protested. “What are you doing? Just leave him alone! For heaven’s sake, Hildemara, give him peace.”
Hildemara wanted to rise up and scream back at Mama. Instead, she went on with her work and spoke as quietly and calmly as possible. “He needs to be turned every two hours, Mama, or he’ll develop pressure sores.”
Mama helped after that. They worked in shifts. Mama’s face looked as white and cold as marble.
The smell of death filled the room. Hildie checked Papa’s pulse repeatedly, his breathing. She prayed softly under her breath as she ministered to him.
Hildie changed the bed linens and changed his gown. She wondered if people felt pain in a coma. She didn’t know whether to give him an injection or not. When she called Dr. Whiting and asked, he said he didn’t know.
“It’s my turn, Mama.”
“No.” She spoke firmly. “You’ve done enough. Go rest. I’ll stay a little while longer.”
“I’ll wake you if-”
Mama shook her head. “Don’t argue with me now, Hildemara Rose.” She took Papa’s hand between hers and whispered raggedly, “Not now.”
Hildie entered the room and knew before she touched his forehead that Papa had gone home. His face looked so serene, all the muscles relaxed. He looked white now instead of gray, the skin taut against cheek and jawbone, eyes closed and sunken. She felt relief and then ashamed that she did. “He’s gone, Mama.”
“I know.”
“When?”
Mama didn’t answer. She just sat holding Papa’s hand in both of hers, staring down at him.
Hildemara put her hand on Papa’s brow and found it cold. She felt the rush of anguish rise up, catching her by the throat, but fought it down.
Papa had gone hours ago, and she couldn’t help wondering how much of Mama had gone with him.
Hildemara wrote to Boots the night after Papa had been taken away to the mortuary. Mama had gone to bed and stayed there all day. Cloe fed the chickens, milked the cow, and saw to the rabbits. When Bernie told Hildie she didn’t have to do the chores, she screamed at him that she had to do something or run mad, then fell sobbing into his arms. “Papa’s gone. He’s gone. I thought he’d live forever.”
Mama had already taken care of all the arrangements, of course. No open casket. Papa didn’t want it. A simple memorial service at the church for whoever wanted to come. The entire town showed up, along with the last person Hildie ever expected to see.
Trip stood outside the church after the memorial service. Hildie’s heart leaped and lodged in her throat. He looked so tall and handsome in a black suit, hat in his hands. He held it by the brim, turning it slowly. People clustered around Mama. Hildemara stayed close by her side, Bernie and Elizabeth on the other, Cloe and Rikka right behind. So many had come: Dr. Whiting and Mrs. King, teachers, school principals, store owners, farmers, the Musashi family. The Herkners came all the way from San Francisco, bringing Fritz with them. Everyone had a story to tell about Papa, memories they wanted to offer.
“Niclas helped plant my orchard…”
“… loved God…”
“… helped us out when we came here from Oklahoma…”
“… knew how to manage a crew of harvesters and let them go at the end of a season with a smile on their faces…”
“Always knew I could trust him…”
Mama frowned at Hildemara. “Stop squeezing my arm so tight.”
Hildie apologized and let her go. She couldn’t see Trip among the mourners and wondered if he had already left.
Mama nudged her. “Mr. Endicott is talking to you.”
Heat surged into Hildie’s cheeks and she thanked him for his kind words. She spotted Trip again on the outer edge of the gathering. “Excuse me, Mama. There’s someone I need to speak to, and then I’ll be right back.” She slipped away, letting Cloe take her place.
She wove her way through the throng of people, accepting condolences, trying to keep moving toward Trip. When she finally reached him, she couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth and closed it like a fish drowning in the air.
His eyes glistened with tears. “I’m sorry about your father, Hildemara. I would like to have met him.”
His words reminded her of her sin of omission. She had never once mentioned Trip to Papa. “Thank you for coming.” How had he known about the memorial service? Boots had taken a job in Los Angeles last month.
He seemed to read her mind. “Boots called and told me.”
Hildie glanced back at Mama, afraid Trip might see more in her face than she wanted him to know. She loved him so much, she wanted to cry out at the pain of seeing him again.
“You look tired, Hildie.”
“I am.”
“Can I meet her?” When Hildie hesitated, his mouth tipped. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything about us.”
The crowd thinned enough for them to make their way easily to where Mama stood with Bernie, Elizabeth, Cloe, and Rikka. “Mama, I’d like you to meet a friend from Merritt.” She introduced Trip as Cale Arundel. Trip extended his hand and spoke gently to Mama, holding hers in both of his. Mama thanked him for coming so far and looked at Hildemara, as though for further explanation in why he would.
“Come on, Mama.” Bernie took her hand and drew it through his arm while giving Hildemara a pointed glance. “We should go home.”
Trip touched Hildemara lightly on the arm. “Walk with me to my car?”
“I’ll be right there, Bernie.”
As Trip guided her, his hand slid down her arm and clasped her hand. She slipped free. When they stopped by his car, she raised her head. “It was very kind of you to come so far, Trip.”
“I could drive you home. It would give us a few minutes to talk.”
“I can’t.” Her voice broke.
“Are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.” Tears slipped down her cheeks and she impatiently brushed them away.
After the difficult months of watching Papa die, her emotions were in a state of confusion. She couldn’t go back to Oakland and pick up her life where she had left off. It seemed almost immoral to do such a thing when so many were dying, when Papa had only just been laid in his grave. She couldn’t leave Mama alone. Rikka would be off with Melvin. Cloe would be back in Hollywood, neck-deep in costume design and dating her producer. Bernie and Elizabeth couldn’t do all the work, could they? Someone had to stay and take care of Mama. But that wasn’t all that churned in her mind. The war! Everyone talked about the war. Men died in wars. Better not to love Trip any more than she already did. No one knew what tomorrow might bring.
“No. I don’t think I will. Not now. Mama needs me.” She couldn’t look at him, knowing everything she felt would be written across her face. She saw Mama staring at her from the front seat. “I have to go, Trip.” She stepped back. “Say hello to everyone. Tell them I miss them.”
When she slid into the car, Mama didn’t look at her. She sat, back straight, eyes staring forward in the front passenger seat. Bernie started the car. “Where’s Rikka?”
Cloe was staring at Hildie. “She’s riding home with Melvin.”
Bernie glanced back from the driver’s seat. “Is Cale following us to the house?”
“No.” Before anyone could ask if she had invited him, she went on quickly. “He has a long drive home to Oakland.” She looked out the window, hoping no one would see her tears or mention him again.
