She stopped on the landing. Maybe he wasn’t the Casanova she had first thought, but that didn’t mean that this relationship would come to anything. He might take her out a few more times and realize she was the most boring girl he’d ever met and wonder why he’d bothered in the first place.
He was right: she was scared. She was already halfway to being in love with him. She needed to say something, but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t expose her feelings.
Trip stepped closer. He took her hand and wove his fingers through hers. “Don’t worry so much, Hildemara Waltert. We’ll take it one step at a time and see where this takes us.”
And so they did for the next six months, until Mama called and said she needed Hildemara to come home right away. “Your father has cancer.”
33
1940
Cancer meant Papa was dying. Hildie had seen patients wasting away, in pain, dying slowly, relatives coming and going, broken and grieving. Cancer meant there was no hope. Cancer meant a lingering, excruciating death. When had he been diagnosed? What had been done for him? What, if anything, could be done? How long had Mama waited before calling for help? Hildemara couldn’t imagine her asking unless there was no hope at all.
She felt sick and afraid, wondering if she would be up to taking care of her father. How would she bear it? It was hard enough watching a stranger suffer.
And Trip. It meant leaving him, and she loved him so much she ached with it. She hadn’t told him yet. Maybe God had kept her silent for a reason. She had no idea how long she might be gone, and then, when it was all over, what would happen to Mama? A week ago, she and Trip had had a conversation that gave her reason to hope he loved her as much as she loved him. “We can talk about the future when I graduate from UC.”
“How long will that be?”
“Another year, maybe less, if I can squeeze in a few courses over the summer.”
Hildie wanted to tell him two people working together toward a common goal could get there a lot faster than one man on his own. She lost her courage.
Now it didn’t matter. Her father took precedence.
With newspaper headlines and radio reports blaring about the Nazis invading Denmark, Norway, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands and nurses talking about possible military service, Hildie put in for emergency leave. She packed everything in two suitcases and called Trip to break their Friday night date.
“I had something special planned.”
“I’m sorry, Trip.” She clutched the telephone, trying not to start crying again.
“What’s wrong, Hildie?”
“My father has cancer. I’m going home to take care of him.”
“Home to Murietta? I’m coming over.”
“No, Trip. Please don’t. I can’t allow myself to think about anything but Papa right now. And I—”
“I love you, Hildie.”
She wanted to say she loved him, too, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have to leave. She felt torn between her love for Papa and her love for Trip.
“Stay put. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Panic set in when he hung up. She called the bus station for schedules, called Mama with the time she would arrive in Murietta, raked her fingers through her hair, and wondered if she should call a cab and go before Trip arrived. With no one in the house, she felt vulnerable. She knew she would make a complete fool of herself over him.
When the knock came, she almost didn’t answer the door.
Trip knocked again, harder. “Hildie!”
She unlocked the door and opened it. Trip stepped inside and pulled her into his arms. Crying, she clung to him, knowing it would be a long time before she saw him again, if ever. He nudged the door shut with his foot. She shook with sobs and his arms tightened. She could feel his heart beating fast and hard.
Pulling her arms down, she pushed back. Trip didn’t try to hold on. “I only have a few minutes before I have to leave for the bus station.”
“Let me drive you to Murietta. I’d like to meet your parents.”
“No.”
He looked pained. “Why do I get the feeling you’re closing the door on me again?” When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “What’s going on, Hildie?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to find when I get there, Trip. I don’t know how long I’m going to be away. Months? A year? I have no way of knowing.” If she was gone too long, he might find someone else. She wouldn’t want to come back. And what would Mama say if she showed up with a young man? She hadn’t mentioned Trip in any letters, holding tight to her feelings, not sharing them with anyone, except Boots, who couldn’t help but see. What would Trip think if Mama spoke her mind as she always did? “Well, this is the first I’ve heard you have a young man in your life.” What then?
Covering her face, Hildie burst into more tears. Embarrassed to have Trip see her so out of control, she turned away. She didn’t dare tell him how she felt. It would only make everything worse. When Trip touched her shoulder, she moved away. Wiping her face, she gulped. “It’s better if I go home alone. I’ll have time to think, time to get control of my emotions. I need to make some kind of plan for how to care for him.”
Trip came up behind her and ran his hands down her arms. He spoke gently, reasonably. “What are your mother and father going to think of me if you arrive on a bus?”
She bit her lip. “They won’t think anything.”
“I know what I’d think. My daughter is keeping company with an insensitive man who doesn’t care anything about her family. Not much of a recommendation there.” He turned her around. “Hildie?”
“They don’t know about you.”
He went still, his eyes flickering with confusion, then hurt. “You never told them about us?” When she didn’t answer, he let out his breath as though punched. He took his hands from her waist. “Well, I guess that makes it clear where I stand.”
“You don’t understand.”
He stepped back and held up his hands in surrender. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain. I get it.”
“Trip. Please.”
“Please what? You can’t love someone if you can’t trust him, Hildie, and you’ve never let yourself trust me.” Eyes moist, he turned away. “I guess I should’ve seen this coming. I’m just dense.” He picked up her two suitcases. “Is this it?” He didn’t meet her eyes. “Anything else you want to take home with you?”
Was he giving her one last chance?
“You’re right, Hildie. I don’t understand.” He went out the door. She had no choice but to follow, lock the door behind her, and get in his car.
Neither spoke on the drive to the bus station. He pulled up in front. When he started to open his door, she put her hand on his arm. “Don’t get out of the car. Please. I can make it on my own.” She tried to smile. She tried to tell him the last six months had been the happiest of her life. She tried to tell him she loved him and would never forget him as long as she lived. Instead, she gulped and said, “Don’t hate me, Trip.”
“I don’t hate you.”
So much for happily ever after. “Good-bye, Trip.” Trembling all over, she reached for the door handle.
Swearing softly, Trip reached for her. “Just one thing before you go.” He dug his fingers into her hair. “I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.” He kissed her. He wasn’t tentative or careful or even gentle. He drank her in and filled her up with sensations. When he drew back, they both sat breathing hard, stunned. He ran his thumb over her lips, tears filling his eyes. “Something to remember me by.” He let go, leaned across, and shoved the door open. “I’m sorry about your father, Hildie.”
Standing on the sidewalk with her two suitcases, Hildie watched Trip drive away. He didn’t look back. Not once.
She boarded the bus, found a seat in the last row by herself, and cried all the way to Murietta.
Mama stood waiting outside the bus station. She frowned when Hildie came down
the steps, collected her luggage, and met her. They didn’t embrace. Mama shook her head. “You look awful. Are you going to be all right? I don’t want you going to pieces the minute you walk in the door and see your father. That will just make it worse for him. You understand me?”
Cover up. Pretend everything is all right. “I got it out of my system on the way home.”
“I hope so.”
Hildie had no intention of telling her mother she had just lost the love of her life. “How long have you known about the cancer?” She put her suitcases in the backseat and sat in front.
“It came on suddenly.” Mama started the car.
“No symptoms at all?”
“I’m not a nurse, Hildemara. He looked a little yellow to me, and I told him so, but your father said he didn’t have time for a doctor. Not then, anyway.” She ground the gears.
Yellow? Oh, God. “Is it in his liver?”
“Yes.”
Hildemara shut her eyes for a moment and then looked out the window, hoping Mama wouldn’t guess what she already knew. It wouldn’t be long.
Mama drove more slowly than usual. “I’m glad you’re home, Hildemara.”
“So am I, Mama. So am I.”
Papa sat in the living room, his Bible open on his lap. Hildie set her suitcases down and went to him, trying not to show the shock at his changed physical appearance. “Hello, Papa.”
He rose with difficulty. “Hildemara! Mama said she had a surprise for me.”
When he opened his arms, Hildie walked into them. She held him firmly, but gently, willing herself not to cry. “I’m home, Papa.” She ran her hands over his back, guessing at how much weight he had lost since Christmas. She could feel his vertebrae, his ribs.
Papa took her by the arms and stepped back. “There was a time when you couldn’t put your arms all the way around me.” He had always stood straight and tall with broad shoulders and thick biceps. Now he was bent from weariness and pain. He edged back toward his chair, reaching back with a tremulous hand. She wanted to step forward and help him, but the look on his face prevented her. He had his pride, and she had already damaged it with her quick tactile examination.
“He doesn’t have much appetite.” Mama stood in the middle of the room. “But I’ll get supper on the stove. I’m sure you’re hungry after your long trip, Hildemara.”
Hildie bent and picked up her suitcases so Papa wouldn’t see her tears. “I hope I’m not sleeping on the sofa.”
“Bernie’s room is empty, now that he and Elizabeth are settled in the new cottage. You can sleep in there. Bernie’s out in the orchard. Elizabeth loves farming as much as your brother. She grows flats of flowers for the nursery.”
“Wish she’d grow us some grandchildren,” Papa said with a laugh.
Hildie felt a wave of sadness. She had learned more than she wanted to know about some things while in the hospital. For Bernie to father a child, after the case of mumps he’d had as a boy, would take a miracle. She remembered him screaming in pain as the disease attacked his testicles. She hadn’t understood then what she knew now. She wondered if Dr. Whiting would ever tell them. Probably not, unless they asked. “Will they be eating with us?”
“No. She cooks for the two of them.”
Hildie set her suitcases in Bernie’s old room and looked out through the screen. The cottage her brother had built for his bride was white with yellow shutters. A flower box held purple pansies and white alyssum. A lattice shed had been built beyond the washhouse past the bay tree. Elizabeth stood inside it, working among flats of flowers.
“Rikka will be home from school soon,” Mama called out over the radio Papa always wanted turned on in the living room. Another radio music program had been interrupted with the increasingly dismal news in Europe. Germans were bombing Paris. In Italy, Mussolini declared war on Britain and France. As sick as he was, Papa still wanted to know what went on in the world.
Rikki had commencement exercises soon, Hildie remembered. Papa had already insisted he would attend the ceremony, even if he had to use a cane.
Hildie came back into the living room. “You want any help, Mama?”
“No. You just sit with Papa and visit.”
Hildie sat at the end of the sofa closest to Papa’s chair. He reminded her of the old gentlemen on the geriatric ward. Cancer aged a man. Her heart broke watching him lean back carefully, a hand resting lightly over his swollen abdomen. “Your baby sister is doing well in high school. Top grades in art.”
“No surprise there, Papa.”
Mama cut peeled potatoes into pieces over a pot. “She wanted to quit and get married a while back.”
“Married! To Paul?” Or was it Johnny? She couldn’t remember. Her baby sister went through boys faster than babies went through diapers.
Mama snorted. “She’s had two boyfriends since Paul. The new one is Melvin Walker. He’s an improvement over the others—five years older, has a good, steady job.”
Papa smiled. “She’ll know when the right one comes along, and I have a feeling it isn’t this one.”
Hildie thought of Trip. He’d been the right one. It just hadn’t been the right time.
Mama added water to the pot. “This one won’t be brushed off. He knows what he wants, and he’s sticking close until she sees his worth.”
Papa chuckled. “Sounds like what I had to do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at Hildie. “There’s nothing wrong with a little romance. How about you, Hildemara? Have you met anyone special?”
“Would she be here if she had?” Mama set the pot on the stove.
“I’ve had a few dates.” Hildie wondered what they would say if she told them she had met and fallen in love with a man, that she had dreamed of marrying him and having his children. Better to have them think she had no luck with love than know she had given him up to take care of Papa. Papa would send her back, and she needed to be here. Now that she saw Papa, she knew how much.
Papa held out his hand. When she took it, she felt the bones through his rough skin. “I was surprised when Mama said you wanted to come home.” She realized with some surprise that Papa didn’t know Mama had called and asked her to come. Hildie felt guilty for not knowing how sick he was before this. If she had come home sometime during the last few months, she might have seen signs and given warning. Instead, she had been so caught up in her own life, in Trip, in love that she hadn’t bothered.
“Well, it’s about time, isn’t it, Niclas?” Mama grabbed a towel. “I could use a little help around here.” She tossed the towel on the counter and put her hands on her hips.
Hildie took the cue. “I’ve missed you both. I’ve wanted to come home for quite a while. I hope you won’t mind having me around for a month or two.”
“I know what’s going on.” Papa’s voice had an edge of anger in it. “How could you do this, Marta? Hildemara’s got a life of her own.”
“Working. That’s her life. She’s a nurse, and a good one. She led the class procession as the Lady with the Lamp. She had to be the top student to do that. She knows what’s what, and we need a nurse. Why not one who loves you?”
“Oh, Marta.” Papa sounded so weary and defeated. He couldn’t fight back anymore.
Mama’s arms dropped to her sides. “It’s what she’s always wanted to do, Niclas. You said it was what God called her to do. Maybe it was for such a time as this. Tell him, Hildemara.”
Hildie heard the pleading in Mama’s voice and saw the telltale brightness in her hazel eyes. Papa looked crushed in spirit. “I didn’t want to become a burden, Marta.”
“You’re not a burden, Papa, and I’d have been hurt if Mama hadn’t called and someone else tended you. Life is short enough as it is for all of us. Time is the most precious thing we have, isn’t it?” She took his hand between hers. “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here.” On the bus ride to Murietta, she had buried and mourned all the might-have-beens.
He looked into her eyes and went very
still, comprehending. “We don’t have much time, do we?”
“No, Papa. We don’t.”
Turning away, Mama gripped the sink. Her shoulders sagged and shook, but she didn’t make a noise.
Hildemara lay awake inside the screened porch bedroom, listening to the crickets and a hoot owl in the bay tree near the tree house. She prayed for her father. She prayed for Trip. She prayed God would give her the strength she would need, knowing each day would become more difficult.
When she finally slept, she dreamed of long, polished corridors. Someone stood in the open doorway at the end, surrounded by light. She ran toward him and felt his arms go around her. She heard his whisper against her hair, inside her heart, not in words but in rest.
She awakened when a rooster crowed. The back door opened and closed, then the screen door. Sitting up, Hildie watched Mama cross the yard to feed the chickens.
Hildie went into the bathroom built by the Summer Bedlam boys and showered, brushed her teeth and hair, dressed, and went into the kitchen. She poured coffee and sat at the kitchen table reading her Bible. Covering her face, she prayed for Mama and Papa and the days ahead. Then she thought about Papa standing beneath the white almond blossom canopy in spring, singing a German hymn. She thought of him sharpening tools in the barn, digging irrigation ditches, sitting in his wagon loaded with vegetables from Mama’s garden.
Today, Lord, she prayed. Give me strength for the day. This is a day You have made and I will rejoice in it. I will. God, give me strength.
When Hildie heard Papa groan, she went to him, prepared to play the role God had given her.
Dear Rosie,
I do not know if you will receive this letter with all that is happening in Europe, but I must write. Niclas has cancer. He is dying. I can do nothing for him but sit and try to make him more comfortable.
I had no choice but to ask Hildemara to give up her life and come home. He needs a nurse. He worsens by the day and I can’t bear to see him in such pain. She is a great comfort to us both.
Niclas still insists on listening to the radio, and all the news is depressing and frightening. As you know better than I, Hitler has gone mad with power. He will not stop until he has the whole of Europe in his hands. My old friend, Chef Warner Brennholtz, returned to Berlin several years ago. No word from him for two Christmases. And now London is being bombed. I fear for Lady Daisy. I pray the mountains will protect you and yours.
Marta's Legacy Collection Page 35
