Marta's Legacy Collection

by Francine Rivers

  “Herr Gilgan says you’re smart enough to run your own hotel someday.” Papa gave a derisive laugh as he dipped bread into hot cheese. “Since you’re so smart, you can make sure Hermann passes the examinations next time.”

  “And how can I do that, Papa?” Marta bristled. “Hermann has to want to learn.”

  His face flushed in anger. “Listen to her, Hermann. She thinks you’re stupid. She thinks you can’t learn. She still thinks she’s better than you.”

  “I never said I was better!” Marta shoved her chair back. “I was just more interested!”

  Papa stood and loomed over her. “Make Hermann interested and maybe I’ll send you to school. If he fails again, you’ll answer to me!” He leaned across the table and shoved her back into her chair. “Do you understand me?”

  Angry tears filled her eyes. “I understand you, Papa.” She understood him all too well.

  He grabbed his coat and went out the door. Elise didn’t raise her head, and Mama didn’t ask where he was going.

  “I’m sorry, Marta.” Hermann spoke glumly from across the table.

  Marta worked with Hermann every evening to no avail. “It’s all so boring!” Hermann groaned. “And it’s nice outside.”

  Marta slapped him across the back of his head. “That’s nothing to what I’ll get if you don’t concentrate.”

  He pushed his chair back. “As soon as I’m old enough, I’m quitting and going into the Army.”

  She went to Mama. “Please speak to him, Mama. He won’t listen to me.” Maybe if Mama pleaded with Hermann, he might try harder. “What hope have I of going back to school when that dolt refuses to use the brain God gave him?”

  Dr. Zimmer’s poultices and elixirs had done little to help Mama’s cough. She looked drawn and pale; her clothes hung loosely on her thin frame. The bones of her wrists looked as fragile as birds’ wings.

  “There’s not a thing I can do, Marta. You can’t change a dog into a cat.”

  Marta flung herself into a chair and put her head in her hands. “Because he’s hopeless, I have no hope.”

  Mama left her needle tucked into an embroidery stitch as she reached over to cover Marta’s hand. “You’re learning new things every day, from the Beckers and Gilgans. You must wait and see what God will do.”

  Sighing, Marta threaded a needle to help Mama. “Every franc I earn will be used to pay Hermann’s school expenses. And he doesn’t care, Mama. Not a bit.” Her voice broke. “It’s not fair!”

  “God has plans for you, too, Marta.”

  “It’s Papa who makes the plans.” She stabbed her needle into the wool.

  “God says to trust and obey.”

  “So I must submit to one who despises me and crushes every hope I have?”

  “God does not despise you.”

  “I meant Papa.”

  Mama didn’t disagree. Marta stopped and watched her mother’s slender fingers dip the needle in and out of the black wool. A delicate white edelweiss began to take form. Tying off and snipping the white thread, Mama took up another with yellow and made tiny French knots at the center of the flower. When she finished, she smiled at Marta. “You can find pleasure in work well done.”

  Marta’s chest squeezed tight with pain. “I’m not like you, Mama. You see the world through different eyes.” Mama found blessings everywhere because she searched diligently for them. How often had Marta seen Mama leaning against the work counter in the kitchen, bent with exhaustion, sweat pouring from her brow as she watched the mountain finches flitting from branch to branch in the linden tree outside the window? A soft word from Papa would bring a tender smile. Despite his cruelty, his selfishness, Mama found something to love in him. Sometimes Marta would see a look of pity come into her mother’s face when she looked at Papa.

  “Do you know what you want?”

  “To make something of my life. To be more than someone’s servant.” Her eyes grew hot and grainy. “I knew it was too much to dream of going to the university, Mama, but I would’ve liked to finish high school.”

  “What about now?”

  “Now? I’d like to learn French. I’d like to learn English and Italian, too.” She stabbed her needle through the black wool. “Anyone who can speak multiple languages can find a good job.” She pulled the thread through too quickly and it tangled. “But I’ll never have the—”

  “Stop, Marta.” Mama reached over and touched her gently. “You’re making it worse.”

  Turning the black wool over, Marta plucked at the loops, loosening them.

  “If the opportunity arose for you to learn more . . . ?” Mama looked at her in question.

  “I’d find a good job and save money until I had enough to buy a chalet.”

  “You want a place like Hotel Edelweiss, don’t you?” Mama began on another flower.

  “I’ll never dream of having anything as grand as that. I’d be happy with a boardinghouse.” She gave a bleak laugh. “I’d be happy to work in a nice shop in Interlaken selling Dirndln to tourists!” She yanked the thread through. “But that’s not likely, is it? What’s the use of dreaming?” She thrust the wool aside and rose. If she sat another minute, she’d suffocate.

  “Perhaps God put the dream in your head.”

  “Why?”

  “To teach you patience.”

  “Oh, Mama . . .” Marta groaned. “Don’t I show patience teaching that mulish brother of mine? Haven’t I shown patience hoping Papa might change his mind and let me go back to school? It’s been two years, Mama! I’ve done everything he’s told me to do. I’m fourteen! Rosie doesn’t ask me to help her anymore. I grow more stupid every year! What good is patience when nothing will ever change?”

  “Nonsense. Come and sit, Bärchen.” Mama put her work aside and took Marta’s hands firmly. “Look at what you’ve gained through the Beckers, Frau Fuchs and Frau Zimmer, and the Gilgans. You’ve learned to bake, tend bees and children, and you’ve seen what it takes to run a fine hotel. Doesn’t that show you God is preparing you—?”

  Her hands tightened when Marta opened her mouth to protest.

  “Hush, Marta, and listen to me. Listen carefully. It doesn’t matter what your father plans, nor what his motives might be. God will prevail. God will use everything to His good purpose if you love and trust Him.”

  Marta went cold. She saw something in her mother’s expression that warned her. “Papa’s made plans for me, hasn’t he? What plans, Mama?”

  Mama’s blue eyes grew moist. “You must search out the usefulness in every situation.”

  Marta snatched her hands from Mama’s. “Tell me, Mama.”

  “I can’t. It’s for your father to explain.” She took up her sewing and said nothing more.

  Papa laid out his plans for Marta the next morning. “You will be pleased to know I’m sending you to school. I would’ve sent you sooner, but Haushaltungsschule Bern only takes girls fourteen and older. Count and Countess Saintonge are the instructors. Royalty! You should be happy! I’ve been assured that any girl who graduates from their housekeeping school will have no difficulty in finding a good position. You’ll be in Bern six months. You can pay me back when you come home and find a position.”

  “Pay you back?”

  His eyes cooled. “The tuition cost me 120 francs and another 30 francs for books. You should be pleased. You wanted to go to school.” His voice hardened. “You’re going!”

  “This isn’t the kind of school I had in mind, Papa.” As well he knew!

  “You’re so smart; let’s see you make the most of the opportunity I’m giving you. This is my thanks for Hermann passing his examinations. Who knows? If you do well enough in Bern, you might end up working at Schloss Thun!” The idea seemed to please him. “That would be something to boast about! You leave in three days.”

  “But what about the Beckers, Papa? and the Zimmers and Gilgans?”

  “I told them yesterday I was sending you to school. They said to wish you well.”
/>   School! Marta fumed. Training to be a better servant was more like it.

  Mama sat silent at the end of the table, hands in her lap. Angry, Marta looked at her. How could Mama look so serene? She remembered Mama’s plea. “Search out the usefulness . . . Count your blessings. . . .”

  She would be away from home for the first time. She would live in Bern. She wouldn’t have to look at Papa or listen to his constant complaints.

  “Thank you, Papa. I look forward to it.”

  Elise gave a soft cry and fled the table.

  “What’s wrong with that girl now?” Papa muttered.

  “Marta’s leaving home, Johann.”

  “She’s coming back!” He waved his hand in exasperation. “It’s not as though she’s leaving for good. She’ll only be gone six months and then she’ll be home forever.”

  The hair on the back of Marta’s neck rose. Forever.

  As soon as Papa left the table, Mama asked Marta to find Elise. “She’ll probably be down by the creek. You know how she loves to listen to the water.”

  Marta found her where the creek ran into the Zulg. She sat down beside her. “I have to go sometime, Elise.”

  Elise clasped her knees against her chest and stared at the shimmering ripples below. “But Bern is so far away.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “Do you want to go?”

  “I’d rather be going to the university, but housekeeping school will have to do.”

  “What will I do without you?” Tears slipped down Elise’s pale cheeks.

  “What you always do.” Marta wiped the tears away. “Help Mama.”

  “But I’ll be alone in our room at night. You know I’m afraid of the dark.”

  “Let the cat sleep with you.”

  Elise started to cry. “Why can’t things stay as they are? Why can’t Papa let you stay here?”

  “Things can’t stay the same.” She pushed a blonde curl behind Elise’s ear. “Someday, you’ll marry, Elise. You’ll have a husband who loves you. You’ll have a home of your own. You’ll have children.” She gave Elise a rueful smile. “When you go, Elise, where will I be?” Papa said no man would ever want such a plain, ill-tempered girl.

  Elise blinked, like a child waking to a bad dream. “I thought you’d always be here.”

  In Steffisburg, in Papa’s tailor shop, under Papa’s thumb, doing Papa’s will. “That’s what Papa thinks. Is that what you wish for me, Elise?”

  “Aren’t you afraid to leave?” Tears slipped down her white cheeks. “I want to stay home with Mama.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Elise.” Marta lay back in the spring grass and flung an arm over her head. “And I’m only going to be away six months.”

  Elise lay back and rested her head against Marta’s shoulder. “I wish you could stay here and not go at all.”

  Marta put her arm around her sister and stared up at the darkening sky. “Every time you think of me, Elise, pray. Pray I learn something useful. Pray I learn more in Bern than how to be someone’s maid.”

  Marta went by to thank the Beckers and Zimmers and to say good-bye. And she went to the Gilgans’ the day before she left. Frau Gilgan served tea and cookies. Herr Gilgan gave her twenty francs. “This is for you, Marta.” He closed her fingers around it. Marta couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.

  Frau Gilgan suggested Marta and Rosie go for a nice walk up to the meadow. Rosie took her hand. “Mama doesn’t think you’ll come back. She thinks you’ll find a job in Bern and stay there, that I’ll have to wait until our family goes up there before I see you again.” The Gilgans went up every few months to buy things for the hotel. Sometimes Rosie and her sisters came back with ready-made dresses from one of the shops along the Marktgasse.

  When they sat on their favorite fallen log, Rosie lifted her white apron and dug into the deep pocket of her skirt. “I have something for you.”

  “A book!” Marta took it with pleasure. Finding no title on the spine, she opened it. “Blank pages.”

  “So you can write all your adventures.” Rosie grinned. “I expect you to let me read it when I see you. I want to know about all the handsome city boys you meet, the places you see, all the wonderful things you’re going to do.”

  Blinking back tears, Marta ran her hand over the fine leather. “I’ve never had anything so fine.”

  “I wish I were going with you. There’s so much to see and do. What fun we’d have! When you’ve finished school, you’ll be hired by a handsome aristocrat who’ll fall in love with you, and—”

  “Don’t be silly. No one will ever want to marry me.”

  Rosie took Marta’s hand and wove their fingers tightly together. “You may not be as beautiful as Elise, but you have fine qualities. Everyone thinks so. My mother and father think you could do anything you set your mind to.”

  “Did you tell them about my dream?” Marta pulled her hand away.

  “In a weak moment, and go ahead and scowl at me, but I’m not sorry I did. Why do you think Mama told you so much about what it takes to run a hotel?”

  As they walked down the hill toward Steffisburg, Rosie took Marta’s hand again. “Promise you’ll write and tell me everything.”

  Marta wove her fingers with Rosie’s. “Only if you promise to write back and not fill every line with dribble about Arik Brechtwald.”

  They both laughed.

  3

  Mama awakened her before dawn the next morning. Papa gave Marta just enough money to buy a one-way train ticket to Bern. “I’ll send you enough to get you home when you graduate.” He handed her the letter of acceptance, proof of tuition payment, and a map of Bern with the address of the housekeeping school. “You better start now. The train leaves Thun in two hours.”

  “I thought you might go with me.”

  “Why? You can make it on your own.” He went into the shop to start work early.

  “Don’t look so worried.”

  “I’ve never been on a train, Mama.”

  Mama gave her a teasing smile. “It goes faster than a coach.” Mama hugged her tightly and handed over the knapsack she had packed with a spare skirt, two shirtwaists, undergarments, a hairbrush, and toiletries.

  Marta tried not to show how nervous she felt going off on her own. She was thankful Elise hadn’t awakened, for if her sister had started crying, Marta would have given in to tears, too. She kissed Mama’s cool cheek and thanked her. “Good-bye, Papa!” she called out.

  “You’d better hurry!” he shouted back.

  Mama went out the door with her. She took a small purse from her pocket and gave it to Marta. “A few francs for paper, envelopes, and postage stamps.” She cupped Marta’s face and kissed her twice, then whispered in her ear. “And buy yourself a cup of chocolate. Then find the Samson Fountain. It was my favorite.” She kept an arm around Marta and walked with her a little ways. “When you get up each morning, you will know I’m praying for you. And every evening when you go to bed, I’ll be praying then, too.” If God listened to anyone in the family, surely He listened to Mama, who loved Him so much. “In whatever you do, Marta, do it as unto the Lord.”

  “I will, Mama.”

  Mama let her go. When Marta looked back, she saw tears in her mother’s eyes. She looked so frail. “Don’t forget us.”

  “Never.” Marta wanted to run back and hold on to her.

  “Go on now.” Mama waved.

  Afraid she might lose her courage, Marta turned away quickly and started off down the street at a brisk walk.

  The farther she went, the more her excitement grew. She ran part of the way and arrived at the train station just as the ticket office opened. Her heart leaped when the train arrived. She watched to see what other passengers did, then handed her ticket to the conductor before climbing aboard. She made her way down the narrow aisle, passing a man in a ready-made business suit shuffling through papers from his case. Another sat two rows behind him, reading a book. A woman told her three children to stop fussing at one
another.

  Marta took a seat near the back. She put her knapsack between her feet and looked out the window. She jumped in fright when the train jolted. She caught hold of the seat in front of her and hung on, fighting down panic. How fast would this train move? Would it jump the tracks? Could she reach the door and get off before the train left the station? The thought of what Papa would say and do if she showed up at the front door stopped her. She looked at the other passengers and saw that no one else seemed alarmed at the jolting and creaking, or the loud whistle. She leaned back and watched Thun pass by outside her window.

  As the train picked up speed, her heart did, too. Every minute took her farther away from Mama and Rosie and Elise. When tears came, silent and hot, she wiped them away.

  The Aare River ran alongside the train tracks. She watched out the window as she rode through hills dotted with plump, broad-boxed farmhouses topped with roofs curving almost to the ground. The train stopped at every town, and she leaned this way and that to see as much of the squares and markets as she could. She saw old covered bridges not yet replaced with stone. Every village had a clock tower, even if it didn’t have a train station.

  The wheels clickity-clicked as the train sped toward Bern. When the outskirts of the city came into view, Marta picked up her knapsack and held it on her lap. She could see great stone buildings and a bridge across the green Aare as it curved around the old city. Houses stood in rows above the river on the other side. She looked at her map and out the window again, not sure which direction she would have to go to find the Saintonges’ housekeeping school. She would have to ask directions.

  When the train stopped inside the station, Marta followed the others down the steps. She felt as though she had stepped into one of Frau Fuchs’s beehives with its constant, churning movement of bodies and the hum of voices. Conductors called out train numbers. Steam hissed. Someone bumped into her and excused himself quickly, hurrying on to catch his train. She spotted a tall man in black uniform and red cap and headed toward him. When she showed her map, he pointed out the route she would have to take and told her how much time it would take to ride the short distance. “You can take the tram.”