by Lynn Austin
“You can’t do this to us!” Father says. I know he is concerned for me, but he must also be concerned that the broken engagement will result in his bankruptcy.
The lawyer, Mr. Avery, clears his throat and speaks for the first time. “Mr. Wilkinson would like to offer a very fair financial settlement for this breach of contract, with the hope that this matter can be kept out of court. I have drawn up these papers showing the amount of the proposed settlement, along with the assurance, in writing, that any outstanding loans you have with the bank, Mr. Nicholson, will not be canceled or foreclosed. In fact, we’re offering to negotiate a lower rate of interest and to extend the length of the loans for as long as you feel is necessary.”
I shake my head to clear it. Did I hear right? I won’t have to marry William, and yet Father won’t face bankruptcy? Tears fill my eyes. I must be dreaming!
Father glances at me and misinterprets my tears. “You would break my daughter’s heart in such a cruel way?”
“Is there anything else we can do to compensate you, Anna?” Mr. Wilkinson asks. “William feels terrible about this.”
“Why isn’t he here?” Father asks. “Shouldn’t William be the one to tell Anna?”
“This was my decision, not William’s,” Mr. Wilkinson says. “He reluctantly conceded to my wishes.”
I don’t believe it for a minute. I saw William’s expression when I told him what Dr. Paulson said. I pull off the ring William gave me and set it on the tablecloth in front of Mr. Wilkinson. “Please give this to William for me.”
He holds up both hands, as if the ring is hot and he’s afraid to touch it. “No, no. That isn’t necessary. The ring was a Christmas gift. William would like you to keep it.”
“I would rather not.” I leave it lying on the table in front of him.
Father pushes back his chair and stands. “I think we should go.” We haven’t ordered dinner yet, but I’m sure that no one is hungry. The other men rise, as well.
“Please, take these papers with you,” the lawyer says. “Have your attorney look them over. Let me know when you’re ready to talk further.”
Father snatches them from his hand and stuffs them into the inside pocket of his suit coat. He pulls out Mother’s chair for her and helps her to her feet, then does the same for me. I see a host of emotions in Mother’s expression—anger, humiliation, shock, outrage—as the staff help us with our coats and we make our way to our carriage. I’m eager to tell Mother that I’m not at all upset by what happened here tonight. I am amazed! I feel as though I’ve been set free! The papers in Father’s pocket are an answer to all my prayers.
“I plan to fight this,” Father says when we’re seated in our carriage. His voice is tight with outrage. “This is so unfair to you, Anna. Your illness and the consequences of it weren’t your fault.”
“William is stealing everything he promised you,” Mother adds. “Your beautiful home, your future …” She is fighting her tears, and I can tell she doesn’t want to lose control.
“But I’m not upset at all that he broke our engagement,” I tell them. “I hated that house. And I don’t want to marry William.”
“Well, of course you don’t,” Father says with a huff. “Not after the way he just treated you. Imagine, not even having the courage or the decency to face you in person!”
“It isn’t that. I never wanted to marry him. I was only doing it for you and Mother.”
“For us?”
I hesitate to humiliate my father further by admitting the truth, but I see that I must. “Last summer I overheard you saying that your business had suffered some setbacks and that you needed the loans from the Wilkinsons’ bank. I didn’t want you to lose everything the way the Kirklands did. And I know how happy Mother has been to be included in Mrs. Wilkinson’s social circle, joining the Literary Club and everything.”
“I thought you cared for William,” Mother says. “And that he cared for you.”
I think about Derk’s declaration of love and all the ways he showed his love for me, and for the first time, I dare to hope that I might have a future with him after all. It feels like a miracle! “I was fond of William,” I finally say, “but I’m not in love with him. And he was the one who made all of the plans for our future—the huge mansion and running for political office. I didn’t want any of it.”
“And yet you would go ahead and marry him for our sakes?” Father asks.
“Of course. I love both of you.”
“Anna! I would never ask such a sacrifice from you. I didn’t even want you to know about my financial problems.”
“You saved my life, Father. You and Mother gave me everything I have and made me the woman I am. I would gladly help you.”
Father shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t you see how this has all worked out in a wonderful way? I no longer have to marry William, yet your business will still be safe. Please accept Mr. Wilkinson’s offer, Father. You have no idea how relieved and grateful I am that he broke the engagement.” My illness and my inability to bear children seemed like such disasters, yet they are the very circumstances that have set me free from a life I would have hated. Joy born from tragedy! I feel giddy enough to laugh, but my parents don’t share my happiness yet.
We arrive home, and the butler hustles us inside where a fire is blazing in the morning room. He pulls two chairs close to the hearth so Mother and I can warm up, but Father is too restless to sit. He lights a cigar and puffs clouds of smoke as he paces. Mrs. Dunlap asks if we would like something to eat, since we’ve returned home so soon after leaving, but none of us is hungry.
“Even if you don’t want to marry William,” Mother says, “what the Wilkinsons have done to you is so unfair. They’ve destroyed any chances you have for arranging a good marriage in the future. People are going to talk. They’ll think William didn’t want you because you are damaged goods, especially after all of those rumors about your past. And you’re a little old at twenty-four to begin courting all over again. You’ll be competing with much younger debutantes.”
I know she means well, but her concerns make me want to laugh out loud. “None of that matters to me, Mother. I know you both enjoy this social life, and you’ve worked hard to get where you are. But even when I’m completely well again, I don’t want to go back to a life of teas and luncheons and calling cards. I haven’t missed it in the least while I’ve been ill. When I was banished from society for a week because of all the gossip and the threat of a scandal, I saw how shallow William and his family are, how concerned they are with appearances. Now that God has spared my life for a second time, I know He must have a plan for me. I want to find out what it is. Life is too short and too important to waste on things that don’t interest me.”
“What will you do?” Father asks.
“I don’t know. But at least I’ll be free now to pursue the charity work that William forbade me to do. There are so many needs among the poor here in Chicago.” I see my mother wiping a tear, and I rise to wrap my arm around her shoulder. “I’m so sorry if I’ve disappointed you, Mother. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”
“You haven’t disappointed me. I admire your … your determination. And your certainty. You’ve grown into such a strong woman this past year. And your faith … I don’t know where it came from but … but when we nearly lost you, I realized how weak my own faith was. I wanted to turn to God, and I didn’t know how.”
“Maybe we can learn together.”
Mother nods and blows her nose on her handkerchief. “I would like that.” Another reason to thank God on this night of miracles. “My wish for you is to find a man from a fine family who is worthy of you. Someone who will support you well and care for you.” She could be describing Derk. Again, I wonder if I dare to dream of a future with him. “Can you think of any worthy young gentlemen from your circle of business contacts?” she asks my father.
“My dear, you aren’t listening to
Anna,” he says. “She has a second chance in life and she should do what makes her happy, not what pleases us. If she wants to do good deeds and help the poor, we should let her. She would have sacrificed her own happiness for ours; now let’s do the same for her.”
Mother looks up at me, blinking away tears. “I do want you to be happy, Anna.”
“Tell us what we can do for you,” Father says. “What would make you happy?”
I swallow a knot of joy. “To live a simple life with the man I’m in love with.”
“The man you’re … Does such a man exist?”
“Yes. I’m in love with Derk Vander Veen. And he loves me.”
“The young man from the hotel?” Mother asks.
I laugh out loud, knowing she will probably always think of Derk that way. “Yes. But he no longer works there. He’s a student at the theological seminary in Holland and will graduate in the spring. We both thought it was impossible for us to be together, but now that I no longer need to marry William—”
“He can move to Chicago and work for my firm,” Father says. “I’ll find a position for him.”
“He won’t have any social connections, at first,” Mother adds, “but I’ll do whatever I can to help him fit in.”
I hold up my hands to stop them. “Derk wouldn’t want any of that. He’s going to be a minister in a few months, and he’ll be called to serve a church congregation.”
“We could find a church for him here. It’s an unusual occupation for people of our means, but it could be arranged.”
“He wouldn’t want you to pull strings to serve a church in Chicago, Father. He wants to serve wherever God calls him.”
“Would you have to move somewhere remote?” Mother asks. “What about your health?”
“I don’t know if Derk even wants me for his wife, although I know he loves me. I won’t be able to do any work, and he can’t afford servants on what the church pays him. And he doesn’t know I can’t have children. These are all things Derk and I would need to talk about.”
Father rests his hands on my shoulders as he looks at me. “And you believe that the life you’re describing with this young man would make you happy?”
“I do.”
“My dear little Anna!” He holds me tenderly, and I remember how strong his arms felt as he fought to keep us both afloat in the pounding waves. I love my father with all my heart. “If marrying this minister will make you truly happy, I will do whatever I can to make sure that it happens.”
Chapter 36
Geesje
Holland, Michigan
“The walk will do us good,” I tell Cornelia. We bundle up with scarves and hats and mittens before leaving our snug home. Cornelia offers to carry the basket with the cookies and warm bread we’ve just baked. The January day is crisp and cold, and the snow that sits atop the barren branches sparkles in the sunlight. We have just passed Derk’s house next door when I hear someone calling my name.
“Mrs. de Jonge! Wait!” Dominie Den Herder buttons his overcoat as he hurries down the front steps and walks toward us. “I was just coming to speak with you.” He has been a different man since his collapse on that Sunday evening in church. He wasn’t able to preach his sermon or even return to the pulpit, but no one except Cornelia and me, and perhaps our pastor, understood that it wasn’t a sudden illness that had made him unable to go on. Back in the sacristy, where no one else could hear his sobs, he begged Cornelia to forgive him.
“I wanted to tell you and Cornelia that I have mailed everything they requested to the church officials in the Netherlands,” he says now.
“That’s very good news. We’re on our way to visit Mrs. Hartig, at the moment, but why don’t you come over and have tea with us when we get back?”
He looks down at the ground as if memorizing the toes of his boots. I wait, wondering what else he wants to say. “May I join you?” he asks. “On your visit?”
I’m so surprised it takes me a moment to respond. “Yes, of course. Let’s keep walking so the bread we just baked doesn’t get cold.”
“And so we don’t freeze!” Cornelia adds. She is hopping in place as if afraid her shoes will freeze to the ground. “It never got this cold back home, did it, Grandfather?”
“Nay, not that I recall.” He tucks his scarf a little tighter around his ears to keep them warm. The snow squeaks beneath our feet as we walk. When we reach Mrs. Hartig’s house, the dominie slows his steps. “I hope you don’t mind that I came.”
“Not at all.”
“I-I need to learn how … how to do what you do.”
I smile to reassure him. “It isn’t hard. We’re just going to sit with her and maybe read—”
“That isn’t what I mean.” He stops walking as he fumbles for words. “I mean the way you give, Mrs. de Jonge. The way you … love.”
I look up at him and see a broken man. “I think God has already been teaching you. Both of you,” I add, facing Cornelia. “There was a time in my life when I said I was willing to serve God any way He chose—and I meant it. But then I began to lose the people I loved, and I became very angry with Him for making me suffer. As my resentment grew, I nearly turned away from Him altogether. Then one day I found myself praying with a friend whose baby had been stillborn, and I understood that this was how God was asking me to serve Him. Would I accept my own suffering as something He allowed in order to shape me into someone He could use? Someone who would love like Jesus? Was I willing? Over time—and it was a long time—I chose to let go of the resentment and to trust Him. Simply trust Him. I don’t need to see exactly how He’s going to weave together all of the broken strands—in my life or anyone else’s. But I know that the finished work will be beautiful.”
I expect the dominie to be uncomfortable visiting Mrs. Hartig, as he was the last time. I expect him to simply clean the ashes from her stove, stoke the fire, and add more coal while Cornelia and I talk with her. The dominie does all of those things. But then he comes into the parlor and sits down beside Mrs. Hartig and asks if he may pray with her. His words are tender and moving as he bows his head and asks God to restore her joy.
None of us says much on the way home. I repeat my offer for him to come inside with us for tea. He shakes his head. “Thank you, Mrs. de Jonge, but—”
“I wish you would call me Geesje.”
“Perhaps we can have tea another day … Geesje.” I can tell that there is something more he wants to say. I wait. “Thank you for teaching me today. I wish … I wish I had known to do the same things for my wife.” I’m too stunned to reply as he leaves us and returns home.
Cornelia and I have finally warmed up again after our trek across town when the mailman drops a letter in my box out front. I dash outside without a coat to retrieve it and am pleased to see that it’s from Anneke. I tear open the envelope and begin reading as I walk back to the house. Her words stop me dead in my tracks. I stand on the porch with my front door wide open as I read them again: William has ended our engagement. I no longer have to marry him, and yet my father’s finances will be just fine. I’m free to marry Derk! …
“I don’t believe it!” I cry aloud.
“Is it bad news, Tante Geesje?” Cornelia pulls me inside and shuts the door.
“No! It’s wonderful news! … I just can’t believe it! Here, let me read it to you. But first I need to sit down… . Oh, how I hope and pray that what Anneke writes is true, yet so rarely in life is there a ‘happily ever after’ ending, and she and Derk have been through so much already—”
“Read it to me!” Cornelia says, laughing. “Hurry up!”
“Dearest Oma,
William has ended our engagement. I no longer have to marry him, and yet my father’s finances will be just fine. I’m free to marry Derk! I love him, Oma, and I know he loves me, but first we’ll need to figure out how we can make it work. I know I’m totally unfit to serve as a minister’s wife, especially after my illness. Although when Judge Blackwell heard the news
that my engagement to William had ended, he promised to hire as many servants as I needed so I could marry Derk. He likes Derk, and he has given us his blessing. My father has, too. My parents said they will do everything they can to ensure my happiness with the man I love.
I haven’t told Derk any of this. I wanted to write to you first, so you will stop him from racing right down here on the very first train. The winter weather is too stormy for travel, and besides, Derk needs to finish school. But if you make him promise not to race down to Chicago the moment he hears the news, we can start writing letters to each other. We will have a lot of important things to talk about during the next few months. Once we see each other again in the spring, we can decide what we want to do from there.”
“Did you understand all that?” I ask Cornelia when I finish reading. She smiles and claps her hands.
“I love happy endings,” she says. “I can’t wait to tell Derk.”
“He’ll be overjoyed. He has been so lovesick for Anneke. Who would have ever guessed that such an impossible situation would be possible after all?”
“May I run next door and tell Grandfather to send Derk over here the moment he comes home?”
“Yes, why don’t you do that… . Oh, my goodness! I still can’t believe it! If I’m this happy, imagine how happy Derk and Anneke are going to be!”
Derk doesn’t come over until after eight o’clock that night. I feel like an overripe melon that’s about to burst with happiness by the time he gets here. “I’ve been studying with a group of friends,” he tells us. “Dominie Den Herder says you have big news?”
“You need to sit down, Derk. I know people always say you’d better sit down when they have news, but I really think you should this time.”
He’s laughing as he lowers himself into a chair. “I’m guessing it must be good news by the way the two of you are grinning.”
“The best news you could ever imagine. I got a letter from Anneke today—”