Indigo Christmas (7 page)

Hilda felt herself blush. She wasn't yet used to frank talk about the marriage bed. “May I go in and see her?”

“Of course, my dear. It'll do her good. Take her mind off the pain and all her other worries, poor child.”

Norah was lying in bed, flushed, her hair disordered, but reasonably comfortable for the moment. Mrs. O'Rourke rather grudgingly gave up the chair next to the bed. Hilda sat down and asked, “It is not too bad,
ja
? Aunt Molly says it may be a long time yet.”

“That's what they say,” Norah said with a grimace. “Some of the pains are bad, but not comin' real often yet. Hilda, is Sean all right? He was in an awful state earlier.”

“I have sent him on an errand to give him something to do. He is worried about you, but Aunt Molly says there is no need. She says you are doing well.”

“It's not her that's hurtin', is it?” Norah's face changed. She grabbed Hilda's hand and squeezed hard, her lips compressed and eyes tight shut. “That one wasn't so awful,” she said, panting, when it was over.

Mrs. O'Rourke bustled over and wiped Norah's forehead. “Now, dearie, I've said over and over, you're not to hold your breath when the pains come. Breathe hard, scream if you want to, but holdin' your breath don't do no good.”

“I'll try to remember. Hilda, what are you doing to get Sean out of trouble?” “You should not think about that now.”

“Hilda!” Norah's voice made it clear she would not put up with being soothed.

“Oh, very well. I talked to one of the boys. He has heard nothing useful about the fire, but he will ask the other boys, and they will all listen and report back.”

“Boys! What good will they do?”

“Norah, you know they are good for hearing things. They are like servants. no one heeds them. People talk in front of them and forget they are there. They will hear useful things and report back to me.”

“And how do they know what's useful and what isn't?” Norah tossed restlessly on the bed.

“Maybe they will not, but I will. I will take what they tell me and put it together and make a picture. I can do that, Norah. You know I can. I have done it before.”

“Things were different before.”

“Yes. It is maybe harder now. But easier, too, because I have more time, and no butler telling me what to do.”

Norah pursed her lips. “Regular queen bee you are, now.” She might have pursued that theme had she not been seized with another contraction, a bad one this time.

When it was over, Hilda stood up, flexing her hand behind her back to make sure Norah hadn't broken a bone with her grip. “I will go now, Norah, to talk to other people. Do not worry. It is not good for the baby. Sean will be all right.”

That was, she thought as she left the room, the second rash promise she had made in one morning.

She found Molly in the kitchen preparing a meal, assisted by Eileen. “Yer aunt's teachin' me to cook, ma'am,” said the maid with a shy smile. “She says a good cook's worth her weight in gold, an' I could get a job anywhere.”

“What? You want to leave me so soon?” said Hilda mildly, and then, as Eileen looked distressed, “I was making a joke. I am perhaps not very good at jokes in English. I want you to do whatever will be best for you, Eileen. I hope you will learn as much as you can, but of books also.” For in the evenings Hilda usually sat down with Eileen and helped her improve her reading and writing. “I hope maybe you will not have to be a servant all your life.”

“It's not so bad, miss, not workin' for you it isn't. And Mrs. Malloy's that nice a lady, she might be me own mother.”

“She is a wonderful woman,” said Hilda warmly. “And she must be a good cook, for something smells delicious.”

“It's only potato soup,” said Molly. “Quick to make, and simple, but warming on a winter day. And there's ham, and cabbage, and some beans Mrs. O'Rourke put up. I haven't time to make a cake, but there's preserved peaches and cream, and I found some ginger cookies in the jar. It'll all be ready when Patrick comes home for his lunch.”

“And I'm to cook the cabbage,” said Eileen. “Mrs. Malloy told me just how to cut it up and cook it, and all. And I helped with the soup.”

“Oh, Aunt Molly, I am so glad you are here! This I could never, never do!”

“Then it's time you learned,” said Molly firmly. “Every woman should know how to put together a simple meal, no matter how many servants she has. When this crisis is over, dear, I shall teach you to cook, along with Eileen.”

Hilda laughed for the first time that day. “Mistress and maid learning together! America is a peculiar country, but very interesting. Aunt Molly, I came to find you because I wonder, do you know if Mrs. Elbel is on the telephone? Because I need to talk to her. I have decided to do as she has asked and help with the Boys' Club.”

Molly looked slightly startled. “I'm very glad, dear, but surely it will wait for a little until things are more settled?”

“No, it cannot wait because I—I have done something foolish. I have promised the boys a Christmas party. And there will be many of them, maybe, and I will need much help—and so you see—”

Molly saw. “Child, you do have a talent for getting yourself in a pickle.” She glanced at the kitchen clock. “This isn't a usual time for making telephone calls.”

“I know, but I will be busy the rest of the day. I must go and see Erik when he is at lunch, and talk to him, and then this afternoon there are other people to see. Oh, and I may be late for dinner—lunch, I mean.”

“Don't worry about that, but with everything else on your list for today, would you like me to call Mrs. Elbel for you?”

“No.” Hilda set her chin. “I must learn to do these things myself.”

“You're right about that, child. very well. The number at the Elbels' is six-three-four. They're on the Bell system. Mind you don't let that butler of theirs intimidate you.”

Hilda quailed inwardly at the word
butler
, but her Swedish stubbornness prevailed. “I will not. I do not have to obey butlers ever again!”

She went to the front hall, lifted the earpiece of the instrument on the wall, and firmly turned the crank. “Bell six-three-four, please,” she told the operator, and waited while crackles and pops sounded in her ear. Finally a male voice with an English accent said, “Bell six-three-four, the Elbel residence.”

“This is Mrs. Cavanaugh calling. I wish to speak to Mrs. Elbel.”

There was a moment of silence, or rather telephone noise. Then the butler, having registered his disapproval of a call at that hour, spoke the usual formula in somewhat acid tones: “I shall ascertain whether she is at home, madam.”

Madam
. A butler, however reluctantly, had called her madam. And he undoubtedly knew who Mrs. Cavanaugh used to be. Hilda was conscious of a little thrill of pleasure.

There was a long wait, during which the operator inquired whether the call was completed. Hilda had time to get nervous again before Mrs. Elbel came on the line. “Mrs. Cavanaugh!” She, too, registered surprise. “I hope nothing is wrong.”

Hilda took a deep breath. “No, Mrs. Elbel. I am sorry to telephone so early, but I will be out the rest of the day, and I did not want to wait to tell you that I think your idea for the Boys' Club is a very good one, and I would like to help you form it.”

“Oh! Oh, good. I don't know that there's all that much of a hurry about it, but I'm delighted that you—”

“And I wondered,” Hilda interrupted, “if you had thought of anything we might do for the boys for Christmas. It will be here so soon, and so many of these boys are from very poor families. Do you think it would be possible to do something to make the season happier for them?”

“I do hope you're not thinking of giving them money! They would have no idea of how to spend it.”

Hilda gritted her teeth, thinking of Andy's wish to buy presents for his family. Not know how to spend it, indeed! Did she think they were all selfish louts? “No, that was not my idea. I do not really know—you have more experience in arranging these things—yoost something festive we might do…” The Swedish accent this time was not an accident. She wanted to make Mrs. Elbel feel superior. She emphasized her almost-lost sing-song cadences as she said, “In our village in Sweden there used to be a gathering, at the church, for all the children. But I do not know what would be the custom here.” Had the hint been broad enough? Too broad?

“Hmm. Let me see. Perhaps—yes, a party would be just the thing! nothing elaborate, of course, we don't have time to organize such a thing, but a simple gathering, with some small gifts and a bit of food—it will take a great deal of work, of course…”

“Oh, Mrs. Elbel, that would be yoost the t'ing. What a beautiful idea! I will be pleased to do much of the work. But we will need money. How will we buy presents and food?”

“That's no problem. I know many women who will be happy to contribute. But this is a busy time of year. I'm very glad you agreed to do some of the work. Now, Mrs. Cavanaugh, I can send word to several women to have a planning meeting. It had better be early next week; we haven't any too much time. Can you meet with us on Monday at three o'clock?”

“I will be happy to do that. At your house?” Hilda knew she should, at this point, offer her own house, but with a mother and probably, by that time, a baby upstairs and an accused man downstairs—no, not a good idea.

“Yes—no, that won't do. I'm having a dinner party that night and the florists will be here. I'm sure Mrs. Studebaker won't mind having us, for I know she wants to be a part of this. We'll meet at Tippecanoe Place, unless I let you know otherwise.”

It was the last thing Hilda wanted. Going back to the house where she had been a servant and where her sister Elsa worked even now, back to the butler who had tyrannized her, the family she had served in cap and apron. She was very fond of the widowed Mrs. Clement Studebaker, now usually called Mrs. Clem, but her daughter-in-law, Mrs. George Studebaker, was another story. Hilda swallowed and said the only possible thing. “That will be very nice. Thank you, Mrs. Elbel. Your Christmas party is a very good idea.”

“Our Christmas party, my dear,” said Mrs. Elbel graciously. “We will all work together, I'm sure. I will see you on Monday. Good-bye.”

Hilda's knees were shaking as she hung the receiver back on the hook. But she had done it—and Mrs. Elbel was convinced it was her own idea.

We frisk away like school-boys…
to joy an' play.

—Robert Burns
    Epistle to James Smith,
1786

 

 

8

H
ILDA HAD TO HURRY to Erik's school if she was to see him before he went off who-knew-where with his friends. They sometimes went downtown to buy candy, if one of them was in funds, and were late getting back in the afternoon. Erik liked school, but he also liked playing with his friends, and was sadly apt to lose track of time.

Hilda wanted, if possible, to talk to his friends, too. Many of them were children of comfortable homes, since most of the boys Erik's age who came from poor families had already left school, or had never started. Had everyone else in Mama's household not been working, and had Mama not set such great store by education, Erik would not be in school still, either. At any rate, Hilda decided it was safe to use the carriage. Erik wouldn't mind either way, and very few of his friends would be intimidated. And Colfax School was far to walk, especially in slush.

In cold weather the children ate their lunches inside the schoolrooms, if they wished, before going outside to work off a little steam before afternoon classes. Hilda was relieved, when Mr. O'Rourke drew the carriage to a stop, to find no one yet in the schoolyard. She jumped down and strode through the impressive stone archway into the school.

Though she would never have admitted it to Erik, Hilda was a little in awe of his school. It was so big, rising three stories above the spacious basement, which was also used for various activities. The twelve classrooms were large and well lit with tall windows, and the entire third floor was a beautiful auditorium used for concerts and pageants. Erik was excited about the Christmas pageant that was to be presented in three weeks, in which he and two other Swedish boys were to sing a special Swedish
jul
song.

Hilda thought about her schooling in Sweden. There was a small school in the village, but it was too far away for farm children, and too expensive, so Hilda had learned at home with Mama and the other children. They were taught to read out of the family Bible, to do simple arithmetic, painstakingly to write Swedish in a clear, legible hand. everything else she had taught herself, from the very few books the family owned—a history of Sweden, a book of sermons, an atlas—and in America from newspapers and the vast resources of the Public Library, once she had learned English. How differently Erik was being educated, and Birgit, the youngest girl, now in the High School. This magnificent building, built just for the purpose of helping children learn, was to Hilda one of the miracles of America.

The classrooms were noisy with talk and the pent-up energy of a morning of enforced quiet. Hilda stood for a moment in the square central hall, listening to the shrill voices of the youngest children. The kindergartners and the lower two grades were housed on the first floor, since short legs found the long flight of stairs wearisome. Older children were upstairs, and the oldest of all, the seventh graders, were privileged to use the finest classroom, the one at the front of the school with the fine oriel window. Erik had been quite boringly proud of that window when he first entered seventh grade in September. Hilda smiled, remembering, and climbed the stairs.

Just as she reached the second floor, the big bell in the schoolyard started ringing loudly, and pandemonium erupted as classroom doors opened and children flooded out. Catching up jackets and hats from the hooks arrayed around the hall, the stream of young humanity poured toward the stairs on either side of the hall, paying scant attention to the stranger as they flowed around her.