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.” Bone tired. Soul tired. “So is Mama.”
“Can I meet her?” When Hildie hesitated, his mouth tipped. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything about us.”
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.
“Seemed like a nice guy, what little I could tell from the one minute he was with us.”
“He’s better-looking than most of the actors I’ve met,” Cloe added, not smiling, still staring, a faint frown on her face.
“All the women in the hospital were in love with him.”
“And he came all the way to Murietta-”
“Shut up, Bernie.” It was Cloe who said it.
Mama didn’t utter a sound.
When all the visitors left, Mama went to bed. When Hildie looked in on her later, Mama lay on her back, wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. “Do you want me to sit with you awhile, Mama?”
“No.”
Hildie fell asleep on the couch. She awakened with the moonlight streaming through the window. She thought she heard someone screaming outside. She rose quickly and looked in on Mama. She wasn’t in her bed. Throwing on her coat, she flew out the back door. The screaming came from the orchard. Bernie stood in the yard. “Is it Mama?”
“Yes.” He caught her by the arm. “Leave her alone. She has to get it out someway.” She could see the sheen of tears on his face. “She’s held it in too long. Let her scream. Let her pound on the earth.”
Hildemara could hear her. “She’s cursing God.”
“For tonight, and then she’ll be holding on to Him when she’s finished. Go on back to the house. She’ll come in when she’s ready.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Papa told me to watch over her.”
35
1941
Papa hadn’t been in his grave a week before Mama went back to work. She got up at dawn and made the coffee, then went out to milk the cow, feed the chickens, and collect eggs. Cloe went back to Hollywood. Rikka went back to school. Bernie saw to the business of the farm. Elizabeth tended the flats of seedlings in the lattice nursery and kept the vegetable garden weeded and bug-free.
People continued to come to visit, and everyone brought something: casseroles; cakes; German potato salad; small jars of homemade jams and jellies; pickled watermelon rinds; large jars of apricots, peaches, and cherries. Over the years, Mama had taken gifts to families in need, and now she reaped what she had sowed in kindness.