Her Mother’s Hope

“Anything. Everything.” She waved her hand as though chasing a fly away. “It’s water under a bridge.” She skewered Hildemara with her gaze. “What do you plan to do for the next year?”

“Work. Save.”

Mama’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve been harder on you than the others because I felt I had to be. Well, you’ve finally stood up to me. I’ll give you that much.” She stood and turned her back on Hildemara. Grabbing up her sewing, she sat and went back to mending Papa’s pants.

* * *

Hildemara found a better job at Wheeler’s Truck Stop on the highway. She worked longer hours and made good tips. When she came home, she often found Mama sitting at the table writing letters. Sometimes she’d be adding notes to her old brown leather journal. “How was your day?” she’d ask without looking up.

“Fine.”

They didn’t seem to have anything to say to one another.

When the time finally came for Hildemara to leave, she packed the few things she would need and bought her train ticket to Oakland. Mama made beef Wellington for dinner. Hildemara thanked her for making such a feast the day before she left. Mama shrugged. “We did the same for Bernhard.”

Cloe jumped up as soon as dinner ended. “Stay put, Hildie!” She dashed into the front bedroom and came back with a pile of wrapped presents. She put them down in front of Hildie.

“What is all this?”

“What do you think, dopey? Your going-away presents!” Clotilde grinned and clapped her hands as she sat. “Open mine first! It’s the biggest one.”

“Another creation by Clotilde?” Hildemara gasped when she pulled out a navy blue dress with white cuffs and bright red buttons. A red belt, red pumps, and a red purse were in the bottom of the box.

“You’ll look like a million dollars!”

Papa gave her a small, black leather-bound Bible with a red ribbon. “If you read it every morning and evening, it’ll be just like we’re sitting together in the living room, ja? The same way we have since you were a baby.”

Hildemara came around the table and kissed his cheek.

Bernie gave her five dollars. “Should’ve been for your graduation, but better late than never.” He said he’d earned good money selling his grafted lemon and lime and orange trees to a Sacramento nursery. “I plan on spending a small fortune on an engagement ring for Elizabeth.”

“Don’t steal your sister’s thunder.” Mama nodded at the last two presents. “You have two more to open, Hildemara Rose.”

Rikki had framed a drawing of Mama knitting while Papa read his Bible. Hildemara’s eyes welled with tears. “Someday I’ll make an oil painting of that for you, Hildie. If you’d like.”

“I’d like, but don’t ask me to give this one back.”

The last present was a small box, simply wrapped in brown butcher paper with a red ribbon tied in a bow. “Is this from you, Mama?”

“Must be, since you’ve opened one from everyone else.” Mama folded her hands tightly in front of her.

Hildemara couldn’t speak when she opened it.

“It’s a pocket watch with a second hand, like one they use in a race,” Mama told the others.

Hildie looked at Mama through tears, unable to utter a word. She wanted to throw her arms around her mother. She wanted to kiss her.

Mama stood abruptly. “Clotilde, clear away the boxes and paper. Rikka, you can help clear up tonight.”

When Hildie got up next the morning, Papa told her he’d be driving her to the train station in the wagon. “I have to go in for supplies anyway.”

“Where’s Mama?” She wanted to talk to her before leaving.

“Sleeping in.”

“That’s a first.” The closed bedroom door looked like a fortress wall.

Papa stood on the station platform, waiting with Hildie until the train whistle blew and the conductor called for all to board. He held her shoulders firmly and kissed her cheek. “One from me.” He kissed the other. “One from Mama.” Picking up her suitcase, he handed it to her, his blue eyes moist. “God will be with you. Don’t forget to talk to Him.”

“I won’t, Papa.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “But I didn’t get to say thank you to Mama. I couldn’t say it last night.”

“You didn’t have to say anything, Hildemara.” His voice caught. He waved and headed off, calling back over his shoulder. “Go on now. Make us proud!” He strode across the station platform.

Hildemara climbed aboard the train and found a seat. Her heart leaped as the train lurched forward and began to move smoothly along the tracks. She caught a glimpse of Papa sitting on the high wagon seat. He wiped his eyes and untied the reins. When the train whistle blew, Hildemara raised her hand and waved. Papa never looked back.

28

1935

Farrelly Home for Nurses stood on the grounds of Samuel Merritt Hospital. Hildie stood gazing up at the grand four-story, U-shaped brick building that would be her home for the next three years. Excitement pulsed through her as she asked directions to the dean of nursing’s office.

Mrs. Kaufman stood a head taller and considerably broader than Hildemara. Her dark hair was cropped short. She wore a dark suit and white blouse and no jewelry. She greeted Hildemara with a firm handshake and handed over a pile of clothing. “This is your uniform, Miss Waltert. Laundry services are available. Do you have your laundry bag clearly marked with your name? You don’t want anything lost. Remember to remove all jewelry, and no perfume.” She explained that bracelets and rings carried bacteria, and perfume became cloying for patients in the already anesthetic-rich environment of a hospital.

“I’m glad you have short hair. Some girls complain bitterly about having to cut it, but short hair is more hygienic and easier to keep up without all the fuss and bother. Be sure to keep it above your collar. Do you have a pocket watch and fountain pen?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep both tucked in your apron pocket at all times. You’ll need them.” She picked up her phone. “Tell Miss Boutacoff her probie has arrived.” She hung up. “Probie stands for probational student nurse. Each new student has a big sister to welcome her and answer any questions she may have.”

Hildemara heard the squeal of rubber soles on linoleum outside the door and saw a flicker of irritation on Mrs. Kaufman’s face. A tall, slender young woman stepped into the office. Curling black hair framed an impish face dominated by dark eyes and winged brows. “Miss Jasia Boutacoff, this is your little sister, Miss Hildemara Waltert. Please try to teach her good habits, Miss Boutacoff. You’re dismissed.” Mrs. Kaufman began to sort through a stack of papers on her desk.

Jasia led Hildemara down the hallway. “I’m to give you the grand tour. Orient you to your new surroundings.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “Come on.” She waved Hildie along. “Rule number one.” She leaned in and whispered loudly. “Don’t get on Kaufman’s bad side. I was supposed to write you a welcome letter, but I’ve never been much for correspondence.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue as she winked.

Hildie had to take two steps to every one Jasia did.

“I remember my first day,” Jasia reminisced. “I was scared to death. The General had me quaking in my boots.”

“The General?”