Her Daughter’s Dream

1

Hildemara lay in the darkness, her nightgown damp with perspiration. Night sweats again-she should be used to them by now. Her roommate, Lydia, snored softly. Lydia had been steadily improving since she arrived six weeks ago, which only served to depress Hildemara more. Lydia had gained two pounds; Hildie lost the same amount.

Two months and still no improvement, hospital bills mounting daily, crushing Trip’s dreams beneath their weight. Her husband came each afternoon. He’d looked so tired yesterday, and no wonder when he had to work full-time and then go home and take care of all her duties: laundry, cooking, seeing to Charlie’s and Carolyn’s needs. Hildie grieved over her children-Charlie on his own so much of the time, Carolyn being raised by an indifferent babysitter. She hadn’t touched or seen her children since Trip brought her to the hospital. She missed them so much, she felt physical pain most of the time. Or was that just the mycobacterium tuberculosis consuming her lungs and decimating her body?

Pushing the covers back, Hildie went to the bathroom to rinse her face with cool water. Who was that gaunt, pale ghost staring back at her in the mirror? She studied the sharp angles, the pallor, the shadows beneath her hazel eyes, the lackluster brown color of the hair around her shoulders.

I’m dying, Lord, aren’t I? I haven’t enough strength to fight this disease. And now I have to face Mama’s disappointment in me. She called me a coward last time. Maybe I am giving up. She cupped water in her hands and pressed her face into it. Oh, God, I love Trip so much. And Charlie and sweet little Carolyn. But I’m tired, Lord, so very tired. I’d rather die now, than linger and leave a legacy of debt.

She’d told Trip as much last week. She only wished she could die at home, rather than in a sterile hospital room twenty miles away. His face had twisted in anguish. “Don’t say that. You’re not going to die. You have to stop worrying about the bills. If your mother came, I could bring you home. Maybe then…”

She’d argued. Mama wouldn’t come. She’d never helped before. Mama hated the very idea of being a servant. And that’s exactly what she’d be-a full-time maid and washerwoman, babysitter and cook, without pay. Hildie said she couldn’t ask such a thing of Mama.

Trip called Mama anyway, and then he went down on Saturday with Charlie and Carolyn so he and Mama could talk things over. He’d come out this morning. “Your mother said yes. I’m taking a couple of days off to get things ready for her.” He wanted to repaint Carolyn’s room, buy a nice, comfortable bed, a new dresser and mirror, maybe a rocking chair. “Charlie and Carolyn will have the small bedroom. You and I’ll be together…”

“I can’t sleep with you, Trip. I need to be quarantined.” She could barely absorb the news that Mama had agreed to help. “I can’t be near the children.” At least, she could hear them; she could see them. Mama said she’d come. Mama was moving in. Hildie trembled, taking it all in. She felt a little sick to her stomach. “I’ll need a hospital bed.” She gave Trip instructions about her room. No rug. A window shade rather than curtains. The simpler the room, the easier to keep sanitized. Trip looked so hopeful, it broke her heart. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before he left. “You’ll be home soon.”

Now, she couldn’t sleep. Rather than get back into bed, Hildie sat in a chair by the window and looked out at the stars. What was it going to be like, having Mama living under her roof, taking care of her, taking care of her children, taking care of all the chores that needed to be done so Trip didn’t have to do everything? Would Mama despise her for not fighting harder? Her eyes burned; her throat ached just thinking about having to lie in bed sick and helpless while Mama took over her family. She wiped tears away. Of course, Mama would do it all better than she ever could. That realization hurt even more. Mama had always managed everything. Even without Papa, the ranch ran like a well-oiled machine. Mama would fix Trip wonderful meals. Mama would be the one to give Charlie wings. Mama would probably have Carolyn reading before she turned four.

I should be grateful. She cares enough to come and help. I didn’t think she did.

When the night air had cooled her, Hildie slipped beneath the covers again.

She wanted to be grateful. She would say thank you, even as she had to watch the life she loved slip away from her. She had fought hard to be free of Mama’s expectations, to claim her own life and not live out her mother’s impossible dreams. Even the one thing at which she’d excelled would be stripped from her before she closed her eyes for the last time.

Mama would be the nurse. Mama would carry the lantern.

Carolyn

2

Carolyn was happy that Daddy let her stay with Oma Marta in Murietta until Oma was ready to move to their house. If she had gone home with him and Charlie, she would have had to go to Mrs. Haversal’s across the street every day while Charlie was at school and Daddy went to work. It had been like that for a long time, ever since Mommy went away. But now, Mommy was coming home and Oma was coming to stay. It would be wonderful!

Carolyn played with the rag doll Oma had given her, while Oma packed her suitcase with clothing and a trunk with sheets, crochet-trimmed and embroidered pillowcases, two blankets, and a pink rose tea set with tiny silver spoons. Oma put the suitcase and trunk in the back of her new gray Plymouth, and then she stacked two cushions in the front seat so Carolyn could sit high up and see out the window on the long drive home. Oma even let her roll her window down so she could put her hand out and feel the air.

They pulled into the driveway just when Charlie got off the school bus. “Oma!” He came running. Oma took the front door key out from under the flowerpot on the front porch.

Everything had changed inside the house. Carolyn found her bed and dresser in Charlie’s room.

A small table stood between Charlie’s bed and hers. She went back to her old room and watched Oma swing her suitcase onto a new, bigger bed. The pink walls were now bright yellow, and new lacy white curtains hung over the windows. There was a big dresser with a mirror on top, a little table and lamp, and a rocking chair with flowered cushions.

“I’m going to be very comfortable here.” Oma unpacked her clothes and put them away.

Oma stepped to the window and drew the white lacy curtains aside. “I’m going to have to get used to having neighbors this close.” She shook her head and turned away. “I’d better get dinner started. Your daddy will be coming home soon.”

“Is Mommy coming home?”

“In another day or two.” Oma opened the door into the spare bedroom. “This is where she’ll be.” Leaving Carolyn in the bedroom doorway, Oma headed for the kitchen. Carolyn didn’t like the room. It felt cold and strange without a rug on the floor and no curtains on the window, just a shade pulled down to block out the sunlight.

Carolyn came into the kitchen. “Mommy isn’t going to like her room.”

“It’s exactly the way she wants it. Easy to keep clean.”

“Mommy likes plants on the windowsill. She likes flowers in a vase.” Mommy always had pictures in frames on her dresser.

“Mommy doesn’t like germs.” Oma peeled potatoes.

“What are germs?”

Oma chuckled. “You’ll have to ask your mother.”

Oma had dinner ready before Daddy came home from work. They all sat around the kitchen table. “When do you pick her up?” Oma set a pitcher of milk on the table and sat in Mommy’s chair.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Plenty to be thankful for, haven’t we?” When Oma stretched out her hands, Charlie took one and Carolyn the other. Daddy took their hands too so they made a circle. He hadn’t said grace since Mommy went away. He spoke