Waves of Mercy

by Lynn Austin

  “Well . . . thanks for saying so. I suppose I’ll always wonder, though, if I should have handled things differently.” I take both of Arie’s hands in mine and squeeze them before letting go. “I’ll let you get back to work. You’re welcome to stop by my house anytime, you know, and have dinner with me. You don’t even have to stay long.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that. . . . Listen, would you like a ride home, Mama? It’s awfully hot outside. Almost as hot as the summer we besieged Atlanta.”

  “No, thanks, dear. I enjoy walking.” I start to leave, then turn back as I think of something else. “But I would like to take a ride up to the cemetery one of these days. Can you give me a lift there sometime?”

  “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Perfect. I want to put some flowers from my garden on the graves.”

  Two of those graves belong to my parents. One of them is Christina’s. One is Maarten’s, God rest his soul. And one of the graves belongs to our son Gerrit, who died in the Battle of Petersburg in Virginia at the age of nineteen. The War Between the States ended less than a month later.

  Chapter 30

  Anna

  Hotel Ottawa

  1897

  I’m awakened by a storm during the night. Thunder crashes and booms, echoing off the surrounding dunes. Flashes of lightning pierce the sky, illuminating my room. The trees carry the sound of the wind in their leaves, and I hear the distant roar of waves on Lake Michigan crashing against the shore. I go to the window and part the curtains to watch the storm, knowing I won’t be able to go back to sleep until it’s over. Rain pours down in sheets as if there’s a veil outside the glass. The dock and the beached rowboats reappear with each stab of lightning, the view as bright as daylight.

  I’m trembling not only from the storm but from the dream I had before I awoke. In it I was lying on a lumpy mattress in a tiny room, my blanket thin and threadbare. The room stank of urine and mildew and rotting wood. A large water stain marred the ceiling above my bed. Angry voices came from the room next door, and I sat up in fear. Men shouted and argued, a woman screamed at them to stop. I heard sounds of a fight—glass breaking, furniture smashing, grunts and blows—and I feared the men would crash through the flimsy wall next to my bed with its peeling, yellowed wallpaper. Mama pulled me into her arms and held me tightly, humming a melody to soothe me and drown out the noise. “Don’t cry, darling,” she murmured. “I’ll find a way to get us out of this terrible place, I swear I will.”

  As I wait for the thunderstorm outside to pass, I ponder what the dream might have meant. The two arguing men must represent William and Derk, fighting over whether or not I should marry William. Mother has tried to reassure me that I’m making the right decision, just as she tried to soothe me in my dream. But where did that horrible room come from? Does it represent my lonely and confused state of mind? Is that what Mama was promising to rescue me from?

  At last the storm blows past. The rumbling thunder grows more distant, the lightning dims. But rain still lashes the windowpanes as I pull the curtains closed and return to my bed. There is no water stain on the ceiling above my head. My hotel room smells fresh and clean like ironed linen and lavender soap. I fall asleep trying to remember the tune Mama had hummed in my dream. Was it one of the hymns they always sang at the castle church? And had she called me lieveling? “Don’t cry, darling . . .”

  In the morning the air outside is cool and refreshing, washed clean by the storm. I take a walk before breakfast and the sun shines brilliantly in the sky as if the storm had never happened. Puddles of rainwater dot the pathways, broken tree branches litter the grass. The surface of Black Lake churns and seethes with angry waves, lashing the dock and the shoreline, and I can hear the surf on Lake Michigan roaring in the distance. I doubt if anyone will want to go sailing or rowing today.

  I don’t see Derk anywhere. Again, I wish we had never spoken yesterday. I wish we hadn’t gone for a walk or that I hadn’t felt his arms around me when I stumbled, because now I can’t forget what it felt like when he held me. I’m more confused than ever about marrying William. I never should have written him that letter, promising to renew our engagement. I should have waited until my mind was more settled about everything. I wish I knew if I loved him.

  But what am I thinking? I can’t stand by and watch Father lose his fortune. I need to forget Derk’s speech about marrying for love, and remember that I’m one of the most fortunate women in Chicago to be marrying William. I wonder if Derk is going to marry Caroline. I wonder what answer he gave her last night. The two of them may be engaged now, just like William and me.

  The morning passes much too quickly. My time at the resort is drawing to an end too soon. When I see a steamship docking at the pier after lunch, I watch the passengers disembark, then freeze in stunned disbelief when I spot a man who looks exactly like William. I blink, certain I must be seeing things. It can’t be him. What would he be doing here?

  The man walks closer, striding toward the hotel entrance, a servant trotting behind him with his bag. I see the man clearly now, tall and self-assured, his stride confident. He looks handsome with his closely trimmed beard, his shoes shining, his beautifully cut clothes unwrinkled, every glossy dark hair in place.

  It is William.

  A woman in love would run down the path to meet her beloved, but I feel a ridiculous urge to run inside the hotel and hide. Before I can move, William sees me and hurries the rest of the way up the path to take both of my hands in his and kiss my cheek. “Anna! I wondered how I would ever find you in such a huge hotel—and here you are.”

  “What are you doing here?” He looks out of place in a coat and necktie, even though it’s a casual linen jacket with summer trousers.

  “The woman I adore is staying in this hotel, so I decided to visit her and see why she finds this place so charming.” He glances all around and adds, “It seems very peaceful and well appointed.”

  “It . . . it is peaceful.” I’m at a complete loss for words.

  “Since you only have a few more days here, I decided to purchase a round-trip steamer ticket so I could accompany you and your mother home on Sunday.”

  “But I’m not returning by steamship. I’m taking the train.”

  William smiles. It’s more a tightening of his lips than a true smile. He is still holding one of my hands, and he pats it as if I’m a child. “Your father told me about your little sailing phobia. But surely you’ll feel safe with me beside you, won’t you? I had a very pleasant voyage here. And traveling by steamship is so much easier than changing trains at various stations and coping with all the grit and smoke. You have to agree that it will be much faster and more convenient to sail straight home across the lake.”

  I have to agree? I shake my head and try to smile. “I still prefer to take the train.”

  “Why? Because you had a bad experience with a storm on the way here? You still arrived safely, didn’t you?”

  I hesitate, afraid to mention my childhood nightmare, knowing it will make me seem immature and naïve. “It was quite a frightening experience, William. All of the passengers were terrified, not just me. The way the waves washed over the deck . . . The fear of sinking to the bottom of the lake is still very fresh in my memory.”

  “Don’t be silly. There have been some spectacular train wrecks, too.”

  I don’t reply. I am inexplicably close to tears as William’s forceful personality starts to engulf me, just as I feared it would. I know I’m wrong to feel this way. William is in no way abusive. But I don’t know how to stand up for myself when we disagree. In fact, I’m not supposed to contradict him. I’m expected to remain silent and trust his judgment. Yet as I watch the massive steamship bob up and down on the leftover waves from last night’s storm, I feel numb with fear at the thought of getting aboard a ship again and crossing Lake Michigan.

  “I’m going to see about my room and freshen up,” William says. “Decide what you would like to do afterward,
darling. I’m all yours for the next few days.”

  The next few days. He leaves me while he goes inside to get settled. My time of peaceful soul-searching and Bible reading has come to an end. I still have so many unanswered questions, and now it won’t be possible to talk about them with Derk or his Aunt Geesje. I would have liked to meet her. I gaze at the cottages and hotels on the other side of Black Lake as I mourn my loss of solitude. The sky is impossibly blue and cloudless, as if trying to atone for last night’s fury.

  William rejoins me an hour later and suggests a walk. “Why don’t you show me your favorite places to stroll,” he says. I wouldn’t dare suggest the hike up Mt. Pisgah that I took with Derk yesterday—was it only yesterday? William would never manage it in his polished shoes. And he would be appalled to learn that I had ventured up such a rugged trail. I take his arm as we walk toward Black Lake, remembering Derk and feeling sorry for the awkward way we parted. He had become a friend. But maybe it isn’t possible for two people who are as different as Derk and me to have an enduring friendship.

  “I’ve forgotten how beautiful you are, Anna,” William says. “Even dressed the way you are.”

  I look down at my simple cotton skirt and shirtwaist. My hair isn’t pinned up and I’m not wearing a petticoat or a corset or stockings or gloves. I stammer an apology. “I-I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have worn something different.” Mother has been nagging me about my appearance for days, and I realize too late that I should have pulled myself together while William was freshening up. I could have at least pinned up my hair and put on a nicer shirtwaist. We must look like a gentleman taking a stroll with his chamber maid.

  “I’ve never seen you with your hair down before. I always imagined it would be beautiful—and it is.”

  “I’m so sorry . . . Shall I go fix it?”

  “No, leave it for now.” He is being kind and considerate, saying all the right things. I’ll have a good life with William. He isn’t an ogre.

  We reach the end of the walkway, and William decides to turn toward the rowboats. I glimpse Derk’s fair hair as he tends the boats, and I try to steer William away from the water to walk in a different direction. He gently pulls me back. “Wait, I would like to walk down by the boats. Perhaps we could go rowing in one of them.”

  Derk glances up as we approach, and I see him surveying William from head to toe. I nod slightly, and I can tell Derk understands that this is William. It seems snobbish of me not to introduce him to William, but I don’t dare—for all manner of reasons. Not only would William consider Derk to be beneath him, but I dare not even hint that I’m friends with another man and that I know his name—let alone a man who is an employee of the hotel. If Mother was outraged by my friendship with Derk, William would be even more so. It wouldn’t matter in the least that Derk is a college graduate and a seminary student. He is still a nobody to William.

  “Excuse me, are these boats for use by hotel guests?” William asks him. “Might I rent one?”

  “Yes, sir, they are. You can sign up for them with the hotel’s concierge.”

  “Let’s do that, Anna,” William says, turning to me. “Let me take you rowing.”

  My stomach writhes in panic. “I-I think we should wait for another day. The lake is usually much calmer than this. We had a bad storm last night.”

  “Nonsense.” He turns to Derk and asks, “What’s your name?”

  “Derk Vander Veen, sir.”

  “Listen, Derk. I’m staying in Room 201 in the annex. Kindly run up and tell the concierge to add the rental fee for one of these rowboats to my account.”

  “I’m not allowed to leave the boats unattended during the day, sir. It’s against hotel rules. I’m sorry.”

  I’m appalled when William digs into his pocket and pulls out some money. “I’ll make it worth your while to bend the rules just this once.”

  I tug on William’s arm to keep him from offering the money to Derk. “I don’t want to go rowing, William. Not when the waves are this choppy. Please, can’t we wait for a better day?”

  “I want you to see that there’s nothing to worry about. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you, but I still don’t care to go out on the water when it’s this rough.”

  “We’re taking the steamship home, remember? And after our wedding I’m taking you to Europe on our honeymoon. How will you ever cross the Atlantic if you’re afraid to board a ship? And I want to take you to Venice, Italy, where they have canals instead of streets and people travel from place to place in water taxis. You’ll find it charming, Anna. But first you need to overcome this irrational fear of the water.” He tries to tug me onto the bobbing dock.

  “But I-I—”

  “You can’t let fear govern your life, dear. I would never put you in danger.”

  I’m on the verge of tears when Derk says, “Excuse me, sir, but the lady seems genuinely frightened. And you’re going to find it very challenging to keep your balance as you step in and out of these boats today. Another day might be better for the lady’s first time out.”

  I want to hug him in gratitude. William appears calm, but I can tell he is furious—with both of us. “This is none of your business,” he tells Derk.

  “Excuse me again, sir, but these rowboats and the safety of their passengers are my business. I already canceled two sailing excursions that were scheduled for today because of the rough waves.”

  “Let’s go, William,” I say before he can respond. “Please. I want to show you the beach.” He is too much of a gentleman to argue further with Derk or with me, so we move on. But I’m worried that William will speak with the concierge about this incident and get Derk into trouble. I’ll probably never have a chance to talk with Derk again—and maybe that’s a good thing. I know exactly what he would say about my marriage now that he has met William. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter what Derk thinks. I still plan to marry William. I just wish there was a way to ask about Caroline, to find out if he decided to marry her.

  I take extra care with my clothing and hair before meeting William for dinner later that evening, hoping to please him. I need to make it up to him for my stubbornness earlier that day. My stomach feels as uneasy as the water on the storm-tossed lake. Will it always be this way throughout our married life? Will I always be forced to give in just to please him?

  We enjoy a lovely candlelit dinner together in the hotel’s dining room, and I’m encouraged by how charming William is, how much I enjoy being with him. Afterward we stroll the grounds beneath the stars and he pulls me into the shadows to steal a kiss. The softness of his lips against mine, the caress of his fingers as he cups my face, send a thrill through me as if I’ve touched a frayed electrical wire. Perhaps I’m in love with him after all.

  Then, as he says good night to me at the door of my hotel room, he squeezes my hands and kisses my cheek and says, “Don’t forget, darling, we’re going rowing together in the morning.”

  I feel like I can’t breathe.

  Chapter 31

  Geesje

  Holland, Michigan

  1897

  “Why is being in love so hard?” Derk asks. He sits slumped at my kitchen table, the untouched tin of cookies in front of him. I have no answer for him. It’s late at night, but he saw my kitchen light on and needed my consolation. “I went to see Caroline last night. I told her that I couldn’t give up the ministry to become a chaplain.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She burst into tears and told me to leave. She said I must not love her since I don’t care about her feelings. But she’s wrong. I do love her.”

  I pause before saying, “I think you made the right decision, Derk.”

  He rakes his fingers through his hair. The Macassar oil he applied before last night’s visit is gone, and he looks more like himself again. “I don’t know, Tante Geesje. Now that it’s over I’m having second thoughts.”

  “Really? Why?”

&
nbsp; “My dad never remarried after Mama died. He said he could never love anyone as much as he loved her, so it wouldn’t be fair to marry another woman. What if I can never love another woman as much as Caroline? What if I regret losing her for the rest of my life?”

  “I think you’ll regret it even more if you give up becoming a pastor.”

  “I know, I know . . . But why can’t I have both? When Caroline wrote that letter saying she still loved me, I was sure that nothing would stand in our way. Now we’re right back where we started.”

  “No, I think you’re farther along than you were. You told her you loved her and still wanted to marry her, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that you were still going to become a pastor?”

  “Yes.”

  “So now the decision is hers, not yours. If she doesn’t love you enough to respect your calling from God, then you should be relieved that she didn’t marry you. Caroline needs to find God’s plan for her life, too, and it may not include being married to you.”

  Derk props his elbow on the table and rests his forehead on his fist. “Why is being in love so hard?” he asks again.

  “Listen, dear. I have no doubt at all that you’ll fall in love again. I thought Hendrik was the one and only love of my life but he wasn’t.”

  Derk looks up in surprise. “You fell in love again?”

  “And while your father’s love for your mother is very admirable, I just wonder if he was motivated by fear as much as by love. It must have been devastating for him to lose your mother. Perhaps he didn’t want to fall in love again and risk going through such terrible pain a second time.”

  “I guess I can understand that.”

  “I know Caroline hurt you, but I hope you’ll risk giving your heart away to someone else. Love is well worth the risk.”