Legacy of Mercy

by Lynn Austin

  Everyone is exhausted by the time we reach the lobby. Someone adds more wood to the fire, and we stand around the lobby fireplace enjoying the warmth. The porters find some spare clothes for Derk and Cornelia, and they change into them in the back office. They drape their wet ones in front of the fire to dry. Cornelia is still coughing up water. “You might want to see a doctor when you get back to town,” one of the workers advises. Everyone is discussing how she might have slipped, but I remain silent—and baffled. I know it wasn’t an accident.

  “I don’t suppose you know how to drive a carriage?” Derk asks me when he and Cornelia are finally warm and dry.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve never driven one before. I don’t know how to handle a horse.” Cornelia says something in Dutch, but Derk shakes his head. “What did she say?” I ask.

  “She says she can drive us, but I think I’d better do it. She’s pretty weak.” She and Derk are still swaddled in blankets as we unhitch the horse. We huddle on the seat with Cornelia between us for the ride home. Once again, she mumbles something in Dutch and Derk answers her.

  “Now what did she say?” I ask. I’m wondering if she is going to confess what she did.

  “I think she’s trying to apologize for causing trouble. I told her the accident wasn’t her fault.”

  But it wasn’t an accident. Should I tell Derk what I saw? He risked his life to save her, so he deserves to know the truth. I hesitate, but in the end I decide to confide in Oma first, leaving it up to her whether or not to tell Derk. Either way, he’s a hero.

  “That was a very brave thing you did today,” I say. “You risked your life for her.”

  “Anyone would have done the same. Fortunately, I’m a strong swimmer.”

  “You could have frozen to death.”

  “That’s why I had to act fast, or Cornelia would have frozen to death, too.”

  She grips Derk’s arm all of a sudden and talks rapidly to him, shaking her head as if pleading with him. Derk doesn’t seem to understand. “Can you figure out what she’s saying?” I ask.

  “Something about her grandfather. I don’t think she wants him to know what happened.”

  I think I know why, but I remain silent. Cornelia has seemed sad, but I can’t imagine despair so profound that she would choose to die in such a horrible way. My problems seem trivial in comparison, and I’m ashamed for complaining about them. I wish I could communicate with Cornelia so she would know I want to be her friend. But all I can do is hold her hand in mine as we ride home. Her slender fingers are as cold as ice.

  Chapter 13

  Geesje

  Holland, Michigan

  I’m watering my plants by my front porch when Arie’s horse and carriage pulls up in front of my house. I’m surprised to see Anna, Derk, and Cornelia returning so early—but I quickly see that something is wrong. Derk is driving, not Cornelia, and the two of them are damp and bedraggled and swaddled in blankets. All three of them look pale and frightened.

  “What happened?” I ask as I hurry toward them.

  “Cornelia fell into the channel,” Derk replies. My heart plunges. Was it an accident or another suicide attempt? Guilt floods through me. I should have been there to watch over her, even if it was an accident. I wanted the three of them to have time alone together, but I should have gone along to keep a close eye on Cornelia as I promised her grandfather I would do.

  Derk jumps down first, the blanket slipping from his shoulders as he ties up the horse. He helps Cornelia and Anneke down. Cornelia is shivering and coughing. “You poor girl!” I say as I try to take her into my arms. She wiggles free. She looks as though she wants to run and hide.

  “Please don’t tell my grandfather what happened,” she says, glancing at Derk’s house next door. “I don’t want him to know. He’ll be angry with me.”

  “I can’t imagine him being angry because of an accident. He cares about you.”

  “I don’t want him to worry. Please?”

  “Go sit by the fire in the kitchen, and I’ll be there in a moment to make tea.” I turn to see about the others as she hurries into the house.

  “I’ll drive the carriage back,” Derk tells me.

  “No, let it wait. Go home and change your clothes and warm up. A hot bath will help take off the chill. We’ll worry about the carriage later.”

  He nods and picks up the blanket that has fallen from his shoulders. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he says. “Take care of Cornelia, Tante Geesje. And Anneke is pretty shaken, too.”

  “I will.” I’m in a hurry to get inside and build up the fire, but Anneke stops me on the front porch.

  “Oma Geesje?” she whispers. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “I saw what happened and … and it wasn’t an accident.” My heart plunges again as I wait to hear more. “Cornelia walked right off the edge into the water as if … as if she knew exactly what she was doing. I shouted for her to stop, but she just kept going. Derk and I weren’t paying attention to her and … and it happened so fast I couldn’t stop her. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have no reason to be sorry. Come inside and warm up with a cup of tea. You’ve had a terrible shock. We’ll talk more about it later.”

  “I didn’t tell Derk what I saw,” Anneke says. “He doesn’t know the truth. He was a hero to jump in and save her that way.”

  “Thank goodness they’re both okay.”

  We go inside, and I shove more wood into my kitchen range, letting it heat until the flames roar and the water in the tank and in the teakettle is boiling hot. None of us says much as we sip our tea. Anneke helps me haul buckets of hot water to fill my bathtub. Cornelia seems too weak to move, so I lead her into my little bathroom and help her undress. Her clothing smells rank and fishy like the lake. Her slender body looks skeletal as she slips into the hot water. I sit beside her on a stool, holding the soap and towel and a cloth for washing.

  “It wasn’t an accident, was it, Cornelia?” I say softly. She doesn’t admit it or deny it, but her eyes fill with tears. “You can trust me with the truth, lieveling.”

  “I don’t want my grandfather to know. Please don’t tell him.”

  “I can’t make that promise until you tell me more. He’s responsible for you and has a right to know what’s going on in your life.” She sinks further into the water, her lips quivering. “Can you tell me why you did it?” I ask. When she finally replies, her voice is whisper soft.

  “Grandfather wants me to marry Derk.” I bite my lip to keep from reacting. His plan infuriates me for Cornelia’s sake as well as Derk’s. I wait, hoping she will continue. “He doesn’t want Derk to know the truth about my past. But today when I saw Anneke and Derk together … I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I saw how much they love each other… . It’s not right to trick Derk into marrying me without telling him the truth. Or to trick any other man into it, either.”

  “Derk will make up his own mind about who he marries, no matter what your grandfather wants or thinks. And I doubt very much if Derk will marry Anneke, either. She is engaged to a gentleman in Chicago. Her wedding will take place in a few months. She and Derk aren’t a couple.”

  Cornelia sinks lower in the water. “They should be.”

  Her words dismay me. I’m not the only one who recognizes their feelings for each other. They are plain to see, in spite of the fact that Cornelia couldn’t understand their conversation. I only hope that Anneke doesn’t leave here even more confused than when she arrived.

  “That still doesn’t explain why you did what you did today, Cornelia. Won’t you please tell me? I can’t imagine a secret so big that it’s driving you to end your life.”

  She shakes her head. “Grandfather doesn’t want me to tell anyone. He made me promise.”

  “Well, he was wrong to do that. The story of your past is yours alone to share or to keep secret. It’s not up to him to make that decision for you, especially if holding it
inside your heart is driving you to despair. I would do anything to help you change your mind about killing yourself. Your secret is safe with me, Cornelia.” She leans forward and ducks her head beneath the water for a moment. When she lifts it out again, her hair is streaming. Water and tears wash down her face.

  I recall the timid little chipmunk that once dug a hole beside my back steps. With time and patience, I was able to coax it to trust me, and if I sat very still it would scurry up to feed from my hand. It’s that way now with Cornelia as I wait for her to decide if she will trust me.

  At last her story pours out like water that has been held back for much too long… .

  Cornelia

  The Netherlands

  1893

  I was in my bedroom, drawing a picture on my sketchbook, when Mama interrupted me. “It’s time to go, Cornelia. Is your bag packed?”

  “No. I told you I don’t want to go.” The drawing was a birthday present for my school friend, and I needed to get it just right.

  Mama crossed the room, her hand raised as if preparing to slap my face. “Don’t you dare tell me no! Your father is waiting to drive you into town. And the meal I made for the Vander Werfs’ supper has finished cooking. Like it or not, you’re going. Right now!”

  I didn’t move. The Vander Werfs already had seven unruly children, and Mrs. Vander Werf had just given birth to another one. “Why do I have to go? Why can’t someone else help her?”

  Before I could blink, Mama snatched the drawing book from my hand, then grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. “You’re going. Don’t make me take the switch to you!”

  “But I don’t want to go! I don’t like doing other people’s dirty work!”

  “And I don’t like having a daughter who is selfish and lazy.” Mama dragged me into the front room of our farmhouse and shoved me toward the door. “Put your shoes on. And mark my words, Cornelia, God will punish you if you don’t change your ways.” She had told me that before—whenever I hid behind the barn instead of coming when she called me, or when I snuck off to ride our mare instead of finishing my chores. This time Papa heard her, too, as he came inside to get the food Mama had prepared.

  “Don’t tell her that,” he said. “God isn’t vengeful. He doesn’t punish us for things like that. I won’t raise our children with guilt and shame the way my father raised me.”

  “Well, it’s time for Cornelia to grow up. She needs to be responsible and show some concern for others.”

  “I’m sure she will grow into a lovely woman. But right now, she’s still a child. We can’t expect her to act like an adult. There will be plenty of time for her to grow up.”

  “I promised Mrs. Vander Werf that Cornelia would come and help. She needs to obey me.”

  Papa smiled as he tilted his head toward the door, motioning for me to go outside where the wagon was waiting. “Yes, I also expect her to go. But she didn’t volunteer for this task, so we can hardly expect her to be cheerful about it.” I climbed onto the seat while he set the pot in the back of the wagon, wedging it next to a basket of apples so it wouldn’t spill. “I know you don’t want to go,” he said. “But it would please your mother and me if you did this kindness. The Vander Werfs need our help. And it’s only for two nights.”

  “May I drive?” I asked as he walked around to the front and untied the reins.

  He handed them to me as he climbed up beside me. “Of course, lieveling.” We lived a mile outside of the village on a little plot of land with a garden, a chicken coop, and a small barn for our cow and our mare, Suiker. I often fought with my mama, who had very strong opinions about how I should behave. But Papa took my side and let me be myself. He knew that I liked to draw, so he gave me paper and drawing pencils for my thirteenth birthday. “The Netherlands may be a tiny country,” he said, “but we’ve produced some very fine artists. Perhaps you’ll be the next one.”

  The Vander Werf children ran out to greet me when I arrived, shouting and bickering and tugging on my hands. I didn’t ever want to get married if it meant having this many children. Mrs. Vander Werf seemed happy to see me. I hated all the work and the noise, but Papa was counting on me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. I went inside and got to work.

  During the night, the entire household woke up when the village church bell started clanging. “There must be a fire somewhere,” Mr. Vander Werf said. He pulled his trousers on over his nightclothes, grabbed a bucket, and left. I put all the children back to bed while their mother nursed the baby. Then I went back to sleep, too.

  I was stirring a pot of porridge for breakfast the next morning when Mr. Vander Werf returned. He wasn’t alone. Our dominie and his wife were with him. The expressions on their faces made my heart race. They asked me to come outside with them, and the dominie’s wife took my hands in hers. “It was your house that burned last night, Cornelia. I’m so sorry, but all is lost.”

  “What do you mean? Where’s my mama and papa?” I felt like I was in a dream. Any minute I would wake up and everything would be okay.

  “I’m so sorry… . They didn’t escape in time. They’re in heaven now. Your brothers, too.”

  “No!” I screamed. “I don’t believe you!” I felt so dizzy I feared I would fall over. I remembered Mama’s warning that God would punish me for being selfish, and I screamed again. Why hadn’t I listened to her? Why hadn’t I been nicer to her? Mama had been angry with me when I left, and I had been angry with her. Our last words to each other had been sharp ones. I pulled my hands free and turned to run. I wanted to race all the way home and untangle the mess I had made yesterday. I would tell Mama I was sorry for talking back to her. She would smooth my hair from my forehead and tell me she forgave me.

  I took only a few stumbling steps before the dominie grabbed my arm, stopping me. He held it so tightly I couldn’t leave. “We contacted your grandfather, and he is on his way here. You can come home to the manse with us while we wait for him.”

  “But I need to stay here and help Mrs. Vander Werf. Mama promised her I would stay.” I was convinced that everything would be different if I stayed and worked hard. They would find out they had made a mistake. It wasn’t my house that had burned after all. God would change His mind about punishing me. But the dominie’s wife wrapped her arm around my waist and made me walk with her to her house beside the church. I couldn’t seem to breathe, as if my lungs were filled with water. I was drowning in guilt.

  Late that afternoon my grandfather arrived, a man I barely knew. He had never visited our farm because he was always busy with his church in a different province. I remember visiting him a few times when Papa was on holidays from school, but after we moved to the farm a few years ago and had animals to care for, it was hard for our family to get away. Even as a young child, I could tell that Mama didn’t like my grandfather. My kind, gentle papa seemed to shrivel up and grow smaller when he was around him, which made me wary of him, too. I remembered an argument I overheard between them one night that woke me from a sound sleep. I couldn’t hear what Papa was saying, but Grandfather’s voice and his mocking tone had been loud and clear as he mowed Papa down like a field of grain.

  Grandfather and our dominie conducted the funerals two days later. As we gathered in the church hall afterward, Mrs. Vander Werf put her arm around my shoulders and said, “Would you like to come and live with us, Cornelia? Our children adore you, and although we couldn’t pay very much, we could give you room and board.” It was the very last thing I wanted to do. But it would be a fitting punishment for defying my mother. I knew I deserved it. “That way, you could still attend the village school where all your friends are,” she added. And where the memories of my family and our home would surround me. I was about to say yes, but Grandfather had overheard her, and he replied first.

  “Cornelia is coming to live with me,” he said. “All we have left, now, is each other.” It seemed like an odd thing to say. But neither Mama nor Papa had any relatives who were able to take me in. />
  The people from our church collected some clothes to replace the ones I’d lost, and the dominie’s wife packed them in a bag for me. My favorite books, my sketchbook, and all my drawings were gone forever. I never finished the birthday present for my friend. “What about our animals?” I asked, panicked at the thought of leaving them behind. “And our mare, Suiker?”

  “They will all be sold,” Grandfather replied. “There is no place to keep them where I live.”

  “Please let me keep my horse. Please!”

  Grandfather shook his head. “It isn’t possible.”

  The night before I left the village forever, I begged Dominie’s wife to take me back to see our farm one last time. I needed to make certain it was really gone, and that everyone had died. She agreed to take me, but Grandfather wouldn’t allow it. “It would serve no purpose,” he said. “Cornelia would be left with a horrible image that she never could erase. Much better to remember everything the way it once was.”

  Instead, what I remember is the fight I had with Mama. How she called me lazy and selfish and said God would punish me if I didn’t change.

  In the morning we traveled by train to the next province where grandfather lived. I hated it there. A housekeeper came during the day to clean and wash our clothes and cook simple meals, but Grandfather was always at the church. I hardly ever saw him. I had no friends in the new school, and I wasn’t interested in anything the teachers had to say. They were terrible teachers, not at all funny and interesting like my papa had been.

  I should have died in the fire that night, not my family. I’m the one who was lazy and selfish. It wasn’t fair that God killed good people like my parents and my little brothers just to punish me.

  I wished I was dead, too.

  Geesje

  “God isn’t punishing you, Cornelia,” I say as her story ends and her voice fades into silence. She looks up at me for the first time since beginning. “Didn’t your grandfather or anyone else explain to you that God doesn’t do things like that?”