“If I wanted to talk about it, I would have answered you. Go to school, Hildemara! You’ll see what’s wrong with me when you walk through town!”
She was right. “Holy cow!” Bernie uttered and half whispered to Hildemara, “You think Mama did it?” The Herkners’ bakery had burned to the ground.
“Why would she? Mrs. Herkner is her friend.” The children stood staring at the pile of blackened boards, broken windows, and ash.
Not even the town children knew what happened other than there had been a fire the night before. Hildemara spent the day wondering. Hurrying home, she found Mama in the washhouse.
“What happened to the Herkners’ bakery, Mama?”
“You saw what happened. Someone burned it down!”
“Who?”
“Go feed the chickens.”
“Mama!”
“Put feed in for the horses. And if you ask me one more question, Hildemara, you’ll be cleaning the stalls.”
Mama was finally ready to talk when everyone sat down to dinner that evening. “Hedda said someone threw something through the front window, and the next thing they knew, the place was going up in flames. They were lucky to get down the back stairs alive. Wilhelm thinks he knows who did it, but the sheriff needs proof.”
Papa didn’t say any names, but he looked as though he knew as well as Mama who would want to put the Herkners out of business.
“Hedda says they’ve had enough. They’re leaving.”
“Are they all right?”
“About as all right as they can be after seeing everything they’ve worked for go up in flames.” Mama scooped beef stew into bowls. She served Papa first, then Bernie, Hildemara, Clotilde, and finally Rikka. She served herself last and sat at the foot of the table.
Papa said grace and then glanced at Mama. “There’s a blessing even in the hardest things, Marta. Last harvest put us ahead. We have enough set by that you don’t have to work anymore. We have enough to make payments and pay taxes.” He forked a piece of juicy beef into his mouth. “Hmmmm…” He smiled. “I can tell when you’ve had more time to cook.”
“That’s all a man thinks about, his stomach.”
Papa chuckled, but didn’t add anything to Mama’s comment.
Mama dipped her spoon in the stew. “Hedda and Wilhelm are going to San Francisco. They have friends there who can help them get started again. She’s worried about Fritz missing more school.” Hildie knew Mrs. Ransom had given Fritz a hard time, too. Unlike Mama, Mrs. Herkner had allowed her son to stay home from school whenever he felt sick.
Papa stopped chewing and lifted his head, sensing something in the wind. Hildie went on eating, pretending she wasn’t all ears as Mama went on talking casually. “He was out of school for over a month with pneumonia. He’s just catching up. If they take him out now, he’ll lose the whole year. I told her we’d keep him.”
Papa swallowed. “Keep him?”
“Bernhard has a big bedroom.”
“Mama! He’s not moving in with me, is he?”
Mama ignored Bernie’s protest and spoke to Papa. “You’ll have to build bunk beds like in the girls’ room. We have enough wood left over, haven’t we? I already ordered a mattress. It’ll be delivered in a few days. He can sleep on the couch until then.” She took a piece of bread and buttered it lightly.
Papa glowered. “I don’t remember saying yes to this idea.”
“You take care of the orchard and vineyard. I take care of the children, the house, and the animals, except the horse.”
Hildemara felt the storm threatening family harmony. “It would be a good deed, wouldn’t it, Papa? It would help the Herkners.”
Bernie’s face flushed in anger. “It’s my room! Shouldn’t I have a say if someone lives in it?”
Hildemara gaped at him. “His home just burned down, Bernie.”
“I didn’t burn it down!”
“They just lost everything!”
“Fritz Herkner can’t even make a base hit! Last time he played basketball, he sprained an ankle. He has less coordination than you do! He’s going to be about as much help around the farm as Clotilde and Rikka!”
“That’s enough, Bernhard!” Mama slammed a fist on the table, making everyone except Papa jump. “Who do you think you are? If you don’t make Fritz Herkner welcome in my house, he’ll be sleeping alone in your room and you’ll be living in the barn!”
Bernie stuck out his chin. “It’s Papa’s house, too.”
“That’s enough, Sohn.” Papa spoke quietly.
Bernie looked suitably cowed, but Hildemara’s stomach sank at the look on Papa’s face. She knew Mama’s money had bought the farm, but Papa worked hard and brought in the crops that made it all a success. Mama talked as though he hadn’t contributed anything. She could feel tears welling at the hurt look in his eyes. She looked at Mama and saw the shame she tried to hide.
“Our house.” Mama amended, but it was too late. The damage had been done. When Papa pushed his plate away, her eyes glistened. “She wasn’t just my employer, Niclas.”
Papa said something in German and pain flickered across her face. Tears slipped down Hildemara’s cheeks. She hated it when her parents fought. She hated to see the hurt in Papa’s eyes and the stubborn tilt of Mama’s chin.
“When is he coming?” Papa asked.
“Tomorrow.” Mama seemed to prepare herself before saying more. “Hedda is paying us. He’ll stay with us through summer.”
Papa’s eyes flashed. “Is everything always about money, Marta? Is that all that’s important to you?”
“I didn’t ask for anything! Hedda insisted! I lost my job when the bakery burned down, and she didn’t think I should be paying to take care of her son. She wouldn’t leave Fritz otherwise!”
Bernie stabbed a hunk of beef. “Five months.” He grumbled, slumping in his seat as he poked the meat in his mouth and chewed with a sullen scowl.
Mama turned on him. “They won’t lower themselves to living in a tent and then slaving for some lazy widow. You watch, Bernhard. The Herkners will have a city apartment and successful business going before the end of the summer!”
Papa shoved his chair back and left the table.
Mama paled. “Niclas…”
Hildemara watched Papa go out the front door. She knew how hard he worked, how hard he tried to make Mama happy. And then Mama said some thoughtless thing to crush him. Hildie’s sorrow burned away in white-hot anger. She glared at Mama through her tears, wondering why she couldn’t be thankful instead of resentful. Hildie knew what it was like to try to please Mama, never measuring up to expectations. For once, she didn’t care. “Why do you have to be so mean to him?”
Mama slapped her across the face. Jolted back, Hildemara put a shaking hand to her burning cheek, too shocked to utter a sound. Mama had never hit her before; her face went white. When she reached out, Hildemara drew back from her and Bernie shot out of his seat. “Don’t hit her again! She didn’t do anything wrong!”
Mama stood, too. “Get out of this house right now, Bernhard Waltert!”
He slammed out the front door and pounded down the steps.
Clotilde stared at Mama, openmouthed. Rikka cried softly, her napkin covering her face. Blinking back tears, Hildemara hung her head. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Don’t apologize, Hildemara! Why do you always apologize, no matter what people do to you?” Her voice sounded ragged. “You clear up. You can wash the dishes and put everything away, too. You might as well get used to people walking all over you for the rest of your life!” Mama uttered a choking sound and went into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Clotilde gathered the bowls. “I’ll help you, Hildie.”
“Mama might not like it.”
“She’s sorry she hit you.”
“Play with Rikki, then. Give her the crayons. Anything. Just make her stop crying.” Gulping down her own tears, Hildemara took over clearing the table.