Edgy with nothing to do, Hildemara set to work on the house. She scrubbed the kitchen floor, took everything out of the cabinets and scrubbed the shelves, scoured the stove and sink. She scraped peeling paint and decided it was time to freshen things up a little. She used some of her savings to buy a cheerful yellow paint, the same color Mama had originally chosen and which had faded over the years. Elizabeth had made pretty curtains for the cottage. Why shouldn’t Mama have some? Hildemara bought fabric and enlisted Elizabeth’s help in redoing the living room, kitchen, and bedroom curtains. She added lacy sheers so Mama could open the windows and not have dust blow in or sunlight fade the sofa after she and Elizabeth recovered it with a chintz slipcover. She made pretty decorative pillows of blue and yellow with lacy edges. Mama had never had any before.
Mama still cooked. Hildemara sent away for a Quaker lace tablecloth. She put a fresh bouquet of flowers on the table every few days.
If Mama noticed any of the changes, she never said. Hildemara didn’t know whether it lightened Mama’s grief or not.
She took out the ragbag and started work on an area rug. The mix of colors would brighten the living room. When she wrote to Cloe and told her what she planned, Cloe sent a box of fabric pieces. The work filled Hildemara’s long, quiet evenings. She had to work or she couldn’t sleep. She grieved over Papa, worried about Mama.
And she couldn’t get Trip out of her head.
Even when she fell exhausted into bed, she had trouble sleeping. She’d lie awake, wondering what he was doing, if he had met someone. Of course, he would. She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t leave Mama by herself.
Mama put her book down one evening and shook her head. “That rug will take months to finish, Hildemara. Why did you start it?”
“Because it’ll brighten the living room. Look at all the colors, Mama. If we went to the movies, we’d see some of these fabrics in costumes. Rikka is going to paint a picture of the Alps for you. We’ll hang it right there on the wall. It’ll add-”
“This is my house, Hildemara. Not yours.”
Hildie gasped as she stabbed her finger with the needle. Wincing, she sucked at the wound. “I know, Mama. I’m only trying to fix things up a bit, make it more-”
“I like the yellow walls. I like the new curtains. But enough is enough.”
“You don’t want the rug?” Hildemara couldn’t stop the hurt from rising inside her. “What am I supposed to do with all this-?”
“Just leave it in the box.”
“The rug is-”
“Big enough for under the sink.”
Hildemara’s eyes flooded. “What are you trying to say, Mama?” She knew, but she wanted to hear it aloud. She wanted it out in the open.
“I don’t need a servant, Hildemara. And I certainly don’t need a nurse!”
Her words cut deeply. “You don’t need me. Isn’t that what you’re trying to say?”
Emotion rippled across Mama’s face, like a storm over water, and then her face hardened. “All right, Hildemara Rose. If that’s what it takes, I will say it. I don’t need you. I don’t want you here. The sooner you leave, the better for both of us!”
Leave? And go where? Hildemara’s face crumpled. “You were the one who asked me to come home!”
“To take care of Papa! And you did, and he’s gone now. I can take care of myself!”
“I only want to help.”
“No. You want to play the martyr.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then what else could it be? Why stay two months, and do all the things you’ve always hated?”
“I didn’t want you to be alone!” She burst into tears.
“Last time I looked, Bernie and Elizabeth lived a few hundred feet from my back door.” Mama gripped the arms of her chair. “You trained to be a nurse. You told me that’s what you wanted to do with you life! So why are you still here? Why haven’t you gone back to nursing? You had your own life before I asked for your help. Your help isn’t needed anymore. Why are you still here?” She rose, face twisting. “Go live your life and let me get on with mine!” She went into the bedroom she had shared with Papa and slammed the door.
Dumping the rug into the remnant box, Hildemara ran out the back door and into Bernie’s old bedroom. Covering her head, she sobbed. Go back? Go back to what? She’d ended things with Trip. If there had ever been a chance for happiness, it had ended that day he came to the memorial service. If she went back to Merritt, she might see him again. Some other girl would have certainly said yes. How could she bear to see him again? And now Mama showed her true feelings. Mama couldn’t wait to be rid of her.
What had she expected?
Packing her suitcases, she took a shower and went over to talk to Bernie and Elizabeth. “I need a ride in the morning.”
“Where you going?”
“Back to Oakland.”
She couldn’t sleep that night. She went into the kitchen and fixed the coffee.
Mama came out. “You’re up early.”
“I’m leaving this morning.”
“You want something to eat before you go?”
If Hildie had hoped Mama would change her mind, she had her answer. “No, thank you.”
Mama poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’ll get dressed and drive you to the bus station.”
“Bernie’s taking me.”
“Oh.” She sat and let out a long breath. “Well, suit yourself.”
When it was time to leave, Hildemara stood in the back doorway. “Good-bye, Mama.”
“Write.”
As Bernie turned out on the road going by the front of the house, she saw Mama standing on the porch. She lifted her hand. Hildie felt little comfort in the small gesture.
“Sorry, Hildie.” Bernie drove like Mama-fast, confident, head up with eyes straight ahead. “Are you going to be okay?” He gave her a quick glance.
“Right as rain.” Miss Jones had said she would hold her job. As to the rest, she would have to wait and see how much suffering she could bear before she ran.
With Boots gone, Hildie had no place to live. Mrs. Kaufman gave her a place at Farrelly Hall. “You can stay as long as you need, Hildemara.” The sleeping porch was hardly a place to call home, but Hildie felt comfortable there. She would have to ask around and see if anyone needed a roommate.
Jones put her right to work. “We’ve been shorthanded, and it’ll get worse if we go to war. We can’t ignore Hitler forever, and the Army will need nurses.”
Hildie dove into work. She felt useful again. Mama may not need her, but plenty of others did. And she loved her work; she loved her patients; she took extra shifts and worked six days a week.
Boots called from Los Angeles. “What are you doing in Farrelly Hall? I thought you’d be married to Trip by now.”
“I haven’t seen Trip.”
“Are you hiding out on ward duty?”
“It’s been a long time, Boots. I doubt he remembers me.”
“You’re such an idiot.”
Standing at the nurses’ station a couple mornings later, Hildemara heard a thump as someone hit the double doors and swung them open. Her heart jumped when she saw Trip striding down the corridor. He looked mad. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him since returning to Merritt two weeks before. She had avoided the cafeteria for fear of running into him. “Hello, Trip. How are you?”
He caught her by the wrist and kept walking. “Excuse us, ladies.” He half dragged her down the hall, opened a linen closet, and pulled her inside.
“Trip, I…”
He kicked the door shut behind him, hugged her to him, and then kissed her. Her nursing cap came askew, dangling by a bobby pin. When he lifted his head, she tried to say something, and he kissed her again, deeper this time. He held her so close she didn’t have to wonder what he was feeling. Her toes curled in her white oxfords. They bumped against a shelf. He drew back. “Sorry.”