Her Mother's Hope

by Francine Rivers

“He might get a scholarship.”

  Might didn’t mean would. “I hope he does.” She wondered how one went about getting a scholarship and whether she might qualify.

  “Well?” Mama looked annoyed. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “What do you want me to say, Mama?”

  “What you have on your mind.”

  Hildemara chewed the inside of her lip, but lost her nerve. “Nothing.”

  Shaking her head, Mama took her purse and headed out the back door. “I have shopping to do in town. Do you need anything, Clotilde?” Red thread. “Rikka?” A box of pencils. She gave Hildemara an annoyed look. “I don’t have to ask you. You never want a thing, do you?”

  Nothing as inexpensive as red thread and a box of pencils, she wanted to say, but then Mama might ask the question of what she did want, and she’d have to hear why she couldn’t have it.

  Hildemara went to the library the next day and checked out a biography of Florence Nightingale. She read on the long walk home, taking her time, knowing she’d have chores to fill the rest of her afternoon and evening. She came in through the back screen door and shoved the book under her mattress before going in to help Mama with dinner. She set the table and made the salad, then later, cleared the table and heated water to wash the dishes. Cloe got out her folder of glossy pictures from movie magazines and studied dress designs, while Rikki sketched Papa reading in his chair. Mama set her box of writing materials on the table.

  Letters, letter, letters. Mama was always writing to someone. Sometimes Hildemara wondered if her mother loved all those people in other parts of the world more than she loved her own family.

  Papa went to bed early. Mama followed him. “Don’t stay up late, girls.”

  When Cloe and Rikka finished their game, Hildemara took the book out from under her mattress. “I’ll come to bed in a few minutes.”

  * * *

  Mama stood at the work counter rolling out a piecrust when Hildemara came in the front door. The biography she had hidden lay on the kitchen table. Heat rushed into Hildemara’s cheeks when Mama glanced over her shoulder. “I saw your mattress sticking up and felt a book. I expected to find Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility. That’s what I thought you’d be reading.”

  “It’s a biography, Mama. Florence Nightingale was a nurse.”

  “I know what it is! I know who she was.”

  Hildemara picked up the book and headed for the back door.

  “Put that book back on the table, Hildemara.”

  “It belongs to the library, Mama. I have to return it.”

  “It’s not due until the end of the week, unless you’ve already finished it.” Mama laid the crust over a pie dish. “Have you?” She pressed it down and poured in a bowl of pitted cherries.

  “Yes, Mama.” Hildie stood watching Mama roll out the top crust. It took only seconds for her to lay it over the cherries, cut away the extra crust, pinch around the edges, and poke holes in the top. Mama opened the oven, slid the pie in, and banged the door shut.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make a pie as good or as fast as you, Mama.”

  “Probably not.” Flipping the towel over her shoulder, Mama stood, hands on her hips. “But then that’s not what you want to do, is it?”

  Hildemara hung her head.

  “Is it?” Mama raised her voice.

  “No, Mama.”

  “How many times have you read that book?” Mama jutted her chin toward the offending biography. “Two times, three?”

  Hildemara thought it best not to answer. She felt exposed enough without having her heart laid bare.

  “It’s not Florence Nightingale that fascinates you, is it? It’s nursing. I’ll bet you’ve been dreaming about it since Mrs. King came here with all her stories. Let me tell you something, Hildemara Rose. She filled your head with a lot of romantic nonsense. I’ll tell you what nursing really is. A nurse isn’t any better than a servant. I’ve spent most of my life scrubbing floors, cleaning kitchens, and washing clothes. I’d like to see you do something more with that brain of yours than spend the rest of your life emptying bedpans and changing sheets! If you want to know my opinion, I don’t see nursing as coming up in the world from where I started out!”

  Hildemara felt hurt and angry at the same time. “There’s more to nursing than bedpans and sheets, Mama. It’s an honorable profession. I would be helping people.”

  “That’s what you do best, isn’t it? Help people. Serve people. You’re already good at being a servant. God knows, you’ve been mine for the last six years. No matter how hard I’ve pushed, you never once complained.” She sounded angry about it.

  “You and Papa work so hard. Why would I complain about doing my share?”

  “Your share! You’ve done more than your share.”

  “You needed help, Mama.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  She blinked back tears, knowing that crying would annoy Mama even more. “I never please you, no matter what I do. I don’t know why I try so hard.”

  “I don’t either! What do you want? A badge for being a martyr?”

  “No, but a little approval from you would be nice.”

  Mama’s eyes flickered. Sighing, she pushed her hands into her apron pockets. “Life isn’t about pleasing other people, Hildemara. It’s about deciding who you are and what you want out of life and then going after it.”

  How could she make Mama understand? “For me, it’s about doing what God wants, Mama. It’s about loving one another. It’s about serving.”

  Mama blinked. “That’s the first straightforward thing you’ve ever said to me, Hildemara Rose.” Her mouth curved in a sad smile. “A pity we can’t agree.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  Her eyes flashed. “There you go again, apologizing. You’d better learn right now not to say you’re sorry for being who you are.”

  She picked up a dishrag, wiped the counter, and tossed it into the sink. “If you want to go to nurses’ training, you had better find work and start saving your money because I’m not paying for it.”

  Somehow the rejection didn’t hurt as much as Hildemara had expected it would. “I didn’t ask.”

  “No, you didn’t. But then, you wouldn’t, would you? You wouldn’t believe you had any right to expect anything.” She slid the book across the table. “Take it!”

  Hildie picked up the book and looked at it for a long moment. When she looked up, she saw Mama staring at her strangely.

  “One thing good has come out of this conversation, Hildemara Rose. At least I know now you won’t be clinging to my apron strings or living under my roof for the rest of your life. You won’t end up running away or sitting out in the cold until you freeze. You’re on the edge of the nest right now, my girl. You’ll fly out of here soon.” She smiled, eyes gleaming. “And that pleases me. That pleases me very, very much!”

  Hildemara climbed onto her bunk, hugged the book against her chest, and cried. Whatever she had thought before, Hildemara saw now Mama couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

  * * *

  Hildemara lost her pal Elizabeth to Bernie the first day of high school. She’d always suspected Elizabeth had a secret crush on Bernie, but Bernie had never shown interest in Elizabeth. He’d been too caught up in playing sports and making mischief with his friends to care much about girls. On the first day of freshman year, Hildie sat on the grass with Elizabeth, talking about the second session of Summer Bedlam, as Papa called it, and her dreams of going to nursing school. Bernie stood over them with an odd look on his face.

  “Hey, Bernie.” Hildemara shielded the sun from her eyes. “What’re you doing in the freshmen area?”

  “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend, Hildie?”

  She thought he must be kidding, but played along. “Elizabeth Kenney, this is my older brother, Bernhard Niclas Waltert. Bernie, this is Elizabeth. Now, what do you want? We’re talking and you’r
e interrupting.”

  Bernie hunkered down, eyes fixed on Elizabeth. “You sure changed over the summer.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks turned dark pink. She ducked her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “In a good way, I hope.”

  He grinned. “Oh yeah.”

  Annoyed, Hildemara glared at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to go, Bernie? I can see Eddie and Wallie over there, playing basketball.”

  He sat and leaned on his elbow. “Don’t you have studying to do, Hildie? or someplace else to go?” He didn’t look at her as he talked, and Elizabeth didn’t look away from him either. Bernie might as well have said, “Get lost!”

  “We were talking, Bernie.”

  His mouth tipped, his gaze never leaving Elizabeth’s face. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “No.” Elizabeth sounded breathless. “Of course not.”

  Hildemara rolled her eyes. She looked between her brother and best friend and knew everything had changed in a split second. When she got up, neither noticed. When she walked away, neither called her back. When school let out, she saw Bernie walking beside Elizabeth, her book bag slung over his shoulder. When she called out to them, neither heard her.

  Bernie had the entire school following on his heels. Why did he have to set his sights on Elizabeth? “Thanks,” she muttered under her breath. “Thanks for taking my one and only friend.”

  She met Cloe and Rikki on the other side of the highway, near the grade school. “You two go on ahead. I have something to do.” Mama said she’d have to earn her own money for nursing school, and what better time to start than now? As soon as her sisters headed off for home, Hildemara rubbed her perspiring palms against her skirt and went into Pitt’s Drug Store. It took her a few minutes of browsing around before she could gather the courage to ask Mrs. Pitt if she might hire someone to work behind the counter, serving root beer floats and milk shakes.

  Mrs. Pitt was drying a glass. “Did you have someone in mind?”

  Hildie gulped. “Me.”

  Mrs. Pitt laughed. “You can start tomorrow. I’ve got plenty of other things I’d rather do around here than serve teenagers root beer floats and milk shakes.” She called out loudly. “You hear that, Howard? Hildemara Waltert is coming to work for us tomorrow.” She winked at Hildemara. “I’ll show you what’s what. It’s pretty simple. Having you work here might draw some more teenagers.”

  Hildemara didn’t want to tell her not to get her hopes up.

  On the long walk home, Hildie felt flushed with success. She relished her secret as she raced through her chores.

  Hildie set the table and sat down to dinner, eager to make her announcement, but everyone else had plenty to say. Bernie said he was late because he’d walked Elizabeth Kenney home and her mother invited him in for cookies and milk. Clotilde asked Mama if she could have a dollar to buy some fabric. Rikka stared off into space, undoubtedly thinking about some new drawing she wanted to do, until Mama told her to get busy and eat.

  Dinner was almost over before there was enough lull in the conversation for Hildie to make her announcement. “I have a job.”

  Papa’s head came up. “A job?”

  “I start work tomorrow after school at the soda fountain inside Pitt’s Drug Store.”

  Mama smiled slightly. “Is that so?”

  Papa wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t like the idea. You have your studies, and what about Mama? She needs your help around the house.”

  “I do not.” Mama tossed her napkin on the table. “And if I did, I have two other daughters who can pitch in.”

  Clotilde squinted a look at Hildemara. “Thanks.” Rikka went on eating, her mind still off in the wild blue yonder.

  Papa frowned at Mama. “Did you know about this?”

  She stood up and started clearing dishes. “It had to happen sooner or later, didn’t it? Children don’t live off their parents forever. Or shouldn’t.”

  “How come I’m going to have to work and Bernie doesn’t?” Clotilde griped.

  Bernie put his fork down. “We can trade anytime you want. I’ll feed the chickens and set the table. You can help Papa with the plowing and planting and harvesting.”

  “I work! I made that shirt you’re wearing!”

  Papa slammed his fist on the table. “Enough!” Mama’s mouth twitched into a smile that smoothed out when Papa looked down the table at her. “Did you know Hildemara was looking for a job?”

  “I told her she’d better.”

  “Why?”

  “Ask her. She can speak for herself.” She gave Hildie a cool look, brows raised in challenge. “Can’t you?” It didn’t sound like a question.

  Papa stared at Hildemara. “Well?”

  She took a deep breath, hoping to slow her racing heart, and laid out her plans for the future. When she finished, everyone sat staring at her.

  Papa broke the silence. “Oh. Well. Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Since you’re not working yet, you can help clear the table, Hildemara.” Mama didn’t say anything else until she handed her the last dish to dry. “When do you plan to study? You’ll have to keep your grades up.”

  “Between classes. During lunch break. I’ll only work until six.”

  “You’ll have to warm up your dinner when you get home.”

  “I’ll manage.” She had hoped Mama might say she’d miss having her around the house. She should have known better.

  “It might be good to start a savings account at the bank, just so you don’t squander your earnings.”

  “I planned to do that with my first paycheck.”

  “Good.” Mama left Hildemara to finish the cleanup and went outside to sit on the porch swing.

  * * *

  Papa said the Depression wouldn’t last forever, but hard times brought more traveling salesmen to the door. Farmers fared better than most. They knew how to grow their own food. Even with the price of almonds and raisins down, Papa and Mama didn’t worry about putting food on the table. Papa had enough money for the mortgage and taxes. “If we run short, I can find work,” Mama told him. “Mr. Smith offered me a job at his bakery.”

  “You aren’t going to work for him, are you?”

  “He swears he had nothing to do with the Herkners’ bakery burning down.”

  “And you believe him.”

  “You’re the one who always tells me not to judge people, Niclas.”

  “There’s judging, and there’s discerning.”

  Mama sighed. “I said no, but if we need money, I know where to get work.”

  “Start baking more here. Take your beignets and Torten to Hardesty. He’d sell them for you.”

  Mama chuckled. “If you want beignets and Torten or anything else, Niclas, just say so.”

  “So.” He pulled her down on his lap and whispered in her ear.

  * * *

  When others went to the movies, Hildemara worked. She met more students while working behind the soda fountain counter than she had during eight and a half years of school in Murietta. When the movies let out, the kids came across the street for sodas and sat in booths talking. Some of the adults left her five-cent tips.

  She liked working. She liked the bustle and buzz of teenagers in and out of the drug store. She liked earning money, knowing every day she worked brought her closer to her goal. She took orders, made milk shakes and floats, washed glasses, cleaned counters, all the while dreaming of the day she would wear a white uniform and cap and walk the corridors of a hospital, bringing comfort to the sick. Maybe someday, she’d go to China and serve in a mission hospital, or tend sick babies in the Belgian Congo, or help a handsome, dedicated doctor stop an epidemic in India.

  Mrs. King came in with a list from Dr. Whiting. While she waited for Mr. Pitt to fill the drug order, she sat at the counter and ordered a Coca-Cola. Hildemara told her she hoped to attend the nurses’ training program at Merritt Hospital in Oakland. “That’s wonderful, Hildemara! When you’re clos
er to graduation, I’ll write a letter of recommendation for you.”

  The first year of high school passed in a blur of study and work. When Summer Bedlam rolled around again, Hildie asked Mama if she could do without her. Of course Mama said yes. Hildemara took on a second job at the Fulsomes’ chicken farm, plucking birds for market. Paid by the bird, Hildie learned to work fast.

  She hoarded every dime and nickel, knowing exactly how much she had to save in order to pay for tuition and uniform fees. She would also need the tools of her trade: a pocket watch with a second hand to count heartbeats and a fountain pen to write vitals on patient charts. Mama and Papa had already made plans to send Bernie to college when he graduated at the end of the next school year. Every extra dollar would go toward getting him through school.

  Hildie had seen Papa hand Bernie a dollar more than once so her brother could take Elizabeth to a movie on Friday night. “He’s young. He needs to have a little fun.”

  Mama saw, too, and protested. “And what about the girls? They’re young. They want to have fun. Are you going to hand them a dollar every time they ask?”

  Hildemara covered her ears with the heels of her hands. She hated to hear her parents argue over money. She swore she would never ask them for a dime. She would earn her own way.

  27

  1932

  Bernie graduated with honors. From the first day of school in Murietta to the last, Hildemara’s brother had been the shining star.

  Elizabeth sat with the family through the ceremony. When Hildie heard her sniffling, she handed her a handkerchief. Elizabeth wouldn’t be seeing much of Bernie that summer. Mama wanted him on hand to organize the Summer Bedlam work crew, and Papa needed him for harvesting.

  Once a week, they let him loose and he went into town to see Elizabeth. He typically came home depressed. “I wish I didn’t have to go so far away to school.”

  Mama snorted. “If you were any closer, you’d never get any studying done. You’d be too busy chasing after Elizabeth’s skirts.”

  Clotilde snickered. “He doesn’t have to chase her.”

  Bernie’s face turned red. “Shut up, Cloe.” He left the table.