Maybe she was just being an old fool. Did having a high school diploma matter anymore? She should just get over not having one and be done with it. She could keep going down the shelves in the library, reading one book after another, until she lost her eyesight or dropped dead.

Self-pity again. Lord, don’t let me get into that disgusting habit. And while we’re about it, God, I don’t know what to do. But it seems an unholy waste of time to stay here and go on as I am. I pay the Martins a fair wage and have more than enough to get by, but I feel… What? What do I feel? I don’t even know anymore, what I want, why I’m still breathing air. Everything used to be so fixed in my mind.

Hildemara.

Her mind’s eye saw her daughter again. What about her? There was unfinished business between them, but Marta didn’t know what to do about it. She wasn’t even sure what it was, and she had no intention of apologizing for being hard on her when that hardness had been necessary.

What about Hildemara, Lord? What’re You trying to tell me? Just spell it out!

“Mrs. Waltert!” Hitch Martin came striding toward her. Niclas had been right about the Okie being a hard, dependable worker. Hitch kept up the place the way Niclas would have wanted, and Marta didn’t mind paying him wages above the going rate. “Donna and me was going to town for supplies and wondered if you’d be needing anything.”

Polite, always respectful, considerate, too, he and Donna never failed to ask, even knowing the answer would always the same. “Not a thing, Hitch.” Marta liked having ready excuses to get in her car and take a drive.

Hitch stood arms akimbo, admiring the trees. “Looks to be a good crop coming, don’t it?” The hives they had set out were busy.

“It does, indeed.” Barring a strong wind or late driving rain to ruin it. The bees were certainly doing their work.

“Someday I hope to have a place of my own like this.” He gave her a quick, shy glance. “In case I haven’t said it lately, Mrs. Waltert, I surely do appreciate you hiring me and letting us use the big house.” Hitch looked more fit than when she’d hired him-plenty of good food, a decent roof over his head, and fewer worries about how he was going to take care of his four children brought change.

“It’s as much to my benefit as yours.” Maybe more so. She had hours to herself these days to do what she pleased, which made her grateful. She remembered what it had been like to live in a drafty tent with four children and only a barn for respites of privacy with her husband. She remembered spending three years slaving through blistering summers and arctic winters for a man who cheated them of their fair share of profits. She swore she’d never treat anyone who worked for her that way. The Martins were good people and she intended to see they did well.

Hitch seemed in no hurry to leave. “Listen to them bees.”

“We’ll have plenty of honey to sell.” She would smoke the hives and steal the honey soon. Donna spun the rich sweetness from the combs and filled and labeled the jars for market.

“Nothing tastier than honey from almond blossoms, ma’am. Oh, by the way, I heared your phone ringing on the way out.”

Probably one of her friends from church needed something cooked for someone sick or bereaved. “They’ll call back.”

Marta and Hitch talked farm business on the walk back to the wide drive. The windmill needed repairs. They’d have to start digging the irrigation ditches soon, get a head start. Now that they had a bathroom with a shower in the house, the small building with a water tank on top could be converted to something more useful. The barn would need repainting in another year. She could hire extra help if he wanted it for that project. “I don’t want to see you up on an extension ladder, Hitch.” He laughed and said he’d send one of his sons up to do the high work.

Hitch told her the tractor was acting up again, but he felt sure he could fix it, if he had a few parts. Marta gave him the go-ahead to buy whatever he needed. She always had a list of chores, but he’d begun anticipating her requests and getting the work done before she needed to ask. He was a good man, a good farmer.

After the Martins drove off in their old truck, Marta wandered the place. The fruit trees alongside the big house had grown. She and Donna would be canning peaches and pears together. The plums would make good prunes and jam. Plenty of apples for Donna’s growing children and a few neighbor kids to pluck and eat. And there would be lots of oranges and lemons, too.

Now that Donna tended the chickens and rabbits and kept up the vegetable garden, Marta had little work to do. She’d done laundry yesterday and baked bread this morning, enough for herself and the Martins. She could always spend the rest of the afternoon finishing up that five-thousand-piece puzzle Bernhard and Elizabeth had given her for Christmas last year. Bernhard had laughed and said that ought to keep her busy and out of Hitch Martin’s hair for a while. She calculated how many hours she’d already spent on it and groaned. All that work for what? To break it up when she finished, put it back in the box, and give it away to someone else with time on their hands.

God, help me. I do not want to spend my life working puzzles and watching game shows. Time enough for that when I’m really old. At eighty-five or ninety.

The telephone rang.

Marta let the screen door slam behind her. She answered on the fourth ring.

“It’s Trip, Mama.”

She knew by his voice he hadn’t called with good news. “Hildemara’s sick again, isn’t she?” She eased herself onto a kitchen chair. Maybe there had been a reason she’d been thinking so much about her eldest daughter lately.

“She’s back in the hospital.”

“She should start getting better then.”

“She’s been there two months and no improvement.”

Two months! “And you’re just telling me about it now?”

“Hildie thought she’d be home in a few weeks. She didn’t want to worry you. We both hoped…” He fell silent again.

Lies, all of it, but Marta could imagine the worry on his face and calmed herself. “How are you managing alone with the children?”

“A neighbor lady takes care of them while I’m at work.”

A neighbor lady. Well, wasn’t that just grand. Hildemara and Trip would rather have a stranger taking care of their children than call her for help. How had this happened? Marta rested her elbows on the table. Holding the phone in one hand, she rubbed her forehead with the other. She could feel a headache coming on. She’d better speak before she couldn’t. “She needs time, I suppose.”

“Time.” His voice choked up. “All she does is worry about hospital bills and leaving me in debt.” He cleared his throat. “She says if she’s going to die, she wants to die at home.”

Marta felt the heat rise up inside her. So Hildemara had given up again. “You remind her she has a husband and two children to live for. She’s not done with this life yet.”

“It’s worse this time. Wanting to live isn’t always enough.”

It seemed Hildemara wasn’t the only one who had given up. Marta thought of her mother. Had she wanted to live? Or had she given up, too? Had she become so tired of the struggle to hold on to life, even for Elise, that she gave up?

“We could use your help, Mama.”

“If you’re asking me to come up and help bury her, the answer is no.”

He drew in a sharp breath and swore. His tone hardened. “Hildie said you wouldn’t help her.”

The words stabbed deep. Marta wanted to say she’d helped Hildemara more than the girl would ever understand, but that wouldn’t help Trip handle what was happening or make Hildemara get better.

Squaring her shoulders, Marta scraped her chair back and stood. “If my daughter can hold on so tight to old grievances, with God’s help, she can hold on to life, too, Trip Arundel.”

“I shouldn’t have called.” He sounded defeated.

“No. You should’ve called sooner! The trouble is I can’t do anything right this minute.” She had things to settle, and she’d have to work quickly. She and Hitch Martin had made a gentleman’s agreement. Maybe it was time to put things into writing. She’d need to talk to Hitch first and then a lawyer. She wanted to make certain things were spelled out good and properly so both she and the Martins benefited.

“I’m sorry,” Trip mumbled, voice tear-soaked.

Her son-in-law sounded so tired, so out of hope, Marta felt the sorrow rise up in her. Would she lose her daughter after all? Would she have to watch Hildemara suffer as Mama had, gasping for breath, coughing up blood into a handkerchief?

“We’re talking now. And we’re going to pray hard and get others praying with us. I’ve got a whole group of women with plenty of time for that kind of work. Come down to Murietta, Trip. I’ll have to get busy and sort out a few things here. But you come. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. We can sit under the bay tree and talk about what I can and can’t do.”

Trip said he’d drive down with the children on Saturday.


* * *

Marta sat down and wrote a list in her journal. First things first. Talk to Hitch and Donna about taking over the ranch. Hitch had said today he’d like to have a place of his own someday. Running this place in her absence would move him toward that goal. They’d need a legal contract to protect both of them. Charles Landau had a good reputation as a lawyer. She had accounts at the hardware store and feed and grain. She’d add Hitch to them so he could get what he needed without having to clear everything through her. She needed to copy the ranch maintenance schedule from her journal and give that to Hitch as well, though he seemed to know it already. Niclas had wanted to be sure she knew what needed to be done and when throughout the year.