remembered him screaming in pain as the disease attacked his testicles. She hadn’t understood then what she knew now. She wondered if Dr. Whiting would ever tell them. Probably not, unless they asked. “Will they be eating with us?”
“No. She cooks for the two of them.”
Hildie set her suitcases in Bernie’s old room and looked out through the screen. The cottage her brother had built for his bride was white with yellow shutters. A flower box held purple pansies and white alyssum. A lattice shed had been built beyond the washhouse past the bay tree. Elizabeth stood inside it, working among flats of flowers.
“Rikka will be home from school soon,” Mama called out over the radio Papa always wanted turned on in the living room. Another radio music program had been interrupted with the increasingly dismal news in Europe. Germans were bombing Paris. Norway surrendered. In Italy, Mussolini declared war on Britain and France. As sick as he was, Papa still wanted to know what went on in the world.
Rikki had commencement exercises soon, Hildie remembered. Papa had already insisted he would attend the ceremony, even if he had to use a cane.
Hildie came back into the living room. “You want any help, Mama?”
“No. You just sit with Papa and visit.”
Hildie sat at the end of the sofa closest to Papa’s chair. He reminded her of the old gentlemen on the geriatric ward. Cancer aged a man. Her heart broke watching him lean back carefully, a hand resting lightly over his swollen abdomen. “Your baby sister is doing well in high school. Top grades in art.”
“No surprise there, Papa.”
Mama cut peeled potatoes into pieces over a pot. “She wanted to quit and get married a while back.”
“Married! To Paul?” Or was it Johnny? She couldn’t remember. Her baby sister went through boys faster than babies went through diapers.
Mama snorted. “She’s had two boyfriends since Paul. The new one is Melvin Walker. He’s an improvement over the others-five years older, has a good, steady job.”
Papa smiled. “She’ll know when the right one comes along, and I have a feeling it isn’t this one.”
Hildie thought of Trip. He’d been the right one. It just hadn’t been the right time.
Mama added water to the pot. “This one won’t be brushed off. He knows what he wants, and he’s sticking close until she sees his worth.”
Papa chuckled. “Sounds like what I had to do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at Hildie. “There’s nothing wrong with a little romance. How about you, Hildemara? Have you met anyone special?”
“Would she be here if she had?” Mama set the pot on the stove.
“I’ve had a few dates.” Hildie wondered what they would say if she told them she had met and fallen in love with a man, that she had dreamed of marrying him and having his children. Better to have them think she had no luck with love than know she had given him up to take care of Papa. Papa would send her back, and she needed to be here. Now that she saw Papa, she knew how much.
Papa held out his hand. When she took it, she felt the bones through his rough skin. “I was surprised when Mama said you wanted to come home.” She realized with some surprise that Papa didn’t know Mama had called and asked her to come. Hildie felt guilty for not knowing how sick he was before this. If she had come home sometime during the last few months, she might have seen signs and given warning. Instead, she had been so caught up in her own life, in Trip, in love that she hadn’t bothered.
“Well, it’s about time, isn’t it, Niclas?” Mama grabbed a towel. “I could use a little help around here.” She tossed the towel on the counter and put her hands on her hips.
Hildie took the cue. “I’ve missed you both. I’ve wanted to come home for quite a while. I hope you won’t mind having me around for a month or two.”
“I know what’s going on.” Papa’s voice had an edge of anger in it. “How could you do this, Marta? Hildemara’s got a life of her own.”
“Working. That’s her life. She’s a nurse, and a good one. She led the class procession as the Lady with the Lamp. She had to be the top student to do that. She knows what’s what, and we need a nurse. Why not one who loves you?”
“Oh, Marta.” Papa sounded so weary and defeated. He couldn’t fight back anymore.
Mama’s arms dropped to her sides. “It’s what she’s always wanted to do, Niclas. You said it was what God called her to do. Maybe it was for such a time as this. Tell him, Hildemara.”
Hildie heard the pleading in Mama’s voice and saw the telltale brightness in her hazel eyes. Papa looked crushed in spirit. “I didn’t want to become a burden, Marta.”
“You’re not a burden, Papa, and I’d have been hurt if Mama hadn’t called and someone else tended you. Life is short enough as it is for all of us. Time is the most precious thing we have, isn’t it?” She took his hand between hers. “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here.” On the bus ride to Murietta, she had buried and mourned all the might-have-beens.
He looked into her eyes and went very still, comprehending. “We don’t have much time, do we?”
“No, Papa. We don’t.”
Turning away, Mama gripped the sink. Her shoulders sagged and shook, but she didn’t make a noise.
Hildemara lay awake inside the screened porch bedroom, listening to the crickets and a hoot owl in the bay tree near the tree house. She prayed for her father. She prayed for Trip. She prayed God would give her the strength she would need, knowing each day would become more difficult.
When she finally slept, she dreamed of long, polished corridors. Someone stood in the open doorway at the end, surrounded by light. She ran toward him and felt his arms go around her. She heard his whisper against her hair, inside her heart, not in words but in rest.
She awakened when a rooster crowed. The back door opened and closed, then the screen door. Sitting up, Hildie watched Mama cross the yard to feed the chickens.
Hildie went into the bathroom built by the Summer Bedlam boys and showered, brushed her teeth and hair, dressed, and went into the kitchen. She poured coffee and sat at the kitchen table reading her Bible. Covering her face, she prayed for Mama and Papa and the days ahead. Then she thought about Papa standing beneath the white almond blossom canopy in spring, singing a German hymn. She thought of him sharpening tools in the barn, digging irrigation ditches, sitting in his wagon loaded with vegetables from Mama’s garden.
When Hildie heard Papa groan, she went to him, prepared to play the role God had given her.
