Hildemara felt better just listening to her. “Are you an angel?”
“I’m a nurse. My name is Mrs. King.”
Hildemara closed her eyes and smiled. Finally, she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up.
25
“The doctor said to keep her warm and get soup into her. She’s thin as a rail.” Mama sounded so grim.
“I’ll set up a cot in the living room near the woodstove. We’ll leave the bedroom door open.”
Mama aired out the back porch bedrooms, changed all the linens, and moved Cloe and Rikka back into the small bedroom. Bernie got to return to his own bedroom. Mama made milk soup with a little sugar and flour. “Drink it, Hildemara. I don’t care if you don’t feel like it. Don’t give up!” Hildemara tried, but coughed so much, she threw up what little she ate.
Mama and Papa talked quietly in the bedroom. “I’ve done everything the doctor said and she’s still drowning in her own body fluids.”
“All we can do is pray, Marta.”
“Pray! Don’t you think I have?”
“Don’t stop.”
Mama gave a sobbing breath. “If she wasn’t so timid and weak, she might have a chance. I might have some hope. But she hasn’t the courage to fight!”
“She’s not weak. She just doesn’t confront life the way you do.”
“She just lies there like a dying swan, and I want to shake her.”
Bernie, Clotilde, and Rikki went to school. Papa didn’t work outside all day like he usually did, but Mama went outside more. Sometimes she was gone for a long time. Papa sat in his chair, reading his Bible.
“Where’s Mama?”
“Walking. Praying.”
“Am I going to die, Papa?”
“God decides, Hildemara.” Papa rose and lifted Hildie from the cot. He sat in his chair again, settling her comfortably in his lap, her head resting against his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart. “Are you afraid, Liebling?”
“No, Papa.” She felt warm and protected with his arms around her. If only Mama loved her as much as he did.
Mrs. King came twice. Hildemara asked how she became a nurse. “I trained at Merritt Hospital in Oakland. I lived there and worked while studying.” She talked about the nurses she met and patients she tended. “You’re the best I’ve ever had, Hildie. Not one peep of complaint out of you, and I know pneumonia hurts. It’s still hard to breathe, isn’t it, honey?”
“I’m getting better.”
Mrs. Carlson, the seventh-grade teacher, came to visit, and she brought a get-well card signed by every member of the class. “Your friends miss you, Hildemara. You come back as soon as you can.”
Even her Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Jenson, and Pastor Michaelson came to visit. Mrs. Jenson said all the children were praying for her. Pastor put his hand on her head and prayed for her while Mama and Papa stood by, hands folded, heads bowed. He patted Mama’s shoulder. “Don’t give up hope.”
“I won’t give up. It’s her I’m worried about.”
Hildemara didn’t know how many days passed, but one night everything had changed. A little spark flared inside her. Mama sat in Papa’s chair reading a book on American history, even though she’d already passed the citizenship test and received a certificate and small American flag to prove it. “Mama, I’m not going to die.”
Surprised, Mama lifted her head. She closed the book and set it aside. Leaning forward, she put her hand on Hildemara’s forehead and let it rest there, cool and firm, like a blessing. “It’s about time you made up your mind!”
It took two months to fully recover, and Mama didn’t allow her to waste a minute of it. “You may not be strong enough to do chores or run and play like the rest, but you can read. You can study.” Mrs. Carlson had brought out a list of assignments and tests Hildemara had missed, and Mama sat down and worked out a plan. “You’re not just going to catch up. You’re going to be ahead of the class before you go back.”
Mama didn’t just care about getting the right answers. She wanted penmanship that looked like artwork. She wanted spelling words written twenty times. She wanted sentences built around each and then an entire essay with every word woven in. She made up math problems that had Hildemara’s head spinning. “What kind of math is this, Mama?”
“Algebra. It makes you think.”
Hildemara hated being sick. Clotilde got to read magazines and cut out pictures of dresses. Rikka could doze by the radio, listening to classical music. Hildemara had to sit and read world history, American history, and ancient history. When she fell asleep reading, Mama prodded her. “Sit at the kitchen table. You won’t fall asleep there. Read the chapter again. Aloud this time.” Mama peeled potatoes while Hildemara read. Mama bought a world map and pinned it on the wall, drilling Hildemara in geography. “With cars and aeroplanes, the world is getting smaller. You’d better know your neighbors. Where’s Switzerland? No. That’s Austria! Do you need glasses? Where’s Germany? Show me England—England, not Australia!” She didn’t let up until Hildemara could point out every country without a second’s hesitation.
When Clotilde complained about how much homework she had to do, Hildemara huffed. “I can’t wait to go back to school! It’ll be a vacation after having Mama for a teacher.”
Mama kept Hildemara on a tight regimen, overseeing what she ate, how much she slept, and most of all, what she learned. She only balked once, and she earned Mama’s ire. “I don’t care if European history isn’t on the list of assignments. I don’t care if it isn’t in your textbook. You need to learn about the world. If we don’t know history, we’re doomed to repeat it.”
Dr. Whiting said Hildemara could return to school. Mama decided to keep her home another month. “She needs to put on five pounds or she’ll catch the next bug that goes around.”
Mama allowed Hildemara to go back to school in time to take tests. When the results came back, Hildemara found herself at the head of the class. Mama congratulated her. “We had to make good use of all that sick time, didn’t we? Now we both know you’re smart enough to do anything.”
A letter came from Hedda Herkner a few weeks before school let out.
“Good news? Bad news?” Papa raised his brows.
“Depends.” Mama folded the letter. “It seems Fritz talked so much about his summer with us that some of his friends now want to come with him.”
“He’s coming back?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Anyway, Hedda says the parents think it would be good for their sons to learn about life on a farm. Living in the city, those boys wouldn’t have any idea. What do you think, Niclas?”
“Now you ask.”
“More boys!” Clotilde groaned.
Papa sighed. “How many?”
“Counting Bernhard and Fritz, we’d have six.”
“Six? Do you think you can manage that many at once?”
“I wouldn’t do it alone. Hildemara can help.”
Hildemara closed her eyes and breathed slowly.
Mama dropped the letter as though she had stripped off gloves and cast a challenge at anyone who dared go against her. “I can make good money running a summer camp. And it’s as close to owning a hotel and restaurant as I’ll ever get. The parents want these boys to learn about farm life. So we’re going to teach them about farm life.”
“Oh, boy,” Bernie grumbled. “Sounds like fun.”
Hildemara could see her mother’s wheels turning. Mama voiced her thoughts aloud. “No one will work more than half a day. With six boys, Papa will have the irrigation ditches dug in no time. They can help harvest grapes and almonds. They’ll learn how to take care of horses, chickens, rabbits, milk a cow . . .” She drummed her fingers on the table. Hildemara wondered what part of all that she would have to help manage. “And it might not be a bad idea to have them build something.”
Papa lowered his newspaper. “Build what?”
“How about adding a bathroom to the house? Bernhard’s bedroom is big
enough that four or five feet wouldn’t be missed.”
Bernie’s head shot up from his studies. “Mama!”
“You’ll be sleeping in the tree house all summer with the boys, making sure they don’t get into trouble.”
“An indoor bathroom?” Clotilde smiled broadly, dreamy-eyed. “With a real toilet? No more using the outhouse?”
“A toilet, a claw-foot tub, and a sink, I think.” Mama didn’t seem disturbed by the stormy look Papa gave her. “It’s about time. Everyone in Murietta has an indoor bathroom.”
“God, have mercy on me,” Papa said under his breath and raised the newspaper again.
“Niclas?”
“Yes, Marta?”
“Yea or nay?”
“You’re the money manager.”
“And a telephone, right there on the wall.”
“A telephone!” Clotilde beamed.
“For emergencies only,” Mama added, staring at her.
Papa shook his paper and turned a page. “Sounds like bedlam to me.”
June arrived in a haze of dust, blowing in Jimmy, Ralph, Gordon, Billie, and Fritz. Fritz had grown six inches in the past year, and he took relish in standing over Hildemara, who had grown barely two. Clotilde, however, could stare him in the eye. Fritz knew enough to bring only one small case with him. The other boys arrived with luggage unloaded from the back of family cars. “Rich boys,” Clotilde whispered to Hildemara.
Hildemara sighed. Just watching the boyish excitement hinted at the work ahead. “This isn’t going to be as easy as Mama thinks.”
Mama invited the parents into the living room while Papa, Bernie, and Fritz took the new boys on a tour of the property. Hildie served tea, coffee, and angel food cake, while Mama explained the chores, projects, and recreational activities planned for the boys’ “summer camp.”
One mother looked dubious. “It seems like you expect them to do a lot of work.”
“Yes, we do. And if you agree, I have a contract for you to sign. The boys won’t be able to quibble if they know you back me up. Farming is very hard work. Your boys will learn to respect the people who provide food for the marketplace. And by the end of summer, they’ll all want to be doctors and lawyers.”
Smiling, the parents signed, kissed their sons good-bye for the summer, said they’d be back the end of August, and left.
No one cried.
Not on the first day.
Mama had the boys move their things into the tree house. “Stack your clothes under the bench and put those suitcases in the shed for storage.” She let them play all afternoon. Hildemara listened to them whoop and holler, and she wondered how soon that noise would turn to petulant protests and whining. When Mama rang the dinner bell, they washed and ran for the house, taking their assigned seats at the table. Mama served a feast of beef Wellington and steamed garden vegetables soaked in butter. She announced dessert would be chocolate cake.
“Wow!” Ralph whispered to Fritz. “You said she’s a good cook. You were right!”
While everyone ate, Mama laid out the rules and explained the daily schedule of chores and activities. “They’re posted on the back door in case you forget.” Hildemara knew they would. None of the new boys bothered to listen closely. Fritz looked at Bernie and grinned with malicious delight.
The next morning, Mama awakened Hildemara before dawn. Resigned, Hildie got up without protest, put on her clothes, and went out to feed the chickens and collect enough eggs to feed their small army. Papa ate early and left “before the pandemonium starts.” Mama rang the triangle at six.
The boys stirred, but no one rose. Mama went down the steps and leaned six shovels against the base of the tree and called up to the boys. “Come on down. You have chores to do.” Only Bernie and Fritz did.
Mama rang the breakfast bell at eight. Bernie and Fritz came running. The new boys quickly came down the rope ladder and ran for the house. When they reached the back door, they found it latched. Jimmy tugged, then tugged again. “Hey, I think it’s locked.” They ran around to the front of the house and found that door locked. They stood on the porch, peering through the window at Bernie and Fritz eating a sumptuous breakfast of scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and blueberry muffins.
“Hey!” Ralph called through the glass. “What about our breakfast?”
Mama poured hot chocolate into Fritz’s mug. “Read the sign over the back door, boys.” Their feet pounded down the steps. Hildemara watched their heads bob up and down as they ran around the side of the house. She knew what they’d find. Those who don’t work, don’t eat.
Rebellion came swiftly.
“My folks paid for me to have fun! Not work!”
“I’ll write to my parents and tell them she’s making us work!”
“You can’t do this.”
Though Hildemara cringed at their begging, Mama paid no attention. “They’ll learn.”
Replete and smirking, Bernie and Fritz went out the back door. Hildemara went to her room to rest for the next shift of work Mama would assign. The boys argued outside the screen windows. “You guys still whining?” Bernie rubbed his stomach. “You sure missed a good breakfast!”
“We didn’t come here to work!”
“Then don’t. Starve. It’s your choice.”
“I’m going to call my mother.” Gordon’s voice wobbled. Tears would come soon.
“Go ahead and call her, but you’ll have to walk to town to use a telephone. The one on the wall inside is for emergencies only.”
“What sort of a place is this?” Ralph yelled in anger. “We’re not slave labor.”
Bernie laughed. “Your parents signed you over to Mama. She owns you for the whole summer. Better get used to it, boys.”
“Hey!” Jimmy shoved Fritz. “You told us we’d have fun!”
“I said I had fun.” Fritz shoved back harder. “What a baby! It’s only a couple hours a day, and the rest of the time we do what we want.”
Bernie couldn’t resist. “As long as we don’t burn down any houses or barns.”
Hildemara sat up and looked out through the screen. “Bernie!”
“Okay! Okay!”
“You didn’t say anything about chores, Fritz! I don’t have any at home. Why do I have to do them here?”
Hildemara flopped down on her high bunk and shut her eyes, wishing they would stop squabbling. Cloe pumped away on the sewing machine on the other side of the wall in the living room. Somehow, Rikki had such an ability to concentrate, she didn’t hear the chaos outside as she lay on her bed, going through a library book on Rembrandt.
Merciless, Bernie went on mocking the city boys as he headed out toward the orchard to help Papa dig irrigation ditches. “You’d better come if you want lunch.”
“I’m not a ditchdigger!” Ralph yelled after him.
“You will be!” Fritz called back.
“Hildemara!” Mama called. “There’s a basket of laundry. Take it out to the washhouse and get it started.” Pushing herself up, Hildemara grabbed it, propped it on her hip, and opened the screen door. Jimmy, Ralph, Gordon, and Billie wandered like lost souls looking for something to do.
Bernie and Fritz came in from the orchard just before Mama rang the lunch bell. They stepped into the back of the house and latched the screen door before the others could open it. “Read the sign, boys!” Bernie and Fritz laughed and went into the house while the others milled around outside, their defiance wilting in the Central Valley summer heat.
After lunch, Bernie and Fritz took off running for the big irrigation ditch at the back of the property. “Come on, boys!” The others didn’t run as fast, but forgot their hunger long enough to enjoy themselves. Hildemara could hear them shrieking and laughing and shouting while she weeded the vegetable garden. She knew how her summer would go, and it would not be filled with play. When Mama rang the dinner bell, the boys all came running. Bernie and Fritz dove under Mama’s arm and she closed the door, latching it again while Jimmy, Ralph, Gordon, a
nd Billie gaped in misery.
“We’re going to starve to death.” Jimmy wiped tears away quickly.
“I gave you the rules last night, boys. I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. Tomorrow can be a fresh start. Depends on you.” Mama turned her back on them and went into the house.
Fritz shook his head as he took his seat at the table. “I’ve never heard such whimpering and whining.”
Hildemara glared at him. “Just like you last summer.” She felt pity for the starving masses outside the back door.
Papa looked grim. “Those boys are going to run away.”
“Let them run.” Mama held out a bowl of potato dumplings to Fritz. “They’ll find out soon enough they have no place to go.”
Hildemara worried anyway. “What if they don’t work tomorrow, Mama?” Would Mama end up handing her a shovel? Would she have to tend the chickens and rabbits and horses all by herself?
“Then they won’t eat.”
Mama went outside at six the next morning and rang the bell right under the tree house. “What do you say, boys? Are you ready to do your share of the work around here? For those who are, waffles with butter and hot maple syrup, crispy bacon, and steaming cocoa. Those who aren’t can have water from the hose and air to eat.”
All six boys came down the rope ladder and grabbed shovels.
An hour later, Hildemara poured cocoa and watched the new boys eat like starving wolf cubs. Mama held a platter of waffles in one hand and a fork in the other. “Anyone want a second helping?” Four hands shot into the air. “When you finish breakfast, take your shovels and report to Papa in the orchard. He’ll tell you what to do next.”
When Papa came in for lunch, he grinned at Mama. “Looks like you broke them.” All six boys filed in, washed their hands at the kitchen sink, and took their assigned seats at the dinner table.
Mama held two platters of ham and cheese sandwiches. “Show me your hands, boys.” They held them out. “Blisters! Good for you! You’ll have calluses to show off before you go home. No one will ever call you sissies.” She set the platters on the table. By the time Hildemara put out a bowl of grapes and apples, the platters were bare. Mama took her place at the foot of the table. “When you finish, the rest of the day is free time.”
Marta's Legacy Collection Page 27