Her Mother’s Hope

When Marta arrived home, before Mama could reach her, Elise let out a cry of pleasure and flew into her arms. As Marta held Elise, she saw the changes that had occurred in Mama during the six months she had been in Bern. Dismayed, she set Elise aside. Mama patted her cheek rather than embrace Marta, who took her hand and kissed it.

Papa barely raised his head from the garment he fed through his sewing machine. “When do you plan to apply for that job at the castle? You should go now or it’ll be gone.”

Marta looked over her shoulder. “You could welcome me home, Papa.”

He raised his head and gave her a cold glare.

“I went to the castle before coming here. I turned down their offer.”

His face reddened. “You did what?”

“I assume you sent me to school so that I would earn more than twenty francs a month, Papa.”

“Twenty francs!” He looked taken aback. “That’s all the castle pays?”

“Frau Schmidt looked like Frau Keller’s twin sister. She seemed to think the great honor of working there is worth the lesser pay.”

Papa shook his head and pumped the sewing machine pedals. “The sooner you find work, the sooner you can repay the money you owe me.”

She’d hoped he might congratulate her on her graduation, that he might feel some pleasure in having his elder daughter home. She should have known better. “I’ll start looking first thing tomorrow morning, Papa.” He’d get his tuition and book money, though there had been no books! How she wished she could tell him he’d been duped, but he’d only take it out on her. Nor did she dare take the satisfaction of telling him she’d earned back twice what he paid those two scoundrels by demanding a fair wage.

Mama looked tired, but happy. “It’s so good to have you home.” She coughed. Unable to stop, she sank into her chair, covering her mouth with a soiled rag. When the spasm finally ended, she looked drained and gray.

Elise looked at Marta. “It’s been worse the last month.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“She doesn’t go to the doctor.” Papa pulled the garment carefully from the machine. “Doctors cost money.”

Marta got up early the next morning and prepared coffee and Birchermusli so Mama wouldn’t have to do it.

Mama came into the kitchen looking drawn and pale. “You’re up so early.”

“I wanted to talk with you before I go out.” She took Mama’s hand and folded the francs she’d earned into it.

Mama gasped. “How did you come by so much money?”

“I made the school uniforms.” She kissed her mother’s cold cheek and whispered. “I did spend a few francs on chocolate and pastries, Mama. I want you to see the doctor. Please…”

“It’s no use, Marta. I know what’s wrong.” Mama tried to press the money back into Marta’s hand. “I have consumption.”

“Oh, Mama.” She started to cry. “Surely he can do something.”

“They say the mountain air helps. You must put this away for your future.”

“No!” Marta tucked them deeply into Mama’s apron pocket. “See Dr. Zimmer. Please, Mama.”

“And what would Papa say if I went?”

“Papa doesn’t have to know everything. And don’t worry about his money. He’ll get it.” A little at a time.

* * *

Marta found a job in the kitchen of the Hotel auf dem Nissau, famed for its magnificent view of the mountains. A dining platform had been built above the hotel, and guests made the climb each morning, enjoying a sumptuous breakfast and the sunrise.

After less than a month, Chef Fischer told Marta to report to the supervisor for reassignment. Herr Lang told her she would carry trays of meals up and dirty dishes down the mountain. Her pay would also be lowered, and she would receive only a small share of the servers’ tips.

“What did I do wrong, Herr Lang?”

“I don’t know, but Chef Fischer was furious. She wanted you dismissed. What did you do yesterday?”

“I measured out the meats and spices for her sausage. I had everything-” She grew indignant. “Why are you laughing?”

“You were too helpful, Fraulein.” He snapped his fingers and motioned to a woman in the blue Dirndl costume of the restaurant. “Guida will show you what to do. You’ll need to change into a Dirndl before you can go up to the platform.”

As Guida searched through the rack of uniforms in a small dressing room, Marta grumbled about being kicked out of the kitchen. “I could make her sausages if she wanted to take a day off.”

“You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? You’re fortunate Chef Fischer didn’t stick a fork in your back! The old crone guards her recipes the way a banker guards his vault. No one is allowed to know what she puts in her sausage. She’s famous for it.”

“I wondered why my questions always annoyed her. I thought she expected me to figure out things for myself.” It had taken three weeks of watching before Marta finally figured out all the ingredients and proper portions. She recorded everything in the book Rosie had given her.

On her way home, she ordered beef, pork, and veal from the butcher, asking him to grind them and have everything ready on Saturday. She purchased the spices she would need, then worked late into the night so the family would have Fischer sausages, Rosti-fried potatoes-tomatoes Fribourg-style, and cherry bread pudding for dessert.

She set aside enough for Rosie to sample.

Pleased, she watched her family devour the meal. Mama and Elise complimented her cooking. Even Hermann had something nice to say. Papa paid her no compliments, but when Hermann reached for the last sausage, Papa got his fork into it first.

* * *

“I hope you like it, Rosie.” She bit her lip, watching her friend sample the sausage. “I didn’t use all of the spices Frau Fischer does, but I added some allspice.”

Rosie raised her head, eyes gleaming. “It’s wonderful!” She spoke with cheeks bulging. “Mama would die for this recipe.”

“I’ll write it out for her.” Marta flopped back on the spring grass and put her hands behind her head. “I have others, too, for Streusel, Jagerschnitzel, and Zuricher Geschnetzeltes.”

Rosie licked her fingers. “Are you going to start a restaurant?”

Marta snickered. “And have Frau Fischer coming after me with her meat cleaver?” She looked up at the cloudless blue sky and allowed herself to dream. “No. I’m just collecting the best so that someday, when I have a hotel or boardinghouse, I’ll know how to cook well enough to keep my guests happy.”

“They’ll be happy and fat!” Rosie laughed. She flopped back beside Marta. “It’s good to have you home, and not just because you’ve learned how to make the best sausage I’ve ever tasted!”

“I’m not going to stay long.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every muscle in my body aches. I’m nothing more than a pack mule carrying trays up and down the mountain. I need to find another job where I can learn more. And there are none in Steffisburg or Thun.”

Rosie grinned. “Think of the honor of working inside the walls of Schloss Thun!”

“Very funny.”

“Go to Interlaken, then. It’s not so far away you couldn’t come home every few weeks to visit. We could still have our walks in the hills. My father could help you. He knows the manager of the Germania