Marta's Legacy Collection (43 page)

39

Trip called late one evening. Hildemara rejoiced at the sound of his voice. “I got your letter. I’ve only got a few minutes to talk. So listen. I want you safe. Go back to Colorado and live with my parents. They’d love to have you.”

She shouldn’t have told him about the fire or
Jap lover
painted in red on the barn wall. “I’m not turning my back on my friends. The Musashis are as American as you and I. They’ve been our neighbors for years. Mr. Musashi taught Papa how to prune the almond trees and vines. Papa fixed his well and his truck. I went to school with the Musashi girls. Bernie played football and basketball and—”

“Hildie . . .”

“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Bernie laughed while sitting at the kitchen table with Elizabeth. “She’s beginning to sound like Mama.”

“Rocks through windows? A field on fire?” Trip sounded angry. “Sounds like you’re in a war zone.”

“Maybe we are, but it’s a different war than you’ll be fighting.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to calm down. “Things will settle down. People have known us around here for years, Trip. Papa was well loved, even if he was German.” She couldn’t help the edge in her tone. “We’re sitting tight and keeping this place going. You take care of yourself.” She wiped tears away at the thought of what Trip would soon face. Fear had become a constant companion, robbing her of sleep, stealing her appetite. Other sorrows came to bear, as well. Elizabeth, for one. Hildemara struggled with disappointment and the sense of betrayal, for Bernie’s sake.

“I’ve got to go.”

Hildie heard voices in the background and knew a line had probably formed at the base telephone. “Trip!” Her voice broke. She didn’t want their last conversation to be an argument. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Take care of our baby.”

She heard something in his voice. “You received orders, didn’t you?”

“We’re shipping out.”

“When?”

“Soon. If anything happens to me—”

“Don’t say it! Don’t you dare!”

“I love you, Hildie. Stay safe.” He hung up.

Hildie’s hand shook as she put the receiver back on its cradle. It struck like a blow to the heart that she might never hear Trip’s voice again.

Bernie looked at Hildemara over his cup of coffee before dawn the next morning. “You look awful. Do you have morning sickness, too?”

“I just can’t sleep for worrying.”

“Elizabeth doesn’t feel well enough to get up.” He stole a brief glance toward the bedroom door and looked straight at Hildie. “You two have words or something?”

“No. Why would we?”

He put his cup down carefully. “I know about the baby.”

“Oh, Bernie.” She put her hand over her mouth, wanting to sob at the look on his face.

“It’s my fault, you know.” He grimaced. “I found out after I married her I couldn’t give her children.” He looked at her again. “We’d been trying. Doc told me mumps can make a man . . . well, you know, not worth anything.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m a coward, Hildie. I didn’t have guts enough to tell Elizabeth the truth. I was afraid I’d lose her. I probably will anyway.”

She’d never seen her brother so despondent. “She says she loves you.” She put her hand over his. “I believe her.”

“It was Eddie.” His eyes filled. “He told me himself.”

Hildemara went hot. “Bragging?”

“No. Far from it. I knew something had been tearing him up inside. We went out for a couple of drinks before he left for basic training. He signed into the Marines. He had last-minute jitters. Wondered if he was brave enough. He got so drunk, he could hardly walk. When I dropped him off, he kept saying how sorry he was, how he wished I’d kill him, and then the Japs wouldn’t have to bother. When I asked him what in the blazes he was talking about, he told me.”

“He should’ve kept his big mouth shut!”

Bernie gave her a sad smile. “He’s been in love with Elizabeth since before we came to town. I’m the one who stole her from him, not the other way around.”

“That’s no excuse. Not for either one of them.”

Glaring at her, he rubbed his head, agitated. “Don’t judge her. Some people were giving her a hard time in town, saying I was a coward for not joining up, calling us Jap lovers and Mama a dirty Nazi. Eddie stepped in and told them to shut up and back off. He gave her a ride home. Only they didn’t come back right away. She was scared to death of what I might do when I found out. And he knew I’d head into town and have more than words with a few of those . . .” Bernie rubbed his face. “Anyway, they stopped at Grand Junction. He just wanted to calm her down before bringing her home. They started talking about old times, good times. She was still crying, shaken up. He held her, comforted her. That’s how it started, I guess. It just didn’t end there.”

Bernie’s face twisted, anguished. “I couldn’t hate him. Not even when he told me. What right have I got to throw stones at anyone?” His eyes filled. “He’s dead, you know. Got blown to bits on some piece of crap island in the South Pacific. He used to tell me he wanted to go to the beach. ‘Let’s go over to Santa Cruz,’ he’d say. Well, he died on a beach.”

Hildie put her face in her hands and sobbed. All she could think about was Trip on his way to Europe. She’d told herself over and over he was a medic. Thank God, he wasn’t a Marine. They wouldn’t put him in the front lines. He would follow, picking up the pieces.

Bernie gripped her shoulder. “Go gentle on my wife. She’s eating herself up with guilt. And I love her; I love her so much. As far as I’m concerned, that baby she’s carrying is mine.”

Hildie raised her head. “Maybe you should tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“Everything.”

He shook his head. “She might leave me.”

She leaned over and cupped his face. “You haven’t left her.”

He pulled away and stood. “Two wrongs don’t make things right, Sis.”

“What good is love without trust?”

“What are you two talking about?” Elizabeth stood in the bedroom doorway, still in her nightgown, arms hugged around herself. She looked sick and frightened, pale and strained. She looked at Hildie and then Bernie, bereft. “Did you . . . ?”

“Did she tell me the baby isn’t mine? No, sugar. She didn’t. I already knew.”

Elizabeth made a choking sound and stepped back, hands covering her face.

Bernie pulled a chair back. “Come and sit down with me. We need to talk.”

Hildie couldn’t bear the pain she saw in both their faces, the guilt and shame, the heartbreak. She got up. “I love you both.” She went outside.

Sitting in Mrs. Musashi’s chair out front, she watched the sunrise while Bernie and Elizabeth talked inside the house. No screaming, no shouting like Mama and Papa. The silence worried her and she stood, looking through the window. Elizabeth sat on Bernie’s lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He held her firmly, stroking her back as both wept.

Relief filled Hildie. She envied the fact that they could be together through this war and not have to be separated. She didn’t like feeling that way. She went out for a long walk through the Musashis’ English walnut orchard, thanking God Bernie and Elizabeth would be all right. She prayed for Trip’s safety. She ran her hands over her abdomen, praying their baby would be born healthy and strong. She prayed the next battle would turn the tide of the war and it would end soon.

Thinking of Trip filled her with so many emotions: worry, fear, hope, hunger, an aching loneliness to have him back beside her.
God, please bring him home to me. Bring him home in one piece.

As summer moved toward fall, townsfolk had another reason to resent Bernie and Mama and anyone else in their situation. Rationing kept people in want, but farmers had plenty. Mama’s forty acres of almonds and raisins and her half-acre vegetable garden, along with chickens and rabbits, produced enough to feed both families and have plenty to sell. Bernie kept up the walnut orchard, vineyard, and two acres of produce, making runs to Merced to sell tomatoes, squash, onions, and carrots. The Musashis had two cows, both healthy; a hundred chickens; a dozen rabbits; and four goats. Bernie added a dog. He called him Killer as a joke, though passersby believed it and kept their distance. Never lacking in food, Mama said they should give away whatever they could spare to neighbors and friends in town, keeping only enough for mortgage payments and taxes on the two places.

Hildemara blossomed with her pregnancy. So did Elizabeth. They laughed as they waddled around the place. Weeding became more difficult as the months passed. Bernie and Elizabeth’s son came in September. They named him Edward Niclas Waltert.

Mama checked the mailbox every day. Hildemara went across to get their mail. Mama would sift through the envelopes and sigh heavily.

When Hildemara’s labor started, Bernie went for Mama. Rather than drive to town for Dr. Whiting, Mama came across the street to help deliver the baby. Hildemara was too far along to argue. She had already told Elizabeth what to do to get ready.

Mama leaned over Hildie, wiping sweat from her forehead. “You scream if you want to.”

Hildie knew Mama expected her to be worse than Elizabeth, who had screamed and sobbed and begged for the pain to stop. Hildie had been in hospital delivery rooms. She knew what to expect. She had no intention of making it worse for all those around her. She didn’t look at Mama or listen to anything she said. She concentrated on the course of her labor, enduring the pain in silence and bearing down when her body told her it was time.

“You have a son, Hildemara Rose.” Mama washed and swaddled him and placed him in her arms. “What are you going to call him?”

Exhausted, Hildie smiled into his perfect face. “Trip likes the name Charles.”

She wrote to Trip the next day.

Our son arrived on December 15. Charles Cale Arundel has very healthy lungs! Mama says she can hear him across the street. He and Eddie are going to make quite a pair. . . .

She wrote every day, sometimes in a way to sound like Charles was writing the letter.

Daddy, come home soon. I can’t wait to meet you. You have to teach me how to play basketball and baseball. . . .

Giving birth took more of her strength than she expected. Or maybe it was the night feedings that seemed to sap her of strength. Elizabeth had been up and around a few days after giving birth, but Hildemara felt so tired all the time. She feared relapsing with tuberculosis.

Mama came over every day. “Get some sleep. Let me hold my grandson.”

Dear Rosie,

Hildemara Rose has given me a second grandson. She has named him Charles Cale Arundel. She did well. No screaming or carrying on. The only time she shed a tear was when she held her newborn son in her arms. Then she cried a river of joyful tears.

I remember giving birth to Hildemara on the floor of the cabin in that frozen Manitoba wheatland. I cried! I think I cursed Niclas when he came home and found me. Poor man. I have never been easy on anyone, especially those I love most.

My girl did better than I, but I’m worried. Hildemara has not bounced back to good health the way Elizabeth did. She looks so pale and worn down. Nursing every two hours is exhausting, and I fear my girl may get sick again. I offer to help, but she gives me a look that sends me home. So I bring dinner sometimes, just to give these two girls rest.