Marta's Legacy Collection Read Free Page B

clean.”
    Herr Becker laughed. “Ah, see how the girl can smile, Fanny.” He punched dough down. “You learn quickly, Marta.” He winked at his wife. “We’ll have to teach her how to make Epiphany cakes this coming Christmas. Ja ? ”
    “And Lebkuchen .” Frau Becker winked at Marta. Mama loved the spicy gingerbread. “And Marzipan .” Frau Becker took the spoon and tossed it into the sink. “I’ll teach you how to make Butterplätzchen .” She set butter, flour, and sugar on the worktable. “And tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to make anise cookies.”
    When the bakery opened for business, Frau Becker gave Marta two breakfast loaves as payment. “You’re a good worker.”
    Marta took the bread to Mama and had a bowl of Müsli . After doing her chores and eating an early lunch, she headed down the road past the schoolhouses to the doctor’s house.
    Frau Zimmer looked distressed when she opened the door. “Here! Take him!” She thrust her screaming baby into Marta’s arms and grabbed her shawl. “I’m going to visit a friend.” She slipped around Marta and headed off without a backward glance.
    Marta went inside and closed the door so people wouldn’t hear the baby wailing. She paced, singing hymns. When that didn’t calm little Evrard, she tried rocking him. She checked his diaper. Finally, exasperated, she put him down on the rug. “Go ahead and scream your head off.”
    The baby stopped crying and rolled onto his stomach. Arching his back, he reached his arms out and kicked his feet. Marta laughed. “You just wanted a little freedom, didn’t you?” She collected scattered toys and dropped them in front of him. He kicked his legs harder, gurgling in delight. He squealed, his hands opening and closing. “Reach for it! I’m not giving it to you.” He managed to scoot a few inches and grasp a rattle. Marta clapped. “Good for you, Evrard!” He rolled onto his back.
    When little Evrard wore himself out, Marta picked him up and rocked him to sleep. Frau Zimmer came in an hour later, looking refreshed. She stopped and listened, looking somewhat alarmed. “Is he all right?” She hurried over to the crib and peered in. “He’s sleeping! He never sleeps in the afternoon. What did you do?”
    “I let him play on the rug. He tried to crawl.”
    The following afternoon, Marta went up the hill to Hotel Edelweiss , where Frau Gilgan put her to work stripping beds and remaking them with fresh mattress sheets and duvets for the feather beds. Fluffing them full of air, she rolled them on the end of the bed, then took the laundry downstairs to the wash room. Frau Gilgan worked with her, sharing amusing stories of past guests. “Of course, you have some who are not pleased with anything you do and others who break their legs skiing.”
    Two of Rosie’s older sisters manned the washtubs and kept great pots of water boiling on the woodstove. Marta’s arms ached from stirring linen; pushing sheets and duvets down, around, and over; spreading folds; and stirring again. Kristen, the older girl, hooked a sheet and dragged it up, folding and wringing it into tight ropes, letting the water cascade back into the washtub. Then she shook the sheet out into a tub of steaming rinse water.
    Snowflakes caught on the window frames, but perspiration dripped from Marta’s face. She blotted it away with her sleeve.
    “Oh!” Frau Gilgan came over and held out her hands, strong and square, reddened and callused from years of washing. “Let me see your hands, Marta.” Frau Gilgan turned Marta’s hands palms up and clucked her tongue. “Blisters. I should not have worked you so hard on your first day, but you didn’t complain. Your hands will be so sore you won’t be able to make a stitch.”
    “But there’s a whole pile of sheets yet to do.”
    Frau Gilgan put her fists on her ample hips and laughed. “ Ja , and that’s why I have daughters.” She put her arm around Marta. “Go on upstairs. Rosie will be back