Her Mother’s Hope

Papa called Bernhard and Clotilde back and made them sit and look out the window. “Be good for your mama. She’s not feeling well. I’ll be back soon.”

“Niclas!” Mama half rose from her seat before lying down again, a hand over her eyes. Antsy after a few minutes, Bernhard wanted to know how long before the train reached California. “We’ll get there when we get there, and stop asking that same question over and over. I’m not so sick I can’t turn you over my knee!”

Clotilde poked at Hildemara, wanting to play, but Hildemara couldn’t open her eyes without feeling everything spinning around her.

“Leave your sister alone, Clotilde.”

Papa came back with bread, cheese, and a bottle of water. Hildemara sipped a little water, but the smell of the cheese made her stomach turn again.

“She’s not going to get better until we get off the train, Niclas.”

“What’s it going to be like in California?”

“Papa’s already told you, Bernhard.”

“Tell me again!”

“California has orchards of orange trees. You’ll be able to eat as many as you want. The sun shines all year. That’s why they can grow anything in California. We’ll find a nice house on some land, and you and your sisters will have space around you, too. You’ll be able to run and play in the orchards. No more having to stay inside a house all the time.”

Mama got a pinched look around her eyes. “You said Mr. MacPherson has a job waiting for you in Sacramento.”

“He said he would do what he could for me if I came.” Papa ruffled Bernhard’s thatch of blond hair and sat Clotilde on his lap. “We will go to Sacramento first. If there is no job, Papa knows where to find good farmland. Where would you rather be, children? In a house near the railroad with lots of dirt and smoke, or in a nice house in the sunshine in the middle of an orchard of orange trees?”

Hildemara heard her mother say something in German. Papa ignored her, listening to Bernhard and Clotilde shrieking about how many oranges they would eat when they got to California.

Papa laughed. “Farming is a job, Sohn. You’ll have to help me.”

“Be quiet!” Mama snarled. “There are other people around us.” She glared at Papa. “You’re filling their heads with fairy tales!”

“I’m only telling them what I was told, Marta.”

“Ja! And Robert Madson told you wheat farming was profitable, too, didn’t he?”

Papa set Clotilde beside Mama and got up. When he headed down the aisle toward the door that went to the dining car, Mama shooed Bernhard and Clotilde. “Go on with Papa. Hurry before he leaves you behind.” They both ran noisily down the aisle, catching up just before Papa went through the door.

Hildemara wished she felt well enough to scamper through the cars. She wished the world would stop spinning. She felt afraid when Papa and Mama spoke in German to one another. Would the train ever stop longer than a few minutes? “Are there really orange trees in California, Mama?”

Sighing heavily, Mama put her hand on Hildemara’s brow. “We’ll all find out when we get there.” Hildemara liked the coolness of Mama’s hand. “Try to sit up for a while. You have to try to eat something. A little bread, at least. You have little chicken legs.”

“I’ll be sick.”

“You won’t know unless you try. Now, come on. Sit up.”

When she did, the dizziness returned. She gagged when she tried to swallow a piece of bread.

“Hush now, Hildemara. Don’t cry. At least you tried. That’s something, at least.” Mama tucked a blanket around her again. “I was seasick for days crossing the Atlantic. You’ll get over it soon. You just have to set your mind on it.”

Setting her mind on it didn’t help one bit. By the time they reached Sacramento, Hildemara was too weak to stand, let alone walk off the train. Mama had to carry her while Papa collected the two trunks.

They stayed in a hotel near the train station. Hildemara ate her first meal in days in the dining room: a bowl of soup and some crackers.

It rained all night. Papa went out early the next morning and still wasn’t back when Mama said it was time for bed.

Hildemara awakened. “Don’t touch me!” Mama cried out. Papa spoke softly in German, but Mama answered angrily in English. “You lied to me, Niclas. That’s the truth.” Papa spoke quietly again. “English, Niclas, or I won’t answer you.” Mama dropped her voice. “Americans won’t like Germans any better than Canadians did.”

The sun didn’t shine for days. They didn’t see an orange tree until Mama took them for a walk to the capitol building. Mama spoke to a gardener and told them they could each have one orange. They thanked him politely before peeling the skins. The gardener leaned on his rake, frowning. “They’re still a little green, ma’am.”

“It’s a good lesson for them.”

Mama and Papa argued all the time. Papa wanted to look for land to buy. Mama said no. “You don’t know enough about farming to waste money on land.”

“What do you want me to do? We’re spending money staying in this hotel. I have to find work.”

“If I buy anything, it’ll be another boardinghouse.”

“And then what would I do? Strip beds? Do the laundry? No! I’m the head of this family!” He spoke German again, fast, furious.

“It’s in my name, Niclas. Not yours! You didn’t earn that money. I did!”

A neighbor pounded on the wall, shouting for them to shut up. Mama cried.

Papa came back to the hotel the next afternoon with train tickets. At the mention of another train ride, Hildemara started to cry. “Don’t worry, Liebling, this will only be a short ride-just eighty miles.”

Mama hunkered down and gripped her by the shoulders. “Stop it! If I can stand it, so can you.” Mama took her by the hand and pulled her along to the train station.

When Papa took his seat, Mama swung Hildemara up and planted her on his lap. “If she throws up, let it be all over you this time!” Mama sat on the other side of the aisle, face turned away, staring out the window.

“Schlaf, Kleine,” Papa said. A man in front of them turned around and stared coldly. Papa spoke English this time. “Go to sleep, little one.”

“German, are you?”

Mama got up and sat next to Papa. “Swiss! We came down from Canada. He still has some trouble with English. My husband is an engineer. Unfortunately, the supervisor who promised him a position moved to Southern California.”

The man looked between Mama and Papa. “Well, good luck to you folks.” He turned around again.

Papa set Hildemara on the seat with Bernhard and Clotilde. “Take care of your sisters, Sohn.” Papa took Mama’s hand and kissed it. Mama stared straight forward, her face pale and set.

Hildemara roused when a man came through the car announcing Murietta.

Bernhard pushed at her, and Clotilde slipped by and ran for the door until Mama told her to stop and wait. The air felt cool against Hildemara’s face when she climbed down the steps. Papa swung her onto the platform and gave her a light swat. Mama stood waiting beneath a big sign. She looked down a long, dusty street. She sighed heavily. “We left Winnipeg for this?”

“It’s not raining.” Papa hefted one trunk onto his shoulder and dragged the other toward an office.

Hildemara looked up at Mama’s stony face. “Where’s Papa going?”

“He’s going to have the trunks stored until we find a place to live.”

Papa came back empty-handed. “The station manager said there is only one place to stay in town.”

Bernhard and Clotilde skipped ahead while Hildemara reached for Mama’s hand. Mama wouldn’t let her take it. She patted Hildemara’s back. “Go on with your brother and sister.”

“I want to stay with you.”

“Go on, I said!”

Papa leaned down and tipped Hildemara’s trembling chin. “No need for tears, Liebling. We’re right behind you.”