by Lynn Austin
For a moment, I’m so stunned I can only nod. “Thank you,” I finally murmur. I wait to see if he has more to say. I’m afraid to speak, afraid to unleash his anger again. Marinus is staring at the porch floor. He looks distressed. I’m guessing the apology hasn’t come easy to him. When he remains silent, I summon the courage to speak. “Dominie, I would like very much to help you and Cornelia. Please tell me how I can do that.”
“I don’t know,” he says, spreading his hands. “I’m at a loss about what to do. But I do need your help. I’m working more hours at the newspaper now and will be away from Cornelia. I know I can’t leave her alone. I need you or someone else to stay with her until I can be sure she won’t try this again.”
“How many times has she attempted suicide?”
I can see he is reluctant to tell me. His words are offered like crumbs of bread. “Twice in the Netherlands. This was the first time here in America. When we were traveling on the ship I watched her night and day, always afraid she would jump overboard. She would stand by the rail, looking into the sea, and I feared for her. I can’t understand her obsession. I don’t know why she wants to do this.”
“I will certainly watch over Cornelia as best I can. But unless we get to the root of her grief and help her manage it, we’ll both spend the rest of our lives worrying that she’ll attempt it again. Do you really want that?”
“No.”
“Then I think … I think you’ll have to give her permission to talk to me. About anything. You’ll have to trust me to keep her secrets safe. I don’t see any other way.”
“I’ll think about it.”
His stubbornness frustrates me. “I can’t imagine a secret so horrible that keeping it is worth the risk that Cornelia will end her life.”
“It’s nobody’s business but ours.”
“That’s true. But I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m facing.” I can’t get past his wall of stubbornness, so I decide to try a different approach. “If you don’t mind my asking, I’m wondering how your faith figures into this? I’ve never heard you mention your Christian beliefs at all when we’ve talked about Cornelia.”
“My faith is a very personal thing.”
“Our relationship with God is certainly personal, but He gives us a church family so we can help each other along life’s journey. Even in Eden, God said it wasn’t good for man to be alone. Other Christians are the only hands and feet that Jesus has.”
“It seldom happens that smoothly in real life. People’s ‘concern’ quickly turns into gossip.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had that experience. But I don’t know where I would be today without the prayers and support of my church family.”
He’s like a man on a frozen pond, trying to keep his balance as his control over his temper begins to slip for the first time. “Maybe it works that way for you, Mrs. de Jonge, but who can a dominie confide in? Who does he trust with his private concerns?” He faces me, and I see the pain behind his anger. I try to imagine him coping with Cornelia’s suicide attempts without a wife or family to turn to. And he was unwilling to trust his congregation with his burden. No wonder the truth he tried to hide became a rich source of gossip once it leaked out. And Cornelia would have borne the brunt of his anger, since her actions were the cause of it.
“Do you believe that God can forgive Cornelia for wanting to end her life?” I ask. “Or has she committed an unpardonable sin?”
“Cornelia has no faith. She wants nothing to do with God. How can He forgive her if she doesn’t repent?”
His words stun me. “Do you have any idea why she doesn’t believe?”
“Because her father wasn’t strict enough!” His temper begins to slip once again. “He let her get away with too much and didn’t raise her in the faith the same way he was raised.”
I close my eyes for a moment. No. That isn’t why. I’ll have to take a chance that sharing Cornelia’s confidences with him will lead to change. “Cornelia blames herself for what happened to her family, Dominie. Did she tell you that she argued with her mother on the day before the fire? And that she thinks God killed her family to punish her?”
“She never talks about the fire or her family.”
“Well, she needs to. Her grief and guilt are all bottled up inside, and the only way she can think of to stop the pain is to end her life.” He looks at me as if he wants to ask what makes me such an expert. “I’ve lost members of my family just as you and Cornelia have. How did you explain the losses to her to help her through it?”
“I told her that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. His ways aren’t our ways. We can’t understand His thoughts so we shouldn’t try.”
I stifle a sigh of frustration. “Answers like those didn’t help me when I was grieving. They only infuriated me. My parents died of malaria when I was Cornelia’s age. My son was killed in the war. My daughter drowned in a shipwreck on her way home to Michigan. My husband died a few months later. Each time I faced another loss, I wrestled with God the way Job did in the Bible. I dared to get angry with Him and shout at Him rather than walk away from Him forever, which is what Cornelia has done. And while I still don’t have answers for why the people I loved had to die, the wrestling always brought me closer to God. He became very real to me when I was suffering, and I sensed that He understood. And during all that time, I knew that people were praying for me, and with me. I would like to ask some of them to pray for Cornelia, too.”
“No. Then the gossip will start. I won’t have it.”
“I can’t help her all by myself, Dominie. I’m not wise enough or strong enough. God doesn’t want us to do it alone. He tells us in Scripture to bear one another’s burdens. We have to trust each other. Suppose Cornelia had been all alone last Saturday? Suppose Derk and my granddaughter hadn’t been with her?”
He rises to his feet. “I will think about it.”
“One more thing,” I say, stopping him from leaving. “Mrs. Van Putten is advertising for part-time help down at her store. I haven’t said anything to Cornelia about it, but if she decides she would like to take the job, would it be all right with you? It might be good for her to get out of the house and meet new people.”
“I already asked your son to find her a job with a family from his congregation. A family with young children.”
“Oh dear,” I say before I can stop myself.
“What?” he asks.
I know it would be the worst possible job for Cornelia after what happened while she worked for the Vander Werfs. Not only would she hate it, she would see it as further punishment from God. “Why don’t we ask her which job she would prefer?”
He thinks for a moment. “I suppose we could do that.”
“Good. I’m so glad we can work together, Dominie, instead of arguing. I know we both want what’s best for Cornelia.” I rise to my feet, as well. “And now, I’ll take a little walk so you can go inside and talk with Cornelia alone.”
“Thank you.” I open the door for him to go inside, then set off down the street. The conversation has unsettled me, and I need time alone to think and pray about what to do before facing anyone else. But as I’m walking past the Vander Veens’ house, Derk opens his front door and calls to me.
“Tante Geesje, wait!” He jogs down the steps and out to the street. “I was just coming to see you. I need to ask you a question.”
My time to be alone vanishes. I have grown chilled while sitting on my porch with the dominie, and Derk is without a jacket. “Can we go inside your house?” I ask. “Marinus is talking to Cornelia in my house, and it’s too cold to stand around out here.” We go into his kitchen, which has always struck me as a bleak place, without the coziness of other kitchens. Derk and his father lived all alone after Mrs. Vander Veen died. They hire a housekeeper to clean once a week and do the washing, but the house could use a woman’s touch. “What’s on your mind, Derk?” I ask as we sit down at his table.
He runs his fingers through
his hair, leaving some of it standing on end. He seems nervous, which is unusual for him. “After Cornelia had her accident, I never had a chance to finish my conversation with Anneke. I can’t stop thinking about her, Tante Geesje. I’m worried about her. She admitted that she doesn’t love her fiancé, and I’m afraid she’s making a huge mistake.”
“You and I have both talked to her about William. We advised her not to rush into marriage. There’s not much more we can do.”
“I need to try one more time. Can you give me her address?”
“Are you planning to write a letter?” He looks away as if afraid to face me. “Tell me the truth, Derk.”
“I want to talk to her in person. I have a day off from my classes soon, and I want to take the train down to Chicago in the morning and come back the same day.”
“Oh dear. That’s not a good idea at all.”
“Why not? Who knows when she’ll be able to come back to Holland again? It’s the only way I can see her.”
“Anneke’s life is very different from ours. You can’t simply show up on her doorstep and expect her to welcome you. She has butlers and maids standing between her and the outside world—not to mention her mother. I’m sure you can imagine how Mrs. Nicholson will react when one of the hotel workers from last summer pays a call on her daughter. Besides, what would you say?”
“I would say …” He sighs, then turns to look me in the eye. “I want to tell Anneke that I love her.”
“Oh, Derk.”
“It’s true. I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve tried and tried, but it’s no use. When I saw her last week, I thought I would finally have a chance to tell her how I feel, but then Cornelia had her accident. I want Anneke to know that I love her, because I think she has feelings for me, too.”
“I understand, Derk, but—”
“I can’t just let her walk out of my life again and marry someone else for all the wrong reasons without telling her that I love her!”
“You will only confuse her, Derk. She’s engaged to another man.”
“Do you know if she feels the same way about me? Has she ever said anything?”
“Not in those words—”
“Has she ever said that she loves William?”
I scramble to find a way to talk Derk out of this wild idea. “Listen, I know what it’s like to be lovesick. Believe me, I do—”
“Then give me a chance to talk to her, Tante Geesje. Just tell me where she lives. Please?”
“I don’t think it would be wise for you to show up all alone on her doorstep without any warning.”
“Then come with me. Please?”
“I can’t leave Cornelia.”
“Bring her along, too.” Derk’s ideas are getting crazier by the minute. I need to talk some sense into him.
“I believe you when you say you’re in love with her, Derk. And that probably explains why you aren’t thinking clearly. Even if Anneke admits that she loves you, have you thought about what it would be like to actually share a life together?”
“Yes! It’s all I ever think about!”
“I mean practical things—like how ill-equipped Anneke is to be a pastor’s wife. Do you honestly believe that one of our conservative Dutch congregations will welcome her with open arms, considering her background? She isn’t one of us. She barely knows the Old Testament from the New.”
“She wants to serve God as much as I do.”
“Derk, she has never cleaned a house or washed her own clothes or cooked a meal in her life, much less plucked a chicken. You can’t expect a woman like Anneke to do all those things. She has servants to wait on her hand and foot, helping her get dressed and even brushing her hair. You won’t be able to afford a houseful of servants on your salary. You would be asking her to give up the only way of life she has ever known.”
“Anneke told me she’s sick of it all.”
“That may be true, but I don’t see how she could ever adjust to the way you and I live. Even if she does love you, it could never work.”
“I want to let her know that she has a choice. She still might choose William, but I need to tell her I love her and that I want to marry her.”
“Will you please think about this a little more first? I don’t want to see you get hurt, lieveling. You must know in your heart of hearts that Anneke won’t be able to marry you, even if she does have feelings for you. It would break her parents’ hearts, for one thing. She is all they have.”
“I want her to know that I love her.”
I’m convinced that Derk’s idea is a bad one, but I know him well enough to know that he won’t let it go. He’ll find Anneke’s address one way or another. “I’ll give you her address,” I say. “But please use it to write her a letter. Don’t go rushing down to Chicago in person. Anneke deserves a chance to think about your declaration before she responds to it. You can’t simply knock on her door and spring the news on her while she’s in the middle of making wedding plans.”
“Thanks, Tante Geesje.” He jumps up and gives me a hug. “Can we go over to your house now and get the address?”
“Write your letter first. Take your time with it. Besides, don’t you have your studies to think about?”
“I can’t concentrate on anything else until I get this off my chest.”
I stand and reach up to caress his shoulder. “I’m worried about you, lieveling. Please take more time to think this through before you disrupt Anneke’s life.” He nods, but I know he hasn’t heard me.
We talk about other things for a few more minutes before I wrap up in my shawl and walk home. The last thing I needed today was to add Derk to my list of worries along with Cornelia and Marinus and Anneke. For the hundredth time, I offer a silent prayer for wisdom. Then I open my kitchen door and go inside to see how Cornelia and her grandfather are getting along.
Chapter 19
Anna
Chicago, Illinois
A week has passed since I returned from Michigan and learned that I was the subject of gossip. Mother and I have now resumed our normal social activities as if the scandal surrounding my mama had never happened. On the surface, none of the other ladies behaves any differently toward me. In fact, Clarice Beacham has invited me and two other women from the Literary Club to a luncheon at her house later this week. I’m afraid to accept—and afraid not to. I don’t want to turn my back on any of them when we’re together, certain that I’ll hear whispers and snickering.
William and his family invite me to sit with them in their pew on Sunday morning, as if to show the congregation that I have paid my penance and have been forgiven. Later that afternoon William invites me for a carriage ride to our new house to see how the sale of some of the furnishings is progressing. “I’ve missed you,” he says as he snuggles close to me against the fall chill. “I’m glad that the scandal has died down and I have you back by my side. I dislike attending important events alone.”
I’m unsure if I’m expected to apologize to William as I did to his mother. I don’t want to. I still feel bruised after the way he kept his distance from me when I needed his support. I know I’m being stubborn, but I want him to know how I feel. “The gossip wasn’t true, you know,” I say. “Besides, I never told a soul what I learned from the detectives, not even you or my parents. I don’t know how the rumors got started. It’s almost as if someone has it out for me and wants to disgrace me.” I’m about to tell him that I suspect Clarice Beacham, but he puts his fingers over my lips to stop me.
“I’d rather not talk about it anymore. The scandal is finally dying down, so let’s not rake the coals. People are starting to forget about it, and you should, too.”
How can I forget? It was my mother who was called a harlot, not his! It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him how much his lack of concern for my humiliation hurt me, but I hold back. Young ladies of my social class simply don’t lose control and spew their feelings all over the place. Besides, I don’t want to ruin my first afternoon back
with William. “I’m trying to put it all behind me,” I say instead.
“Good. I trust there won’t be any new revelations between now and our wedding?”
I shake my head, wishing I had discovered something to salvage Mama’s reputation. I would love to say “Aha!” to everyone who enjoyed the gossip and see their dismay when I prove them wrong. Instead, it appears that my discoveries at the tenement house have proven them right.
I can’t stop picturing my mama dancing with James Blackwell, then polishing his family’s silver in the servants’ basement. Somewhere between her time with the Blackwells and the time she moved into the dreary tenement, alone and pregnant, she met someone and fell in love. Someone who abandoned her to give birth to me all alone, without any friends or family members by her side. No one must ever know that Mama may have been unmarried, not even Oma Geesje. And even if I wanted to continue searching for my father’s identity, I’ve reached a dead end.
William smiles as he takes my hand. “Only a few more months and you’ll be my wife.” I try to smile back, but my stomach does a slow turn. I’m not ready. I need more time. I thought I was ready until I saw Derk last weekend and realized that I still have strong feelings for him. When he jumped into the channel to rescue Cornelia, I was terrified for his life.
“Is something wrong?” William asks.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, of course not.”
We arrive at the mansion that will soon be ours, and I’m surprised when a butler opens the door to usher us into the foyer. “I’ve hired a few servants already,” William tells me. “They’ll be taking care of everything until we move in. But we’ll need to hire more.”
“I have a servant named Lucy who has become my lady’s maid,” I say. “I would like to bring her along to work for us after we’re married. I’m sure my mother won’t mind.”
“Whatever you’d like, my dear.” He leads the way through the rooms as if he already knows his way around the house. “You’ll probably notice some bare spots here and there,” he says. “We had to let some of the furnishings go to pay George Kirkland’s creditors. But nothing that can’t be replaced. Mother wants to hold our wedding reception in here,” he says as we enter the enormous grand dining room. “Impressive, yes?”