“Let me do them. You’re going to break something.”
“You’re not going to work,” he said in a low, hot voice.
“I’m already working. This way I’ll get paid!”
He grabbed a wet dish from her hand, dried it, and shoved it in the cupboard. “We need to talk. Now!”
She wiped off her apron and tossed it on the counter, marching into the bedroom. Papa closed the door firmly behind him when he followed.
Clotilde started to cry.
“I’ve never seen Papa that mad.” Bernie flipped over on his cot. “Shut up, Cloe.” He put his pillow over his head.
Hildemara listened.
“What about Rikka? She’s still nursing!”
“She’ll come with me. I can nurse her as well in a bakery as I can at home. Hedda Herkner has a playpen she used for her son, Fritz.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“Ask you?” Mama’s voice rose. “I didn’t ask because I knew what you’d say. I talked to Hedda the day after Mrs. Miller told me she expected me to cook and clean for her. I told her I worked for a bakery in Steffisburg. I can make tarts and beignets and-”
“Make them for your family!”
“I’ll be paid by the hour, and we’ll have as much bread as we need.”
“No, Marta. You’re my wife! You didn’t even consult me before you went off and-”
“Consult you? Oh, you mean the way you consulted me before you left for the wheat fields?” Mama’s voice kept rising. “You never thought enough of my opinion to ask for it! You thought nothing of signing my life away, first to Madson, and then to Mrs. Miller and her good-for-nothing daughter!”
“Keep your voice down! You’ll wake the children.”
Mama lowered her voice. “We need another way to bring in money besides farming. We all have to make sacrifices.”
“Who’s going to do the washing, the cooking, the sewing, the-?”
“Don’t worry. The work will get done. The children are going to learn to pitch in. Bernhard, too! Just because he’s a boy doesn’t mean he can go off and do as he pleases while the girls do all the work. Someday he’s going to be on his own. Until he finds a wife to take care of him, he’ll have to cook his own meals, wash his own shirts and underwear and pants, and sew on his own buttons!”
“My son is not doing housework! You leave Bernhard to me. Do what you want with the girls.”
“Isn’t that always the way?” Mama’s voice had a strident edge Hildemara had never heard before. “The son always comes first. Well, so be it, as long as Bernhard learns how to be a man and not a master!” Mama came flying out of the bedroom, throwing her shawl around her shoulders. The front door closed firmly behind her.
Hildemara sat up. “Go back to sleep, Hildemara.” Papa went out the front door after Mama.
Hildemara chewed her lip, listening. She didn’t hear footsteps going down the stairs, but she heard voices again. Papa spoke low. He wasn’t angry anymore. She crept out of her cot and went to the front window. Papa sat beside Mama on the steps.
Hildemara crept back to bed and prayed until she went to sleep. When she awakened, Papa sat at the table, reading his Bible. He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. Hildie shivered as she sat up. “Where’s Mama?”
“She had to be at the bakery before dawn. She took Rikka. When you have your lunch hour, Mama wants you to come to the bakery. She’ll have something for the three of you.”
When they arrived, Mrs. Herkner called out to Mama. Hildemara saw Rikki asleep in a playpen behind the counter. Mama came out of the back of the bakery wearing a white apron with HB embroidered on a pocket. “Oh, heavens, Hildemara! Didn’t you bother to brush your hair this morning?” Mama waved them behind the counter and into the back workroom. “Sit right there.” She gave them each a thick slice of fresh bread, a wedge of cheese, and an apple, then found a brush in her purse. Planting a hand on top of Hildemara’s head, she brushed hard and fast while Hildemara tried to eat her lunch. “Hold still.” Hildemara’s scalp burned, but when she put her hands up, Mama rapped her knuckles with the brush. “How on earth can you get so many knots in your hair?”
“I’ll do better tomorrow, Mama.”
“You sure will.”
When Hildemara arrived home from school, Mama got out her scissors. She took a chair and set it on the porch outside. “Sit down. I’m cutting your hair short. You can’t go to school looking like you did this morning.”
“No, Mama. Please.” What would the other students say if she showed up with short hair?
“Sit down!”
Mama started cutting, and Hildemara started crying.
“Stop blubbering, Hildemara. Hold still! I don’t want to make any more of a mess of it.” Hunks of dark brown hair fell on the floor. Frowning, Mama looked her over and decided to cut bangs. “I need to even this side up.” After a few more snips, Mama pressed her mouth tightly and fluffed Hildemara’s hair on one side and then the other. “That’s the best I can do.”
When Mama turned to put her scissors back in her sewing box, Hildemara felt her hair. Mama had cut it all the way up to her ears! Sobbing, Hildemara fled to the barn and hid in the back stall. She didn’t come out until Mama called her to dinner.
Bernie looked horrified when Hildie came in the back. “Holy cow! What did you do to your hair?”
Mama scowled. “That’s enough, Bernhard.”
Clotilde giggled. Hildemara stared at her resentfully. Clotilde still had long, curling blonde hair. No one would laugh at her at school.
Papa sat at the head of the table, staring at her. “What happened to your hair, Hildemara?”
Hildemara couldn’t hold the tears back. “Mama cut it.”
“For mercy’s sake, Marta, why?”
Mama’s face reddened. “It’s not that short.”
Clotilde giggled again. “She looks like the little boy on the paint cans.”
Mama served Hildemara after Papa. “It’ll grow out in no time.”
Hildemara knew it was as close to an apology as she would ever get from her mother. Not that it helped. Her hair wouldn’t grow out in time for school tomorrow.
Just as she feared, the students laughed when they saw her. Tony Reboli asked if she had put her head in a lawn mower. Bernie punched him. Tony swung and missed. They started shoving each other around the playground. Miss Hinkle came outside and told them to stop at once. “What started it?”
Tony pointed. “Little Sis’s hair!” He laughed. So did others.
Miss Hinkle turned to Hildie. She looked shocked for a second and then smiled. “I think it’s very becoming, Hildemara.” She leaned down and whispered, “My mother used to cut my hair short, too.”
Hildemara took last place in the line of girls. Elizabeth stepped out of line and waited for her. “I like it, Hildie. I like it very much.” Hildemara felt a wave of relief. Anything Elizabeth said she liked, everyone else liked, too.
When break came, Clotilde went off to play on the bars with her friends. Hildemara sat on the bench and watched Elizabeth playing hopscotch with several other girls. Gathering her courage, Hildie walked across the playground. Heart thumping, she clasped her hands behind her back. “May I play, too?”
Elizabeth smiled broadly. “You can be on my team.”
That night, Hildemara lay awake, feeling euphoric. Mama sat at the kitchen table, the kerosene lamp burning, the stack of books on American history that she’d borrowed from the library sitting in front of her while she wrote a letter. Papa had gone to bed an hour ago. Bernie snored softly. Clotilde lay curled on her side, facing away from the lamp. Mama looked sad as she wrote.
Hildemara got up and tiptoed to the edge of light. Mama raised her head. “How was school today? You didn’t say much at dinner.”