Her Mother's Hope (24 page)

23

“Hildemara?” Mama stood in the bedroom doorway. “What’s wrong with you?” Her eyes flickered. “Where’s your shirt?”

The man had her shirt.

“Did you leave it at the ditch?”

Hildemara panted softly, looking past Mama, afraid he might be outside.

Mama glanced out the screen door. “Where are the boys?”

“Grand Junction.”

“What happened to your leg? How did you get those scratches?”

Hildemara didn’t feel anything, and she didn’t want to look. Mama came into the room and stepped up on the bottom bunk. “Come on down from there.”

“No.”

“Hildemara . . .”

“No!”

“What happened to you?” Mama spoke firmly this time, demanding an answer.

“He . . . he . . . was in the bamboo.”

“Who?”

Hildemara started to cry. “Mr. Kimball, I think. I don’t know.” When Mama reached for her, she screamed. “No! I’m not coming down.”

“Hildemara!” Mama held her tight in her arms though she struggled.

Clotilde appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong with Hildie?”

“Go get Rikka. She’s in the washhouse.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Clotilde ran out the screen door. It banged, making Hildemara jerk, then banged twice more, each time more softly. Mama lifted Hildemara down and carried her into the hallway.

“Come on, girls!” Clotilde hurried inside with Rikka. “Inside the house. Go on.” She locked the door behind them and told Clotilde and Rikka to play in the living room while she talked with Hildemara in the front bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, Hildemara on her lap. “Now tell me what happened.”

Everything poured out of Hildie. She hiccuped sobs and stammered. “Are you mad at me? I don’t want to go back for my shirt. Please, Mama, don’t make me.”

“I don’t care about the shirt. You’re going to stay right here inside the house.” She sat Hildemara on the bed. She held Hildemara’s face firmly and looked into her eyes. “You listen to me now. That man is
never
going to touch you again, Hildemara. He’s
never
going to get near you. Not ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama.” She had never seen such a look in her mother’s eyes before. It frightened her all over again.

Mama let go of her and straightened. “Stay in the house.” She went out of the bedroom. Hildemara heard a drawer being yanked open. Trembling, she rushed to the doorway and saw Mama standing with a butcher knife in her hand. “You girls stay inside this house.”

“Mama!” Hildemara ran out of the bedroom. “Don’t go. He’s bigger than you.”

“He won’t be much longer. Lock the door!” The screen door slammed.

What if the man took the knife away and used it on Mama?

“No!” Hildemara yanked the screen door open. “Mama, come back!” Mama was running along the row of grapes. She disappeared around the end. “Papa!” Hildemara shouted.
“Papa!”

“Ring the bell!” Clotilde stood behind her.

Hildemara grabbed the cord and pulled and pulled and pulled. The bell clanged loudly. Sobbing, Hildemara kept pulling. Cloe held Rikka by the shoulders, both pairs of blue eyes wide.

Papa came running across the yard. “What’s wrong?”

Hildemara ran down the steps. “Mama went that way! She has a butcher knife!
She’ll get herself killed!
”

Papa didn’t wait to ask questions. He ran in the direction Hildemara pointed. “Marta!”

Bernie and Fritz, the others on their heels, came flying around the front of the house. “What’s happened?” Bernie panted. “We heard the bell!”

Hildemara sank onto the back steps, covered her head, and sobbed.

“Holy cow!” Tony laughed. “Little Sis is half-naked.”

Mortified, Hildemara jumped up and ran inside the house. Gulping sobs, she put her foot on the bottom bunk and dove into the top, pulling a blanket over her.

“Leave her alone!” Cloe shrieked, following after her. She climbed up onto the bunk with Hildie. Rikka climbed up, too. When Bernie came inside, Cloe yelled,
“No boys allowed!”

It seemed forever before Hildemara heard Bernie’s voice again. “I see Papa. Mama’s with him. What in the heck is Papa doing with a butcher knife?”

Hildie let out her breath, but stayed under the blanket. She heard Papa’s voice. “Tony, Wallie, Eddie, go on home.”

“Did we do something wrong, Mr. Waltert?”

“No, but Bernhard’s got work to do. Go on now. Everything is fine.” He sounded as though nothing bad had happened. The boys called out their good-byes and left. Papa’s voice changed. “Into the house,
Sohn
. Keep the children in the house until I get back.”

“Where’s he going, Mama?”

“To the sheriff.”

* * *

Sheriff Brunner came to the house late in the afternoon. Bernie and Fritz were sent to the tree house, Clotilde and Rikka to the porch bedroom. Hildemara had to sit at the table and tell the sheriff what had happened at the ditch. He looked at the scratches on Hildie’s left leg, his face grim.

“I stopped by Kimball’s house on the way out here. He wasn’t there.”

Mama gave a hard laugh. “That doesn’t mean he won’t come back.”

Hildie’s heart tripped. Papa sat her on his lap and held her close.

“I’ll swear out a warrant for his arrest, but I can’t promise anything. He has a car. He’s probably miles from here by now.”

That night, Hildemara awakened to the smell of smoke. A fire bell clanged in the distance. Mama and Papa stood in the yard, talking in low voices. “Maybe lightning set the place on fire.” Mama sounded hopeful.

“There hasn’t been any lightning.” Papa spoke grimly.

“Let it burn, and him with it.” Mama came back inside the house.

The sheriff returned the next morning and spoke to Mama and Papa. “Kimball’s house and barn burned down last night.” He didn’t sound pleased. “You know anything about it?”

Papa answered simply. “No.”

Mama spoke her mind as usual. “I went after him with a butcher knife, Sheriff Brunner, with the full intent of killing him. I saw him driving off in his fancy black automobile. I may wish the man dead and in hell, but I wouldn’t have any reason to burn down a perfectly good house or barn. Unless he was in it. Was he?”

“No.”

“Now, there’s a real pity.”

Sheriff Brunner stood silent and then decided, “It must have been Providence.”

Bernie and Fritz didn’t come down from the tree house until Mama called them in for dinner. “What’d the sheriff want?”

Mama looked between the two of them. “He asked if we knew anything about the fire last night. If he finds the arsonists, he’ll arrest them. And before you ask what an arsonist is, Clotilde, it’s a person, or persons, who burn down houses and barns.”

Bernie and Fritz slunk down in their chairs. Papa stared hard at the two of them. “Whoever started that fire last night had better not brag about it. He’d better not breathe a single word about it, or he—or they—might grow up behind steel bars eating bread and drinking water.”

Mama piled potato dumplings on both their plates. “By the way, we’re having chocolate cake for dessert tonight.”

* * *

Dear Rosie,

One of our neighbors attempted to ravish Hildemara. If I’d been able to get my hands on him, he would be dead now. Niclas stopped me. We called the sheriff. Of course, by the time he made it out our way, Kimball had fled. If I could have torched his house with him inside, I would have watched him die and been satisfied. Instead he is loose like a mad dog and will harm some other child.

Hildemara is a frightened mouse, sitting in the corners of the house. I fight tears every time I look at her, remembering how difficult life was for Elise. Mama coddled her, and my sister became a prisoner of her own fears.

I could have taken a switch to Bernhard for leaving her alone at the canal, but what Kimball did is not my son’s fault and I will not lay the blame where it does not belong.

But what do I do now? What happened has happened and there is no undoing it. Life goes on. Somehow, I have to find a way to make Hildemara step out into the sunshine again and not fear every shadow.

* * *

Hildemara didn’t want to leave her room, let alone the house, but Mama insisted she do her usual chores. “You are not going to let that man turn you into a prisoner to your fears.”

When Hildie went outside, she felt light-headed and sick to her stomach. She kept looking around as she fed the chickens. She felt a little better weeding. The vegetable garden was closer to the house. Bernie came over and hunkered down next to her. “You want to go swimming again? I won’t leave you alone. I swear on a stack of Bibles.” She shook her head.

“We’re going to a movie tomorrow,” Mama announced at dinner that night. Everyone but Hildemara whooped with excitement. She didn’t want to walk by Kimball’s property.

“Maybe we’ll even have ice cream after, if you all behave.”

Hildemara walked beside Mama while the others ran ahead and then back. She came around to the other side of Mama when they crossed the irrigation ditch with the bamboo growing on the south side.

“No, you don’t.” Mama made her walk on that side of the road. “Take a good long look when we pass his place, Hildemara.” Two blackened piles of rubble sat where the house and barn used to be. “Abrecan Macy was a nice man. Remember the sheep? You loved the lambs, didn’t you? Abrecan Macy was our friend. Abrecan Macy was a gentleman.” Mama took her hand and squeezed it tight. “You let your mind dwell on the things that are right and true and lovely.” She squeezed again and let go. “You think about Abrecan Macy the next time you pass this property.”

* * *

Every week after that, Mama took the gang of kids to town for a matinee. The boys always raced down the aisle to grab front-row seats. Hildemara and Cloe sat a few rows behind them. Mama sat in back with Rikka on her lap, whispering to other mothers who kept watch over their children.

The boys talked through the short newsreels, laughed raucously through the slapstick comedy with pie-throwing antics or
Our Gang
mischief with Buster Brown. When the main feature came on, they howled and whooped, spending the next hour booing and hissing bad guys and cheering on the hero. They stamped their feet through chases and shouted, “Get ’em, get ’em, get ’em!” as the horse galloped across the scene. Hildemara developed her first crush, on Hollywood cowboy Tom Mix.

Papa decided they needed a dog on the farm. Everyone but Mama thought that was a good idea. “I’d rather have a gun.” Mama sniffed.

Papa chuckled. “A big, mean dog is safer than Mama with a gun!”

Everyone laughed.

Bernie and Fritz walked down to the Portola Dairy the next morning. Bernie came back carrying the covered tin of milk, a stray dog on his heels. Mama stood on the porch. “Where did you find that scrawny excuse for an animal?”

Fritz grinned, patting the black dog on the head. “He found us. We heard what Mr. Waltert said last night. God must have heard him, too.”

“God, my foot!” She came down the steps. “Just like that, you have a big dog follow you home from the dairy. More like you petted him. Did you let him stick his nose in our milk, too?”

“He’ll bark if anyone comes on the place, Mama.”

Mama stood on the lawn. “He’s no watchdog. Look at him, stirring up a cloud of dust with his tail.”

“He’s just a pup right now. He’ll get bigger.”

“Who told you that? Aldo Portola?”

“He’s smart. We can train him. He was real hungry.”

“Was?”
She took the milk tin from Bernie. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

Hildemara sat on the porch, giggling. The dog trotted over and sat in front of Mama. He stared up at her with big, limpid brown eyes, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his wide canine grin. He edged closer, stretching out his neck, tail waving faster.

“Look, Mama!” Hildemara came down the steps. “He’s trying to lick your hand.”

“Balderdash!” Mama’s face softened. “He’s trying to get more milk.”

“Balderdash!” both boys shouted. “That’s his name!”

Mama shook her head, mouth twitching. “I doubt we can get rid of him now that you’ve given him food.” She headed for the steps. The dog followed on her heels. She stopped and pointed down at him. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Hildemara petted him. “Can he sleep in the house, Mama?”

“He can sleep in the tree with the boys, if they can get him up the ladder.”

The dog didn’t cooperate.

* * *

All through the rest of that summer, the family accumulated animals. Papa bought a second horse. Mama bought another rooster to “improve the flock.” Fritz caught a horned lizard and kept it in a box in the tree house. A tabby cat showed up and had kittens in the barn.

Papa wanted to get rid of them. “I don’t want my barn turning into a cathouse.”

Mama laughed so hard, tears ran down her cheeks. “You need to work more on your English, Niclas.” He asked what he had said. When she explained, his face turned bright red.

Last, Mama brought home a cow. “The children are growing so fast, we might as well have milk at hand, rather than have to walk a mile to get it.” Dash stood by the cow, panting and smiling. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your share.” Mama put a big bell around the cow’s neck. “Reminds me of Switzerland, where all the cows wore bells.”

Summer blazed by in a haze of heat. In late August, the almond harvest began. Papa and the boys stretched out canvas under the trees, using bamboo poles to knock the stubborn almonds that wouldn’t fall after shaking the branches.

Mama received a letter from the Herkners. “They’re coming on Friday.”

They arrived in a new black Ford Model A with sideboards. Hedda jumped out and ran straight to Fritz, hugging and kissing him until he protested.

Bernie stared at the car. “Holy cow! Will you look at this thing?” He walked around the Model A. “Can I sit in it, Mr. Herkner?”