Mama piled potato dumplings on both their plates. “By the way, we’re having chocolate cake for dessert tonight.”
Dear Rosie,
One of our neighbors attempted to ravish Hildemara. If I’d been able to get my hands on him, he would be dead now. Niclas stopped me. We called the sheriff. Of course, by the time he made it out our way, Kimball had fled. If I could have torched his house with him inside, I would have watched him die and been satisfied. Instead he is loose like a mad dog and will harm some other child.
Hildemara is a frightened mouse, sitting in the corners of the house. I fight tears every time I look at her, remembering how difficult life was for Elise. Mama coddled her, and my sister became a prisoner of her own fears.
I could have taken a switch to Bernhard for leaving her alone at the canal, but what Kimball did is not my son’s fault and I will not lay the blame where it does not belong.
But what do I do now? What happened has happened and there is no undoing it. Life goes on. Somehow, I have to find a way to make Hildemara step out into the sunshine again and not fear every shadow.
Hildemara didn’t want to leave her room, let alone the house, but Mama insisted she do her usual chores. “You are not going to let that man turn you into a prisoner to your fears.”
When Hildie went outside, she felt light-headed and sick to her stomach. She kept looking around as she fed the chickens. She felt a little better weeding. The vegetable garden was closer to the house. Bernie came over and hunkered down next to her. “You want to go swimming again? I won’t leave you alone. I swear on a stack of Bibles.” She shook her head.
“We’re going to a movie tomorrow,” Mama announced at dinner that night. Everyone but Hildemara whooped with excitement. She didn’t want to walk by Kimball’s property.
“Maybe we’ll even have ice cream after, if you all behave.”
Hildemara walked beside Mama while the others ran ahead and then back. She came around to the other side of Mama when they crossed the irrigation ditch with the bamboo growing on the south side.
“No, you don’t.” Mama made her walk on that side of the road. “Take a good long look when we pass his place, Hildemara.” Two blackened piles of rubble sat where the house and barn used to be. “Abrecan Macy was a nice man. Remember the sheep? You loved the lambs, didn’t you? Abrecan Macy was our friend. Abrecan Macy was a gentleman.” Mama took her hand and squeezed it tight. “You let your mind dwell on the things that are right and true and lovely.” She squeezed again and let go. “You think about Abrecan Macy the next time you pass this property.”
Every week after that, Mama took the gang of kids to town for a matinee. The boys always raced down the aisle to grab front-row seats. Hildemara and Cloe sat a few rows behind them. Mama sat in back with Rikka on her lap, whispering to other mothers who kept watch over their children.
The boys talked through the short newsreels, laughed raucously through the slapstick comedy with pie-throwing antics or Our Gang mischief with Buster Brown. When the main feature came on, they howled and whooped, spending the next hour booing and hissing bad guys and cheering on the hero. They stamped their feet through chases and shouted, “Get ’em, get ’em, get ’em!” as the horse galloped across the scene. Hildemara developed her first crush, on Hollywood cowboy Tom Mix.
Papa decided they needed a dog on the farm. Everyone but Mama thought that was a good idea. “I’d rather have a gun.” Mama sniffed.
Papa chuckled. “A big, mean dog is safer than Mama with a gun!”
Everyone laughed.
Bernie and Fritz walked down to the Portola Dairy the next morning. Bernie came back carrying the covered tin of milk, a stray dog on his heels. Mama stood on the porch. “Where did you find that scrawny excuse for an animal?”
Fritz grinned, patting the black dog on the head. “He found us. We heard what Mr. Waltert said last night. God must have heard him, too.”
“God, my foot!” She came down the steps. “Just like that, you have a big dog follow you home from the dairy. More like you petted him. Did you let him stick his nose in our milk, too?”
“He’ll bark if anyone comes on the place, Mama.”
Mama stood on the lawn. “He’s no watchdog. Look at him, stirring up a cloud of dust with his tail.”
“He’s just a pup right now. He’ll get bigger.”
“Who told you that? Aldo Portola?”
“He’s smart. We can train him. He was real hungry.”
“Was?” She took the milk tin from Bernie. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
Hildemara sat on the porch, giggling. The dog trotted over and sat in front of Mama. He stared up at her with big, limpid brown eyes, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his wide canine grin. He edged closer, stretching out his neck, tail waving faster.
“Look, Mama!” Hildemara came down the steps. “He’s trying to lick your hand.”
“Balderdash!” Mama’s face softened. “He’s trying to get more milk.”
“Balderdash!” both boys shouted. “That’s his name!”
Mama shook her head, mouth twitching. “I doubt we can get rid of him now that you’ve given him food.” She headed for the steps. The dog followed on her heels. She stopped and pointed down at him. “Don’t get any ideas.”
Hildemara petted him. “Can he sleep in the house, Mama?”
“He can sleep in the tree with the boys, if they can get him up the ladder.”
The dog didn’t cooperate.
All through the rest of that summer, the family accumulated animals. Papa bought a second horse. Mama bought another rooster to “improve the flock.” Fritz caught a horned lizard and kept it in a box in the tree house. A tabby cat showed up and had kittens in the barn.
Papa wanted to get rid of them. “I don’t want my barn turning into a cathouse.”
Mama laughed so hard, tears ran down her cheeks. “You need to work more on your English, Niclas.” He asked what he had said. When she explained, his face turned bright red.
Last, Mama brought home a cow. “The children are growing so fast, we might as well have milk at hand, rather than have to walk a mile to get it.” Dash stood by the cow, panting and smiling. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your share.” Mama put a big bell around the cow’s neck. “Reminds me of Switzerland, where all the cows wore bells.”
Summer blazed by in a haze of heat. In late August, the almond harvest began. Papa and the boys stretched out canvas under the trees, using bamboo poles to knock the stubborn almonds that wouldn’t fall after shaking the branches.
Mama received a letter from the Herkners. “They’re coming on Friday.”
They arrived in a new black Ford Model A with sideboards. Hedda jumped out and ran straight to Fritz, hugging and kissing him until he protested.
Bernie stared at the car. “Holy cow! Will you look at this thing?” He walked around the Model A. “Can I sit in it, Mr. Herkner?”
Wilhelm laughed. “Go ahead.” He pried Hedda off their son and held him at arm’s length. “Look how tan and fit he looks!” Hedda grabbed and hugged him again, tears running down her cheeks.
Fritz turned beet red. “Ah, Mama. Don’t call me Fritzie.”
Bernie laughed. “Fritzie! Hey, Fritzie!”
Mama took the Herkners inside for coffee and angel food cake. It had taken twelve egg whites to make it. Papa had wanted a slice, but Mama said he would have to wait. “It’s not polite to serve leftovers to guests.” She had made Papa custard with the yolks.