by Ines Thorn
Toward the morning, as the storm began to let up, Maren managed to sleep a little. And when she awoke, her mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table again. Overnight the shutters had been torn from the windows, and what Maren saw outside shook her to the core. Not a single slat was left on the fence, the poles upon which the fishing nets usually hung were knocked over and splintered, and entire bushes had been torn out, leaving the land looking like a plucked goose on Saint Martin’s Day. Inside, it wasn’t much better. The reed roof had great holes torn in it, letting in the cold and rain. The kitchen was full of puddles, and the storm had chilled and soaked the house so thoroughly that it was impossible to get a fire started. It was still raining, the wind still howled in strong gusts, and the sea still sounded loud and threatening. But they seemed to have survived the worst of it.
“It’s over,” Maren’s mother said quietly. “Everything is over. Whatever shall we do now? Old Meret was right again.”
Klaas stood behind Finja and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It will be all right. We’ve always managed to recover.”
Finja shook her head. “Not this time. I can feel it. Old Meret prophesized it.”
“How much has been damaged?” Maren wanted to know what was making her mother so dispirited.
“The storm took the barn roof off almost completely,” Klaas said. “And the house’s roof is badly damaged. The chimney came down, and the sand is up to the windows. I’m afraid my boat has been smashed to smithereens too.”
Finja turned to Maren. “Go out and look around. It’s not just that the house is damaged. It’s destroyed. It’s half-covered by a dune.”
Maren started in surprise and looked to her father, who nodded. Then she put her shoulder to the door and tried to open it. She had to push with all her strength against the boards, but the door barely opened a crack.
“The sand is too high,” her father explained. “Wait, I’ll help you.”
Together, they managed to open the door wide enough for Maren to slip outside. As she looked around, her eyes went wide with shock. Her father had been right. The back of the house was completely buried under sand, and in front, the sand was piled up to the windows. Roofing reeds lay shredded and broken on the ground. It looked as though there had been a war. Maren peered over at the neighbors’ house. Mrs. Asmus stood in the ruins of her house, crying, as her husband, Fiete, walked over to Klaas.
“I’ve been down to the beach. Your boat is destroyed, and mine too. None of them survived in one piece.” His face was pale, and he had wide, dark circles under his eyes. “What will we do now?”
Klaas raised his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “First, we have to see what can be saved.”
“There isn’t much. And without fishing, we won’t be able to provide for our families.”
Klaas nodded, thinking about his neighbor’s words. “What you say is true.”
“Have you got a plan?”
Klaas shook his head. He still seemed calm and collected, but Maren could tell he was despairing. She put a hand on his arm. “It will be all right,” she said. “We’ve always managed somehow.” But in her heart, she was afraid. She climbed the dune to look over at Thies’s house and was met by another picture of disaster. She swallowed, again feeling that she owed something to her parents. If only she’d agreed to marry Boyse . . . She drove that thought away. Then she made her way to what was left of the barn, found a spade, and began to shovel sand away from the door and windows all by herself.
Klaas and Finja came to help her, but for all their effort, hardly any progress was visible by evening. The sand still stood high all around the house, and there were still holes in the roof, though they’d been covered with strips of heath sod. They layered on heavy clothes and were wrapping themselves in blankets in order to bear the cold of the night when Finja began to cry. She didn’t say a word, and made no accusations, but she didn’t need to. Maren understood her anyway.
When Maren woke up the next morning, her joints stiff with cold, she knew what she had to do. She washed, dressed, and hopped up and down to warm herself, but nothing helped. So she wrapped a thick scarf around her neck, put the sealskin cap on her head, and set off on the long road to Keitum. Pushing through her unease, she walked the seven miles from her parents’ home to the widest part of the island. She knew that her plan would have consequences, but she had to try anyway. She owed at least that to her parents.
Three hours later, she stood breathless in front of Captain Boyse’s beautiful big Frisian house, which seemed untouched by the storm. It stood white and shining behind the little front garden. The garden gate was made of a whale’s jawbone, taller than a man. The shutters were painted sky blue, the roof was densely covered in new reeds, and the door was made of robust planks.
Both nervous and resolute, Maren raised the brass door knocker, which was fashioned in the shape of a whale.
Captain Boyse opened the door. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, and invited her to come inside. She followed him into the parlor and was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of it. The walls were covered in beautiful blue-and-white delft tiles. Under the windows stood painted chests with costly metal clasps, the table was surrounded by leather-upholstered chairs, and on the cupboard shelves, precious porcelain dishes were stacked. There was even a wonderfully carved and decorated grandfather clock, as tall as the captain himself. The lights weren’t the usual dim tin lanterns, but polished silver stands set with expensive beeswax candles. The floor was covered in thick rugs that would be able to withstand the cold of the grimmest winter. There were porcelain pipes for tobacco on a small table that stood next to a rocking chair. Everywhere, exquisite souvenirs from every imaginable country could be seen.
Maren was impressed by the luxury and wealth, but Boyse seemed to move among his possessions as though they had no value but were just things he needed to fill his house.
“Have a seat,” Boyse said. “Actually, I’d like to tell you to feel right at home, but I know that’s not what you want.”
Maren swallowed. His comment made it even more difficult to tell him about her difficulties.
“So, what can I do for you? Has the storm whirled your wits around so much that you’ve changed your mind and have decided to marry me after all?”
Maren swallowed again. She lowered her eyes to the colorful carpet and twisted her fingers together in her lap. I’m here because I owe it to my parents, she reminded herself. Then she gathered her courage. “The storm, it—”
“Yes, the storm,” Boyse said, interrupting her rudely. “You would never have come to me freely. First, a storm had to sweep over the island.”
“Yes. That’s the truth.” Maren responded with courage born of desperation and looked the captain directly in the eye. “It would be pointless to deny it. I haven’t come to be your wife. I don’t think you were expecting me to either. I’ve come to ask for your help.”
“So. You want help. Go on.”
“The storm hit us hard. The roof is half-gone, the chimney is damaged, and my father’s fishing boat is destroyed.”
“Any reasonable person would replace the roof, repair the chimney, and have a new fishing boat built,” the captain responded, and Maren knew that he was saying it to humiliate her.
“Any person who had enough money would do that. But we have no money.”
“Well, that’s a pity. If you’d accepted my offer, you and your family would be comfortable and safe. Your father wouldn’t have to fish anymore, and your mother would have no worries.”
Maren sighed. “I know it’s my fault, and I can’t change it. But I came to you today anyway. I beg you, give my father a loan so we can go on living as we have.”
“Why should I do that? You humiliated me in front of everyone, and you sent me away like a dog. You deserve to pay for that. Sometimes life gives us our just deserts.”
Maren looked into the captain’s face. Boyse’s forehead was creased. His gray
eyes glowed hard and cold, and his mouth had compressed into a narrow line. He was still offended by her refusal.
“I beg you with all my heart to forgive me, and to help us.” She noticed that her voice shook a little.
“With all your heart?” Boyse repeated. “Are you sure that you have one?” He stood up and paced back and forth behind Maren’s chair. Maren remained silent and looked guiltily at the table. She would have liked to get up and walk away, but she couldn’t. Boyse was the only hope left to her family. Rantum had been hit hard. No one in her village had two coins to rub together.
“Shall I beg you on my knees?” Maren asked.
Boyse raised his eyebrows and regarded her as though he could already picture it happening. “You’re going to have to do something,” he said. “It’s not going to be so easy to convince me. I already know from your beautiful eyes what I can expect. But no, I don’t want to see you on your knees. I want a kiss from you.”
Maren stood up angrily and faced the captain. Her eyes filled with tears that flowed down her pale, tense face. She had never felt so enraged in her entire life. She was filled with pure hatred for Boyse. She felt the redness of shame staining her cheeks, flushing her throat as she gasped for air.
“Look at me!” Boyse ordered, but Maren didn’t raise her head. Then the captain put a hand under her chin and lifted it so she would have to look him in the eyes. Her eyes glittered with hate, anger, and desperation. She raised her hands pleadingly, unable to say a word, and held them there. She detested herself for what she was doing, and at the same time, she knew that it was necessary. If you were hungry, you couldn’t be proud. If it was raining through your roof, you weren’t in any position to make demands.
“I beg you! I can’t kiss you,” she said again.
“I also begged you for something, yet you denied me. Kiss me, or you can leave immediately.”
So Maren closed her eyes and waited for his mouth to press roughly against hers. But she only felt his thumb, tracing the outline of her lips very gently. Then he lowered his mouth so lightly and tenderly to hers that a shiver ran down her spine. Boyse put a gentle hand on the back of Maren’s neck, pushed her lips apart with his tongue, and played so tenderly with hers that her knees went weak. The kiss stirred and softened her until her entire body tingled, as though she had swallowed ants. A ball of fire exploded inside of her and blazed through her entire body. For the first time in her life, she felt heat in her lap, and the blood pulsing hotly through her veins.
But just as suddenly as he had begun, the captain stopped. She opened her eyes with difficulty, trying to find her way back to reality. She looked at him in confusion. Boyse’s face was as cool and collected as if he had just signed a contract for a load of firewood.
As Maren smoothed her dress with shaking hands, the captain opened a hidden drawer under the tabletop and removed a purse of coins. “Here,” he said. “That should be enough. Make sure that you pay it all back, to the penny. If you can’t pay with coin, you’ll have to find another way.”
Maren nodded and was about to turn and leave, but Boyse held her back by the arm. All at once, his face had become gentler than it had been a few moments ago. “I have a Christmas present for you,” he said, taking a wrapped package from a chest and giving it to her. Maren, still red with shame and humiliation, felt her eyes fill with tears again. It was bad enough that she’d had to kiss him. But it would be even worse, and more humiliating than ever, to have to accept a gift from him.
“I . . . I don’t need a present from you,” she stammered.
Boyse gazed at the package and then shrugged. “If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to another woman.” He took a deep breath, watching Maren, who was still unable to even take a step. “And now go. I have things to do.”
This last humiliation shook her out of her frozen state. With a sob, she rushed out of his house and wept half the way back to Rantum. She had been branded, heart and soul, and had no idea how to change it.
CHAPTER 7
Maren placed the purse on the table. “Now we can repair everything. Now, Father, you can buy a new fishing boat.” She spoke softly, her soul still trembling and her cheeks burning.
Klaas’s brow creased, and he cast a glance at Finja, who had a wary look on her face. “What did you have to do for it?” Klaas asked severely.
Maren shook her head. “Nothing I’d have to confess if we were Catholic.”
“Will you marry him now?” Finja asked, relieved and fearful at the same time. “Did he force you to marry him?”
Maren shook her head. “I’m not going to be his wife. Not now or ever. I won’t let myself be forced. I’m engaged to Thies, and it will remain so. Soon we will marry, and I’ll be his wife.”
Finja gestured at the purse. “Then how are we going to pay this back?”
Maren stiffened. She hadn’t expected gratitude, but maybe a little appreciation. After all, she’d had to kiss Boyse to secure the loan. She’d had to swallow her pride. Didn’t that matter?
“I’ll work,” she replied, feeling offended and defiant. “I’ll ask the village bird trappers if I can pluck the wild ducks they’ve caught. And I can sew. Maybe I’ll learn to stuff feather beds.” She felt tears beginning to fill her eyes. She wanted to bite back her words, but it was too late. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll pay back everything you’ve ever done for me with double the interest. I won’t owe you a thing.” Then she left the house and climbed the dunes, to cry there in peace.
Klaas sighed deeply as the door closed behind Maren. “We shouldn’t have been so hard on her,” he said.
Finja shook her head. “No, it was the right thing to do. She’s our only child. She has responsibilities toward her parents. Remember, Klaas. We married because our parents arranged it. It was our good luck that over the years we grew to love one another. But it could have been different. Just look at Grit.”
She sighed and wiped the tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. “There’s no right to happiness. There’s no right to love either. There’s not even a right to survival. But one has a duty to at least try.”
She stood, her shoulders drooping with sorrow. Then she took the broom and began to clean up the storm damage.
Maren sat on top of a dune among uprooted bushes and tangled beachgrass, gazing at the sea. It was low tide, and farther out she could see the remains of a shipwreck. The wood that stuck out above the water was covered with mussels and barnacles. When the tide came in, the wreck would disappear, but nothing would change for Maren.
I’m at Captain Boyse’s mercy, she thought. And if I can’t repay my debt, God knows what he’ll do. Then she thought about Thies. He would help them as much as he could, but how could that possibly be enough? She stood up and gazed over at the Heinen family home. She could see Antje, who was collecting shattered wood in the yard, dragging her lame leg behind her, as though it, too, were made of wood. Everything is ruined, she thought. And before her tears could start again, she got up and walked down the dune toward Thies’s home.
“So?” Antje didn’t stop her work when she spied Maren. “Have you come to help, like a future sister-in-law should?”
Maren shook her head. “I just wanted to see how you are and have a word with Thies. I can’t stay. We have too much to do ourselves.”
“Thies isn’t here,” Antje answered harshly, straightening up and fixing Maren with a slightly angry stare.
“Where is he?”
“He’s at Grit’s house. Repairing something there. In exchange, she’s giving him enough wood to repair our house.” Antje spoke tiredly, without any malice in her voice.
“At Grit’s house?” Jealousy reared inside her.
“Yes. In times like these, you can’t be too choosy about who helps you. Besides, she’s his cousin. And I hear you were visiting Captain Boyse, yourself. Apparently, he gave you money.”
“Who told you that?”
Antje shrugged. “We live on an island. How
long do you think something like that can stay secret? I heard it from Grit, and she heard it from the captain’s maid. She was eavesdropping on you from the kitchen.”
Antje’s eyes swept over her future sister-in-law from head to toe. “I knew that you’d do almost anything. But I never thought you’d sell a kiss like a harbor whore. No, I never could’ve imagined that.”
“I didn’t sell a kiss. I’m going to pay back every penny of that money to Boyse. It was a loan.”
“I honestly don’t know what’s worse.” Antje took the broom in her hand and eyed Maren again. “You should be glad that Thies is so good-natured,” she said. “But even his patience has limits. He’d wanted to go to your house to see if he could help. But then he decided he’d rather go to Grit. I think he made the right decision.”
Maren nodded sadly and turned to go. She could understand Thies’s choice, but shouldn’t he have been loyal to her anyway? He knew that she’d turned down Boyse twice. For him. Wasn’t that proof enough of her love? Couldn’t he imagine that Boyse had forced her to kiss him? “Tell him he should come, when you see him,” Maren said. “It doesn’t matter how late it is when he gets back.”
“I don’t know if he’ll have time,” Antje replied.
That evening, Finja, Klaas, and Maren sat in the parlor, the only room still covered by an undamaged roof. Furniture from the other rooms had been brought in, pillows and blankets had been laid out on the floor to dry, and damp wood had been spread out around the fireplace. It smelled a bit musty. A single oil lamp cast a meager glow over the room. It was cold enough that Klaas, Finja, and Maren were wearing thick coats, and Finja had even wrapped her legs in an old blanket. Though Finja still looked pale, she seemed to be more invigorated than she had been that morning. There was light in her eyes again, and her shoulders didn’t droop as much.
Klaas had a piece of paper in front of him and a goose-feather quill in his hand, and was making a list of what needed to be done. “The fishing boat is the most important thing,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s the only way we’ll be able to earn a little money. Mr. Nickelsen from Hörnum is going over to the mainland tomorrow. I hired him to bring back wood for me. But it will still be a while before I can go fishing again. The next priority should be repairing the roof. You can both cut reeds tomorrow. We’ll dry them here in the parlor. I rebuilt the chimney today. It doesn’t draw as well as it used to, but it works for now.”