splattered, sun-bleached kitchen curtains; the cat sleeping in the middle of the kitchen table, where everyone ate.
If there was one thing Hildie had learned in the past few months, it was what people didn’t know could hurt them.
Papa came in through the front door. “I saw Mama drive in.” Hildie ran to him, hugging him tight. “Hildemara Rose.” His voice rasped with emotion. “All grown-up.” He smelled of horse manure, engine grease, dust, and healthy perspiration. Hildie cried at the pleasure of seeing his smiling face. “I’ve got to get back to work, but I wanted to welcome you home.”
“I’ll go with you.” Hildie followed him across the street, waving hello to the Musashi girls working in the field. While Papa worked on the pump, she told him about her classes, patients, doctors, the girls.
He laughed over Boots’s prank with John Bones. “You sound happy, Hildemara.”
“Happier than I’ve ever been, Papa. I’m where God wants me.”
“I’ll be done here in a while. Why don’t you go see about helping your mother?”
Mama brushed off her offer. “Just let me do it myself. I can get things done a lot faster.”
Cloe had to study. Rikki had gone off somewhere to draw another picture. Bernie was in town with Elizabeth. Hildie sat on the sofa and read one of the old movie magazines Cloe collected. Several pages had been torn out. Hildie tossed it aside and looked at another. Same thing. Gathering up the old magazines, she took them out to the burn pile in the pit Bernie had dug last year. Cats wandered everywhere. Did they still live on mice in the barn? Or did Mama feed them excess milk from the cow she’d added to the menagerie?
Hildie went back inside to escape the heat. She missed the cool sea air that blew in across San Francisco Bay. She felt uncomfortable sitting in the living room while Mama worked in the kitchen, back rigid, hands flying about her tasks. Hildie didn’t know what to say. Silence and inactivity grated on her nerves. “I can set the table, can’t I?”
“Please!”
Hildie opened the cabinet and took out the dinner plates. “This plate should be thrown away.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“It has a crack.”
“So what?”
“Cracks are breeding grounds for germs, Mama.”
“Put it back in the cabinet if it’s not good enough for you.”
Angry, Hildie took the plate out the back door and threw it into the garbage hole.
When she came back inside, Mama glared at her. “Are you happy now, Hildemara?”
“At least no one will get sick.”
“We’ve been eating off that plate for ten years and no one’s been sick yet!”
Bernie came home and hugged Hildemara. “Not staying for dinner, Mama. I’m taking Elizabeth to the movie.” He leaned in toward Hildie. “Want to come with us?”
She was sorely tempted. “I’m only here for a couple days, Bernie. I’d like to spend it with the whole family. Tell Elizabeth I said hi. Maybe next time.”
Everyone talked through dinner, except Mama. Cloe talked enough for two people and Rikki wanted to know about nurses’ training. Hildie told them about the capping ceremony and her new uniform. She didn’t say anything about being Lady with the Lamp or top of her class. She hoped Mama would say something, but she didn’t.
She lay awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling. When she finally dozed off, Mama came into the kitchen and lit a lamp, keeping the wick low as she moved around on tiptoes, filling the coffeepot, making rolls, beating eggs. Papa came in, pulling up his suspenders. They whispered in German. Hildemara kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. As soon as they both finished breakfast, they went out to do chores. Nice that Mama let Cloe and Rikka sleep in. Hildie had never enjoyed that privilege.
Throwing on her clothes, Hildie started a fire in the woodstove and filled a big pot with water. She ate a roll and drank coffee while she waited for the water to boil. Filling a pail with hot water, she took a bar of soap and a rag, got down on her hands and knees, and started scrubbing the linoleum.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mama stood behind her, a milk bucket in her hand.
“Helping, I hope.” Hildie wrung brownish water from the rag. She’d have to scrub for a week to get this floor clean. She cringed at the thought of how many germs had been tracked in on Papa’s work boots.
Mama sloshed milk as she slammed the bucket on the table. “We spent two days cleaning this house for your visit! I’m sorry it’s not good enough for you!”
Hildie didn’t know whether to apologize or thank her and decided neither would do any good.
“Is this what you learn in nurses’ training? How to scrub floors?”
Scalded by Mama’s scorn, Hildie sat back on her heels. “And bedpans, Mama. Don’t forget about that.”
“Get off your hands and knees!”
Hildie got up, grabbed the pail of filthy water, and went out the back door. She slammed the screen door behind her and threw the water over Mama’s flower bed. Tossing the bucket aside, she went for a walk, a long walk down to Grand Junction, where she sat and watched the mesmerizing flow of water. How was it possible to love Mama and hate her at the same time?
When she went back, the house was empty. She found Papa in the barn sharpening a hoe. The scream of metal against stone matched Hildie’s feelings. When he saw her, he stopped. “You didn’t go to the movie with Mama and the girls.”
“I wasn’t invited.”
He shook his head and set the hoe aside. “They wanted you to go.”
“How would I know that, Papa?”
He frowned. “I’m sorry no one came to your capping ceremony, Hildemara. We’ll come to your graduation.”
Old Dash rose and barked as Mama’s car turned in to the drive. Bernie sat behind the wheel, Cloe and Rikki shrieking with laughter as they pulled in. Everyone piled out. Even Mama had a smile on her face until she saw Hildie sitting on a bale of hay in the barn. “Where on earth did you go?”
“To Grand Junction.”
“You missed a good show.” She headed for the house.
“I would’ve come if I’d been asked!”
“You would’ve been asked if you’d stayed at home.”
Papa let out his breath and shook his head.
Hildemara headed for the house. She had tidied up Cloe and Rikka’s bedroom earlier. When Hildie came in the back door, she lifted the hem of one of the quilts. “I made the bed with square corners. This is how we do it at the hospital. Everything stays tucked in this way. Looks nice and neat, doesn’t it?”
Rikki threw herself onto her bed and lounged with her arms behind her head. “Mama thinks you’re too high and mighty for us now.”
“Is that what she said?”
“She said you wouldn’t put a cracked plate on the table. She said you threw away one of her prettiest plates just because you didn’t think it was good enough for you to eat off of it.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone in the family eating off a cracked plate. Cracks are breeding grounds for germs.”
“What are germs, anyway?” Rikki shrugged.
“They’re living organisms so small you can’t see them, but they’re big enough to make you very, very sick. I’ve seen patients suffering with diarrhea, vomiting, fever, and chills…”
“Be quiet!” Cloe hissed. “You’ve hurt Mama’s feelings enough.”
“And it never occurred to anyone that my feelings might be hurt when no one bothered to come to my capping ceremony?”
“It’s not like a graduation!”
“It was important to me.”
“You’ve done nothing but pick since you got home.”
“What are you talking about, Cloe?”
“Last night at dinner, you picked on Mama’s canning!”
There had been mold growing on the top of the quince jelly. When Hildie didn’t touch it, Mama wanted to know
