Her Mother’s Hope

“So I see.”

“The price is good.”

“The price is fair.”

“It’s better than fair. This is the best deal you’ll ever make in your whole life.”

“I doubt that. Just one last thing, Lucas.”

Mr. Kutchner looked dubious and put-upon. “What now?”

“You have to teach me to drive.”

“Oh!” Mr. Kutchner laughed loudly. “Well, get behind the wheel! There’s nothing to it.”

Papa came back out. “Marta!” he called in sharp warning.

She slid into the driver’s seat and put her hands on the wheel. “Watch out for your sister, Hildemara, and stay back. I don’t want to drive over anyone.”

“Marta!”

“Go curry your horses!” Mama started the car.

Cloe charged out the back door. “Is she going to do it? Is she?”

“Stay back!” Papa shouted.

The Tin Lizzie screeched in protest. Startled, Rikka covered her ears and screamed. Mr. Kutchner yelled something. The car jerked forward a couple of times and died. Papa laughed. “I hope you didn’t buy it!”

Mama’s face reddened. She started the car again-more screeching and grinding. Mr. Kutchner called out more instructions. “Easy now. Let your foot off the clutch and give her some gas!” The car lurched forward and bounded toward the road like a jackrabbit. “Brake!” The car skidded to a stop at the end of the drive.

Hildemara had never heard Papa swear before. “Marta! Stop! You’re going to kill yourself!”

Mama stuck her arm out the window, waved, and turned right. The car lurched down the road; Papa, Bernie, Clotilde, and Rikka ran to the end of the driveway. Hildemara climbed the chinaberry tree, where she could keep watch. The car picked up speed. “She’s all right, Papa! They’re going over the hill right now. They’re still on the road.”

Papa dragged both hands through his hair. He walked in a circle, muttering in German. “Pray your mother doesn’t kill herself!” He headed back for the barn.

Bernie and the girls sat on the front steps, waiting.

“Here they come!” Hildemara shouted from the top of the tree. Bernie and the girls ran to the edge of the lawn. Hildemara came down the tree fast and joined the others.

Mama whizzed by, waving her hand out the window, Mr. Kutchner shouting. “Slow down! Slow down!” And off they went in the opposite direction.

Hildemara raced up the tree again while Bernie and Cloe jumped up and down, cheering. “We have a car! We have a car!” Dash, confused, barked wildly.

Standing on tiptoes on a high branch, Hildemara craned her neck, trying to keep the car in sight, afraid any minute Mama would drive off the road and Papa’s prophecy might prove true. “Here she comes again!” Hildemara made it down the tree and ran with the others to the edge of the grass.

The car raced toward them. Mr. Kutchner, face white, was yelling instructions. Slowing, Mama turned in to the driveway, a wide grin on her face. Hildemara joined Bernie and the girls running for the yard.

“Don’t get in her way!” Papa shouted. “Give her room!”

Dash gave chase until Mama honked the horn. He let out a yip and ran for the barn, tail between his legs. The chickens squawked and fluttered wildly in the henhouse.

“Brake!” Mr. Kutchner yelled. “Push the brake!” The car jerked to a stop, shook violently like an animal run hard and worn-out. Sputtering, it coughed once and died.

Mama got out with a grin broader than Bernie’s. Mr. Kutchner got out on wobbly legs, wiped his perspiring face with a handkerchief, and shook his head. He swore in German.

Mama laughed. “Well, there isn’t much to it, is there? Once you learn how to use the clutch, the rest is easy. Just push down hard on the gas pedal.”

Mr. Kutchner leaned against the car. “And the brakes. Don’t forget about the brakes.”

“I’ll give you a ride back to town.”

Mr. Kutchner grimaced. “Give me a minute.” He ran for the outhouse.

Bernie climbed into the car. “When can I learn to drive?”

Mama grabbed him by the ear and hauled him out yowling. “When you’re sixteen, and not a minute before.”

Hildemara felt queasy just thinking about riding in it. Papa came out of the barn, raked his hands through his hair, and went back in again.

Mr. Kutchner returned and smiled tightly. “I think I’ll walk, Marta. I don’t want to take you away from making dinner for your family.”

“Get in, you coward. I’ll have you in Murietta in a few minutes.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” When Papa came out of the barn again, Mr. Kutchner called out to him with a feeble grin. “Pray for me, Niclas.”

“You had to do it, didn’t you?” He said something in German.

“That’s no way to talk to a friend, Niclas.” Mama started the car. No lurching this time. She drove smoothly to the end of the driveway, stopped, and pulled out.

Hildemara counted the minutes, praying Mama wouldn’t have an accident. She heard the car coming. Mama made a wide turn into the yard, and another to the right, heading straight for the barn. Papa let out a stream of German. The horses screamed and kicked at their stalls. Papa shouted again. The car sputtered and died. A door slammed and Mama marched out of the barn, heading for the house. “You’re not parking that thing in the barn, Marta!”

“Fine! You move it!”

Mama hummed while making supper. “Bernhard, tell your father dinner is ready.”

Papa came in, washed, and sat, face grim. Bowing his head, he said a terse prayer, then carved the roast like a harried butcher. Mama poured milk for each, patted Papa on the shoulder, and took her seat. Papa passed the platter of mangled beef to Bernie. “I want that car out of the barn.”

“It’ll be out of the barn as soon as you build a shelter.”

“More expense.” He glared. “More work.”

“The Musashi boys will be happy to help. Just tell them I’ll take them for a ride. We’ll have a shelter up by Saturday afternoon.”

Hildemara watched the pulse throb in Papa’s temple. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

Papa read the Twenty-third Psalm that night and then said, “Bedtime.” He usually read for half an hour, at the very least.

Bernie came through the back door last, muttering. “Ring the bell. Round one starting.”

Hildemara lay on the top bunk, listening to Mama and Papa fight inside the house.

“What did you pay for that piece of junk?”

“Less than you did for that second horse!”

“The car stinks!”

“And horses smell like roses!”

“Manure is useful.”

“And plenty deep around here!”

Papa exploded in German.

“English!” Mama shouted back. “We’re in America, remember?”

“I’m going to tell Lucas to come and get that car and-”

“Over my dead body!”

“That’s what I’m trying to prevent!”

“Where’s your faith, Niclas?”

“This isn’t about faith!”

“God’s already counted our days. Isn’t that what Scripture says? I’ll die when God plans for me to die and not before. You’re just afraid of driving it!”

“I don’t see the sense in taking needless risks. People have gotten along without cars for this long-”