Marta's Legacy Collection (32 page)

“There’s a letter for you on the table.” Mama nodded toward the envelope propped up against a mason jar full of roses.

Heart tripping, Hildie read the return address:
Samuel Merritt Hospital School of Nursing.

Mama looked over her glasses as she mended a pair of Papa’s overalls. “You won’t know what it says unless you open it.”

Hands shaking, Hildemara grabbed a knife from the drawer and carefully slit open the envelope. Her excitement died as she read. Mama dropped her mending on her lap. “What’s the matter? They don’t want you?”

“I meet all the qualifications except one: I’m not eighteen.” She wouldn’t turn eighteen until January. She would have to wait until the next class started the following fall.

“You don’t have to be eighteen to go here.” Mama took another envelope out of her apron pocket and held it out. It had already been opened.

Hildemara read the embossed printing in the left corner. “The University of California in Berkeley? Mama, I can’t go there.”

“Why not?”

Hildemara wanted to weep in frustration. “Because I’m still saving up for nursing school!” She tossed the letter on the kitchen table. “Besides that, a university isn’t for someone like me.” Fighting tears, she headed for the back door.

Mama threw her mending on the floor and stood. “Don’t you ever say anything like that again! I swear I’ll slap you silly if you do!” She grabbed the letter from the table and held it up under Hildemara’s nose. “You have the brain! You have the grades! Why shouldn’t you go to college?”

Hildemara cried out in frustration. “Tuition, plus books, plus room and board in a dorm . . . I’ve barely saved enough to pay the uniform fee and one year of tuition at Merritt. And that’s where I want to go! After six months’ training, I’ll be paid by the hospital. I’ll have to save every penny so I can pay for my second and third year!”

Mama flapped the envelope. “This is the University of California in Berkeley, Hildemara!” Her voice rose in frustration. “A
university
!”

Clearly, Mama wasn’t listening. “It’s one year, Mama, and I’ll have nothing at the end of it.”

“Nothing? What do you mean,
nothing
? You’ll have one year at one of the best universities in the country!” She flapped the envelope again. “That’s worth more than—” She stopped and turned away.

Hildemara pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t cry. “More than three years of nurses’ training, Mama? That’s it, isn’t it?”

Mama made fists and pounded them on the kitchen table so hard it bounced. Shoulders drooping, she swore twice in German.

For once, Hildemara didn’t cower. She spoke her mind. “You let Cloe and Rikki dream their dreams, but I haven’t the right, have I, Mama? No matter how hard I try, I’m never going to come up to your expectations. And I don’t care anymore. I want to be a nurse, Mama.” Something erupted inside her and Hildie screamed.
“A nurse!”

Mama rubbed her face and let out her breath. “I know, but you’ll have to wait, won’t you? And while you’re waiting, why waste your time at Pitt’s when you could go to Berkeley? Even one semester—”

“The money I’ve saved is for nursing school.”

“Then I’ll send you! I’ll pay for the year!”

“I can tell how much you like that idea. Keep your money! Spend it on Cloe and Rikka. Otis Art Institute and the California School of Fine Arts will probably cost as much as the university. And you promised them.”

Mama glared at her, eyes overbright. “It never occurred to you I’d help you, did it?”

“You’re not offering help, Mama! You’re sending me where
you
want to go!” As soon as the words flew out her mouth, she knew the truth of them. She could see it in Mama’s face.

Mama sat and put her face in her hands. “Maybe I am.” She let out a deep sigh and put her arms on the table as though bracing herself.

Hildemara started to say she was sorry and caught herself. She felt a sudden wave of pity for her mother and pulled out a chair. “What would you have studied, Mama?”

“
Any
thing.
Every
thing.” She waved her hand as though chasing a fly away. “It’s water under a bridge.” She skewered Hildemara with her gaze. “What do you plan to do for the next year?”

“Work. Save.”

Mama’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve been harder on you than the others because I felt I had to be. Well, you’ve finally stood up to me. I’ll give you that much.” She stood and turned her back on Hildemara. Grabbing up her sewing, she sat and went back to mending Papa’s pants.

Hildemara found a better job at Wheeler’s Truck Stop on the highway. She worked longer hours and made good tips. When she came home, she often found Mama sitting at the table writing letters. Sometimes she’d be adding notes to her old brown leather journal. “How was your day?” she’d ask without looking up.

“Fine.”

They didn’t seem to have anything to say to one another.

When the time finally came for Hildemara to leave, she packed the few things she would need and bought her train ticket to Oakland. Mama made beef Wellington for dinner. Hildemara thanked her for making such a feast the day before she left. Mama shrugged. “We did the same for Bernhard.”

Cloe jumped up as soon as dinner ended. “Stay put, Hildie!” She dashed into the front bedroom and came back with a pile of wrapped presents. She put them down in front of Hildie.

“What is all this?”

“What do you think, dopey? Your going-away presents!” Clotilde grinned and clapped her hands as she sat. “Open mine first! It’s the biggest one.”

“Another creation by Clotilde?” Hildemara gasped when she pulled out a navy blue dress with white cuffs and bright red buttons. A red belt, red pumps, and a red purse were in the bottom of the box.

“You’ll look like a million dollars!”

Papa gave her a small, black leather-bound Bible with a red ribbon. “If you read it every morning and evening, it’ll be just like we’re sitting together in the living room,
ja?
The same way we have since you were a baby.”

Hildemara came around the table and kissed his cheek.

Bernie gave her five dollars. “Should’ve been for your graduation, but better late than never.” He said he’d earned good money selling his grafted lemon and lime and orange trees to a Sacramento nursery. “I plan on spending a small fortune on an engagement ring for Elizabeth.”

“Don’t steal your sister’s thunder.” Mama nodded at the last two presents. “You have two more to open, Hildemara Rose.”

Rikki had framed a drawing of Mama knitting while Papa read his Bible. Hildemara’s eyes welled with tears. “Someday I’ll make an oil painting of that for you, Hildie. If you’d like.”

“I’d like, but don’t ask me to give this one back.”

The last present was a small box, simply wrapped in brown butcher paper with a red ribbon tied in a bow. “Is this from you, Mama?”

“Must be, since you’ve opened one from everyone else.” Mama folded her hands tightly in front of her.

Hildemara couldn’t speak when she opened it.

“It’s a pocket watch with a second hand, like one they use in a race,” Mama told the others.

Hildie looked at Mama through tears, unable to utter a word. She wanted to throw her arms around her mother. She wanted to kiss her.

Mama stood abruptly. “Clotilde, clear away the boxes and paper. Rikka, you can help clear up tonight.”

When Hildie got up the next the morning, Papa told her he’d be driving her to the train station in the wagon. “I have to go in for supplies anyway.”

“Where’s Mama?” She wanted to talk to her before leaving.

“Sleeping in.”

“That’s a first.” The closed bedroom door looked like a fortress wall.

Papa stood on the station platform, waiting with Hildie until the train whistle blew and the conductor called for all to board. He held her shoulders firmly and kissed her cheek. “One from me.” He kissed the other. “One from Mama.” Picking up her suitcase, he handed it to her, his blue eyes moist. “God will be with you. Don’t forget to talk to Him.”

“I won’t, Papa.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “But I didn’t get to say thank you to Mama. I couldn’t say it last night.”

“You didn’t have to say anything, Hildemara.” His voice caught. He waved and headed off, calling back over his shoulder. “Go on now. Make us proud!” He strode across the station platform.

Hildemara climbed aboard the train and found a seat. Her heart leaped as the train lurched forward and began to move smoothly along the tracks. She caught a glimpse of Papa sitting on the high wagon seat. He wiped his eyes and untied the reins. When the train whistle blew, Hildemara raised her hand and waved. Papa never looked back.

28

1935

Farrelly Home for Nurses stood on the grounds of Samuel Merritt Hospital. Hildie stood gazing up at the grand four-story, U-shaped brick building that would be her home for the next three years. Excitement pulsed through her as she asked directions to the dean of nursing’s office.

Mrs. Kaufman stood a head taller and considerably broader than Hildemara. Her dark hair was cropped short. She wore a dark suit and white blouse and no jewelry. She greeted Hildemara with a firm handshake and handed over a pile of clothing. “This is your uniform, Miss Waltert. Laundry services are available. Do you have your laundry bag clearly marked with your name? You don’t want anything lost. Remember to remove all jewelry, and no perfume.” She explained that bracelets and rings carried bacteria, and perfume became cloying for patients in the already anesthetic-rich environment of a hospital.

“I’m glad you have short hair. Some girls complain bitterly about having to cut it, but short hair is more hygienic and easier to keep up without all the fuss and bother. Be sure to keep it above your collar. Do you have a pocket watch and fountain pen?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep both tucked in your apron pocket at all times. You’ll need them.” She picked up her phone. “Tell Miss Boutacoff her probie has arrived.” She hung up. “
Probie
stands for probational student nurse. Each new student has a big sister to welcome her and answer any questions she may have.”

Hildemara heard the squeal of rubber soles on linoleum outside the door and saw a flicker of irritation on Mrs. Kaufman’s face. A tall, slender young woman stepped into the office. Curling black hair framed an impish face dominated by dark eyes and winged brows. “Miss Jasia Boutacoff, this is your little sister, Miss Hildemara Waltert. Please try to teach her good habits, Miss Boutacoff. You’re dismissed.” Mrs. Kaufman began to sort through a stack of papers on her desk.

Jasia led Hildemara down the hallway. “I’m to give you the grand tour. Orient you to your new surroundings.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “Come on.” She waved Hildie along. “Rule number one.” She leaned in and whispered loudly. “Don’t get on Kaufman’s bad side. I was supposed to write you a welcome letter, but I’ve never been much for correspondence.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue as she winked.

Hildie had to take two steps to every one Jasia did.

“I remember my first day,” Jasia reminisced. “I was scared to death. The General had me quaking in my boots.”

“The General?”

“Kaufman. That’s what we call her. Behind her back, of course. Anyway, I didn’t meet my big sister until the second week. She forgot all about me. Oh, well. I had to learn all the ropes the hard way. By making mistakes. Plenty of them. I didn’t endear myself to the General. I’m counting the days until I have my certification and I can depart the nether regions of Farrelly Hall. If I’m lucky, I’ll be hired as a private duty nurse by some lonely, wealthy old man with one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel.” She laughed. “You should see your face, Waltert. I’m kidding!”

Jasia took the stairs two at a time. Hildie raced after her. “We’ll start at the top and work our way down. Call me Boots, by the way, but never in front of the General. She’ll skin you alive. We’re supposed to call one another Miss So-and-so. All very prim and proper. Come on! Keep up! This is going to be a whirlwind tour!” She laughed again. “You’re puffing like a steam engine.”

Boots took Hildemara from a large auditorium to a reception room to the library, kitchenette, two classrooms, and a dietetic laboratory. Hildie ran to keep up, wondering if everything would go like this. The second floor held a nurses’ dormitory; the third, an open-air sleeping porch with cot beds and another auditorium.

“People are coming and going at all hours up here, but you’ll get used to it. It’ll be a while before you’ll move up here anyway, if you make it through probation. The first six months, everyone on staff will try their best to wash you out, and anyone lacking in stamina and dedication goes! You look a little thin. You’d better get some meat on those bones. Oh, and I forgot to tell you: you can use the radio and piano. Do you play? No? Drat! We need someone around here to start up a glee club.”

Boots pointed this way and that as they rushed along.

“There’s a sewing machine in there. The shelves contain a fiction library. Two hundred books, but you’re not going to have any time to read even one of them. A magazine in the bathroom, maybe. What a slowpoke. Come on! Let’s move, Waltert!” She laughed easily, not winded at all. “You’re going to have to learn to fly if you want to be a good nurse.” She went down the stairs quickly, head high, not even holding the rail. In awe, Hildemara followed at a safer pace.

Boots waited at the bottom. She whispered, “As you already know, the General is on the first floor, guarding the gates to the outside world.” She pointed. “She has a helper, Mrs. Bishop.” She pointed to another office door. “Bishop’s a peach. If you’re late, she’ll sneak you in. But be careful. We don’t want to get her fired. Come on. Down we go into Probie Alley, or the Dungeon as I call it.”

The corridor bustled with new students finding their bearings.

“You’ll be down here in the gloom for six months, with a roommate, hopefully more fun than mine.” She shuddered dramatically. “Do whoever she is a big favor and keep everything put away. There’s barely space to change your mind in these cells, let alone your clothes.” Her shoes squeaked to a halt. “Here’s where I dump you. This humble abode is your new home! Enjoy!” She waved her hand airily.

Hildie peered in at a room with two narrow beds and two tiny dressers.

“Oh, before I forget, the most important room in the building—the communal bathroom—is just down the hall on the right, and on the left farther down is the itsy-bitsy kitchenette you’ll have to share with twenty classmates. Of course, there’ll be fewer by the end of the month.”

With that encouragement, Boots glanced at her pocket watch and squealed. “Holy Godfrey! I’ve gotta run! Duty in fifteen minutes! Cute doctor.” She raised her eyebrows up and down. “See ya!” She ran for the stairs. Her shoes squealed again. “Let me know if you have any questions or problems!” Her voice echoed in the corridor. Girls stuck their heads out doors to see who was making all the noise, but Boots had already bounded up the stairs.

Laughing under her breath, Hildemara entered her new home. It wasn’t any smaller than the room she had shared with Cloe and Rikka. And here she’d have only one roommate.

Smiling, she unpacked her blue dress with the white cuffs, red shoes, purse, and belt and put them in the bottom dresser drawer. She put two other dresses in the second drawer, along with her extra underwear. Unfolding the clothes Mrs. Kaufman had handed over, she admired the blue- and white-striped dress with puff sleeves. A pair of stiff-starched removable cuffs and a collar lay between the folds. A full white apron, long white silk stockings, and thick-soled white oxford shoes finished the ensemble. Hildie ran her hands over the garments, heart swelling with pride. No nursing cap, not yet. She would have to earn that. But even so, she couldn’t wait to wear the uniform tomorrow for her first morning orientation class.

Keely Sullivan, a redheaded, freckle-faced girl from Nevada, came in an hour later and unpacked her things. Over the next few hours, Hildie met Tillie Rapp, Charmain Fortier, Agatha Martin, and Carol Waller. They all crowded into the room to share how and why they had decided to become nursing students. Tillie, like Hildemara, had dreamed of becoming the next Florence Nightingale, while Agatha wanted to marry a rich doctor. “You can have doctors,” Charmain said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “My father’s a doctor. Give me a farmer any day. Farmers stay home!”

“Farmers are boring!”

“Excuse me?” Hildemara pretended offense. “My brother’s a farmer. Six feet two; blond; blue-eyed; football, basketball, and baseball star of our high school. He’s a senior in college now.”

Charmain’s eyes shone. “When do I get to meet him?”

“Maybe I’ll take you to his wedding. He’s marrying my best friend.”

Everyone laughed. They talked through dinner in the cafeteria and went on talking long after dark, too excited to go to bed. “Lights out, ladies!” Bishop called from the end of the hall. “It’s going to be an early morning!”

Sometime after midnight, the last girl crept out of Hildemara and Keely’s room. Hildemara put her hands behind her head and smiled in the dark. For the first time in her life, she felt completely, utterly at home.

Everything moved fast the first few months. Up at five in the morning, Hildie lined up for a shower and time at the mirror or sink. She had to be at the hospital by six thirty, ready for uniform inspection at seven. After that, she helped deliver breakfast trays to patients and had lessons in how to properly make a bed: sheets folded in square corners and tucked tight enough to bounce a quarter.

Hildemara and the others followed the General like ducklings down the hospital corridors, pausing as she introduced “our new probies” to patients and then demonstrated various skills they needed to learn over the next few weeks: taking and charting temperatures and pulse rates, changing bandages, doing bed baths and massages. Hildemara got her first sight of a naked man and felt her face go hot. Mrs. Kaufman leaned close as Hildie filed out the door with the other student nurses. “You’ll get over being embarrassed about anything soon enough, Miss Waltert.”

By the end of the week, Hildemara received her ward assignment and reported to the registered nurse who would continue her training and then wrote a daily progress report for Mrs. Kaufman. Just when she felt she had built some kind of rapport with one registered nurse, Hildie found herself reassigned to another.

After lunch in the cafeteria, Hildemara attended class lectures conducted by the General or various doctors: ethics, anatomy, and bacteriology to start, adding nursing history, materia medica, and dietetics later. She felt the hot breath of the General on her neck frequently and feared being culled.

“It’s not called Hell Month for nothing.” Boots lifted her mug of hot chocolate in salute. “Congratulations on making it through.” Though they addressed one another properly during duty hours and in class, Boots was Boots anywhere else. She made up nicknames for everyone. Tillie became Dimples; Charmain was Betty Boop; Keely became Red. Agatha with her impressive bosom became Pidge. She dubbed Hildie Flo for Florence Nightingale.

The days didn’t get easier, but Hildemara fell into the routine: up before dawn, shower, dress, breakfast, songs and prayers in the rec room chapel, uniform inspection, four hours of ward duty, half an hour lunch break in the cafeteria—sometimes all of it standing in line, which meant going hungry—four more hours on duty, thorough shower and shampoo to disinfect herself before dinner, classes until nine, study until eleven, fall into bed in time for Bishop’s “Lights out, ladies!”

She prayed constantly.
God, help me through this. God, don’t let me blush and embarrass this young man while giving him a sponge bath. God, help me pass this test. God, don’t let me be culled! I’d rather kill myself than go home with my tail tucked between my legs and my dreams in tatters! Please, please, please, Lord, help!

“Miss Sullivan!” The General’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Where do you think you’re going at this hour of the night?”

A muffled response. Hildemara had barely looked up from her book while Keely got herself dolled up for a date with some young doctor in training.

“Probies do not date, Miss Sullivan! Get your mind off men and onto nursing.” More muffled words from Keely. “I don’t care if you have a date with the apostle Paul! If you leave this residence without permission, take your possessions with you because you won’t be allowed back in. Do you hear me?”

Everybody in Probie Alley heard the General.

Keely came back into the room, slammed the door, and sank onto the bed in tears. “I’m so sick of her snoopervising. I had a date with Atwood tonight.”

“Atwood?”

“He’s that cute intern on the obstetrics ward we’ve all been swooning over. Well, everyone but you, I guess. He’s going to think I stood him up!”

“Explain to him tomorrow.” Too tired to care, Hildemara put her book on her dresser, rolled over, and fell asleep dreaming of sutures, knives, instruments, and a frustrated doctor standing over an unconscious patient and shouting at her, “He’s not even shaved and prepped!”

Every waking moment, she worked and reviewed details on how to do throat irrigations, barium enemas, Murphy drips, and concise and acceptable case reports. Boots called her a workhorse. “You look pale, Flo. What did I tell you about getting some meat on your bones? Ease up a little or you’re going to end up sick.” She slung an arm around Hildie’s shoulders as they walked to the hospital.