Hunger Journeys by Maggie De Vries

days old, tucked up beside her in the big bed. That tiny, hungry baby. It had consumed Mother from the inside for almost nine months, and now it was trying to consume her from the outside. But Mother had little to give. Lena didn’t know which one of them to worry about most.
    She reached down and lifted the baby bundle away from her mother’s side. Mother shifted, but she did not open her eyes. Lena tiptoed out of the room and into the slightly warmer kitchen. She sat down on the chair between the stove and the window, where the weak January light could reveal her new sister’s face.
    She pulled the ancient baby blanket back, just a bit. And she gazed.
    Nynke’s eyes were tightly shut, kind of crinkly. Her nose was the tiniest nub, like a new growth, and her mouth was … her mouth was perfect. Lena didn’t know if Nynke looked like her or anyone else in the family, but she certainly looked like her very own small self.
    A quiet voice, a wondering voice, spoke next to her ear. Lena almost started, but she managed to hold still. It was Bep. Only Bep.
    “You’ve got her,” Bep breathed, and the words floated into the room, dusted with wonder.
    Lena turned her head slightly and smiled, almost overwhelmed with love.
    Margriet had returned from her journey the day before, and there was food in all their bellies and milk in Mother’s breasts, at least for the moment. But the warm feeling inside Lena was caused not by food, though food made it much easier to feel it, but by a person, a brand-new special person.
    Best remember this, she thought, as Bep tilted her head to the side so it rested on Lena’s shoulder. Together, they looked at their new sister.
    Then the front door slammed, and Lena did start; in fact, she jumped enough to wake the baby. And Bep sprang away from her as if they were doing something wrong.
    Angry wails filled Lena’s lap and spread to greet Father as he practically stormed into the kitchen. “What’s going on in here?” he demanded. “What’s that baby doing away from her mother?”
    “I was just—” Lena started, but the creak of a door interrupted her. She was on her feet by then, and she stepped into the hall just in time to see Mother in her thin nightgown, leaning against the wall for support.
    The baby’s cries grew louder, if that was possible, and Father bore down on Mother and swept her into his arms. She sank against him.
    “You’re supposed to stay in bed,” Father said, speaking into Mother’s hair as he steered her back into their room. Lena followed, cooing in Nynke’s ear in a desperate attempt to quiet her,while wondering at the tenderness she was witnessing between her parents.
    Moments later, Mother was settled in bed, Bep was taking Nynke from Lena’s arms and placing her beside her mother, and Father was striding from the room.
    “Time to start on dinner, Lena,” he said in passing. He paused. “And no more sneaking around with the baby. Your mother could have been hurt, coming out of bed like that.”
    Tears of frustration shot into the back of Lena’s throat.
    “Well,” Father said, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
    Lena had followed him into the hall. It took her two tries to get the words out. “Yes, Father,” she said at last. “I’m sorry, Father.”
    He gave a single nod and went on into his study.
    Lena walked into the kitchen and stopped, her hands in tight fists at her sides. A gasping sob escaped her. Just one. She cast around the room, saw the paperback she had been reading earlier, grasped it and sent it flying. It settled in a corner, its weak spine snapped at last. Then Lena yanked open the root cellar and wrested the last sugar beet, the ugliest yet, from its depths.
    When she stood, Bep was there in the doorway.
    “Can I help?” she said in her soft voice.
    “No, you can’t,” Lena said.
    Bep stayed where she was, shoulders slack, lower lip trembling.
    “Oh, leave me alone, can’t you?” Lena said, her voice a little