by Pam Lewis
Minke led him to the kitchen, which was awash with the remains of the feast. Plates and bowls of food covered every surface. Dr. Tredegar appeared not to notice the mess. He removed his English derby; his hair shone liquid black in the lamplight. “I am to accompany Meneer DeVries to Comodoro aboard the SS Frisia. I am well acquainted with life on the ship. There may be hardships. I can assure you I am well trained. I studied in Wales. If there is a child once we arrive in Comodoro, I can deliver the child in the European way. I can inoculate you against certain diseases of the region. You may not have thought of any of this, a young girl like you.” He looked about the kitchen. “I gather the celebration means you plan to say yes to Meneer DeVries.”
“He was terribly late,” Minke said.
Then everyone crowded into the kitchen. One moment Fenna was shoving her way past all of them to be closest, and the next moment Meneer DeVries was on one knee looking up at her. “Will you marry me, Minke van Aisma?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and the room went all quiet, as though it had been a big lark and now things were serious.
Meneer withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket, laid it open, and exposed a gold band. “We’ll break this ring, each take a half, and we will be married.”
“Nonsense,” Mama said. “This is 1912, Meneer DeVries. Not the Middle Ages. You’ll have to wait until the church opens tomorrow. And anyway, how do you propose to break a ring?” She was a soft white hen, flapping and clucking and affecting nothing.
The doctor produced a small mallet, a metal wedge, and a green cloth into which he carefully placed the ring.
“Please kneel with me, Minke,” Meneer DeVries said, ignoring Mama’s frantic chattering.
Trembling, Minke knelt. The small room was filling again with some of those who had left earlier, drawn back to the house by the arrival of the car. Meneer DeVries lay the cloth-draped ring on the wooden floor, positioned the wedge, and struck it hard with the mallet. He opened the cloth to reveal the ring broken cleanly in two. He picked up the two golden halves, kissed them, and let them fall into the palm of his other hand. He spoke to her in a whisper. “Once you have taken your half, Minke, and I mine, we are married, and it is witnessed.” He glanced around at all the faces pressing in to see and said, “By all those present today. An official marriage. I, Alexander Augustus DeVries, do marry you, Minke van Aisma.”
Like tiny golden eels, the two semicircles lay crossed in his large hand. She pressed her fingers deep into his outstretched palm, a sensation that weakened her with pleasure. Meneer DeVries took Minke’s face gently in his hands, pulled her to him, and kissed her on the lips. She felt as though he’d opened her and looked inside.
“You must consummate the marriage for it to be legitimate!” Mevrouw Ostrander’s voice burst from the back of the room, breaking the silence with raucous laughter. An enormous bowl of raisins soaked in brandy was brought in, and the celebration began in earnest. Even Mama began to enjoy herself. Minke and Meneer DeVries took their places in the chairs among the evergreens meant to symbolize the permanence of their marriage. Time had stopped. She was in a dream where she wasn’t required to function any more than to smile and accept the kisses and the gifts of money people stuffed into the pockets of her black dress. She dug her index finger into the sharp edges of her half of the ring, needing something slightly painful to anchor her, to make her understand that this was indeed happening.
After a time, she was aware of a communication between Meneer DeVries and Dr. Tredegar. They didn’t speak, but as the doctor circulated among the guests, chatting and smiling, he frequently met her husband’s eye, nodding ever so slightly. The doctor tapped the watch in his breast pocket right before he raised his voice to quiet everyone. He produced a book with blank pages that he showed to the onlookers. “I ask all of you to sign this book as witnesses to this happy event.” He moved through the guests, asking each of them to sign, then brought the book to Meneer DeVries and whispered again to him, whereupon Sander said to Minke, “It will be two hours to Amsterdam, and my presence is needed aboard ship all night.”
Mama must have been watching for this moment because she was immediately at Minke’s side, saying, “Upstairs with me right now.”
Minke followed her up the ladder to the attic, where Papa sat against a sack of dried peas by the light of a single candle. Minke understood at once. It was customary to sit quietly before any journey, to gather one’s thoughts and make the transition, something they had failed to do before Minke’s first departure for Amsterdam.
Minke and Mama knelt with Papa. They joined hands and shut their eyes but said nothing. Minke clung to her father’s large hand on one side, her mother’s small one on the other. Anything could happen. Nothing was certain anymore. She was saying goodbye to something that had already slipped away.
The noise from downstairs grew louder as the guests called for her. She stayed where she was a few moments longer, unwilling to be the first to break from her parents. Finally, Papa’s hand relaxed in hers, but Mama’s tightened to the point of pain.
Downstairs, Dr. Tredegar had taken charge, opening the car doors and hurrying things along. Minke looked about for Fenna and spotted her watching from the shadow in front of the Ostranders’ house. She went to her sister. They stood facing each other.
“You’re so lucky,” Fenna said.
“You’ll have the whole attic to yourself now.”
“Goodbye, Minke.”
Dr. Tredegar came to pull her away. “We must leave.”
She barely had time to kiss Mama and Papa goodbye before she was again on her way to Amsterdam, Dr. Tredegar at the wheel, Meneer DeVries in the passenger seat, and Minke tucked into the small backseat. From time to time Sander—she would know him as Sander from now on—turned around and beamed at her as if needing to make sure she was there. Dr. Tredegar spoke frequently to him, but she couldn’t tell what they were saying because it was noisy and bumpy in the backseat over the rear wheels. She was pleased enough with this arrangement, unable to speak, not knowing what she would say even if she could.
THE GREAT SHIP Frisia lay at dock, sparkling with lights and bigger than any Minke had ever seen. The pier swarmed with people, and the air was filled with the calls of men hauling cargo up the gangways and by means of spiderlike cranes attached fore and aft.
They threaded through the crowd and at the gangway, which seemed to rise straight up. Sander stepped aside so she could go first. Halfway up, he told her to stop and look behind. She had to hold on for dear life to the railing and brace her knee against the side for fear of falling, so steep was the ascent. But when she raised her eyes, she was at eye level with the roofs of Amsterdam. Sander gestured down toward the dock where they had just been and pointed to Dr. Tredegar, looking small at that distance as he removed their belongings from the yellow car.
“See over there? They’ve been waiting for days.” Sander directed her attention to an unlit stretch of pier near the warehouses. As her eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, she saw the rounded forms. They were people, dozens of them, lying down, wrapped in blankets and forming a crude queue. “The first on get the best places. The last on must take what they can find.”
“So many. Where will they all go?”
“To Argentina, like us! Comodoro is booming.”
“But what are we to do there? What work will you do?”
“All that I do now and more.”
“I see,” she said, not seeing at all. “I pity those poor men huddling in the cold. Will they be all right?”
“They’ll be quite fine. Not to worry.” He laid a hand on hers, where it still clung to the rail, before giving her a gentle push, indicating it was time to resume their hike up the gangway. At the top, winded, she found herself in yet another swarm of men at work. The smell of their sweat hung in the air. Sander guided her among them, through double glass doors and down a short flight of stairs to a well-lit corridor of golden wood paneling and
a highly polished wooden floor. He stopped at the last door, pushed it open, and stepped aside to allow her to pass.
The far wall was curved, with a row of small square windows. She had never seen such a place; the furniture was attached to the walls and the floor and made of the same golden wood as in the hall. The bed stood on its own four legs and had a white cover.
The bed.
She felt flustered looking at it but couldn’t take her eyes away and couldn’t stop thinking about what Mama had said about the noise he would make.
“What is it, Minke?”
“The bed is very large,” she said, feeling her face redden.
The remark left both of them staring at the thing in a moment so awkward she could have sunk through the floor. Here she was drawing attention to the bed, the size of the bed, when all she wanted was to move away from the subject. It was the accumulation of sensation that had betrayed her, starting with the feel of his palm when she took the ring, the sweep of his lips across hers, his breath on her neck, his hand over hers on the rail. The whole host of sensations had each lasted only fractions of a second but had succeeded in crowding out everything to produce this very moment, rendering her stupid.
Sander’s surprised look said it all. His scar showed white again against the flush of his skin. They were face-to-face, two strangers stuck in a small stifling room, she frozen with uncertainty and feeling awkward, so awkward, as if she were facing a dangerous animal—a snake or a bull in a pasture. Were you supposed to look it in the eye? Run? Stand still? The animal took in every nuance.
Sander finally broke what felt like an eternity but was no doubt only a second or two. He wiggled his tie loose. “Well,” he said, and she could feel all the tension run out of her. She hadn’t been breathing. “Here’s the thing. Cassian has seen to putting our things away. And Minke.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere again; there’s always a great deal to be done at this point. So I’ve asked Cassian to take you to dinner. He’ll be around in half an hour or so.”
After he left, she took in her surroundings. She opened the door to peek down the hall. He was gone. She’d scared him off. It’s so big! Fenna would love that. Her first time with a man and he fled.
She peered out one of the windows. Men’s feet were at the level of her eyes as they worked on the deck. She pulled the curtain shut. She opened the top drawer of the dresser, where she found her things from the house in Amsterdam. Her underthings, her blouses and hairbrush. In the closet were the same two home-sewn dresses she had left behind in Amsterdam—the blue check and the maroon. But what was that she saw farther in? She pushed through to find three dresses in shades of pink and red. She burrowed among them, unable to believe the softness of the material. She pulled the skirts toward the light. They were dazzling, made of expensive fabric, two for day and one, with seed pearls sewn into the bodice, for evening. The red caught her eye immediately, and she took it from its hanger to admire the fine, tight weave and the neckline, which was deeply scooped and woven through with coral ribbon. They must be for her, but she’d better not put one on until she was sure. She’d made enough mistakes for one day.
CASSIAN ARRIVED AT nine, exactly a half hour after Sander’s departure, rapping at the door and calling to her, “Mevrouw DeVries?” Mevrouw? Oh, that was her name now. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, a girl in a black dress, its pockets still fat with money. She opened the door, and the doctor entered, looking about. “Everything is attached to everything else,” she cried. “And look!” She opened a cupboard door to show him how the shelves had little railings across them.
“In case of a storm,” he said. “Everything stays put.”
“Thank you for putting our things away.”
“I oversaw the process; that’s all.”
“There are dresses in there that don’t belong to me.”
Still wearing his blue velvet coat, Cassian might have stepped out of an opera. “They’re yours.”
“I remember seeing you in the parlor before Elisabeth died. That was you, wasn’t it?”
He checked his pocket watch. “Yes, it was. We can talk as we go to dinner.”
She brought it up again in the hall. “Yes, I thought it was you that day.” He said nothing. “What happened to Elisabeth, Cassian? You’re a doctor. You must know what happened?”
“God rest her soul.”
He was maddening. Once they were seated in the small dining room, flanked by two waiters in white aprons, Cassian made a show of looking over the menu, then giving his order in Spanish. “Some chocolate to begin,” he said to her after the waiter left. “Cookies.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Everyone likes chocolate.”
“I loved Elisabeth.” She wasn’t about to give up. She had to know.
“As did I,” he said.
“I feel strange, married to Sander when so few days ago Elisabeth was alive.”
Cassian raised an arched eyebrow. “You’re asking if I think you’ve done something wrong. Sinned, perhaps?”
“That, too.”
“Too?”
“What happened to Elisabeth? She was alive when I left her.”
“Try to be happy, Minke.”
“But—”
He swept the room with his hand. “No one knows who you are or where you come from or what’s in your past. You can make of yourself whatever you want. It’s the essence of travel. You can become who you tell people you are. Do you understand?”
“That’s fibbing,” she said. “I was taught to be truthful.”
“Truth is a matter only of what you put in and what you leave out,” Cassian said. “There’s no one absolute truth for everyone.”
“I’m a country girl. Sander paid my family so I would care for his dying wife. His children dislike me. That’s the truth.”
“You’re a beautiful young woman who caught the eye and the heart of an adventurer. You’re strong-willed, and there’s fire hiding under that demure exterior. You see? Both statements are equally true. Truth is in the selection of fact.”
“I have little formal schooling. I have only needle skills. I come from a house not a fraction as grand as his.”
“Where you come from matters less than where you are going.”
“Was she still alive when you saw her that day? The day I left? I need to know.”
“No, you don’t. Need suggests that grave consequences will ensue if you do not have what you say. You simply want to know.”
“Was she still alive?”
Cassian made a steeple of his slim fingers and touched them to his lips. “Imagine that life is a checkerboard and every square contains a candle. So that’s what? Thirty-six. At birth all shine brightly, but over time, a candle goes out here or there. Death has begun. It will be irreversible when most of the lights are out, and it will be final when all the lights are out. That can take a very long time, particularly toward the end, when a few stubborn candles refuse to give up.”
“You’re not answering the question.” Had she ever been so bold with an adult? Something about Cassian made it possible to speak her mind freely.
“As a matter of fact, I answered it exactly.”
Minke sipped her cocoa, the most delicious she had ever tasted, from the prettiest cup she had ever held. “He’s giving his house to Pim, you know.”
“Elisabeth’s house,” he said. “It’s been in her family for many years. Sander could not have stayed.”
“Could not?”
“Sander wants Pim to succeed, given that Pim is a cripple. Pim’s practice will benefit from having a good address. Besides, Sander’s life is no longer in Amsterdam. It’s with you, Minke, and in a new world.”
“And those three new dresses in the closet?”
“We sail tomorrow afternoon. You must wear one then.”
He was really a delightful man, odd, too, in the way he was always clapping those exquisite hands, a surgeon’s hands. He took
pleasure in her. That was what she liked best.
He clapped for the waiter. “Are you hungry? Is there something else you’d like? Let’s look at the menu.”
She’d barely drunk half the chocolate, good as it was. And eaten none of the cookies. She had no appetite because every time she thought about the coming night, about Sander, and what could happen in that very large bed, she felt not exactly ill but certainly not hungry. Cassian read her thoughts. “My dear.” His hand swept the air. “All the women in the world except perhaps for the nuns have experienced what I assume you have yet to experience. Can it be so bad?” His eyes twinkled as Mama’s had. “Many women enjoy it. Perhaps you’ll be one of the lucky ones.”
She thought not. Girls like Fenna enjoyed it.
“Come, eat something.”
“No, thank you,” she said.
Cassian took her across decks to the bow of the ship. Men were still loading the cargo, and down on the pier, passengers slept in their darkened line. He pointed out the captain’s bridge, the masts, and the second-class cabins that lined the main deck on both sides.
From where they stood, she could see down the North Sea Canal, which was wide and flat and black, with glimmering lights dancing across the water. The sky above was full of stars. “Let’s see if we can find Sander down there,” Cassian said as they made their way along the deck rail. The dock was poorly lit. “There,” he said.
“How did you find him so quickly?” Even after Cassian pointed him out, Minke had to narrow her eyes to make sure it was Sander.
“I’ve known him a long time. I know how to find him.”
“How long?”
“Very long.”
Another oblique answer. Well, she was too tired to pursue it. Instead, she watched Sander examine one box after another and give the signal for them to be loaded into the cargo hold. He looked so important. She brimmed with pride.