by Lynn Austin
“Cornelia, I’m trying to figure out what’s hurting your grandfather so we will know how to pray for him. He keeps lashing out whenever we try to help him, like an animal that has been wounded too many times. I need your help. I don’t understand what he meant when he said his wife and son and you were all running from God and from His rules. Do you have any idea what he meant?”
“I don’t know… . My papa was never as strict about all the rules as Grandfather is,” she says without looking up. “He told Mama that he refused to raise my brothers and me the same way he was raised.”
“So in your grandfather’s mind, your father was running from God?”
“I guess.”
“And your grandmother? His wife? What was she like?”
“I barely remember her. She died before my parents did. Whenever we went to visit her, she always seemed so sad. It was like she was all alone, even in a room full of people. And she never laughed.”
“Do you know how she died? Was she sick for a long time?”
“It was sudden. Papa was shocked. We traveled there for her funeral, but we came home again on the same day. Papa barely spoke to Grandfather, and we never visited him again after that. I didn’t see him until after my parents died.”
“Cornelia, you told me once before that your grandfather was always busy with his church and never paid attention to you or showed you his love. Do you think it might have been the same way for your grandmother? Could that be why she seemed sad to you?”
“Maybe …” She’s still chewing her fingers and staring at her lap, but she looks up at me suddenly, and I see a light of understanding in her eyes. “I just remembered—I once overheard some of the women in Grandfather’s church talking. It was right after I tried to kill myself, and the women were supposed to be watching me so I wouldn’t run away again. They thought I was asleep, but I heard them talking about me.”
“Go on.”
“One of them said that I was just like my grandmother, and that I must have inherited her bad blood. The other one said she felt sorry for Grandfather because he had to go through this nightmare all over again, with me.”
“What do you think they meant? Do you think your grandmother might have tried to kill herself, too?”
“I don’t know… . I didn’t remember what the women said until just now.” There is no one we can ask about it, either.
“Your grandfather mentioned God’s laws and rules. Were they important to him?”
“He was always talking about them and preaching about sin and what would happen if you disobeyed His laws.” I hear the bitterness in her voice. “One time he sent me to bed without supper because I played with a ball on the Sabbath. When he found out I was going to have a baby …”
She doesn’t need to finish. I’ve seen the dominie’s fury unleashed and can well imagine what Cornelia endured. But I can also see how badly shaken a man of such unbending principles must have been when his orderly world began to topple. Unless grace has been built into the structure, it is doomed to collapse. I exhale to keep from spouting my outrage, then reach across the table to push Cornelia’s plate closer to her. “You must eat, lieveling, or this wintry weather will make you sick… . And will you promise me something?” I wait until she looks up. “Promise me that you’ll read the Gospels with me, and see for yourself what Jesus has to say about God’s laws? Yes, the Bible has laws and rules, and they teach us the best way to live—we shouldn’t kill or steal and so on. Resting from our work on the Sabbath day is also one of God’s laws because He knows our bodies need to rest. But in the Gospels, Jesus also teaches us about God’s love. And that’s what your grandfather has been missing—love.”
“How can we read the Bible together if he makes me move away?”
“Do you believe God answers prayer?” Her shoulder rises in a small shrug. “Then we’re going to pray that your grandfather will change his mind about moving.”
“Can we pray right now?”
I reach across the table and take her hands.
It’s after seven o’clock and still snowing when Derk returns. “I can only stay a minute,” he says when I offer him our leftover supper. “Arie and I went over to the church and explained the whole story to the pastor. He was concerned when he heard Dominie Den Herder was leaving town and said he was sorry for not asking him to help out sooner. He’s going to try to arrange for him to preach at one of the Dutch-speaking services.”
“Let’s hope Marinus says yes, and that he decides to stay. Cornelia doesn’t want to go with him, so he’ll be all alone if he does leave.”
“I also went to talk to my professor, and he agreed to let me take the exam and do extra work over Christmas to make up for being absent.”
“That’s good news. And from the looks of the weather outside, Christmas will soon be here.”
Now that it’s being arranged for the dominie to preach, I’m having misgivings. I know he would accuse me of meddling in his life again—and I am. I can only pray that this time, my meddling ends well for everyone.
Chapter 31
Anna
Chicago, Illinois
Dr. Paulson holds his listening device to my chest to check my heart. “Tell me what you are hearing, Doctor. I want to know the truth.” He glances at Mother, who nods, then looks directly at me.
“Very well. You’re a brave young woman… . The rheumatic fever caused your heart to become enflamed, and the muscle was damaged. It also caused what we call a heart murmur. Your heart valves are no longer functioning properly. Unfortunately, this kind of damage is almost always permanent. You will recover, but your heart probably never will.”
“What does that mean for my daily life?”
“You can resume your normal social activities once you feel strong enough, but nothing too strenuous. And nothing that puts added strain on your heart. You shouldn’t do physical work of any kind. Fortunately, your station in life won’t require you to.”
“What about volunteer work? I’ve seen how my grandmother helps the very poorest people in her town, and when I’m well again, I hope to find a way to do the same thing in Chicago. The conditions in some of those tenement houses are horrible, and I want to do what I can for those people.”
“My dear, the diseases that sometimes sweep through those areas of town would be the death of you. Your heart would never survive an illness like diphtheria or dysentery or typhus. If you want to remain healthy, you must stay far away from those places.”
His warning means the death of my dreams. I tell myself not to complain. I’m lucky to be alive and to have servants to do all my work. I was able to afford the finest physicians during my illness. A less fortunate woman would have died. I have escaped death’s clutches for the second time in my life, and I should be grateful.
Dr. Paulson breaks into my thoughts. “Your mother tells me you have a fiancé.”
“Yes. William and I were supposed to be married on the first of the year, but we’ve postponed our wedding for now.”
“That’s very wise. You’ll need several months to regain your strength.” He packs his instruments away and closes his bag, but instead of leaving, he sits down on the bed beside me. “I’m sorry, Anna, but what I have to say next may be very difficult for you to hear.” I feel my skin prickle, wondering what he is about to tell me. His voice grows soft. “After you and your husband are married, I strongly advise against having children.” He pauses to give me a moment to digest his words. But I can’t even swallow them, let alone digest them. I’ve always looked forward to being a mother. Now that Clarice’s threats are gone and I can marry William, my future children are being snatched away from me.
“Never?” I ask, my throat catching. “Not even when I’m stronger?”
“In my long years of practice, I’ve known of two other young women who have suffered heart damage like yours, and the strain of pregnancy and childbirth proved too much for their weakened hearts. They both died in childbirth. My fellow physi
cians have had similar experiences, which is why the medical profession strongly advises against childbearing in cases like yours. I’m so sorry, Anna. I recommend you take precautions to avoid any chance of a pregnancy in the future.”
His words devastate me. Why would God do this to me? It seems so unfair! Having children was one of the few bright spots in my future with William. I know I should stop feeling sorry for myself and be grateful to be alive, but I can’t. I look up at Mother and see disappointment and pain in her expression, too.
“That doesn’t preclude becoming a mother through adoption, however,” Dr. Paulson adds. “You and your husband will be able to hire nannies and nursemaids to provide all the help you’ll need. I understand that your parents adopted you, so I know you must be sympathetic to the idea. I can recommend a very good orphanage here in Chicago when the time is right.”
I force a smile. “Yes, of course. You’re right.” I love my parents. And they love me every bit as much as they would their own child. My future doesn’t have to be bleak. “Thank you for being honest with me, Dr. Paulson.”
Mother comes to sit beside me on the bed after he leaves. Tears fill her eyes. “Oh, Anna. I’m so sorry.” She holds me in her arms, and we weep together. More than anyone else, she understands the impact the doctor’s words had on my heart. I feel closer to her than ever before.
“I never asked why you and Father didn’t have children of your own,” I say after we’ve dried our tears.
“There didn’t seem to be a reason. The years just went by and my hopes and dreams became dashed month after month.”
“Did you ever consider adopting a child from an orphanage like the doctor recommended?”
“We had just decided to look into an adoption when you came into our life. It seemed like a miracle.”
I console myself with the thought that William and I will also adopt a child someday—perhaps several. There must be dozens of poor orphans in Chicago who need loving parents and a good home. Oma would tell me that everything happens for a reason, and that God can work all things together for my good. But right now, the doctor’s warning not to give birth has struck me like a terrible blow.
When I am finally able to get out of bed and get dressed again, William asks to pay a visit. I go downstairs to the morning room to greet him, and he holds me briefly in his arms as if afraid I might break. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Anna.”
“Thank you.” I sit down on the sofa, and he sits on a chair across from me. I recall how Derk boarded the very first train to Chicago when he learned I was ill, and then burst into my bedroom, not caring if it was improper. Once again, I’m reminded of the differences between the two men. I know it isn’t fair to compare them. William’s formal upbringing with nannies and nursemaids was very different from Derk’s. And William hasn’t known loss the same way Derk has, when his mother died in the same shipwreck that killed Mama. He understands grief in a way that William probably doesn’t.
“I’m still very weak,” I tell William. “It took nearly all of my strength just to walk down the stairs. It’s so frustrating. You can’t imagine how much I long to be completely well again. I’m sorry our wedding has to be postponed.”
“Yes, I am, too. But I still plan to move into our new home in January so it will be all ready for you once we’re married. I’m having some rooms on the first floor converted into our two bedroom suites, so you won’t have to climb the stairs.”
I smile, determined to make light of my limitations. “That’s very thoughtful of you. There’s no shortage of rooms to choose from in that house.”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“I’ve been grateful for everyone’s prayers these past few weeks,” I say, hoping to steer the conversation in that direction. “God truly does hear and answer prayer.”
“I’m grateful for your doctors’ knowledge and skills, too.”
I decide not to force the subject. I hear the mantel clock ticking loudly. We have run out of things to say. I know I need to tell William about Dr. Paulson’s warning not to have children, but I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud. I need more time to accept the truth in my own heart. I admit that I’m still angry with God about it. Why did He allow me to become ill in the first place?
As I search for a topic of conversation, Clarice comes to mind. I long to tell William how she tried to ruin both of our lives so he will be just as furious with her as I am, but then I would be just as guilty of spreading hurtful words as she was. I haven’t forgiven her yet, but I know I need to. Even though she intended to harm me, God brought something good from it when I found my father. As the silence between William and me stretches, I decide to tell him about Judge Blackwell.
“Did your mother mention what she learned at my tea right before I got sick?”
“No. Why?”
“I know you’ll recall all the gossip about my illegitimate birth and the scandal it caused.”
“Yes, and I’m relieved it has all died down again.” He gestures with his hands as if trying to push the topic back down.
“It died away because I learned who my real father is and discovered that my birth wasn’t shameful at all. May I tell you what I learned about him?”
“If it’s important to you.” I sense his wariness.
“Before I was born, my mama went to work as a maid in the home of Judge James Blackwell. Do you know him?”
“I know who he is. We may have met socially a few times.”
“Judge Blackwell is my father. He and Mama fell in love and were secretly married.”
William makes a face. “That sounds a little farfetched. I can’t imagine a man from his social background doing something that foolish.” I bristle at the word foolish. “Are you certain it’s true?” he adds.
“Very certain. Judge Blackwell admitted it. He loved my mama. She wasn’t a nameless maidservant, and he didn’t make a foolish mistake. The judge showed me their marriage certificate; he is willing to make a public statement about her. The reason that the gossip halted is because he stepped forward.”
“Good. Then it’s over. Let’s never speak of it again.”
“I’m hoping to get to know him better in the future and—”
“I would prefer that your relationship to him remains a secret. For the sake of appearances. We have our future to think about.”
Anger makes my heart pulse against my ribs in a dangerous way. I’m furious that William wants to dismiss my past and let it remain a secret. “The judge’s parents felt the same way you do, and they conspired to have the marriage annulled. They refused to take responsibility for Mama and me, and we ended up living in poverty.”
“I think you can understand why the Blackwells renounced their son’s affair—”
“It wasn’t an affair. It was a marriage.”
“A marriage that could jeopardize his future.”
“He loved Mama!”
“I assume he was very young. His parents wouldn’t want this one mistake to ruin his life.”
“I’m not a mistake!”
“Anna, dear, you need to calm down.” He leans forward in his chair and reaches to take my hands, but I pull them away. “I didn’t mean that you were a mistake. But I honestly believe that the best thing for everyone involved is to forget the fact that you’re adopted. As far as society is concerned, the Nicholsons are your parents. Let’s not mention your so-called ‘real’ parents again.”
I breathe deeply, waiting for my heart to stop pounding, waiting until I can speak calmly. “I wanted to share what I discovered about my real family with you because learning who I truly am has changed me. My parents came from two different social classes, one wealthy, one poor. And I don’t want to put people into categories anymore. I used to treat people differently if they weren’t wealthy like me. I barely knew our servants’ names. Now I see that a chambermaid has just as much value and worth as an aristocrat. Love erases all of those man-made barriers.”
“
I understand. You have a very compassionate heart, Anna. But don’t forget that you are the Nicholsons’ daughter. They raised you and gave you their wealth and prestige. You owe them everything. The best way you can honor them is to let go of your past. It must be insulting to them when you talk about your ‘real’ parents—as if they aren’t the ‘real’ ones who sat by your bedside all these weeks when we didn’t know if you would live or die.”
I release my anger with a sigh. William is right. I would never want to hurt my parents. I’m searching for something to say when Mother sweeps into the room, and William rises to greet her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Nicholson.”
“Hello, William. I just returned home and our butler told me you were visiting. Isn’t it wonderful to see Anna looking so well?” The way Mother looks at me, the love that’s so apparent in her eyes, makes me feel as though I have been resurrected from the grave like Lazarus.
“We were all very worried about her,” William says.
Mother looks at the empty tea table and frowns. “Why haven’t you offered William some refreshments, Anna? Shall I summon one of the servants?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Nicholson. I should be going. I don’t want to tire Anna.” William bends to kiss my cheek before leaving.
“I’m sorry if I interrupted the two of you,” Mother says when he’s gone.
“Not at all. We were done talking.” In truth, we had very little to say.
“You look exhausted,” Mother says. “Shall I ring for a servant to help you climb the stairs?”
“Not yet. I’m tired of the view from my bedroom. I think I’ll sit here for a while longer.”
I stare at the indentation on the chair where William sat and relive our conversation. He is right. I do owe Mother and Father a huge debt. And it’s cruel to talk about my “real” parents in front of them, especially after Mother shared her grief with me about not bearing children. From now on, I must let go of the past and think only of my future.