than a toddler. You needed me. Do you remember? But that didn’t change the fact that your mother is still your mother!”
“Yes. I remember.” Carolyn put her hand over Oma’s. “But I learned to love you more, didn’t I?”
Oma’s eyes flickered. She had an odd expression on her face. Picking up her purse, she stood. “It never stopped you from loving her.” She went quietly out the door.
Dear Rosie,
I see more clearly now how things I thought I did for good caused harm. Remember when I moved in with Hildemara when she was ill with consumption? I wanted to help, but ended up taking over. I became so attached to Carolyn, I didn’t see the damage I did to my daughter.
Now I find myself watching Carolyn suffer as Hildemara must have. The girl is working so hard to put her life back together and earn love, all because Trip laid out a plan for her to “get back on her feet” and “fly right.” They want to help, just as I did. But these conditions have left no time for Carolyn to be with her child, no time to be part of the family. I hardly ever see Carolyn anymore. We barely have time to exchange a greeting, let alone sit under the arbor and have a cup of tea. How can I encourage her? I have no answers.
I have never seen Hildemara so happy (other than her complaints that Carolyn no longer attends church). I understand her happiness because I felt the same when I took care of Carolyn. I felt the loss of my daughter’s affections far less when I could freely pour my love out on my granddaughter. And there is the dilemma! Did I have the right to usurp Hildemara in Carolyn’s affections as I now see her doing with May Flower Dawn? Hildemara is in her glory. She does all the things a mother longs to do for her child. Of course, Carolyn does not complain about anything. She has always been reticent about sharing her feelings. Yesterday she surprised me and said her mother never had time for her, but all the time in the world for May Flower Dawn. She didn’t say it with bitterness, but resignation.
I’ve been pondering Carolyn’s words ever since. I wonder if Hildemara feels the same about me. . . .
19
1976
Time moved too quickly. Carolyn’s mother had enrolled Dawn in nursery school and stayed as a volunteer. Carolyn pushed harder than ever as she went into her senior year of college. Myrna urged Carolyn to study for a real estate license. “I have more clients than I can handle, and you’ve already learned how to write proposals and put the paperwork together.” Myrna had seen to that. “You’d make a lot more money than you do as my receptionist.”
Adding another goal chewed into what little time Carolyn had left. She wished she could quit college, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. “Real estate markets go up and down. A college degree lasts forever.” The last few months proved to be the most taxing, and then she got the word she had made it. She told Dad, knowing he would care more than Mom. Only one hitch.
“What do you mean you’re not going through the graduation ceremony?”
Carolyn shrugged it off. “It’s not important. I’ll get my diploma in the mail.”
“Don’t you think you owe it to us to walk across that stage?”
She wanted to remind him she had already given him and Mom everything he demanded—and the one thing that mattered most to her, May Flower Dawn. “The test for my real estate license is on the same day, Dad. I have more chance of making a living at real estate than as an officer manager.” She’d already checked. It was still a man’s world. All her business degree would get her was a menial job in a big corporation and low starting pay. She didn’t have any more time to waste.
“Doesn’t it matter to you, Carolyn?” Her father looked troubled. “You’ve worked so hard. You should be proud. I’d think you’d want to wear that cap and gown and have the whole world see you get your diploma.”
The whole world? Who was he kidding? Carolyn felt a sudden rush of anger. “It mattered more to you than it ever mattered to me.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“And where would I’ve been if I had? I’d have done anything to stay off the streets. I’ve done everything you and Mom asked of me, and you’re still not satisfied.”
Dad winced as though she’d slapped him across the face. She had to clench her teeth before she lied and retracted every word.
* * *
Real estate license in hand, Carolyn gave Myrna Wegeman notice. “You’re quitting?” Myrna couldn’t believe it. “After all I’ve done for you?”
Carolyn thanked her. “You’ve taught me more about business than all my classes put together. You’re the one who believed in me and made me feel I could do so much more.” She wanted to work in the valley, close to May Flower Dawn. She wanted time with her daughter.
Myrna wasn’t mollified. “You owe me for the opportunities I’ve given you!”
Carolyn had had enough. She didn’t want to hear how much she owed Myrna—or anyone else. She’d been working on her debts for five years! “I’m sorry you feel that way. I hoped we could part as friends.” Forget the two weeks’ notice. She headed for the door.
Myrna came out from behind her desk and called out to her to wait a minute. “Can’t we talk about this?” Carolyn didn’t even look back as she went out the door and closed it firmly behind her.
She’d already lined up a job in a real estate office in Paxtown. Real estate boomed over the East Bay hills, too, and Ross Harper had been willing to hire her, despite having been warned by others of her less-than-pristine reputation. He’d heard of Myrna Wegeman. “If you survived three years with that tiger, working with me is going to be a piece of cake.”
She no longer had to get up at the crack of dawn to commute to the Bay Area. She no longer had night classes. She didn’t have to spend every spare minute studying and writing papers. She could breathe a little, as long as she scoured the valley in search of people willing to list property with a young, untried real estate agent. And then she had to promote those properties to other agents and show the houses.
America’s bicentennial came, and Carolyn managed enough time off to attend the fireworks and celebration at the fairgrounds. Five-year-old May Flower Dawn was frightened by the explosions and bright, showering lights. When Carolyn tried to snuggle her close, she cried harder. Straining away, Dawn called out for “Granny” and wouldn’t be calmed until sitting on Mom’s lap.
A week later, Carolyn sold her first listing and used every bit of her commission to pay off the last of the debt she owed her father and mother. She felt a moment of ecstasy when she handed Dad the check.
“Against all odds.” His eyes glistened with tears. “You did it, Carolyn.” He smiled broadly. “I’m proud of you.”
She had never expected those words to come out of his mouth, not in a million years. Embarrassed, she stammered. “I have some buyers interested in another listing. If all goes well, I’ll have enough to move out on my own.” She glanced toward the living room, where May Flower Dawn played with Barbie dolls while Mom read a story.
&nbs
p; Mom left the book on the table and came through the foyer. “What are you two talking about?”
Dad showed her the check. “She’s debt-free.”
Mom held the check in both hands and stared at it. No congratulations were forthcoming. Carolyn stood a little straighter. “I was telling Dad if I make another sale, I’ll be moving out with May Flower Dawn.”
“Moving out?” Mom raised her head, her face paling.
“She won’t be going far.” Dad seemed oblivious. “She works for Ross. Remember? It’s not like she’d be moving to the San Fernando Valley.”
Dad didn’t seem to notice Mom’s pained glance back at the child playing on the living room rug. Carolyn did, and she understood only too well. Her mother wasn’t worried about losing her. She just didn’t want to lose May Flower Dawn.
* * *
When Carolyn came home the next afternoon after showing houses all morning to prospective buyers, her mother and father said they wanted to talk with her. Mom’s red-rimmed eyes warned her something was wrong. “Where’s May Flower Dawn?”
“She’s fine.” Mom wiped her cheek. “She’s at Sandy’s house.”
“Sandy?”
“Her best friend from nursery school. They live on First Street.”
“Nice family,” Dad added. “They go to our church.”
Carolyn knew less than nothing about May Flower Dawn’s classmates. That would soon change. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
He smiled. “Actually, we wanted to give you something.” He slid a bankbook across the table. When she didn’t touch it, he nodded at it. “Go ahead. Take a look. It’s yours.”
She took it and wondered what catch her parents had attached to this. She put it back on the table and pushed it away. “I don’t need a loan. I just wrote an offer on a house today. If it goes through, I’ll receive a good commission. I’ve had my eye on an American bungalow out on Vineyard Avenue—”
Mom cut her off. “It’s not a loan, Carolyn. It’s yours.”