Praying for Dawn | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Praying for Dawn | Previous Challenge Entry
By Holly Westefeld
02/09/23
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Rick and I stand beaming as Dawn and her fellow graduates toss their caps in the air. We wave as we work our way toward her, but she has eyes only for HIM. He reaches her just ahead of us, embracing her and planting a kiss on her brighter than usual lips.

When they finally came up for air, I stepped in for a hug, but Dawn turned away, tossing over her shoulder, "We'll meet you at the house," then walked off arm in arm with him.

Rick tries to soothe me in the car asserting that she will forget him in the excitement of her freshman year away at college. I'm not so sure. He seems to have, at risk of sounding dramatic, an almost demonic hold on her.

I paste a smile on while setting out soda and snacks for Dawn and her "friends", a different group than she would have invited just three months ago, not even including Beth and Amy, with whom she had been inseparable since kindergarten.

When all but HE have left, they head for the stairs. "Um, excuse me, you can wait for Dawn here."

He sneers at me, "I'm going to be a gentleman and carry her bags. She says they're a bit heavy."

"What bags? Her dad can move anything she needs moved."

"Somehow I don't think he'll put them in Lu's car for me," Dawn retorts.

Rick reddens. "We already discussed that there would be no other activities after your party here."

"No, you dictated that, but I am eighteen, which means you no longer have authority over me. Lu's uncle in California has good jobs for us that don't require wasting more time in school."

"But your scholarship..."

"Can go to someone else."

They proceed to stomp upstairs, then down and out the door without a backward glance.

Rick and I stare at each other in disbelief. Then the tears come. I fall into his arms sobbing, "How could God give us our miracle baby, then let this happen after we have faithfully raised her in faith?"

Rick doesn't try to answer, just holds me and strokes my back.

Getting out of bed in the morning is an act of the will. I am only able to do so because I have learned from others that the best path through mourning is sticking to routine.

I open the living room curtains, but the morning sun bathing the porch seems so dim. In the kitchen, I return the extra eggs to the carton. As I wash up the breakfast dishes, my eyes fall on Dawn's blue hatchback in the driveway. She worked so hard to save for it, but his hotrod had her let Spring's pollen coat it like a dusting of yellow snow.

I call her, but it goes straight to voice mail. I text, but no reply.

It is days before I can bring myself to enter her room. I am saddened, but not surprised to find her Bible in its usual place on her nightstand. My breath catches, though, when I spot the cross she had not removed since she got it resting atop it. Beside those is the phone she had begged for for her birthday.

I fall to my knees. "Please, God, protect Dawn, and bring her back to us."

Rick and I mourn differently. He throws himself in to work, eating more reheated dinners than I can count. I keep her room in pristine condition, detail her car and park it in the garage. He sighs and rolls his eyes when I serve her favorite dinner on her birthday.

After the anniversary of Dawn's departure, Rick asks, "Are you ready to put her things away, and set the room up as a guest room? We could host missionaries on furlough."

My eyes brim and I shake my head.

Another Christmas passes. As I rise on New Year's morning, I open the curtains and ponder whether Rick is right about needing to turn a corner in my mourning. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a bundled figure ascend the steps, place a large parcel in the sunshine on the porch and retreat.

I rush to the door, heedless of the cold stinging bare skin. A tiny face looks up at me. "Wait!"

The figure pauses, a wisp of auburn hair escaping the hood. "Dawn?"

"Please take care of Joy."

"She needs you, Dawn. Please stay home with her."

Slowly, she turns around.

*****

Fiction

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