Marta's Legacy Collection

by Francine Rivers

  When Daddy brought Mommy home, Oma stood, holding Carolyn’s hand. Mommy climbed out of the car, waved hello, and went straight into the house. Carolyn called out to her and followed them inside, but her father blocked her. “Leave your mother alone. She’s going to bed.” Mommy went down the hall into the cold room with the strange bed and closed the door. When Carolyn tried to go around Daddy, he caught hold of her and turned Carolyn around. “Go play outside for a while so Oma and I can talk. Go on now.” He gave her a push.

  Confused, Carolyn sat on the front steps until Daddy came out. He went right past her, got back into his car, and drove away.

  Oma came out onto the front porch. “Your daddy had to go back to work. You’ll see him this afternoon.”

  “Can I see Mommy?”

  “No, Liebling.” She shook her head and ran her hand over Carolyn’s head. “Do you want to stay out here or come inside and help me make lunch?” Carolyn followed Oma back inside.

  Her mother didn’t come out of her room at all that day, except to use the bathroom. And every day after that was the same way. If she saw Carolyn in the hallway, she waved her away. Mommy didn’t sit at the kitchen table for dinner or with the family in the living room when they listened to Lux Radio Theater. No one except Daddy and Oma could go into Mommy’s room. Daddy often spent all evening behind the closed door while Oma took a book from the pile she’d checked out of the library and read stories to Carolyn and Charlie.

  Carolyn often went outside after Charlie went to school. One day she picked daffodils that had sprouted up from bulbs Mommy had planted a long time ago. Mommy loved flowers. They made her happy. When Carolyn had a fistful, she went inside, crept along the corridor to Mommy’s room, and opened the door. Mommy lay on her side, sleeping. Carolyn tiptoed to the bed. She stood chin level with the top of the mattress.

  “Mommy?” Reaching up, Carolyn touched her mother’s hand. Her mother’s eyes flickered open. A smile curved her mouth. Carolyn held up the daffodils. “I brought you flowers, Mommy, to make you feel better.”

  Mommy’s expression changed. Pulling up the sheet, she covered her mouth. “You’re not supposed to come in here, Carolyn. Go! Now!”

  Her lip trembled. “I want to be with you.”

  “You can’t be with me.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Get out of here, Carolyn. Do what you’re told.”

  “Mommy . . .” Carolyn reached out to give her the flowers.

  Her mother reared back. “Mama!” Mommy started to cough. “Get away from me!” she choked out between coughs. When Oma appeared in the doorway, Mommy waved frantically. “Mama! Get her out of here! Get her away from me!” Sobbing now, still coughing, Mommy bunched the sheet over her mouth and hunched over. “Keep her out!”

  Oma hustled Carolyn out of the room and closed the door firmly. Frightened, confused, Carolyn wailed. Oma picked her up and carried her into the living room. “Hush now! You didn’t do anything wrong. Listen to me.” She sat in the rocker. “Mommy’s sick. You can’t go in that room. If you do, she’ll go away again. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “No.” Why couldn’t she go in? Oma did. Daddy did. Charlie stood in the doorway and talked to Mommy. Why did she have to stay away?

  “Shhhh . . .” Oma lifted Carolyn into her lap and rocked her. Carolyn stuck her thumb in her mouth and leaned against her grandmother. “Everything is going to be fine, Liebling. Your mother is going to get better. You’ll have plenty of time with her then.”

  Carolyn never went into Mommy’s room after that. The closest she came was standing against the wall outside the door when Oma took in a tray of food. She could catch a glimpse of Mommy then. When the weather warmed, her mother came out of her room wearing a pair of slacks and a sweater. She sat on the front porch, where Oma served tea, egg salad and dill sandwiches, and pecan cookies. Carolyn waited inside until Oma told her she could come out, too. She sat in the chair on the farthest end of the porch as far away from her mother as she could get. Her mother drew the blue sweater more tightly around her thin body. “It’s cold.”

  Oma poured tea. “It’s seventy-three degrees, Hildemara Rose. You need fresh air.”

  “It’s hard to keep warm even with the sun shining, Mama.”

  “I’ll get you a blanket.” Oma put another sandwich on Mommy’s plate.

  “No blanket, Mama. It’s better if we try to look as normal as possible.”

  “Normal? The neighborhood already knows, Hildemara Rose. Why do you think they all stay away?” Oma gave a tight laugh. “Cowards! The lot of them.”

  Mommy nibbled at the small sandwich. “You’re a wonderful cook, Mama.”

  “I learned from the best.” Oma set her teacup in its saucer. “I learned from Rosie’s mother. They had a hotel. I’ve told you that, haven’t I? Chef Brennholtz tutored me at the Hotel Germania. He returned to Germany and got caught up in the war. Last I heard, he was chef to one of the ranking Nazis. After Warner Brennholtz, I worked for the Fourniers in Montreaux. Solange shared her French recipes. Lady Daisy’s cook, Enid, taught me how to make these tea cakes.” Oma talked about Lady Daisy’s love of Kew Gardens. Oma pushed her in a wheelchair, and they visited the park every day. “It was hard work, but I never minded. I love English gardens. Of course, it’s too hot in Murietta. . . .”

  Oma and Mommy talked about Carolyn, too. “She needs a playmate.”

  “Well, the mothers won’t want their children having anything to do with her.”

  “I’ve been thinking. It might be good to get a puppy.”

  “A puppy?”

  “For Carolyn.”

  “I don’t know, Mama. A dog is a big responsibility.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt her to learn a little. It might make her less dependent.” Oma smiled at Carolyn. “She’s become my little shadow.”

  Mommy leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’ll talk to Trip.” She sounded so tired.

  That night at the dinner table, Daddy, Oma, and Charlie talked about getting a puppy. Daddy suggested buying a cocker spaniel. “Small enough to live inside the house and big enough that it couldn’t squeeze through the fence.”

  “You don’t have to buy a dog.” Oma gave a short laugh. “People are always trying to give pups away. Any mutt will do.”

  Charlie groaned loudly. “Not a mutt. Can’t we get a German shepherd, Dad?” He’d stayed overnight with a friend whose family had a new television set. “Roy Rogers has a German shepherd. Bullet runs so fast, he’s like a streak of lightning.”

  Oma looked unconvinced. “And where’s he going to run? A big dog like that needs space.”

  Charlie wasn’t about to give up. “We’ve got a yard in front and a yard in back.”

  Dad kept eating. “I wouldn’t have to worry as much with a police dog around. He’d have to be trained, though. I know someone who can give me pointers.”

  A few days later, Dad lifted a ball of fur with drooping ears and bright brown eyes out of his car. He handed the pup to Carolyn, who snuggled it against her chest. “Hang on. He wiggles a lot. Don’t drop him.” He laughed as the pup licked Carolyn’s face. “I think he likes you.”

  After that, Carolyn spent most of the day outside with the puppy, which they named Bullet. When she went inside, he sat by the front door and whined until she came back out. Mommy would come out and sit on the porch while Oma worked in the kitchen, and Carolyn ran around the yard, Bullet on her heels, leaping, yipping.

  Whenever Oma went anywhere, Carolyn went with her. Sometimes they drove as far as the strawberry fields in Niles, where Oma talked with the Japanese farmers and bought flats of fruit to make jam. Other times they went to the cheese factory by the bridge over the creek that ran through Paxtown. Oma would take her into the storage room with the old Greek gentleman, who bored samples from big wheels of cheese while he and Oma talked of their old countries. Oma ran all the errands for the family: she shopped at Hagstrom’s grocery store, picked up supplies for repairs at K
ohln’s Hardware, and bought clothes for Charlie and Carolyn from Doughtery’s department store. Sometimes Mommy argued with her about that.

  Every Sunday, Oma took Carolyn to the Presbyterian church while Daddy and Mommy and Charlie stayed home. Daddy always said he had work to do, and Charlie stayed home because Daddy did. Once a month, Oma took Carolyn with her to the farm in Murietta. While Oma talked with the Martins, Carolyn climbed into the tree house or fed carrots to the white rabbit or watched the chickens. Carolyn slept with Oma when they visited the farm.

  Carolyn didn’t suck her thumb when she slept in Oma’s big bed. She curled up against Oma and felt warm and secure. She dreamed about tea parties with the white rabbit that ate carrots from her hand. He stood on his back legs, tapped his foot, and told her he wanted ice cream tomorrow. She giggled in her sleep.

  Everything felt good and safe and comfortable.

  3

  1952

  It took almost a year, but Mommy got better, just like Oma said she would. She spent more time out of her room than in it. She sat at the kitchen table with the family, and she spent time in the living room, though she didn’t encourage Carolyn to sit beside her or get too close. “Just play on the rug where I can watch you.” Charlie built forts with Lincoln Logs; Carolyn colored in her coloring books or sat plastered to Oma’s side, listening to another story.

  Often at night, Carolyn would hear Mommy and Oma talking. Sometimes they raised their voices.

  “I can do the dishes, Hildemara.”

  “I’m not an invalid anymore.”

  “Calm down—”

  “I don’t want to be calm. I don’t want to sit by and see you do everything for Trip and my children. I’m strong enough now to do some of the work around here.”

  “I’m trying to help!”

  “You’ve helped enough, Mama. Sometimes I think you help too much.”

  Once Carolyn overheard Daddy. “That’s between you and your mother. Stop complaining! She saved us, Hildie. We’d be further in debt than we are now if she hadn’t come and helped us out.”

  “That doesn’t mean it can go on like this forever, Trip. This is my family. Mine!”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “You don’t see what I see. I’m losing—”

  “It isn’t a contest.”

  “You don’t understand!”

  Carolyn became frightened when her parents fought. She stuck closer to Oma, hoping she’d never leave.

  Mommy moved back into Daddy’s big bedroom. A truck came and took away the hospital bed and rolling tray table. Mommy scrubbed the floors and walls and painted the room pink. Daddy moved Carolyn’s furniture in. Oma found a round braided rug and trunk for her toys, and she bought fabric with flowers all over it and made curtains.

  Bullet jumped the fence and chased the mailman. The poor dog had to be on a chain after that. Daddy built a house big enough for him and Carolyn to sit inside.

  Oma said having a room all your own was a luxury, but Carolyn didn’t like being in a room by herself. She was afraid the monsters would move in under her bed again.

  When Oma packed her suitcase, Carolyn watched, confused. “Where are you going?”

  “Murietta.”

  Carolyn went back to her room and packed her little suitcase, too, just like she always did when Oma took her down to Murietta for a weekend at the farm.

  “You’re not going with me, Carolyn.” Oma sat on her bed and lifted Carolyn to her knee. “You’re going to stay here with your mommy.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “You belong here.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Oma hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I hope I haven’t stayed too long.” She set Carolyn on her feet. “You be a good girl for your mother.”

  “I love you.”

  Oma cupped her face and kissed each of her cheeks. “I love you, too, Liebling. Don’t you ever forget that.” She stood and took Carolyn’s hand. “Come on, now.”

  Everyone stood outside on the porch. Oma said good-bye, giving each of them a hug and kisses on both cheeks, all except Mommy, who wouldn’t let her. “Have it your way, Hildemara Rose.” Oma shook her head as she went down the front steps. Carolyn tried to follow. Mommy clamped hold of her shoulders and pulled her back.

  “No!” Carolyn struggled, but Mommy’s hands tightened, her fingers digging in painfully. Carolyn screamed. “Oma! Oma!”

  Oma turned her head away, backed out of the driveway, and started down the street. Thrashing, sobbing, Carolyn tried to break free. “Stop it,” Mommy said in a broken voice.

  Daddy caught Carolyn by the arm and slung her around. He shoved her inside the front door. When she tried to run out, he lifted her under his arm and carried her kicking and screaming down the hall. “Stop it! You upset your mother!” Cursing, he flipped Carolyn over his knees and whacked her twice, hard. The pain shocked and frightened her into silence. Daddy flung her onto the bed. Face red, eyes black, he bent over her, a finger pointing at the middle of her face. “You move and I’ll give you the spanking of your life!”

  Daddy’s hand trembled. “I don’t want to hear you cry again. Do you understand me? No more tears! You think you have it tough? I saw kids half your age in bombed-out buildings, scrambling for something to eat. They didn’t have mothers who loved them or took care of them. Their mothers had been blown to bits! Oma’s gone home. Life goes on. You make your mother cry and I swear I’ll . . .” He made a fist.

  Daddy’s face changed. He ran a hand over his face and left the room.

  The door opened, awakening Carolyn. She stuck her thumb in her mouth, her heart beating wildly. She hadn’t budged from where Daddy had put her. Not even when she needed to go to the bathroom.

  Mommy stood in the doorway. She grimaced. “You had an accident, didn’t you?”

  Carolyn scooted back on the fouled bed, shaking violently.

  “It’s all right.” Mommy pushed the door wider. “Everything’s going to be all right.” Her mother didn’t come into the room. “No one’s mad at you.” She spoke at a distance. “Trip!” Her mother’s voice broke.

  When she heard her father’s footsteps, Carolyn scrambled back farther, all the way to the wall. Tears ran down her cheeks. Mommy was upset again, and Daddy would be mad. Carolyn remembered Daddy’s face, his fist, and his promise. When Daddy appeared in the doorway, she took little gulping breaths.

  “She needs a bath.” Mommy wiped tears from her cheeks. “A warm bath, Trip, and talk quietly. She looks like she’s in shock.” Mommy spoke in a choked voice. “I’ll strip the bed and wash everything.”

  Carolyn didn’t remember how she got from the bed to the bath. Daddy showered her first and then put a capful of bubble bath in the tub and filled it with warm water. He talked in a happy voice, but he didn’t look happy. His hands shook as he washed her. Despite the warm water, Carolyn shivered all over. When he lifted her out, she stood still while he toweled her dry and dressed her in pajamas.

  “You’re going to use a sleeping bag tonight. Won’t that be fun? You’ll be snug as a bug in a rug.”

  She wanted Oma, but she didn’t dare say so. She wanted Bullet, but she didn’t think Daddy would let her sleep in the dog’s cozy little house. She wanted Charlie.

  The radio played in the living room. Daddy tried to untangle her hair. “Mommy is making a nice dinner for us. You tell her how good it is. You say thank you.” He gave up on her hair and tossed the brush into the sink. The sound made Carolyn jump. Turning her, he lifted her to his knee and pressed her head against his shoulder. “I know you’re going to miss Oma, Carolyn, but you’re our little girl.” She sat limp, hands like dead spiders in her lap. If she moved, would Daddy hit her again? He set her on her feet. “Go on in the living room.” He spoke gruffly. She went quickly. Before going through the doorway, she looked back.

  Daddy sat on the closed toilet lid, his head in his hands.

  Carolyn did everyth
ing Mommy and Daddy told her. She didn’t question; she didn’t argue. Sometimes, after everyone had gone to bed, she would open her bedroom door and creep down the hallway to Charlie’s room and sleep curled up in a blanket by his bed. On cold nights, he let her snuggle with him. Sometimes she awakened early enough to go back to her own bed so Mommy wouldn’t know she slept in Charlie’s room.

  The family went to church every Sunday. Carolyn liked Sunday school. The nice teachers read the same stories Oma had. She liked to hear the singing coming through the wall from the sanctuary and wished she could sit in there with its long red carpet and high ceiling and steps leading up to the cross with gold candlesticks and white candles flickering on the table.

  One day after church, Daddy turned the car in the opposite direction from home. “I think I’ve found the place.” Daddy smiled at Mommy. Charlie sat tall, peering out the window. Carolyn couldn’t see anything.

  Daddy turned off the road. The car bounced and jostled. “This is it.”

  “Look at that tree!” Charlie rolled his window down. “Can I climb it?”

  Daddy stopped the car. “Go ahead.”

  Mommy protested. “It’s too tall.”

  “He’ll be fine, Hildie.”

  “Be careful!” Mommy called after Charlie.

  Daddy laughed. “Relax. He’s a monkey.”

  Mommy looked back as Daddy drove on. “An English walnut tree. We could probably get enough nuts off that one tree to pay part of the property taxes.”

  Daddy grinned. “Just like you to be so practical.” He stopped and got out of the car. “Come on. Let’s walk the property. See what you think of it.”