Her Mother’s Hope

her sleeve.

“Oh!” Frau Gilgan came over and held out her hands, strong and square, reddened and callused from years of washing. “Let me see your hands, Marta.” Frau Gilgan turned Marta’s hands palms up and clucked her tongue. “Blisters. I should not have worked you so hard on your first day, but you didn’t complain. Your hands will be so sore you won’t be able to make a stitch.”

“But there’s a whole pile of sheets yet to do.”

Frau Gilgan put her fists on her ample hips and laughed. “Ja, and that’s why I have daughters.” She put her arm around Marta. “Go on upstairs. Rosie will be back from school by now. She’ll want to have tea with you before you leave. And if you’ve time, she needs help with geography.”

Marta said she’d be delighted.

Rosie jumped from her chair. “Marta! I forgot you started work today. I’m so glad you’re here! I missed you at school. It’s not the same without you. No one to answer Herr Scholz’s difficult questions.”

“Your mother says you need help with your geography.”

“Oh, not now. I’ve so much to tell you. Let’s go for a walk.”

Marta knew she’d have to listen to the latest escapades of Arik Brechtwald. Rosie had been in love with him since the day he fished her out of a creek. It did no good to remind her Arik had caused the fall in the first place. He’d dared her to cross the Zulg. She’d made it halfway across when she slipped on a rock and slithered down over a small waterfall before Arik could catch hold of her. He’d lifted her out and carried her to the bank. Ever since then, Arik had been Rosie’s knight in shining armor.

Snow sifted softly from the clouds overhead, adding thickness to the blanket of white over Steffisburg. Smoke curled up like ghostly fingers from chimneys, dissipating in the chill afternoon air. While Rosie chattered on gaily, Marta trudged along beside her. White drifts covered the Alpine meadow, which would in a few months turn verdant green with splashes of red, yellow, and blue blossoms tempting and nourishing Frau Fuchs’s bees. Rosie brushed snow off a log and sat where they could look down on Hotel Edelweiss and Steffisburg below. If the day had been clear, they could have seen Schloss Thun and the Thunersee like a sheet of gray glass.

Today, low clouds made the sun look like a white, blurred ball ready to bounce off the mountains beyond Interlaken.

Marta’s breath made steam. Tears welled up as she listened to Rosie’s musings about Arik. Her friend didn’t have a care in the world other than whether Arik liked her or not. Pressing her mouth tight, Marta tried not to feel jealous. Maybe Papa was right. She and Rosie would be friends for a little while longer, and then their different situations would build a wall between them. Marta worked for the Gilgans now. She wasn’t the friend who came to call or have tea or sit and chat while Rosie’s mother put out anise cookies on a silver platter and hot chocolate in fine porcelain cups. Everything was about to change, and Marta couldn’t bear it.

Now that Papa had removed her from school, she would only be qualified to be a servant or tend someone’s fractious baby. She could help Mama with dressmaking, but Mama made so little money when one considered how many hours she worked for women like Frau Keller, who expected perfection for a pittance. And Mama never saw a franc of what she made. Papa held the purse strings and complained bitterly about how little they had, though he always managed to find enough for beer.

Rosie put her arm around Marta’s shoulders. “Don’t look so sad.”

Marta stood abruptly and moved away. “Herr Scholz was going to teach me French. I could’ve continued with Latin. If I knew even one more language, I might be able to find a decent job someday in a nice shop in Interlaken. If my father has his way, I’ll never be more than a servant.” As soon as the bitter words poured out, shame filled her. How could she say such things to Rosie? “I’m not ungrateful to your parents. Your mother was so kind to me today…”

“They love you like a daughter.”

“Because you’ve loved me like a sister.”

“That’s not going to change just because you’re not in school. I wish I could quit. I’d rather stay home and help my mother than try to cram facts into my head.”

“Oh, Rosie.” Marta covered her face. “I would’ve given anything to stay, through high school at least.”

“I could give you books.”

“I’ve no time now. Papa’s seen to that.” Marta stared off at the cloud-shrouded mountains that stood like prison walls. Her father intended to keep her captive. She was stronger and healthier than Mama. She could learn faster than Hermann or Elise. Hermann would go off to university. Elise would marry. Marta would be kept at home. After all, someone would have to do the work when Mama couldn’t.

“I have to go home. I need to help Mama.”

As they walked down the hill, Rosie took Marta’s hand. “Maybe when Hermann makes it into high school, your father will allow you to come back to school.”

“Hermann will fail again. He has no head for books.” At least, the next time, Papa would not be able to blame her.

2

Marta spent two years working for the Beckers, Zimmers, and Gilgans. During the winters, she worked for Frau Fuchs as well, smoking the bees into a stupor so she could rob the hives. Marta cranked the handle to spin the honey from the combs. After days and days of hard work, Frau Fuchs paid her in honey, only two small jars. When Papa saw them, he went into a rage and threw one against the wall.

At least, Mama and Elise appreciated the fresh breakfast loaves Marta brought home from the bakery, and sometimes she brought cookies. At Christmas, the Beckers gave her Marzipan and Schokoladenkuchen. Dr. Zimmer came to see Mama every few weeks, although Papa preferred francs in his pocket to the poultices and elixirs the doctor gave Mama. All through spring and summer, Frau Zimmer paid in fresh vegetables and flowers from her garden. Mama didn’t have to purchase anything from the market.

Only the Gilgans paid in francs, but Marta never saw any of them.

“Herr Gilgan says you’re smart enough to run your own hotel someday.” Papa gave a derisive laugh as he dipped bread into hot cheese. “Since you’re so smart, you can make sure Hermann passes the examinations next time.”

“And how can I do that, Papa?” Marta bristled. “Hermann has to want to learn.”

His face flushed in anger. “Listen to her, Hermann. She thinks you’re stupid. She thinks you can’t learn. She still thinks she’s better than you.”

“I never said I was better!” Marta shoved her chair back. “I was just more interested!”

Papa stood and loomed over her. “Make Hermann interested and maybe I’ll send you to school. If he fails again, you’ll answer to me!” He leaned across the table and shoved her back into her chair. “Do you understand me?”

Angry tears filled her eyes. “I understand you, Papa.” She understood him all too well.

He grabbed his coat and went out the door. Elise didn’t raise her head, and Mama didn’t ask where he was going.

“I’m sorry, Marta.” Hermann spoke glumly from across the table.

* * *

Marta worked with Hermann every evening to no avail. “It’s all so boring!” Hermann groaned. “And it’s nice outside.”

Marta slapped him across the back of his head. “That’s nothing to what I’ll get if you don’t concentrate.”

He pushed his chair back. “As soon as I’m old enough, I’m quitting and going into the Army.”

She went to Mama. “Please speak to him, Mama. He won’t listen to me.” Maybe if Mama pleaded with Hermann, he might try harder. “What hope have I of going back to school when that dolt refuses to use the brain God gave him?”