The Orphan Collector. Ellen Marie Wiseman

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СКАЧАТЬ under the blanket. “The soup is almost finished,” she said. “Be careful not to let it burn.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled with a shuddering sigh.

      Pia dug her nails into her palms. Mutti never lay down in the afternoon. She went over to the bed and knelt beside her. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Maybe I should get Mrs. Schmidt.”

      Mutti gave her a weak smile. “Do not worry, liebchen, I’m fine,” she said. “Remember I said the twins were fussing today. They were awake all night too. I’m only tired from that.” She closed her eyes. “And Mrs. Schmidt is not here.”

      “What do you mean? Where is she?”

      “On the train to her mother’s house. In Pittsburgh.”

      “Maybe I should go look for a doctor, then,” Pia said. The thought of leaving and going into the city again terrified her, but she’d do it for Mutti. Then she remembered what her teachers said about the shortage of doctors and nurses because of the war—that those left behind were overwhelmed and the hospitals were full—and a cold block of fear settled in her chest.

      Mutti opened her eyes and looked at her, her face serious. “I am not sick, Pia. I only need to rest, just for a few minutes. Then I will feel better.”

      Pia sighed. She prayed Mutti was right, but she hated feeling so helpless. “Then let me close the window so you don’t get chilled.”

      Mutti turned on her side and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Nein, fresh air is good to keep away the flu.”

      Pia lifted her hand to check her mother’s forehead for fever, then froze. What if she felt pain in her chest or became short of breath when she touched her? What would she do then? Mrs. Schmidt was gone and the hospitals were full. Chewing her lip, she went over to the table, picked up the darning egg with trembling fingers, and dropped it into a sock. Maybe she should feel her mother’s forehead. The sooner she knew if she was getting sick, the sooner she could try to find some kind of help. Maybe someone else in the building would know what to do. Maybe they’d have whiskey or some other kind of medicine. If only Mrs. Schmidt were still there.

      After a little while, she put down the mending, went over to the foot of the bed, and gazed down at Mutti. She was sound asleep, her mouth hanging open, thin strands of hair stuck to her cheeks and lips. Exhaustion clung to her features, aging her beyond her years. Pia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What should she do? She looked out the window toward Finn’s apartment. If only she could send him a note to ask for help. But undershirts and baby-wear filled the clothesline. She couldn’t take them off without waking Mutti. Who knew if he’d answer in time, anyway? She thought about hurrying across the alley and knocking on his door, but what if the twins woke up and Mutti didn’t hear them? Not to mention she didn’t want to go out in the hall, let alone outside.

      As if roused by her thoughts, the twins started crying. Mutti opened her eyes and started to sit up.

      “Stay there,” Pia said. “I’ll get them.”

      “Nein,” Mutti said. “They are hungry and I have too much to do.” She moved to the edge of the bed and stood, her hands on the small of her back as she straightened, and started toward the bedroom. “Please take some soft potatoes from the soup for their supper.”

      “Yes, Mutti,” Pia said.

      “And close the window. It may be too cold for them.”

      Pia pulled the window sash all the way down, then went over to the stove. She took a slotted spoon from the kitchen shelf, fished several floury potatoes out of the soup, and put them in a bowl. Mutti came out of the bedroom with Ollie and Max, laid them on the bed, unpinned two clean diapers from the ceiling clothesline, and started to change them. She smiled and kissed the boys’ faces, laughing when they babbled and cooed.

      “You are the best little boys in the world,” she said, cooing back at them. “And the most handsome too. Are you hungry? Ja? Your sister is getting your dinner ready for you.”

      Pia mashed the potatoes in the bowl and softened them with a little broth, one eye on her mother. Maybe she’d been wrong to worry. Maybe Mutti really was just tired and the short nap had helped. In any case, she was acting normal now. Fear seeped out of Pia’s chest and relief loosened her shoulders.

      Mutti picked Ollie up and kissed him on the cheek, then put him back down on the mattress. She made a move to pick Max up, then hesitated, put a hand to her head, and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Red blotches bloomed on her pale face.

      Pia put down the soup bowl and rushed to her side. “What is it, Mutti?” she said.

      Mutti closed her eyes and moaned. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I... I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

      Panic flared in Pia’s chest again, beating against her rib cage like stone wings. “I’ll go try to find a doctor.”

      “Nein,” Mutti said. “You are not leaving. It’s not safe.”

      “But what if...” Pia hesitated, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “What if you’re getting sick?”

      “I’m all right. I am not coughing or too hot, only tired. Besides, there is no money for a doctor. And they don’t want to help a German, anyway.”

      “Is there anyone else in the building like Mrs. Schmidt? Someone who might know what to do?”

      Mutti shook her head. “Our neighbors have their own troubles right now. I only need to sleep. It is the best medicine.” She pushed herself off the bed and stood. “Will you take care of the boys for a few hours while I lie down in the bedroom?”

      “Yes, of course. And I’ll bring you some soup.”

      Mutti nodded and started toward the bedroom, walking slowly. Pia followed, struggling to stay calm. For as long as she could remember, her mother had never complained about not feeling well, not even after having the twins, when Mrs. Schmidt instructed her to spend two weeks in bed. Not even when she had a horrible headache that seemed to last for weeks, or when she broke her big toe. Mutti always kept quiet and kept going as best she could. She never gave up or gave in. To hear her say she didn’t feel well sent a flood of terror through Pia’s bones. Mutti sat on the edge of the bed and Pia knelt down, unbuttoned her boots, and pulled them off.

      “Danke,” Mutti said, lying back on the pillow. Pia covered her with a blanket, wondering what else she should do.

      Out in the other room, Ollie and Max started crying.

      “Bitte, feed the boys and let me rest,” Mutti said, shooing her away with one hand. “I will be much better when I wake up.”

      “Will you promise to call me if you need anything?”

      “Ja, now go.”

      Pia started out of the room, then stopped at the door and turned. “And tell me if you start feeling worse?”

      “Ja, ja,” Mutti said. She laid her forearm across her forehead, her pale wrist turned up, and closed her eyes.

      “Promise?” Pia said.

      “Ja, Pia.”

      With growing dread, СКАЧАТЬ