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1947

Hildie gave birth to their daughter, Carolyn, in the spring. Carolyn wasn’t as easy a baby as Charlie. She had colic and cried almost constantly. Hildemara almost felt relieved when she was able to go back to work after two months off.

At first, Trip protested. “Quit, Hildie.” He ran his hand over Carolyn’s downy head. “Think of the baby.”

“I’ll sleep late on weekends. We still need to save a lot more before we can buy land.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“LaVonne said she’d babysit Charlie and Carolyn a couple of days a week. I can change to day shifts. That will make it easier.”

“And when will we be together? Dinnertime?”

“I’m only working part-time, Trip.”

“And what about your health?”

“I’m fine, Trip. Really. I couldn’t be better.”

And it was true.

When she said it.

1948

Charlie, four years older, doted on his baby sister and liked to play with her. As Carolyn grew, she started climbing out of her crib at night and crawling into bed with Hildie and Trip. Hildie would have to get up and carry her back to her crib. “When is that child going to sleep through the night?”

Trip chuckled. “Maybe we should tie her in.”

They locked their bedroom door instead. Sometimes Hildie got up in the morning and found Carolyn curled up with her blanket outside the door.

1950

“You look pale, Hildie. You’ve got to get more rest.”

“I’m trying.” Still she couldn’t seem to catch up on sleep, even staying in bed on weekends.

Trip got a promotion. Now a lieutenant, he drew a higher salary. “Quit work. Stay home. We don’t need you getting sick again.”

She knew that better than he did. She might not make it out of the hospital this time. Heeding Trip’s appeal, Hildie resigned. She tried to get more sleep, but it seemed elusive in the face of rising fears.

As a nurse, she knew the signs, even if she’d tried to ignore them over the past months. She started losing weight again. It took a force of will to do even the easier household chores. She awakened with night sweats and fever. When the cough started, she gave up and told Trip she had to go back to Arroyo.

1951

Hildie had been at Arroyo two months and knew she wasn’t getting any better. Lying in bed at the sanatorium, she saw all of Trip’s dreams going down as her bills mounted. He had to hire a babysitter to watch Charlie and Carolyn until he got home from work each afternoon. He had to get Charlie off to school each day, cook and do the laundry, keep up the house, keep up the yard. Any time left over, he spent with her, leaving the children behind with LaVonne Haversal.

“If I’m going to die, Trip, I want to die at home.”

His face twisted in agony. “Don’t talk like that.”

The doctor had warned them both that depression would be her greatest enemy.

“I pray, Trip. I do. I keep crying out to God to give me answers.” And only one answer came again and again. It seemed a cruel joke.

Trip prayed and came up with the same solution Hildemara dreaded speaking aloud.

“She won’t come.”

“She’s your mother. Do you think she’d do nothing to help you?”

“I told her I’d never ask for her help.”

“It’s the only way to bring you home, Hildie. Or are you going to let your pride stand in the way?”

“She’s never helped me before. Why would she do it now, and under these circumstances?”

“We won’t know unless we ask.” He took her hands. “I think she’ll surprise you.”

Trip called Mama while Hildemara choked on her pride and wondered why God had brought her down so low. Trip thought she feared Mama might say no. Hildie feared Mama would say yes.

The moment Trip told Mama she was sick and asked for help, Hildemara knew whatever respect she had earned from her mother would be gone. Mama would think her a coward again, too weak to stand on her own feet, incapable of being a good wife and mother.

If Mama came, Hildemara would have to lie in bed and watch her mother take over her responsibilities. And Mama would do it all better than Hildemara ever had because Mama always managed everything perfectly. Even without Papa, the ranch ran like a well-oiled machine. Mama would be the one to give Charlie wings. She’d probably teach Carolyn to read before she turned four.

Sick and helpless, Hildemara would have to watch the life she loved be taken over by her mother. Even the one thing at which she excelled, the one area of her life where she had proven her worth, would be stripped away from her.

Mama would become the nurse.