Waves of Mercy

by Lynn Austin

  Derk stands and slings his suitcoat over his shoulder. “Just ask her for the truth, Anna. Either you were aboard that ship or you weren’t. Either you were a newborn when they adopted you or you were three years old. I’m sure it’s been hard for your parents to hold on to so many secrets all these years. Just be sure to let them know that the truth isn’t going to change the way you feel about them.”

  It was good advice. And yet I didn’t want Derk to leave. “Where will you be if I need to find you later?”

  “Well, for the next few hours I’ll be at Pillar Church in Holland,” he says with a grin. “Big white building on Ninth Street with six pillars in front. You can’t miss it. ” He takes my hands in his again and leans forward to kiss my cheek. “You don’t need me, Anna. You’re a survivor. You can do this.”

  I watch him walk away.

  Chapter 36

  Anna

  Hotel Ottawa

  1897

  I take my time walking back to the hotel. Part of the reason is that my knees are still shaky. The other is that I’m afraid to know the truth, afraid to learn that my parents have been lying to me all these years. And I can’t bear the thought that I may have lived through a disastrous shipwreck when innocent people like Derk’s mother—and perhaps my own—died. I knock on Mother’s door before going inside. She is already dressed for breakfast and standing in front of the mirror tidying her hair.

  “There you are,” she says. “Have you been out walking?”

  “Were we in a shipwreck when I was little?” She turns to face me, her mouth open, her eyes wide with alarm. I continue before she has a chance to reply. “I just learned about a steamship called the Ironsides that sank in Lake Michigan when I would have been three years old. The details of that shipwreck are exactly like my nightmare.”

  She sinks down on the edge of her bed. Her hands and her hairbrush fall limply into her lap. “Oh, Anna.”

  “My nightmare isn’t just a dream, is it? It’s a memory.” I cross the room to stand in front of her. “Tell me the truth, Mother, please. You owe me that much.”

  “I think we should wait for your father—”

  “No! I don’t want to wait. I want to know right now! Were we in that shipwreck or not?”

  She lowers her head, staring at her lap. I force myself to be patient, to wait, knowing how difficult it will be for Mother to admit she has kept this information from me. It seems as though a lifetime passes before she finally looks up. “Yes,” she says. “You were aboard the Ironsides before it sank.” Her voice is whisper-soft, as if there’s a sleeping baby in the room.

  “Were you and Father with me, too?”

  She shakes her head. “Just your father.”

  “But you’re always in my dream. You hand me to Father and then you sink beneath the waves.” Derk had pointed out the odd way I had told him the story: Save my daughter. I wait another eternity for Mother to reply.

  “It was your real mother who drowned that day.”

  I can’t breathe as I struggle with my emotions. My voice sounds hoarse when I’m finally able to ask, “Did Father know her?”

  “No. He’d never met her before. He saw you clinging to her in the lifeboat just before it capsized. She was still holding you when he saw her again in the water. But she could no longer stay afloat so she gave you to him. She wanted you to live. Your father did, too.”

  This was the place in my dream where I always woke up screaming in terror. I sit down on the bed beside my mother, tears stinging my eyes as I now remember more. “There was a long line of men standing in the water, holding hands. The last one in the chain grabbed the lapels of Father’s coat and pulled us in . . . There was a bonfire. . . . Someone wrapped a quilt around Father’s shoulders but he gave it to me. He wrapped me up in it because I was so cold and wet. . . . I cried and cried. I wanted my mama, but she had disappeared beneath the waves.”

  Mother wraps her arms around me, the way she used to do when I awakened from the nightmare. “We believe she drowned, Anna. I’m so sorry. Perhaps your real father did, too, although none of the survivors remembered seeing a man with you and your mother.”

  “I don’t remember being with a man, either. Mama and I were alone.”

  “We notified the authorities and put notices in all the newspapers—in Grand Haven and Grand Rapids and Milwaukee. They let us take care of you while we waited, but no one came forward to claim you. As the weeks passed, we were relieved when no one did. We loved you from the very beginning.”

  “But you said I was a newborn when you adopted me. You lied to me.”

  “That was your father’s idea. He wanted you to forget about what happened. He wanted to forget the shipwreck, too. It was a terrifying experience for him, as well, Anna. You weren’t the only one who had nightmares about that terrible day.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “He hoped that all of your bad memories would fade away if you thought you came to us as a newborn. We wanted you to be happy. And aside from the nightmares, you were. We thought you were too young to remember your mother or to remember losing her.”

  “And so the handful of Dutch words I remember must be from my mother. She must have been Dutch.”

  “I don’t know. You could barely talk. In fact, you wouldn’t talk at all for a very long time. You cried and cried for your mama, and you told us your name was Anna.”

  “No . . .” I say as I suddenly remember. “It was Anneke. My name was Anneke.”

  What if all of my other dreams were memories, too? The room with the water stain on the ceiling. The men fighting next door. Mama promising to take me away from that place. The train ride to the dock. And seeing the big ship. Whenever I dreamt of boarding that ship, I would always wake up in terror because I knew what would happen. I suddenly know with certainty that all those things I’ve dreamt about really happened.

  “And the church on LaSalle Street, too,” I say aloud. “That’s why it seemed so familiar to me the first day I saw it. I went there with Mama.” I jump to my feet. “I need to go into Holland. I need to talk with Derk again.”

  “Right now? Why?”

  I want to tell Derk that he was right. I want to share everything with him that Mother just told me and thank him for helping me put all the pieces together. I want to talk about my memories of that day because his mother was there, too. We are connected by the tragedy of the Ironsides in a very deep way because we both lost our mothers in that disaster. But I can’t give Mother those reasons. I scramble to think. “Well . . . because . . . because there must be a record of all the local Dutch women who drowned that day. People would know and remember. Maybe I can find out who my mother is, what her name is.”

  “But I told you, Anna. We put notices in all the papers. No one claimed you.”

  “In the Holland newspapers, too? Were the notices printed in Dutch?”

  “Well, no. We didn’t think about Holland. We didn’t know that your mother spoke Dutch to you.”

  “Maybe no one came forward because they didn’t see the notices. Derk says people around here still speak Dutch to each other and they read Dutch newspapers.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Anna. . . . I can’t think . . .” She slowly stands up. She looks as shaken as I am. “Let’s go downstairs and find William. We’re supposed to meet him, aren’t we? We can talk about this over breakfast, and maybe he’ll know what to do.”

  Derk had cautioned me to reassure my parents that nothing would change. I wrap my arms around Mother and hug her tightly. “You’re my mother, and you always will be. I love you. Nothing can ever change that. Our lives will go on the same as before, even if I do find out the truth. We’ll return to Chicago and I’ll marry William, and we’ll all be happy. I just need to know who I am.”

  I see tears in her eyes as we pull apart. “I understand,” she says.

  I don’t see how she possibly could understand.

  “Why don’t you go downstairs and find William,�
� I tell her. “I need to change my clothes and fix my hair. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” She leaves, and I quickly change out of my smoky, wrinkled clothes. I have watched the hotel burn in them, slept in them, rowed out on the lake in them.

  I’m so overwrought with excitement that I have trouble pinning up my hair, but at last I’m presentable. I find Mother and William sitting together in the dining room. He rises to greet me, reaching for my hand, and leans close to kiss my cheek. Derk had done the same thing as he said good-bye to me a little while ago. I can barely wait to see Derk again and tell him the news. I had been on the same ship as his mother. And with his aunt Geesje’s daughter. Maybe his aunt would remember the names of the other women who died. I need to talk to her, too. I fight to contain my growing excitement as I sit down at the table and place my napkin on my lap.

  “Did Mother explain to you what I’ve learned?” I ask William.

  “Yes. It’s quite a story.” Before we can say more a waiter comes to take our order. I’m too agitated to eat, too impatient to wait while William and Mother do. I order toast and tea, aware that I need to slow down and give them time to absorb all that is happening. If I’m in shock, surely Mother must be as well after carefully guarding this secret for twenty years. I manage to hold my tongue, barely listening as William tells us what he has learned about the Jenison Park Hotel fire. “Thankfully, no one died,” he finishes.

  By the time our food arrives, I have decided on a plan. “I know we were supposed to go home today,” I begin, “but I need to stay for a few more days and try to—”

  “Anna,” William interrupts. “I now understand completely why you don’t want to go home by steamship—”

  “No, it isn’t that I’m afraid to go back today . . .” I stop; that isn’t entirely true. After reliving the memory of the shipwreck, I’m still very much afraid. “It’s just that I want to stay a little longer and try to find out more about my mother. This is important to me, William. I need to find out who I am.”

  “But I can’t stay any longer. I have work to do and important meetings to attend in Chicago.”

  Derk had advised me to speak my mind and stand up to William. I gather my courage. “You should go home without me. You, too, Mother. I’ll be fine by myself. I’m going to stay for a few more days and see what I can learn.”

  If William can’t accept that, if he becomes stubborn, then I’ll know I need to reconsider marrying him. He gazes at me from across the table as the seconds tick by, and I can sense his struggle. He is used to giving orders and having them followed without question. In the past, he was upset with me for refusing to stop attending the castle church. Our relationship ended. William said last night that he didn’t want to lose me again, and I’m guessing that he’s trying to decide how far he dares to push me in order to get his own way.

  “Does your past really matter that much? You were a child, Anna. The life you have now and our future together—aren’t they more important?”

  “My mother drowned trying to save me,” I say calmly. “She didn’t abandon me. I need to know who she was. Then we can move forward with everything we’ve planned.”

  He chews his lip, thinking. “You know, the Dutch people in Holland have a reputation for being unfriendly toward outsiders. Their religion is very strict and morally unbending. They can seem intolerant toward people of other religions. I would hate to see you get hurt.”

  “Even so, they are my family. I need to know who I am.”

  Chapter 37

  Geesje

  Holland, Michigan

  1897

  I leave my pew after the last hymn is sung, the last prayer is uttered. This morning’s worship service has been very uplifting, but there is still an ache in my heart as I make my way down the aisle to the rear of the church, alone. It has been twenty years since Maarten and I sat side by side in this pew.

  Of course, I’m not really alone. I’m surrounded by members of my church family, men and women who’ve lived beside me all these years, children I’ve prayed for as I’ve watched them grow to adulthood, marry, and have children of their own. As much as I enjoy Dominie’s sermons, one of my favorite things about Sunday morning is the chance to visit for a few minutes after the service with all the people I know and love. I sometimes think this time together is as valuable to all of us as the formal liturgy.

  But I miss walking home with Maarten afterward, holding his arm, discussing the sermon and talking about friends and acquaintances who will need our prayers this week. Arie tries to come home for Sunday dinner as often as he can, but I think he finds it difficult to sit down at a table that is surrounded by empty chairs—chairs that were once filled by people we loved. At least once a month I make a point of inviting friends for Sunday dinner, and I’m often invited to their homes, as well. But not this morning. It has worked out this Sunday morning that I’ll be returning home alone.

  Someone calls my name, and I see a dear friend beckoning to me. I make my way toward her through the dense crowd, enjoying the happy buzz of voices and the giggling children who weave between the adults. I remember how my own children used to be bursting with energy by the time the long service ended and would barrel through the main doors like calves released from their stalls. Especially Christina. She was always the first to leave. I can see her in my mind’s eye on a beautiful summer day like this one, kicking off her shoes and socks beneath the pillars and hitching up her skirt so she could run barefooted in the grass in front of the church.

  My friend is in the middle of telling me her latest news when I see Derk edging up beside me. He is reluctant to interrupt, but I can tell that he wants to speak with me. He has an odd expression on his face—is it excitement? Worry? I can’t tell. I’m concerned that it’s more news about his girlfriend, Caroline, and that she is still toying with him like a cat with a mouse. I hold up a finger to let him know we’ll be finished talking in just a minute. Derk nods and points to one of the doors leading into the sanctuary. He’ll wait for me over there.

  A few minutes later my friend finishes, and we embrace as I share her joy. Then she’s off to speak to another friend, and I look around for Derk. I don’t see him—but I’m very surprised to see my granddaughter Elizabeth standing by herself, gazing all around. I walk up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist.

  “Elizabeth! Well, for goodness’ sakes! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here this morning?” She turns and I stare at her in surprise. “Why, you’re not Elizabeth!”

  “No, but I . . . I’ve been told that I resemble her and . . .” Her voice trails off. We’re both embarrassed.

  “Are you looking for someone in particular, dear?”

  “Yes. I’m trying to find Derk . . . Derk Vander Veen.”

  “That’s funny . . . so am I.” We both spot him at the same moment. And then he sees us. He bounds across the crowded lobby so exuberantly that I fear he might knock someone over.

  “Anna! What did you find out? Did your mother tell you whether it was true or not?”

  “Yes! Everything was true. It was exactly as you’d guessed. I really was on that ship and my mother was probably Dutch and my parents adopted me when I was three years old, not a newborn!” The young woman is breathless and as excited as Derk is. It’s all they can do to keep from hugging each other.

  “I see you’ve met my tante Geesje de Jonge,” he says, gesturing to me. The young woman seems stunned.

  “Oh, I’ve been wanting so much to meet you. Derk has told me so much about you.”

  “Tante Geesje, this is my friend Anna Nicholson from Chicago. She’s the guest at the Hotel Ottawa I’ve been telling you about.”

  It all makes sense to me now, and I’m relieved to know she isn’t Caroline. “How do you do, Miss Nicholson. Please forgive my mistake. . . . I thought she was Elizabeth,” I tell Derk. I can’t stop staring at Anna, astounded by the remarkable resemblance between her and my granddaughter. They’re about the same height, ha
ve the same slim figure, and the same curly, golden hair.

  “I mistook her for Elizabeth, too, the first time we met,” Derk says. “The similarity is amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Please, call me Anna,” she says. “I’m beginning to wish I could meet this Elizabeth.”

  “She’s my granddaughter. My son Jakob’s daughter.”

  Anna turns to Derk again, and her words spill out as if she’s been holding them back for hours. “Is there someplace we can talk? Maybe outside? Mother and William are waiting for me out in front. We rented a carriage, and we don’t have much time because we’re supposed to return to Chicago today. But I still have so many questions I need to ask.” I start to excuse myself and back away, but Anna stops me. “No, please come, too, Mrs. de Jonge. I would really like to talk to you if you don’t mind. If you have time, that is.”

  Derk tugs my arm. “Yes, please, Tante Geesje. You need to hear this, too.” The look of excitement and anticipation on his face intrigues me.

  “Of course. Why don’t we all go to my house and talk? It’s only a short walk from here.” I try to remember everything Derk has told me about Anna Nicholson as we head down the front steps. He is very fond of her, I can tell, but she is from a wealthy Chicago family and he is a humble seminary student from a working-class family. Derk had said that Anna wanted to meet me, that she wanted my advice about love and marriage—and the Bible, too. She was engaged to a wealthy Chicago gentleman, as I recall, and I wonder if he’s the handsome young bearded man waiting in the street beside a hired carriage from the hotel. An aristocratic woman with her chin in the air is also waiting in the carriage—the girl’s mother, I assume. The same mother who wasn’t pleased to learn about her daughter’s friendship with a hotel worker. I can’t imagine what has made them all change their mind about Derk and come into town to find him, but I’m very curious to find out.