Papa hired four men to help him prune the almond trees and make burn piles in the alleyways between the rows. Then they went to work pulling up old posts and putting in new ones on which they strung wire. They pruned the vines and tied the healthy shoots, wrapping them so they wouldn’t freeze.
While Papa and Italian day laborers worked on the orchard and vineyard, Mama worked on the house. Every room got a fresh coat of yellow paint. The windows had flowered chintz curtains. The mattress, sofa, chairs, and standing lamps arrived. Her trunk became a coffee table. Papa built the bedframe. When he said he was too busy to make a table and chairs, Mama walked to town and ordered them from Hardesty’s catalog.
Papa put his head in his hands when she told him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “It cost less than if you’d bought the materials and built them yourself.” He got up and left the house.
Mama didn’t have much to say for the next few days. Neither did Papa.
“We should build a big porch bedroom along the back,” Mama said over dinner.
“We’re not spending another dime. It’s going to be months before this place produces anything but weeds, and we have to pay taxes.”
Not even Bernie talked after that.
Hildemara could hear Mama and Papa talking in low, intense voices behind the closed bedroom door. “Well, what did you expect? It would be easier having your own place?” Papa’s voice stayed low, indistinct.
The next evening, Mama turned their world upside down. After grace, she scooped meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and carrots onto a plate and gave it to Bernie to pass to Papa. When everyone was served, she prepared her own plate. “I have a job at Herkner’s Bakery. I start tomorrow morning.”
Papa sputtered. Coughing, he put down his knife and fork and took a gulp of water. “A job!” He coughed again. “What are you talking about? A job!”
“We can talk about it later.” Mama cut up meat loaf for Rikka.
Papa glowered at her through dinner. Mama cleared dishes and told Hildemara to keep out from underfoot. “Go and sit with Papa. He’ll want to read to you.” Papa always read the Bible after dinner. Tonight, he told them all to go to bed. Hildie watched and listened silently from her cot.
“Let me do them. You’re going to break something.”
“You’re not going to work,” he said in a low, hot voice.
“I’m already working. This way I’ll get paid!”
He grabbed a wet dish from her hand, dried it, and shoved it in the cupboard. “We need to talk. Now!”
She wiped off her apron and tossed it on the counter, marching into the bedroom. Papa closed the door firmly behind him when he followed.
Clotilde started to cry.
“I’ve never seen Papa that mad.” Bernie flipped over on his cot. “Shut up, Cloe.” He put his pillow over his head.
Hildemara listened.
“What about Rikka? She’s still nursing!”
“She’ll come with me. I can nurse her as well in a bakery as I can at home. Hedda Herkner has a playpen she used for her son, Fritz.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“Ask you?” Mama’s voice rose. “I didn’t ask because I knew what you’d say. I talked to Hedda the day after Mrs. Miller told me she expected me to cook and clean for her. I told her I worked for a bakery in Steffisburg. I can make tarts and
“Make them for your family!”
“I’ll be paid by the hour, and we’ll have as much bread as we need.”
“No, Marta. You’re my wife! You didn’t even consult me before you went off and-”
“Consult you? Oh, you mean the way you consulted me before you left for the wheat fields?” Mama’s voice kept rising. “You never thought enough of my opinion to ask for it! You thought nothing of signing my life away, first to Madson, and then to Mrs. Miller and her good-for-nothing daughter!”
“Keep your voice down! You’ll wake the children.”
Mama lowered her voice. “We need another way to bring in money besides farming. We all have to make sacrifices.”
“Who’s going to do the washing, the cooking, the sewing, the-?”
“Don’t worry. The work will get done. The children are going to learn to pitch in. Bernhard, too! Just because he’s a boy doesn’t mean he can go off and do as he pleases while the girls do all the work. Someday he’s going to be on his own. Until he finds a wife to take care of him, he’ll have to cook his own meals, wash his own shirts and underwear and pants, and sew on his own buttons!”
“My son is not doing housework! You leave Bernhard to me. Do what you want with the girls.”
“Isn’t that always the way?” Mama’s voice had a strident edge Hildemara had never heard before. “The son always comes first. Well, so be it, as long as Bernhard learns how to be a man and not a master!” Mama came flying out of the bedroom, throwing her shawl around her shoulders. The front door closed firmly behind her.
Hildemara sat up. “Go back to sleep, Hildemara.” Papa went out the front door after Mama.
Hildemara chewed her lip, listening. She didn’t hear footsteps going down the stairs, but she heard voices again. Papa spoke low. He wasn’t angry anymore. She crept out of her cot and went to the front window. Papa sat beside Mama on the steps.
Hildemara crept back to bed and prayed until she went to sleep. When she awakened, Papa sat at the table, reading his Bible. He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. Hildie shivered as she sat up. “Where’s Mama?”
“She had to be at the bakery before dawn. She took Rikka. When you have your lunch hour, Mama wants you to come to the bakery. She’ll have something for the three of you.”
When they arrived, Mrs. Herkner called out to Mama. Hildemara saw Rikki asleep in a playpen behind the counter. Mama came out of the back of the bakery wearing a white apron with
“I’ll do better tomorrow, Mama.”
“You sure will.”
When Hildemara arrived home from school, Mama got out her scissors. She took a chair and set it on the porch outside. “Sit down. I’m cutting your hair short. You can’t go to school looking like you did this morning.”
“No, Mama. Please.” What would the other students say if she showed up with short hair?
“Sit down!”
Mama started cutting, and Hildemara started crying.
“Stop blubbering, Hildemara. Hold still! I don’t want to make any more of a mess of it.” Hunks of dark brown hair fell on the floor. Frowning, Mama looked her over and decided to cut bangs. “I need to even this side up.” After a few more snips, Mama pressed her mouth tightly and fluffed Hildemara’s hair on one side and then the other. “That’s the best I can do.”
When Mama turned to put her scissors back in her sewing box, Hildemara felt her hair. Mama had cut it all the way up to her ears! Sobbing, Hildemara fled to the barn and hid in the back stall. She didn’t come out until Mama called her to dinner.
Bernie looked horrified when Hildie came in the back. “Holy cow! What did you do to your hair?”
Mama scowled. “That’s enough, Bernhard.”
Clotilde giggled. Hildemara stared at her resentfully. Clotilde still had long, curling blonde hair. No one would laugh at her at school.
Papa sat at the head of the table, staring at her. “What happened to your hair, Hildemara?”
