by Lynn Austin
“Cornelia was still a child when her mother, father, and two younger brothers were all killed in a house fire. She moved away to live with her grandfather right after their funerals, before she had a chance to truly mourn their loss. Dominie Den Herder meant well, but his wife had passed away, and he was a busy pastor who didn’t know how to handle a young girl’s grief. No one from the church stepped forward to comfort her when she needed it so badly. Today, when your baby started crying, Mrs. Visscher, Cornelia wanted to comfort him, and I don’t think she knew how. So, she started walking with him, and after he stopped crying she just kept going. She took him up to Pilgrim Cemetery because that’s where she goes with me whenever she needs to remember her own mama and mourn for her… . Am I making any sense?”
Mrs. Van Putten nods. “She’s such a quiet girl. Never says a peep.”
“More than anything else, Cornelia needs our understanding and love. She is still holding a great deal of grief and sorrow inside. Today, when she held your baby, she was able to let some of it pour out so she could begin to heal.” I turn to Lena. “Cornelia will want to apologize to you herself, I’m sure, but I do hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive her. I know she never meant to frighten you. And she would never hurt your baby.”
“I guess so …” she says. “Thank God I have him back.” She kisses the baby’s forehead just as Cornelia did.
“Thank you both for understanding. And I will thank everyone outside for helping us with the search. But for Cornelia’s sake, please remember that we don’t owe them any explanation except to say that she took the baby for a walk and lost track of the time, as young girls are apt to do. I think … I think the very best way we can help Cornelia is to let her return to work here as if nothing happened. Then the gossip and whispering will soon die away.” Mrs. Van Putten begins to speak, but I interrupt her. “No, you don’t need to decide right now whether or not you’ll let Cornelia come back. Take time to think about it and talk it over with your husband. You can let us know what you decide.”
I’m exhausted by the time I walk home again, and greatly relieved to find Cornelia sitting at my kitchen table drawing on her sketchbook. I peer over her shoulder and see that it’s a picture of the baby.
“Is everyone mad at me?” Cornelia asks.
“No, but I’m sure you can understand that the baby’s mother was very worried about him. We need to walk over to her house tomorrow so you can say you’re sorry for scaring her.”
“I’m making this picture for her. Do you think she’ll like it?”
The page blurs out of focus as tears flood my eyes. “I think she will love it.”
Her voice grows softer. “Please don’t tell my grandfather about today. He doesn’t want anyone here in Holland to know about my baby—not even you. He’ll be very angry with me for telling you.”
“Well, I’m certain he’s going to hear about what happened at the store. The entire town will be talking about it.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt the baby.”
“I know you weren’t.” Cornelia’s pencil makes a faint scratching sound as she sketches. I pray for wisdom, as I have so often since she came to live with me. “Will you tell me about your baby, Cornelia?”
“Nobody is supposed to know about him,” she says, her voice whisper-soft.
“You can trust me with your secret, lieveling. Besides, I’m guessing that you need to talk about him, am I right? Otherwise, it’s as if he doesn’t exist. But he does.” I wait, watching her draw, praying that she will let me help her lift this great weight from her heart.
She begins her story slowly, speaking in a halting voice. “There was this man in my grandfather’s church… . Everybody liked him. He was my papa’s age, with a wife and children of his own, but … but he was the only person who ever took time to listen to me, like my papa used to do… . Sometimes he would hold me when I needed it. But then he wanted to do more than hold me.” She pauses, and I want to murder the man.
“I knew the Bible says it’s wrong, and I squirmed away from him, at first… . But then I stopped caring if I broke the church’s rules. God took my family in order to punish me, so what did I care if I broke His rules? Besides, the man made me feel … special.” A rage begins growing inside me that will have no outlet. This evil man lives thousands of miles away in the Netherlands.
“When I felt my baby moving inside me it was like … like I finally had someone to love again. God killed all the people I loved, but now I had gotten even with God and made a new person to love. And my baby would love me, too. I ran away from home—not to kill myself, but so I could be on my own. Grandfather found me and made me come back. I told him that I was going to have a baby because I wanted him to throw me out of his house. He asked who the father was, but I wouldn’t tell him. He could probably guess who it was, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself… . Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. And it infuriates me! He never confronted the man?”
Cornelia shakes her head. “He said he couldn’t accuse him unless I named him and testified against him, but I wouldn’t do it.” She lifts her chin, a gesture of defiance. I admire her strength and courage in holding on to her secret. It was the only thing in her life that she could control. But the cost was much too great, for everyone.
“My grandfather was furious with me. He said I had shamed him. He sent me far away to have the baby, and I was like a prisoner there. I made up my mind that as soon as the baby was strong enough, we would run away and hide where no one could ever find us.” She stares into the distance for a long moment, as if imagining what her future might have been like. Then she shakes her head, erasing it.
“It took me all day and night to have him. I felt like I was being torn in two. Then at last, I heard my baby crying … and I heard someone say, ‘It’s a little boy.’ I decided I would name him Willem after my papa… . I had no strength left at all, but I swore that as soon as I was able to, I would take Willem far away from there.
“The midwife wrapped me in a warm blanket because I was shivering, and she brought me some bread and cheese to eat. ‘I want to hold my baby, first,’ I told her. ‘Where is he? Can I hold him now?’
“‘The baby is with a family who will love him,’ she told me.
“‘But I love him! He’s my baby and no one else’s! Bring him to me!’
“The woman shook her head. ‘Your grandfather arranged for him to be adopted by a family that isn’t able to have children of their own.’
“I started screaming and trying to get out of bed, but they held me down. They told me he was already gone. I needed to see him and hold him, but nobody would listen to me.” Cornelia pauses to choke back a sob as she relives that terrible day.
I take her in my arms and say, “Go ahead and cry, Cornelia. You need to cry.” And I weep along with her.
“They didn’t let me hold him!” she sobs. “Not even once before they took him away from me! … How will he know that I love him if I couldn’t hold him?”
I rock her in my arms for a long time. “I’m glad that you had a chance to hold Mrs. Visscher’s baby today. Glad that you finally had a chance to say good-bye.”
When Cornelia is able to speak again, she leans back in her chair and wipes her eyes. “My grandfather sent me away to have the baby because he wanted to keep it a secret. But when I came back, everyone in his church was talking about it. The dominie’s unmarried granddaughter had a baby! He was ashamed of me. And I had no reason to live anymore without my son. That’s why I wanted to die.”
“Let me help you find some new reasons to live. Will you let me do that for you, Cornelia? I would miss you so much if you died—just as much as I miss the rest of my family.” I watch her, waiting for her reply. She shrugs and picks up her pencil to finish her drawing.
I can now see why Cornelia is so angry with her grandfather. And I understand that a man as proud and self-righteous as Marinus must have felt disgraced and shamed when his co
ngregation learned of his granddaughter’s moral failures. But I wonder if he even recognizes the part he played in the tragedy. By not showing Cornelia his love, he made her easy prey for a man who would. I also understand why Marinus had to give away the baby. The child deserved a chance to grow up without the stigma of being illegitimate. But Cornelia doesn’t understand. No one explained it to her or sat with her and comforted her in her sorrow. Now neither of them is able to forgive the other. If there is a remedy for this terrible situation, I have no idea what it is.
The loud pounding on my front door startles both of us. “Stay right here!” I tell Cornelia before going to answer it. When I see her grandfather on my porch, I want to pummel him with my fists.
“Let me speak to Cornelia!” he bellows.
“No. Not right now. She needs—”
“Don’t tell me no! She’s my granddaughter!” He starts to move past me, but I push him backward as hard as I can to get him away from my door. Then I step outside onto the porch with him, closing the door behind both of us.
“You keep your voice down, Dominie! Getting angry and yelling at Cornelia is the worst thing you could possibly do right now.”
“Everyone is talking about what she did today, snatching that baby. It’s all over town! Tell her I said to pack her things. We’re moving away. Everyone will think she’s a crazy woman!”
My temper boils over. I have tried so hard not to lash out at him and to be kind and loving toward him, but I can’t keep up the façade any longer. Not after the way he treated Cornelia. “The only crazy person is you!” I shout. “You tried to run from your problems in the past and they followed you here! How many more times are you going to uproot that poor girl and make her suffer before you decide to help her instead of running away with her?”
“I suppose she told you all about …” He waves his hand in the air as if avoiding a shameful word.
“About her baby? Yes, she told me.”
“Everyone in town will probably know about it now.”
“No, Dominie. I’m the only one. I’m the only person in town who knows that Cornelia’s life was so bleak and loveless after her family died that she found consolation in the arms of an evil, married man. I’m the only one who knows how you ripped her child from her arms without any warning or explanation. And without even giving her a chance to hold him and say good-bye.”
“It had to be done.”
“Not in such a heartless way. No wonder she’s still grieving. It’s a terrible loss for any mother to lose the child she has carried inside her for nine months, regardless of the situation.”
“She shamed me! Her behavior shamed me before my entire church!”
“Listen to yourself! All you care about are your own feelings! Why can’t you see this tragedy from Cornelia’s point of view? Look at all the wreckage and pain in her short life! Where is your pity, your compassion, your mercy on a young girl who lost so much?”
“I lost everything, too! I resigned from my position in the church in shame! Because of her behavior!”
“Why wasn’t your church willing to offer grace to you and Cornelia?”
“I didn’t expect them to.”
“And you didn’t think to show Christ’s grace and mercy to Cornelia yourself?”
“The law against adultery is very clear. It’s one of God’s Ten Commandments—”
“Grace and mercy are the hallmarks of Christ’s Kingdom!” I say, outshouting him. “Remember the woman Jesus met at the well? Or the woman who was caught in adultery? Jesus told her, ‘Neither do I condemn thee—’”
“Cornelia brought shame on me and on our family!”
I want to shake him. “Haven’t you ever shamed our heavenly Father? I know I have. The psalm says that if God kept a record of our sins, who among us could stand? But with Him, there is forgiveness.”
“How dare you preach to me?”
“I dare because you need to hear it. You’ve forgotten Christ’s most basic teachings. Don’t you remember His parable about the man whose huge debt is forgiven, and yet he refuses to forgive someone else’s debt? The king casts him into prison! Our sins bring shame to our heavenly Father every single day, yet He shows us mercy. In fact, He piled all of our shame on His innocent Son. And right now, His love and grace are the only things that can convince Cornelia to live.”
“How dare you—?”
“Where is your outrage at the married man who took advantage of a lonely girl?” I’m shouting now, unable to stop.
“She wouldn’t name him. If she had, I would have excommunicated him.”
“And so, instead of pursuing justice, you allowed this man to continue attending your church, where he is free to prey on other innocent girls? You both should be in jail!” I take a deep breath and say, “How God must grieve over the messes we create in His name! You should worry less about yourself, Dominie, and more about your granddaughter. You should ask God how you can help her so she’ll decide her life is worth living. And you need to begin by asking her to forgive you for taking her baby away.” He starts to speak, but I cut him off. “We’ve said enough for one day. Cornelia is not moving out of my house. I asked Mrs. Van Putten to let her come back to work so this will all blow over. And it will. Now go home and read what Jesus has to say about forgiveness and mercy and love. Good day, Dominie.”
I go inside and slam my door so hard the windows rattle.
I watch from the front room as he leaves my porch and stomps home. I’m trembling so badly from head to toe that I need to sit down and catch my breath. When I do, I’m immediately filled with remorse. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and yelled at him. I’m ashamed of the way I behaved. I’m supposed to be a good Christian woman, turning the other cheek, being patient and kind. I was none of those things. I close my eyes and ask God to forgive me. I’ve made such a mess of this.
When I open them again, Cornelia is standing in front of me. She kneels down and takes my hands in hers. “Thank you, Tante Geesje.” I stare at her. I don’t know what to say.
“For what?” I finally ask.
“Everybody is so afraid to stand up to him. He always gets whatever he wants. He’s the dominie. He speaks for God, so he must be right. Nobody has taken my side since my papa died.” She squeezes my hands and says, “You sounded just like Jesus did when He yelled at all those religious people and told them they were hypocrites. Thank you, Tante Geesje.” She leans forward and wraps her thin arms around me, holding me tightly. “I love you,” she whispers.
“And I love you, too, Cornelia.”
I think back to the day my son asked me if I would let Cornelia stay in my spare room for a few weeks. I remember wishing I could refuse, unwilling to have my quiet, cozy life disrupted. I ask God to forgive my selfishness. And I wonder how many other times in my life I have refused to answer His call because it might inconvenience me.
Chapter 25
Anna
Chicago, Illinois
Ever since I learned that James Blackwell is my father, I have been trying to devise a way to meet him and confront him. It won’t change the mess I’m in with Clarice, but I want him to know about the consequences that his cruel behavior had on Mama and me. And I admit I’m also very curious to meet my real father face-to-face, this man whom Mama loved so deeply. But James Blackwell is a busy judge whose life has no intersection with mine. I’ve thought about sneaking into his courtroom and sitting in the back row to watch him from a distance, but I don’t even know where his courtroom is. I certainly don’t dare approach him at his home, especially after Mrs. Philip’s warning.
To make matters worse, I haven’t been feeling well. I have a terrible sore throat, and I’m running a slight fever. I imagine it’s caused by exhaustion from all the pressure I’ve been under. I’m not eating or sleeping well. I need to stay home until I have a chance to recover, but I’m running out of time with Clarice, who will want an answer soon. I still have no idea what to tell her. At least my illness ha
s delayed my trip to the engravers with Mother and Mrs. Wilkinson to order the wedding invitations.
I spend my time in bed, alternating between praying for a solution to my dilemma with Clarice and rereading Mama’s journal. I love hearing Mama’s voice in the words she penned, but I’m also trying to form a clear picture of my father. The James Blackwell in the beginning of her diary is a romantic character who is charmed by the ordinary people who run his household and ignores the barriers between the two classes. Like a hero in a romance novel, he is quick to jump in and rescue Mama from the railroad company, battling them in a lawsuit to win the settlement she deserved. He found creative, romantic ways for them to meet and was willing to marry her rather than simply taking advantage of her. So how did he suddenly change into the cowardly man who ended their marriage in such a cold, unfeeling way? I long to ask him.
I am sitting up in bed with Mama’s journal open on my lap when an idea begins to form in my mind of how I might be able to meet with him. What if I were to send him a plain white envelope like the ones he used to send to Mama? It could contain a cryptic message with only a place and a time to meet. Would he be intrigued enough by the mystery to keep the appointment? Perhaps some remaining guilt from his past actions would also draw him. He may even believe the message came from Mama, since he probably doesn’t know she’s dead.
The idea continues to grow and take shape until I feel a compelling urge to do it. I’m going to ask him to meet with me. I know there’s a very good chance that he won’t come, in which case I’m no worse off than I am now. But if he does show up, I’m going to ask him why he rejected his own child and hurt the woman who loved him so deeply.
I climb out of bed and sit down at my desk, determined to follow through on my plan before I have a chance to change my mind. I choose the same time and place where James secretly met with Christina for the first time. I write: Garfield Park. Washington Boulevard and Central Park Avenue. Sunday. 2:00 p.m. I add a streetcar token to the envelope, left over from my travels around the city with Lucy, to further remind him of Christina. Then I wait, wondering what will happen.