Liz Tolsma

by Snow on the Tulips

  She restrained herself from curtsying when she fled Bear’s house.

  She didn’t need directions to the doktor’s office and she picked up her pace. Time was slipping away for Gerrit.

  Doktor Boukma welcomed her with a wide smile, his blue eyes warm. “Cornelia de Vries. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I need you to come with me.”

  He didn’t hesitate and didn’t ask questions.

  Together they bustled down the streets, past women going about their daily business. That had been her a mere four days ago. Many of them greeted her and the doktor, and he returned their greeting, relaxed and confident.

  She tried to disappear behind his slender frame.

  “Won’t people wonder why you are coming with me when I live alone?”

  He shook his head. “They are busy with their everyday lives. And if they wonder, let them wonder.”

  How many of these women also harbored secrets?

  Doktor Boukma went straight in to see Gerrit as soon as they arrived home.

  She stood in the entry to the front room. “Do you need me to do anything? Otherwise, I should start a pot of water for coffee.”

  He waved her toward the kitchen. Part of her sagged in relief that she didn’t have to see the blood spurting from Gerrit’s wound or the signs of death in his face. The other part wished she could be in there with him, holding his hand, willing him to live.

  She placed the kettle on the fire and sat on the kitchen chair. Then she jumped up, checking to see if the water boiled yet. She opened and closed cabinet doors without putting anything in or taking anything out. A moment later she arranged four coffee cups on the counter, then rearranged them.

  Johan came through the door and leaned against the jamb, his entire face wilting with exhaustion. “Sit down, Corrie. He will tell us about Gerrit when he is through. I think once Doktor Boukma stitches him up, he will be fine.”

  Cornelia thumped into her chair and played with the handle on her blue coffee cup. “I hope we got here soon enough. What if he dies?”

  “Then it is in God’s hands. He will take care of everything.”

  “I couldn’t stand it if he died.”

  Johan stood straight. “Are you falling in love with him?”

  Cornelia sat back, almost tipping over her chair. “Nee. Absolutely not. Never.”

  “A lot of denial for a straightforward question.”

  She spread her hands on the table. “I have loved Hans since I was a little girl. He gave me piggyback rides, and even then I enjoyed being near him. We had so little time. We had no time, really.”

  “I want to see you happy.”

  “I don’t love Gerrit or anyone else. And I never will.”

  But as Cornelia spoke the words, she wondered if they were true.

  Doktor Boukma stepped into the room and over to the sink to wash his hands. “All finished.” The tall, strong man Cornelia used to know had changed. He stooped a little when he walked and his hair had turned white. Anki followed him.

  Cornelia rose. “Let me get you some coffee.”

  He waved her off. “Nee, bedankt. I can’t stay. You did a great job, Anki. You should think about becoming a surgeon.”

  She laughed, her green eyes shining. “I have other things that will occupy my time. My nursing days are over.”

  Now Cornelia knew for sure. It would be a matter of waiting for Anki to announce her news.

  Doktor Boukma turned to Cornelia. “The wound looked clean, so all I had to do was stitch the hole closed. The most important thing is to keep him still. He got up too soon and moved about too much, causing your sister’s beautiful sutures to come apart. Even while I worked on him, he started asking me when he could get out of bed. Good luck keeping him quiet. In a few days, I will check back.”

  Cornelia steadied herself on the edge of the table. “Heel hartelijk bedankt for everything you have done.”

  The doktor touched Cornelia’s shoulder. “You are doing the right thing. Don’t doubt it. God will bless your efforts.”

  He served as an elder in their village tsjerke. As a church leader, shouldn’t he know these things? “Do you truly believe it?”

  He mussed the little hair he had. “Yes, I do.”

  Anki wiped her hands on her apron. “What about the lies? Isn’t that wrong? Surely God will protect us if we tell the truth.”

  “Is it right to sacrifice another life? Think about Rahab in the Bible. She hid the spies under the flax on her roof. Then she misled the soldiers, but God blessed her actions by saving her family when the walls of Jericho fell and by including her among the ancestors of Jesus. God credited all this to her as righteousness. Keep doing what you are doing and God will reward your faithfulness.”

  Cornelia didn’t want any part of this. Why had God brought Gerrit here? Was He testing her? Or using her?

  Anki circled the table. “I understand what you are saying, but the commandment not to bear false witness is pretty clear to me. God doesn’t put in any provisions for extenuating circumstances.”

  The older man nodded. “The commandment not to kill is just as plain. I don’t have to put a bullet through someone’s head to break that commandment.”

  A fierce headache throbbed behind Cornelia’s eyes. “But what if you have to break one commandment in order to keep another?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Gerrit’s shoulder burned like someone had lit it on fire. Every time he moved, the incredible heat increased, so he stayed still, despite how much he wanted to be up and about business.

  He and Johan both napped the afternoon away, exhausted from their ordeal of the past few days. He woke as soon as he heard the front latch click open. Cornelia entered the room and announced herself to Gerrit with a smile much warmer than the pale, cold winter sun.

  “Has Johan taken good care of you?”

  He nodded.

  “How about some soup?”

  He nodded again. Johan hadn’t brought him anything to eat, not that he had been hungry until now.

  When she walked away, he missed her. Then he recalled her marital status. He must turn off the switch to these feelings. Out there, somewhere, she had a husband.

  From the kitchen, he heard Cornelia and Johan speaking but couldn’t understand their words. He tried to move to a more comfortable position, one that would ease the pain, but that only increased his discomfort. After a while, she came back and helped him, her touch gentle.

  “Here you go.”

  He raised his right hand to take hold of the spoon and winced.

  “Let me help you.” Her soft, cool palm brushed his hand as she went to take the spoon. The fire moved from his shoulder to his fingertips.

  She fed him the salty golden broth, and the carrots and potatoes floating in the steaming liquid. He obeyed her commands but didn’t say anything, watching her every gentle, graceful move. Her presence calmed and soothed him. If only she didn’t wear that band of gold around her finger.

  He finished the soup and she stood. He had to stop her from leaving. “Bedankt for getting the doktor. Again you saved my life.”

  She turned her gaze to the floor and the smile faded.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Maybe she missed her husband. Perhaps today was a special day for them, like their anniversary or his birthday.

  She gathered the dirty dishes on a tray, then turned to take them to the kitchen.

  “Where is your husband?”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. The glass wobbled on the tray. The bowl clattered to the wood floor, shattering.

  CORNELIA STOOD STATUE still, her back to Gerrit, staring at the smashed glass.

  She didn’t want to talk to anyone about Hans, least of all to this man who generated in her the emotions reserved for her husband.

  “Why do you want to know?” she whispered.

  “You wear a wedding band but never talk about him. I have never seen him. I
s he in hiding? Or did he get transported to Germany?”

  She shook her head. If she spoke about Hans, she would open the sea, all those horrible memories and amazing feelings flooding her, overwhelming her. In the end, she would drown.

  “You can trust me. I won’t betray him. You should know that by now. Perhaps I can help.”

  “You can’t help.” The room spun in front of her. “No one can. He is dead.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “I don’t want to push you, but I have been told I am a good listener.”

  “There is nothing to say.” Nothing that wouldn’t squeeze her heart until it hurt.

  “Is he the man in the picture?”

  She nodded. “I need to get a broom.”

  She returned and began to sweep the shards of glass into the dustpan.

  “Was he in the Resistance? Is that why you don’t like us?”

  “Nee. And I never said I didn’t like you. You Resistance people, I mean.”

  “But you are afraid of us.”

  “Ja. I suppose I am. Death follows you.”

  “Death follows all of us, and more so during war.”

  She straightened and rubbed the small of her back. “Do you always talk about such morbid subjects?”

  “Nee, I can be fun. I am a champion domino player.”

  She knew so little about this man. “You don’t play cards, do you?” Did he drink or dance?

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t. With my bad shoulder, I can’t even play dominoes. But I would like it if you would sit and talk with me.”

  Johan had said he planned to read for a while before turning in early, so she wouldn’t have his company. And Gerrit had quit prying about Hans. If he didn’t broach that subject again, she wouldn’t mind talking to him.

  She held up the dustpan. “Let me empty this first.”

  A few minutes later she returned and drew the rocker close to the bedstee. Gerrit reached out and touched her hand. “I apologize again for upsetting you. I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me something personal.”

  She settled in the rocker. “I appreciate that. Now, can we talk about something else?”

  He smiled, a dimple creasing his right cheek. “Anything you want.”

  “Well, you know I have a brother and a sister.”

  “About that …” His smile faded.

  “I wouldn’t put your life in jeopardy. If she turned you in, she would turn in her own brother, and me too.”

  “Good point.”

  “The other night she did a fine piece of acting when the Nazis came searching for you. She had them believing you both were passed out from too much drink.”

  “If you trust her, so do I.”

  There came that incredible dimpled smile again, the one that reminded her of spring and sunshine.

  “Anyway, tell me about your family.” She picked up her knitting, fashioning a new sock from yarn she had used several times over. Before the invasion, she had never thought of a new skein of yarn as a luxury.

  He stared at the stark white ceiling and she watched as his memory traveled the miles to his home. “I feel for Johan because I have three sisters and no brothers. Two older sisters, just like him, and a younger sister. Both my older sisters, Beatrix—like the princess—and Elisabeth, are married. Last I heard, Beatrix was expecting her second child and Elisabeth her first. Those children would be born by now, but I haven’t had contact with home for a long time.”

  She dropped a stitch and ripped out the row. “Did you get along well? Sometimes Anki and Johan and I were best friends and other times we were worst enemies.”

  “My older sisters thought I was a nuisance. They complained to Mem all the time that I pestered them.”

  She smiled a little. “I went to my mem more than once about Johan. But what about your younger sister?”

  “Dorathee.” His voice took on a faraway, dreamy quality. He smiled. “She lives at home in Leeuwarden with my parents. When she was a baby, she had a very high fever and never fully recovered. She has a hard time learning things and remembering them. The other kids in the neighborhood laughed at her and teased her, but they didn’t get away with it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I got in trouble for fighting more times than I can remember, but all of my brawls were in her defense.” He shrugged. “Most of them, anyway.”

  “So you fought for her?”

  “Ja, because she couldn’t fight for herself.” His smile faded.

  “When the occupation first started, Dorathee went outside to play. Even though she was sixteen, she still played with dolls. I was coming up the street from working with Heit when three soldiers approached her. One of them ripped her doll from her hands and smashed it on the pavement.”

  He tugged on the edge of the sheet. “When she began to cry, they sneered at her and yanked her braids.”

  Cornelia sat forward. “The Nazis don’t have hearts at all.”

  “Before I could think, I sprinted toward the house, charged those soldiers, and shoved one of them to the ground. The others went after me. One landed a good punch to my face and the other kicked me in the stomach. Before I could catch my breath, they ran off.”

  “She is the reason you work with the Resistance.”

  All softness left his voice. “I want this land rid of those Nazis before more people are hurt or killed. Before they do worse to Dorathee. I heard rumors about them killing off the mentally and physically disabled in Poland and Germany. I have to protect her. Perhaps I can’t bring those exact three soldiers to account, but I can hold their like responsible for what they have done.”

  “Revenge will eat you away.”

  “This isn’t revenge. This is justice.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Vengeance is getting even. Justice is giving what is deserved. Justice seeks fairness.”

  Cornelia sat back. “If you let this desire to retaliate consume you, then you will have done Dorathee no good.”

  “I do her no good sitting here.”

  “You do. You are healing, so when the war ends, you will be able to go home to her. God will take care of the rest.”

  “Are you always this serious?”

  “Are you always this intense?”

  Gerrit smiled. “Touché.”

  “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t serious.”

  “I’m only serious when it comes to children, redheads, and olliebollen.”

  Her mouth watered. “Olliebollen is serious business. As far as redheads, you’re only trying to get into my good graces with that remark.”

  “Maybe so. Did it work?” He yawned.

  “That remains to be seen. Right now, you need to get some sleep.”

  As she leaned over him to pull the blanket across his shoulders, he kissed her on the cheek, a little peck, but it started her heart throbbing. “Good night, Cornelia.”

  She swallowed. “Sleep well, Gerrit.”

  Even with the Allied planes droning overhead on their way to Germany with their fatal cargo, contentment flooded her.

  ANKI PREPARED FOR bed, taking more time than usual washing her face in her little bathroom sink. By the time she had returned from Corrie’s house, she was tired and didn’t feel well enough to make a special dinner for Piet. He hounded her all evening to reveal her surprise.

  She wanted to tell him. They never kept anything from each other. Secrets ate away at the trust needed to sustain a marriage. Everything in her screamed to tell her husband the truth. All of it. A tiny but powerful little niggle restrained her.

  She hated what she was doing.

  With little room to squeeze in, her husband came behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Still with her back to him, she reached up and stroked his stubbly cheek.

  “You look worn out, Anki.”

  She playfully jabbed him with her elbow. “Tha
t is a nice thing to say to your wife.”

  “I mean that I am concerned about you.” He kissed her neck.

  “No need to be.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him about the baby. The time didn’t feel right.

  “Then what is going on?”

  “Nothing. You are worried for no reason.”

  He released her from his embrace, pulling her into the bedroom, holding her at arm’s length, examining her from head to toe. He didn’t believe her. “What is that? You have a stain on your dress.”

  She looked down at the top of her light brown skirt. A streak of red crossed just under her waistband. Gerrit’s blood. She must have wiped her hand on her dress without realizing.

  “Just a little dirt that will wash off. Let’s go to bed.”

  “That’s not dirt. It looks like blood.”

  “Blood?” Anki stared at her skirt for a moment, trying to think of a story he would accept. “Ja, how silly of me. This afternoon the neighbor’s littlest boy cut his finger and they asked me to help bandage it. I must have gotten some blood on me then. I will wash it in a little cold water and it will be as good as new.”

  Piet raised a single eyebrow. “I was thinking. Since Frou de Bruin has been sick so much, why don’t we go see her tomorrow first thing in the morning. You can bring her a pot of meatball soup.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Morning came much too soon for Anki. Her nightgown had tangled around her legs and she had thrown off the blanket. All night she had tried to devise a way to talk Piet out of going to see Frou de Bruin.

  You reap what you sow. A harvest of hurt awaited her.

  If Piet knew about the coming baby, she could plead morning sickness. But that was another lie that haunted her. Not so much of a lie as an omission.

  Nee. There was no difference between the two.

  She poured the meatball soup left over from last night into a pot, some of it splashing onto the counter. When she picked up the dish towel to wipe the mess, she dropped the cloth onto the floor. She had to quiet her trembling hands before Piet came downstairs when he finished shaving.

  Perhaps she needed to tell him the truth before they went on their visit. That would be best. No public scene. Piet would never turn in Gerrit or Johan. Especially not Johan, her only brother. He wouldn’t hurt her that way.