“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 the 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.”
“What’s wrong?” Papa’s eyes moved between Mama and Hildemara.
Mama was still looking at her. “Is anything wrong?”
Hildemara looked at her sister playing happily with the doll. She knew if she said it had been meant for her, Clotilde would scream and cry. Maybe if she simply waited, Clotilde would get tired of the doll after a while and then she could play with it.
“What about me, Papa?” Bernhard pressed. “Is there anything for me?”
“Well, let’s see.” Papa reached into the sack and pulled out a wooden airplane. Bernhard took it and started right off pretending to fly it around the tent while Papa fished in the sack. “One more.” He pulled out a rag doll with a simple blue and white dotted swiss dress, brown yarn hair, and big, brown button eyes. “And this is for you, Hildemara.” Papa tossed it to her.
Bernhard spoke up. “Hildie liked the other one, Mama. She saw it at the store. She was talking to that lady—”
“Well, she didn’t say so, did she? So she gets what she gets.”
Papa looked at Mama. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She has to learn to speak up!”
“She’s a little girl.”
“She’s almost five! Clotilde is only three, and she had no trouble telling you what she wanted.”
“Marta.” Papa spoke in soft reprimand.
Bernhard edged between them. “There’s something else in the bag, Papa.”
The kind ladies hadn’t forgotten anyone. Papa received a pair of leather work gloves, and Mama got a beautiful white crocheted shawl.
Papa prayed and carved the turkey, and Mama filled the plates with food. When they all finished eating the feast, Bernhard went back to playing with his airplane and Clotilde with her doll.
Hildemara felt an uncomfortable twisting inside her as she watched her sister play with the blonde, blue-eyed doll. When she noticed Mama looking at her, Hildie felt her cheeks bloom hot with shame. She bowed her head.
Mama wrapped the new shawl tightly around her shoulders and went outside. Papa put his hand on Hildie’s head. “I’m sorry, Liebling.” He rose and ducked out of the tent.
Hildemara could hear her parents talking in muted voices. Mama sounded agitated. Papa spoke German. Hildemara felt worse, knowing they were talking about her.
She sat the doll on her knees and studied it again. She thought of the lady in blue who had brought the boxes. Maybe she had made the rag doll. That made it special. Hildemara touched the glassy button eyes again and traced the stitched pink smile. “I love you no matter how you look.” Hugging it close, she lay on her mat and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
Mama got up before dawn every morning, made the fire, and fixed breakfast for Papa. Hildemara always awakened to their quiet voices. She felt easier with them talking to one another. When Mama yelled, Hildemara felt sick to her stomach.
“English, Niclas. You can’t keep
falling back into German. They will wonder if you backed the Kaiser.”
“Mr. Musashi is teaching me to prune trees and vines. Mr. Pimentel has taught me a lot about the soil.”
“And what good is all that if you haven’t a place of your own; isn’t that what you want to say?”
“Marta . . .”
“Not yet. I’m not willing to gamble.”
Mama packed Papa cheese, bread, and two apples before he went off to work. Mama never ate until after Papa left, and most of the time, her breakfast didn’t stay down long. “Are you sick, Mama?”
“It’ll pass in a month or two.” She dabbed at her forehead with the back of her hand. “And don’t say a word about it to Papa. He’ll know soon enough.”
Mama usually felt better by midday, but she had no patience with Bernhard or Clotilde, and even less for Hildemara. Everyone did his best to stay out of her way. Mama had Bernhard bring water, and she had Hildemara straighten up the sleeping bags she had sewn out of old blankets. Clotilde played with the doll. Bernhard went fishing in the irrigation canal, but never caught anything, and Hildemara peeled potatoes while Mama washed clothes in a big washtub and hung garments on a rope she strung between two trees.
When Papa came home dusty and dirty, she had warm water and soap so he could wash. Hildemara stayed close enough to hear. “I’m taking the children to school tomorrow and register them. It would be better for them if they had a permanent address.”
“Yes. And when you open your purse, we’ll have a permanent address.”
“Find a place to sharecrop. When you prove to me you know enough to make a living at farming, I’ll give you what you need.”
“I could take it, Marta. What’s yours became mine when we married.”
She stiffened. “We’re in America now, not Germany. What’s mine stays mine unless I say otherwise. Don’t think you can boss me around and I’ll sit quietly by as your slave!”
Papa looked sad, not angry. “I’m not your father.”
Mama winced. “No. You’re not. But you refused to listen to me once before, and look what happened.”
He wiped soap from the back of his neck. “Don’t keep reminding me.”
“You choose to forget.”
He threw the towel down. “I choose to try again!”
She stepped forward, chin jutting. “And I choose to wait and see if this is God’s will or man’s whim!” She headed back for the washtub.
“You get more ill-tempered by the day!”
Mama lifted her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Maybe it has something to do with crossing a continent and coming to this end-of-the-road town. Maybe it has to do with winter and being cold and no roof over our heads and expecting another baby!” She wadded up his shirt and threw it in the dirt. “Wash your own clothes!” She walked off toward the irrigation canal and sat with her back to him.
When Papa finished washing, he went out and sat beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side.
They dressed in their finest before Mama ushered them to town the next morning. “Stay out of the puddles and try to stay clean!” Bernhard ran ahead, but Clotilde and Hildemara walked behind Mama like goslings behind a mama goose. They walked past fragrant willows, down Main Street with its spread of buildings, across State Highway 99, and past one small general store, ending up at a small white building with a bell tower and red shingle roof.
Mama ran her hands through Bernhard’s thick, blond, spiky hair and brushed down Hildemara’s gingham dress. She lifted Clotilde to a bench. “You sit right here, all three of you, and don’t move.” She gave Bernhard a stern look. “If you wander off, Bernhard, I’ll use Papa’s belt on you when we get home.” She had never used the belt on any of them, but the look in her eyes told them she meant business.
Bernhard fidgeted. He looked longingly at the teeter-totter and swings, the monkey bars and sandbox. Clotilde sat forward and swung her legs. Hildemara sat still, hands folded, praying she wouldn’t be accepted, praying she would be able to stay home with Mama.
Mama came back. “Christmas vacation will be over after New Year’s. Bernhard, you and Hildemara start school Monday next.”
Hildemara’s lip began to tremble.
Clotilde stuck her lower lip out. “I wanna go, too!”
“You’ll have to wait. You have to be five to go to school.”
“I’m not five, Mama.”
“You’ll be five before the end of January. That’s close enough.”
17
1922
Hildemara couldn’t sleep the night before school. She pretended to be asleep when Mama got up and made Papa’s breakfast. She roused Bernhard first and pulled the covers back from Hildemara’s shoulders. “I know you’re awake. Get up and get dressed.”
When Mama gave her a bowl of Müsli, Hildemara couldn’t eat it. Her stomach felt like something had gotten in and kept fluttering as it tried to get out. She looked up at Mama. “I’m sick. I can’t go to school.”
“You’re not sick, and you are going.”
“She is a little pale.” Papa put his palm against Hildie’s forehead. Hildie hoped he would say she had a fever. “She feels cool.”
“She’s scared, that’s all. As soon as she gets there, she’ll find she doesn’t need to be.” Mama jerked her head. “If you don’t eat something, everyone in your class is going to hear your stomach growling by ten in the morning.” Hildemara looked at Clotilde, still bundled in a sleeping bag.
Papa looked at Hildemara. “I can walk them to school.”
“No. They need to learn to stand on their own. They’ll be fine walking by themselves.”
Papa ruffled Bernhard’s slicked-back hair. While Mama ran a comb through it again, Papa kissed Hildemara. “You will meet lots of other little girls your age.” He patted her cheek. When he went out, Mama went with him. When Mama ducked back inside the tent, she didn’t look at Hildemara. She picked up the small buckets with their lunch and told them it was time to be off. She grabbed Bernhard by the shoulder before he went out. “You walk with your sister. You keep an eye on her.”
They hadn’t gone a quarter mile when Bernhard kicked the dust angrily. “Come on, Hildie! Stop dragging your feet!” When she didn’t walk much faster, he started to run. She cried out, but he shouted back at her that she’d have to catch up or walk alone.
Hildemara ran as fast as she could, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to catch him. A stitch in her side made her slow down. She cried out again, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He looked back over his shoulder. Stopping, he put his hands on his hips and waited until she caught up with him. “You’d better stop crying now or they’ll all call you a crybaby.” He stayed beside her the rest of the way.
Children played in the yard. Some stopped to stare when Bernhard and Hildemara came near. Bernhard pushed the gate open. When children came over, Bernhard did all the talking. Hildemara stood beside him, looking from one face to the other, her throat dry. One of the boys looked at her. “Is your sister dumb or something?”
Bernhard’s face turned red. “She’s not dumb.”
When the bell rang, everyone lined up and filed into the building. A slender, dark-haired woman in a navy blue skirt, long-sleeved white blouse, and dark blue knitted sweater told Hildemara to share a desk with Elizabeth Kenney, the pretty girl who had worn the red and green satin dress and shiny black shoes the night of the Christmas pageant. She wore a pretty green dress today. A matching green bow tied her two long, red pigtails back. Elizabeth smiled brightly. Hildemara tried to smile back.
Bernhard made friends right away. A group of boys surrounded him on the playground. Tony Reboli stepped into the circle. “Let’s play a game.” He pushed Bernhard. Laughing, Bernhard pushed back. Tony put more force behind his next push. Bernhard shoved so hard Tony went down. Bernhard stepped forward and extended his hand. Tony allowed himself to be pulled up. Dusting himself off, he suggested they have
a race. Tony took off, Tom Hughes, Eddie Rinckel, and Wallie Engles chasing after him. Bernhard caught up easily and passed by Tony, reaching the end of the playground first.
Sitting on a bench under a big elm, Hildemara watched her brother chum around with his new friends. He could run faster, jump higher, and play harder than any boy in school. By the end of the day, only the girls called him Bernhard. All the boys called him Bernie. By the end of the week, everyone wanted to be his best friend. Even the girls followed him around, giggling and whispering, wanting his attention. It amused Hildemara to see how embarrassed that made her older brother.
After two weeks, Hildie still hadn’t made one friend. No one teased her; Bernie made certain of that. But no one paid her any attention. She became Little Sis because that’s what Bernie called her and no one remembered her name. Every recess, while the others played, she sat on a bench by herself and watched. She didn’t know how to join in, and the mere thought of approaching someone and asking permission made her feel sick to her stomach. Only the teacher noticed her.
Mrs. Ransom kept a chart on the wall and put up gold and silver stars, or blue and red dots. Every morning, Hildie ran to the girls’ bathroom first thing to wash. It did no good. Following the Pledge of Allegiance and singing “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” which Hildemara confused with “God Save the King,” Mrs. Ransom checked each child for properly combed hair, washed hands and face, clean nails, and polished shoes. Not once did Hildemara pass inspection.
Once, Mrs. Ransom went so far as to part her hair in a dozen places searching for lice. While the children twittered with laughter, Hildemara sat red-faced and sick with humiliation. “Well, at least you don’t have lice. But you’re not clean enough to earn even a red dot. You might earn a silver star if you bothered to polish your shoes.”
When Hildemara said she needed polish for her shoes, Mama turned around and put her hands on her hips. “Polish? With all the sand and dust you walk through to get to school? We’re not wasting money on polish!”
Hildemara dampened the hem of her dress to clean her shoes, but then Mrs. Ransom said her dress looked unwashed.
Marta's Legacy Collection Page 18
