What the Moon Said (13 page)

THE MONEY FROM SELLING THE RADIO
made things better for a while. It bought a big bag of flour, a bushel of potatoes, some oatmeal, cheese, and beans. It even bought a precious bit of beef Ma used to flavor countless pots of soup. But as February came to an end, their supplies were once again dwindling. Potatoes and carrots in weak broth were suppers most nights. Bread was cut back to a slice at lunchtime only. Thin oatmeal was breakfast. Walter's rosy cheeks had grown pale. Esther's face looked pinched in the mirror. Ma's dresses hung loosely on her.

Pa sold one of the cows. It was the only way he could buy feed for the other animals, but he hadn't smiled since.

Esther shivered and buttoned her Christmas sweater to her chin. Even at the kitchen table it was cold. Ma fed the stove and fireplace just enough wood to keep their fires going.

February 27, 1931

Dear Julia,

It gets very cold in Wisconsin in the winter. All our windows are so covered with frost, we cannot see out. Mickey sleeps in the barn now because it is too cold under the porch. He runs out as soon as Pa opens the barn door, though, so he is always waiting for me in the morning. It has not snowed much lately. I am glad. If it did, we might not be able to go to school. We would miss rehearsals for our spring play.

Esther stopped. Writing letters wasn't as much fun as it used to be. Her fingers were icy and stiff. And there were too many things Ma and Pa didn't want her to write about.

“Do not tell them I sold the radio,” Pa told her.

“Do not complain that you are hungry or cold,” Ma told her.

It seemed to Esther that hungry and cold were all there was—at home, anyway. That meant school was all she could write about. She nibbled on the end of her pencil for a moment and then wrote:

Bethany says I am a born actress. She says everyone else looks like wooden puppets next to me. I always thought I would be a teacher when I grow up. Now I think maybe I will be an actress.

Esther closed her eyes and imagined herself on a stage with hundreds of people applauding and cheering. She bowed low. And when she straightened, she saw Ma and Pa sitting in the front row. They were clapping, too. Ma's eyes were shining and she was clapping hardest of all . . .

Esther heard the whisper of Ma's iron sliding across fabric. She looked up and watched Ma iron the back of Pa's shirt with long, smooth motions. Abruptly Ma turned and set the iron on the stove top. It had cooled. She unfastened the handle and snapped it onto one of the other irons that were heating on the stove. Then the iron whispered again.

Esther put down her pencil and rubbed her hands together. Enough. It was too cold to write today. She took her letter upstairs and brought Margaret down instead. They would have a tea party on the floor in front of the fireplace.

In a few minutes Esther was warmer. She held her pretend teacup and smiled at Margaret. “I hope you're feeling well.” Margaret smiled back. She was very well indeed.

Ma interrupted the tea party to tell Esther, “Watch supper. Walter and I are going to bring in more wood. If Violet wants tea, there's hot water in the kettle.”

Esther nodded. Violet had a terrible cold. She'd been coughing and sniffling for days. She was resting in Ma and Pa's bed because it was warmer than upstairs. “Yes, Ma.”

Ma and Walter wrapped themselves in coats and scarves and went out. Esther's tea party continued. “More lemon?” she asked Margaret.

She and Margaret were in the middle of a conversation about their favorite books when the door slammed. “
Nu!
Esther!”

Esther nearly choked on her pretend tea. She scrambled to her feet. Instantly she smelled something burning. Supper! Horror stricken, she ran into the kitchen just in time to see Ma yank open the oven door. A cloud of smoke billowed out. The pan of beans she pulled out was charred black.

Ma hurled the pan into the sink. It landed with a crash. Then she turned on Esther. “I told you to vatch supper,” she said. “Instead you let it burn to cinders.”

“I'm s-sorry, Ma,” Esther said. “I forgot. I was playing and—”

“Playing, yes!” Ma nodded. “Vith your doll. You, a big girl of almost eleven!” Ma's eyes blazed. “
Nu!
Bring me the doll.”

Esther went on trembling legs and gathered Margaret in her arms. She had never seen Ma so angry—not even the day she'd found out that Esther was still friends with Bethany. Then her anger had been mixed with sadness. This time it was anger through and through. What was she going to do with Margaret? Full of dread, Esther carried her doll back into the kitchen. “Please,” she begged. “I'm sorry. Don't—”

But Ma had already torn Margaret from Esther's grasp. She turned and flung the doll into the garbage pail. “There!” she said. “Next time you vill do as you are told.”

“No!” Esther wailed. But a fierce look silenced her.

“Go get three potatoes from the cellar,” Ma ordered.

Blinded by tears, Esther stumbled down the ladder to obey.

Later, when Ma was checking on Violet, Esther dared to take one last look at Margaret. She dug frantically through charred beans and beets Ma had thrown away because the jar had gone bad. Finally her fingers touched a rounded arm. She grasped it, pulled, and immediately wished she had not.

There was Margaret, but not the beautiful Margaret Esther had known. This was an ugly, ruined Margaret. Her golden hair was dripping with beet juice. Her once cream-white face was streaked and spotted with horrible brown and red stains. Clumps of burned beans clung to her smudged and spattered dress. And she smelled, sickeningly, of spoiled beets.

“Oh, Margaret!” Esther sobbed. Gently she returned the doll to the garbage. Her heart ached. Her eyes burned with hot tears. What would she do without Margaret? Who would she tell her secrets to? Who would she share her dreams with and confide her fears to?

That night, Esther soaked her pillow with wave after wave of tears.

“I'm sorry, Es.” Violet sniffled beside her. “I know you miss her.”

Esther was grateful for Violet's sympathy, but she longed for Julia. Without Margaret, she missed Julia more than ever. She could have told Julia that she was crying for even more than the loss of Margaret. Julia would have understood. But practical, down-to-earth Violet never would. And Julia was far, far away.

So Esther had to hug the terrible truth to herself. She had to face it and accept it once and for all—a truth that no amount of wishing or words or hard work would ever change. It wasn't just that Ma didn't love Esther as much as she loved her other children. Ma did not love Esther at
all.
If she did, she could never have done what she'd done to Margaret.

• • •

The next day was Saturday, which meant no escaping to school. Esther did her chores silently, ate her oatmeal silently. Then she slipped away to her room and shivered. She would not stay downstairs near Ma. Whenever Esther looked at her, she remembered the fury on Ma's face when she'd hurled Margaret into the garbage. It made the cold lump of hurt and anger in Esther's chest grow bigger. Mrs. Rubinstein would never have looked at Shirley that way! No mother who loved her daughter would.

The cold lump in her chest swelled until Esther could barely breathe in Ma's presence. It only eased—and then just a little—when she was alone in her room.

When the pain in her stomach began, Esther was sure it would go away in a while. She blamed it on the oatmeal, which had been even thinner than usual. She wrapped herself in a blanket and opened
The Secret of the Old Clock.
But she'd only read a few pages when the pain got worse. The book slipped from her fingers. She rolled onto her side and hugged her stomach.

When Walter came to tell her it was lunchtime, she told him, “I'm not hungry.” She half expected Ma to come up and insist that she eat something. And, truth to tell, she was almost disappointed when Ma did not. The pain had gotten worse. It was sharper and stronger. It was so bad, she felt like she was going to—

Esther rolled from the bed and got to the chamber pot just in time. Up came her breakfast. That should have made her feel better. But her stomach hurt worse than ever. Hunched over and fighting back tears, Esther made her way down the stairs. She shuffled into the kitchen, where Ma was just finishing the dishes.

“Ma,” Esther said weakly. “I don't feel good.”

Ma took one look at Esther and hurried across the room. “Come,” she said, guiding Esther to the parlor. “Lie down on the couch. What is wrong? Tell me.”

“My stomach, Ma. It hurts. It hurts real bad—here.” Esther pointed to her right side. “I threw up.”

Ma nodded, her hand on Esther's forehead. Her eyes widened. “You are hot,” she said. “Vait here.” She scurried into the kitchen and came back with a cold wet cloth for Esther's forehead. “Walter! Go to the barn. Get Pa. Hurry!”

The urgency in her voice alarmed Esther. “What's wrong, Ma?”

“Sssshhh,” Ma said. “Do not vorry.”

Suddenly Esther tugged at Ma's sleeve. “I'm going to be sick—”

Ma held Esther while she threw up on the parlor floor.

“I'm sorry, Ma,” Esther said afterward, ashamed of the mess she'd made. “I didn't know it was coming.”

But Ma was not angry. “It does not matter. It is all right,” she said, wiping Esther's face gently with the wet cloth. Then Ma settled Esther back on the couch and cleaned up the floor.

She was just finishing when Pa burst into the kitchen. Ma jumped up. “Go get Brummel,” she told Pa. “He must drive us to a hospital.”

Hospital! Esther tried to sit up, but the pain was too sharp.

“Hospital?” said Pa. He frowned. “What is it? What is wrong with her?”

“I think it is her appendix,” Ma said. “Lucy Gould's daughter had the same fever and pain and sickness. They had to take her appendix out. Go, quickly!”

Pa didn't say another word. He ran out the door. A minute later Esther heard one of the horses gallop past. Ma brought a bucket and a fresh cold cloth. She sat on the sofa next to Esther and pressed the cloth to her hot face.

“I'm scared, Ma,” Esther whimpered. “I don't want to go to the hospital.”

“Do not be afraid,” Ma said softly. “They vill make you better. You vill see.”

Esther was sick in the bucket two more times before Pa returned. Each time Ma held her head and soothed her with gentle murmurs. Many times she spoke in Russian. Esther couldn't understand the words, but she knew they were words meant to comfort her. She could tell by the way Ma said them. She could tell by the soft look on Ma's face.

All the while the pain kept getting worse. Until Esther was glad to be going to the hospital. She was frightened by the horrible pain. She was worn out by it. She just wanted it to stop.

“Brummel's outside,” Pa said, charging through the kitchen door. “I'll get her coat.”

“Never mind a coat,” Ma said. “Wrap her in this.” She had the quilt from her and Pa's bed. Together she and Pa bundled and tucked it around Esther.

From her patchwork cocoon, Esther caught a glimpse of Violet holding Walter's hand. Their faces were white. Their eyes were big and frightened. Then Pa gathered her in his arms. He pulled a corner of the quilt down to cover her face and he carried her outside. When Ma pulled the quilt back from Esther's face a minute later, they were in the back of Mr. Brummel's car. Esther was lying across the seat. Her head was resting in Ma's lap.

“Don't you worry none, little girl,” Mr. Brummel said over his shoulder to Esther. “I'll get you to Madison in no time.”

The car went fast, but the pain grew stronger fast, too. Esther couldn't hold back a moan. She saw Ma wince and felt her cool hand on her forehead. “I know it hurts,” Ma said. “Be brave just a little longer. Soon ve vill be there.”

Esther tried to be brave, like Ma when she sprained her ankle, but the pain bored into her. No matter how she tried to wrap herself around it, or how she tried to pull away from it, it would not let her go. A tear trickled down her cheek. She hoped Ma would not see it. Tears always made her angry. But not this time.

“Ahh,” Ma moaned when she saw the tear. Then she gently wiped it away with her thumb. In spite of her pain, Esther felt a flash of comfort. Could she have been wrong about Ma? Did she perhaps love Esther a little after all?

But the pain bored deeper still. Esther could not think anymore. She could only feel. Pain. She thrashed out at it. She squirmed and cried out and tried to run away from it. Each time Ma's hands stilled her. Ma's voice soothed her. Until the pain carried Esther away again.

Esther felt the car lurch to a stop. Cold air swam past her cheeks. She blinked in confusion. The car doors were flung open. Pa scooped her up and ran through a doorway. People in white came running. They were at the hospital.