Her Mother's Hope

  “It’s in my name, Niclas. Not yours! You didn’t earn that money. I did!”

  A neighbor pounded on the wall, shouting for them to shut up. Mama cried.

  Papa came back to the hotel the next afternoon with train tickets. At the mention of another train ride, Hildemara started to cry. “Don’t worry, Liebling, this will only be a short ride—just eighty miles.”

  Mama hunkered down and gripped her by the shoulders. “Stop it! If I can stand it, so can you.” Mama took her by the hand and pulled her along to the train station.

  When Papa took his seat, Mama swung Hildemara up and planted her on his lap. “If she throws up, let it be all over you this time!” Mama sat on the other side of the aisle, face turned away, staring out the window.

  “Schlaf, Kleine,” Papa said. A man in front of them turned around and stared coldly. Papa spoke English this time. “Go to sleep, little one.”

  “German, are you?”

  Mama got up and sat next to Papa. “Swiss! We came down from Canada. He still has some trouble with English. My husband is an engineer. Unfortunately, the supervisor who promised him a position moved to Southern California.”

  The man looked between Mama and Papa. “Well, good luck to you folks.” He turned around again.

  Papa set Hildemara on the seat with Bernhard and Clotilde. “Take care of your sisters, Sohn.” Papa took Mama’s hand and kissed it. Mama stared straight forward, her face pale and set.

  Hildemara roused when a man came through the car announcing Murietta.

  Bernhard pushed at her, and Clotilde slipped by and ran for the door until Mama told her to stop and wait. The air felt cool against Hildemara’s face when she climbed down the steps. Papa swung her onto the platform and gave her a light swat. Mama stood waiting beneath a big sign. She looked down a long, dusty street. She sighed heavily. “We left Winnipeg for this?”

  “It’s not raining.” Papa hefted one trunk onto his shoulder and dragged the other toward an office.

  Hildemara looked up at Mama’s stony face. “Where’s Papa going?”

  “He’s going to have the trunks stored until we find a place to live.”

  Papa came back empty-handed. “The station manager said there is only one place to stay in town.”

  Bernhard and Clotilde skipped ahead while Hildemara reached for Mama’s hand. Mama wouldn’t let her take it. She patted Hildemara’s back. “Go on with your brother and sister.”

  “I want to stay with you.”

  “Go on, I said!”

  Papa leaned down and tipped Hildemara’s trembling chin. “No need for tears, Liebling. We’re right behind you.”

  Hildemara walked ahead, but kept checking back over her shoulder. Mama looked annoyed. Papa looked relaxed and happy. Hildemara stayed close enough to hear Papa say, “It is a fine town, Marta, everything dressed up for Christmas.” When Bernhard called out, Hildemara ran to join them at a big window. She gasped at the beautiful glass Christmas ornaments in boxes.

  “Come on, children.” Mama herded them along.

  Across the street was a theater. They passed by a general store, a shoe repair and tack shop, a bakery, pool hall, and café. When they came to a two-story brown building with white-trimmed windows and a long wooden porch with four rocking chairs, Mama told them to stay with Papa, glancing at him. “You can take the children for a walk while I take care of business.” Lifting her long skirt, she went up the front steps.

  Papa told Bernhard to run to the first intersection and back. He did it twice before he was settled enough to walk quietly and stop asking questions. Papa took them around the corner and down to another street lined with large trees. “We’re walking on Elm Street. What kind of trees do you suppose those are?”

  “Elm!” Bernhard and Hildemara said at once. “I said it first!” Bernhard insisted.

  Each house had a lawn. When Papa came to another street, he turned back toward Main. “Look over there at that big pink-brick building. It’s a library. That should put a smile on Mama’s face.” He led them across Main Street and kept walking. They hadn’t gone far when they came to orchards and vineyards. Exhausted, Hildemara lagged behind. When she cried out for him to wait, he came back and swung her up onto his shoulders.

  Bernhard never seemed to tire. “Are those orange trees, Papa?”

  “No. I don’t know what they are. Why don’t we ask?” He swung Hildemara down and told her to watch out for Clotilde while he talked to the farmer digging a ditch between two rows of vines. Almond trees, the man said, and wine grapes across the road.

  “Thirsty,” Clotilde said. Hildemara took her by the hand and led her under the shade of one of the trees. Bernhard asked if he could dig. The man handed over the shovel. The two men went on talking while Bernhard tried to scoop more sandy dirt from the ditch the man had been digging. Clotilde got up and went over to Papa, tugging at his pants. “Hungry, Papa.” He patted her on the head and kept asking questions. Clotilde tugged again, harder. When Papa ignored her, she cried. Papa shook the man’s hand, then asked if he could come back tomorrow and talk some more.

  Face flushed, Mama got up from a rocking chair on the porch. “Where have you been?”

  “We met a farmer!” Bernhard bounded up the steps. “He let me dig a ditch!”

  When Papa put Clotilde down, she tugged at Mama’s skirt. “Hungry, Mama.”

  Hildemara was too tired and parched to say anything.

  “Did you give a thought to how weak Hildemara is after that awful train ride from Winnipeg? She looks ready to faint.”

  “You told me to take them for a walk.”

  Mama took Hildemara’s hand and started across the street. “Around the block, not out into the countryside. It’s past three! They haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “Time got away from me.”

  Mama went into the café. They took seats by the window looking out onto Main Street. Papa asked what they wanted to eat, and Mama told the waitress everyone would have “the special.” Mama folded her hands on the table. “The town is having a Christmas pageant tonight. That’s something, at least.”

  “There’s a library one street over and two blocks down.”

  Mama brightened, but her expression clouded over quickly enough. “Mrs. Cavanaugh would only come down twenty-five cents a night if I guaranteed a week.”

  “Stop worrying. God will lead me to work.” When the waitress brought the plates, Papa said grace.

  Hildemara didn’t like the thick, greasy stew. After a few bites, she put her spoon down. Mama frowned. “You have to eat, Hildemara.”

  “She hasn’t eaten much of anything for a long time. Maybe her stomach isn’t up to it. Would you like something else, Hildemara? some soup?”

  “Don’t baby her!” Mama leaned forward. “You’re down to skin and bones. You eat that food or you’ll be sitting in the hotel room while the rest of us go to the Christmas pageant.”

  Head down, fighting tears, Hildemara picked up her spoon. Bernhard and Clotilde finished their dinner quickly and wanted to play. Hildemara still had half a bowl of stew left to eat. Papa took Bernhard and Clotilde outside. Mama sat watching her. “The meat, at least, Hildemara.” Leaning across the table, she poked through the bowl of stew, separating bits of meat and a few vegetables. “Eat this much and drink all of the milk.” Other families came in and ordered meals.

  “It’ll be dark before you’re finished.” Mama sounded annoyed. “But we’re not leaving this table until you do. You won’t grow stronger otherwise.” Leaning back in her chair, Mama grimaced.

  “Are you mad, Mama?”

  Mama stared off down the street. “Not at you.”

  When Hildemara finally managed to swallow the last piece of carrot, Mama took some coins from her purse and gave them to the waitress. Hildemara’s legs ached after the long walk with Papa, but she didn’t complain. She clutched Mama’s hand more tightly when they came near a crowd gathering at the center of town. Other children stood
with their parents, and everyone looked at them as they walked through the crowd. Hildemara stayed as close to Mama’s side as she could without stepping on her hem. Mama kept craning her neck. “There’s Papa.” He stood with the man who had been digging a ditch, and several others had joined them. “Where’s Bernhard? Where’s Clotilde?” Mama looked around.

  “Over there.” Papa pointed toward a group of children standing near a platform. He grinned. “Santa Claus is coming.” He returned his attention to the men.

  “Go on, Hildemara.”

  “No.” She didn’t want to let go of Mama’s hand.

  Mama leaned down. “Clotilde is almost two years younger than you and she’s not afraid. Now, go on.” She looked into Hildemara’s eyes and her expression softened. “I’m right here. I can see you, and you can see me.” She turned Hildemara around and gave her a gentle push.

  Hildemara looked for her brother and sister. She could see them toward the front, near the platform. Biting her lip, Hildemara stayed near the back, afraid to make her way between the others.

  A man mounted the wooden platform and gave a speech. Then four men came up in vests, one with a harmonica, and they sang. Everyone clapped so loudly, they sang another. A little girl in a short green and red satin dress, black tights, and an embroidered vest came up onto the platform. While someone played a fiddle, the girl’s feet tapped, her red curls bouncing up and down. Hildemara stared in fascination. When the song ended, the girl held out her skirt and curtsied, then ran down the steps to her proud mother.

  “Santa’s coming!” someone shouted, and bells jingled as a big man dressed in a red suit fringed with white appeared. He wore high black boots and carried a big sack on his back and called out “Ho! Ho! Ho!” to the excited laughter of children.

  Terrified, Hildemara looked back. Mama was laughing. When Papa put his arm around her, she didn’t try to pull away. Hildemara turned back to the platform and watched her brother and sister swarming onto the platform with the other children. Hildemara didn’t move.

  The man in red raised his head and called out in a booming voice. “It’s a stampede!” Laughing with the crowd, he bent down and pulled out a small bag, handing it to the little girl in the green and red dress with the shiny black shoes. More bags appeared, clutched by excited hands.

  When Bernhard came down from the platform, he had already opened his. It was filled with hard candy with flowery designs, peanuts covered in chocolate, and candy-covered almonds. Clotilde had a paper sack, too. “Can I have one?” Hildemara asked. Clotilde jerked her sack away and turned her back.

  “Hildemara!” Mama called. She waved her hand. Hildemara understood. She was to go up on that platform and get a sack, too. Only she couldn’t. When she looked up at the big man and all those children surrounding him, she couldn’t move.

  “Aren’t you going?” Bernhard jutted his chin. When she shook her head, he thrust his sack into her hand and dashed up the steps.

  “Back again?” Santa shook his head. “One sack per customer, sonny.”

  “It’s for my sister.” Bernhard called out and pointed at her.

  Santa looked down at her. “Come on up here, little girl. I won’t bite you.” People laughed all around her. Someone pushed her. Hildemara dug her heels in and started to cry. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Mama frown and close her eyes.

  Bernhard returned to Hildemara’s side. “Stop crying like a baby!” Bernhard growled, thrusting the sack of candy into her hand. Clotilde shrieked and ran toward Mama and Papa, holding her sack high. Head down, Hildemara followed Bernhard back to where Mama and Papa waited.

  Mama stared at her. It wasn’t the first time time Hildemara had seen disappointment in her mother’s eyes.

  16

  Papa went out every day to look for work. He met another nice man who said they could live temporarily on his property near an irrigation canal. Mama and Papa argued about it, and then Mama bought canvas to make a tent. Her fingers bled before she finished it, but she kept on, jaw set tight. “I used to dream about living with you in a bedouin tent, Niclas. Now I know it for romantic nonsense!”

  Papa said Mama knew how to make all kinds of things. “Her papa was a tailor.”

  Later that night, Hildemara awakened to shouting. Mama had spoken loudly many times since leaving Canada, but this time Papa shouted back. Hildemara scooted closer to Bernhard and they huddled in the darkness as Mama and Papa argued loudly in German.

  “Enough!” Papa caught hold of Mama and gave her a hard shake. “Enough!” He spoke in a low, intense voice, but Hildemara didn’t understand the words. Crying, Mama tried to break free. He wouldn’t let her go. He said more and she started to cry, not soft, broken cries of defeat, but harsh, sobbing sounds that frightened Hildemara even more than Mama’s anger had. Papa’s hands fell away from her. He said something more and walked away.

  Bernhard jumped to his feet and ran after him. “Papa! Don’t go, Papa!”

  “Go back to your mother!” Papa told him.

  “No! I want you, Papa!”

  Papa knelt in the sandy soil and spoke to him. “I’m coming back, Sohn.” He straightened and looked at Mama. “God told me to bring my family here, and God will take care of us.” He put his hand on Bernhard’s head and looked down. “Do you believe me?”

  “I believe you, Papa.”

  “Then help Mama believe. Do what she tells you while I’m gone.” He walked off into the night.

  Mama told Bernhard to get back inside the tent and go to sleep. She sat outside for a long time, her head in her hands. Then she came in and lay down between Hildemara and Clotilde. Hildemara turned to her. “I love you, Mama.”

  “Hush.” Mama drew a shuddering breath and turned away. Her shoulders shook for a long time and Hildemara heard soft, muffled sounds in the darkness.

  Shaking awake, Hildemara found Mama standing above her. “Get up. There’s water in the bowl. Wash up and get dressed. We’re going into town.”

  “Is Papa back?”

  “No. And we’re not waiting for him.” She clapped her hands. “Come on. Hurry! We’re not sleeping on the ground one more night!”

  When they reached town, Mama took them into the biggest store. All kinds of merchandise had been stacked up on shelves reaching to the ceiling and on tables all around the spacious room. “You can look, but don’t touch,” Mama told them. Turning, she gave her list to the man behind the counter.

  Bernhard headed for a train set in the front window. Clotilde stood at the line of jars filled with candy, while Hildemara wandered between the rows of tables. She spotted a blue-eyed doll in a fancy dress, ribbons in its curly blonde hair. Hildemara wanted to touch it, but held her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

  “Do you like that doll?”

  After a brief glance at the smiling lady in the blue dress, Hildemara looked at the doll. “She’s very pretty.”

  “Maybe Santa Claus will bring you a nice doll just like that one for Christmas.”

  “Papa said we already had Christmas.”

  “Oh? And what did you get?”

  “We came to America.”

  It rained again that afternoon. Mama sat inside the tent, looking out while Bernhard and Clotilde played with a ball she had purchased. Hildemara chewed her nails and watched Mama. When they became hungry, Mama gave them hunks of a loaf of bread she had bought from the bakery.

  Papa came back in the afternoon. Mama got up quickly and went out to him. They talked for a long time outside. When they came back inside, Mama opened two cans of Campbell’s soup for dinner.

  “I’ll try again tomorrow.” Papa sounded tired. He didn’t look happy, even when he smiled at Hildie.

  It was almost dark when they heard a woman call out to them. “Hello!”

  Mama mumbled something in German and Papa went outside. When he called to her, Mama rose. “Stay inside! It’s sprinkling again.” Bernhard and Clotilde crawled over to the tent opening and peered out into t
he misty dusk. Hildemara joined them.

  Two women sat in a carriage. Hildemara recognized the lady in blue who had spoken to her that morning. They handed boxes down to Mama and Papa. Papa brought two inside the tent while Mama talked to the ladies. When Mama came in, her eyes were moist with tears. Hildemara leaned forward, inhaling deeply. Something smelled wonderful. When she peered out again, the lady waved to her. Hildemara waved back.

  “What did they bring us, Mama?” Bernhard fell to his knees as Mama opened the first box.

  “Close the flap, Hildemara,” Mama said hoarsely. “You’re letting the cold air in.”

  Papa carefully removed a large covered roasting pan. When he lifted the lid, he looked happy again. “Look how God provides. Turkey and stuffing, roasted yams.”

  “It’s those women who provided,” Mama told him tersely.

  “It’s God who works on the heart. Look at this feast, children.”

  Mama took out a jar of cranberry sauce, two tins of cookies, two loaves of fresh-baked bread, a dozen eggs, two jars of homemade jam, and several cans of milk. Sniffling, she turned away and blew her nose.

  “What’s in the gunnysack, Papa?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I guess we have to look.” Papa opened it and took out the beautiful doll with blue eyes and blonde curls. “This looks exactly like you, Clotilde.”

  “Mine! Mine!” Clotilde clapped her hands and reached out. Hildemara’s heart dropped as Papa handed the doll over to her younger sister. She bit her lip, but didn’t tell Papa she knew the doll had been meant for her. She looked at Clotilde clutching it tightly against her heart and knew she’d never have it now. Hildemara sat back on her heels and blinked away tears. When she glanced up again, she saw Mama staring at her. Mama had seen her talking to the lady, and Mama had seen her admiring that doll.

  “Are you going to speak up, Hildemara?”

  Hildemara looked at the doll again and back at Mama.

  “You’d better start learning right now you have to speak up for yourself.”