After the Ashes

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After the Ashes Page 5

by Sara K. Joiner

I gasped. “What do you mean? I’m helping you weed.”

  “Katrien”—she crossed her arms—“you arrive at your opinions far too easily. And, I might add, they are usually uninformed. Also, you hardly ever consider changing your mind.”

  “That is not true,” I cried.

  “What do you think of Rika Spoor?” she challenged. Her voice had turned sharp, like a knife, and I wasted no time responding.

  “She’s an empty-headed piece of fluff.”

  Tante Greet raised an eyebrow. “And when did you form this opinion?”

  “Years ago, and she has never done a thing to prove me wrong.”

  My aunt’s expression changed from frustration to disappointment. “Rika may not be as smart as you are, Katrien, but that does not mean you are better than she is. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. You need to learn yours, so you can improve as a person.”

  “What does this have to do with Mrs. Brinckerhoff?”

  “This is not about Johanna. This is about you. I need you to be more empathetic. Can you try?”

  “Fine,” I grumbled so she would stop talking.

  She pulled some more weeds. “And Johanna is my friend, Katrien. You will treat her with all due respect. Believe it or not, she has your best interests at heart, too.”

  With a loud huff, I said, “She most certainly does not.”

  “Ja, she does.” My aunt’s voice returned to its usual calm tone, frustrating me further. “She has helped me a great deal with you.”

  “What?” I choked and pushed my spectacles up. Helped? How?

  Tante Greet shot me an irritated look. “Lift them, please. Johanna has given me good advice about being a mother—a surrogate mother, in our situation. I’m not sure I would be here right now without her support and friendship.”

  “If I acted the way she does, you would rip into me like a leopard cat.” I jerked at a tenacious weed and fell back on my heels.

  “Johanna conducts herself as she does in our home because she knows she is welcome here, Katrien. If you were friendlier with other girls, you would understand that feeling.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Sometimes I thought my aunt spoke in riddles.

  Tante Greet turned to me, resting her hands in her lap. “Katrien, all young women need girlfriends. They need someone to chat with, to share their hopes and dreams with, to gossip with, to be silly with.”

  I grasped another weed and tore it from the earth. “I chat with Slamet, and I’m not interested in those other things.”

  My aunt raised her eyebrow again. “When you have a girlfriend, no matter how much time goes by between visits, the two of you can begin a conversation as if neither of you has left the room. Do you see what a gift that is?”

  I shook my head.

  She sighed. “Some things can never be explained. They can only be experienced.”

  “How does any of this explain Mrs. Brinckerhoff’s rudeness?”

  My aunt turned back to the weeds. “She is not rude, Katrien. For the hundredth time, she is my friend. She comes a good distance in order to visit, and she is always welcome in our home. We’ll leave it at that for now.”

  I brushed bits of grass away from my aunt’s plantings. The poor roses she put in three years ago suffered in the heat and the salty breezes. They were scrawny and full of thorns, but she kept trying to get them to grow. She wouldn’t give up on them. Nor would she give up on me.

  Still, even with the weeds gone, the rosebushes looked pathetic. “Eggs or very young animals seem generally to suffer most, but this is not invariably the case,” I thought.

  A strangled noise made me turn, just in time to catch my aunt scrambling away from the spot where she had been weeding. Her face was as white as our stuccoed house, and her breath came in short, sharp bursts.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  She raised a shaky hand and pointed.

  I followed her gaze. “Oh!”

  “That thing just flew down and landed right beside me!” She clutched her chest. “It flew!”

  “It is a flying gecko.”

  “It flew like a bird.”

  “No.” I patted her shoulder. “They don’t fly; they can only glide.”

  “Please get rid of it.” She used her handkerchief to dab her brow.

  I scooped the reptile up in my fingers. Holding it gently but securely, I brought it over to Tante Greet. “See?” I showed her the flaps of skin on its side and the webbed feet. “No wings, but these help it glide.”

  “I do not care, Katrien. That thing is hideous. It looks like a monster. Take it away.”

  The De Groots had a huge tamarind tree in their yard. The gecko would do well there.

  It jumped onto the trunk as soon as I placed my hand against the bark. Its grayish green skin was the perfect camouflage. From just two steps away, I could no longer spot it.

  “It’s gone,” I said, returning to the flower beds.

  “Good. Dank u.” Tante Greet regained her composure and went back to weeding. I took my cue and rejoined her.

  The sun crept across the sky as we worked. Perspiration popped up along my back and tickled as it trickled down my spine. Tiny insects buzzed around my ears. My knees protested. I had aches all over, especially in my arms. I simply had to stretch.

  Tante Greet noticed when I stood. “Are you tired?”

  “I’m not used to this work,” I said, wiping my forehead.

  “This should not be that tiring for you. You prowl through the jungle all the time.”

  “Ja, but that’s just walking! I don’t crawl around in the dirt trying to find insects.”

  She gave me dubious glance. “Katrien, I’ve seen your skirts. You would have a difficult time proving to me that you don’t go crawling around in the dirt. And now the entire town knows how filthy they are.” She shook her head.

  Another needling reminder of how unladylike I was. “Do you want some water?” I asked. My question came out a bit harsher than I intended, but I wasn’t trying to pick a fight.

  She didn’t seem to notice my tone. “I do, but I think I’ll get it for myself. We both need to freshen up before supper.”

  I had nearly forgotten we would be dining at the Hotel Anjer that evening. The hotel had the best restaurant in town, and it was the type of place where people dressed for dinner. We didn’t normally do that at home, but we certainly did at the Hotel Anjer.

  Tante Greet rose and headed for the rain barrels by the kitchen door. “Did you know the Fiado has arrived in Batavia, Katrien?” she asked over her shoulder. “The restaurant has beef on the menu tonight.”

  My stomach lurched in anticipation. So this was the reason for dining out! Whenever Vader or Tante Greet heard the Hotel Anjer had beef, they made certain we ate there. My mouth watered and my stomach growled as I tried to remember the last time I had beef. It must have been many months, maybe even a year.

  Rarely did the local farmers have enough meat for all the people who wished to buy it. Fish was far more common. With the appearance of the Fiado—a new type of steamship from Australia that could refrigerate perishable cargo—it was everyone’s hope that deliveries of beef and other meats would come more often.

  I pushed my spectacles up, grateful that Tante was too busy washing up to notice. How would the beef be prepared tonight? Slow-braised? Stewed? Or even Monk’s Mince?

  I joined my aunt by the barrels, jumping gleefully over the puddles that surrounded them. The rainfall this morning had caused them to overflow. Then, as I dipped water from one barrel into a small bucket, I thought better of my jumping and proceeded more carefully around the mud. I didn’t want more stains on my skirts, or Tante Greet’s wrath.

  Tante Greet stood beside me, rinsing her hands and arms. “One more word about tonight, Katrien,” she said. “We’ll be dining with the Burkart family.”

  My fingers froze just under the surface of the cool water and I staggered, nearly stepping into the very mud I’d be
en trying to avoid. It hadn’t occurred to me that this meal would constitute our monthly dinner with the Burkarts. But of course, given Vader’s lecture last night, the timing of this month’s gathering made perfect sense. Dining with Thomas Burkart and his family meant only one thing: dining with the wily Brigitta.

  And I had promised Vader to be polite. “Canis lupus,” I whispered—the Latin for wolf.

  Chapter 11

  A million fig wasps swarmed in my stomach as Vader, Tante Greet and I approached the Hotel Anjer. I tried to concentrate only on the beef I would have for supper and not the company around me.

  A strong gust of wind from the ocean lifted my hat and I clamped my hand down on the scratchy straw. The late evening sun tinted the sky a radiant pink as we climbed the steps to the hotel, and the chattering of the people inside grew louder. Their laughter, the tinkling of glasses and the sharp sound of silver scraping against china followed us as we made our way around the porch.

  Was Brigitta here already, giggling with her silly friends? Telling even more people stories about how improperly I acted the day before? If so, she was no doubt leaving out the part about how cruel she was to me.

  A few people stood inside the dim teak-walled lobby when we entered, but none of them were Brigitta or her family. With any luck, they would be late, and I wouldn’t have to spend as much time with her.

  “Perhaps she won’t even come tonight,” I murmured aloud.

  “Did you say something, Katrien?” Vader asked.

  “Nothing, Vader.” I removed my hat. The breeze coming in through the open doors blew strands of my hair loose, despite all the pins. Tante Greet made her disgruntled clicking noise at the little wispy bits of hair tickling my neck.

  Wilhemina De Graff, a tall blond woman with a kind smile, stood at the reception counter helping a customer. Her dark blue-and-black dress mimicked the feathers of a crested jay.

  Wilhemina amazed me. Only a few years older than I, she had traveled here from the Netherlands all on her own. Away from all the awful people she must have known. Such independence! If I could go off on my own, I would go into the jungle and never return. Maybe I would even go to the Amazon.

  I waved at Wilhemina and followed my family to the dining room. Mr. Schuyler, the hotel owner, stood at the entrance, looking dapper in his white linen suit. His clothes and the gray hair at his temples made him look like a whiskered tern. He greeted us with his arms spread wide. “Ah, my good friend, Niels Courtlandt.” He grabbed Vader’s narrow hand in his pudgy one. “And his lovely family.” He kissed my aunt on her cheeks. “How are you, Greet?”

  “I am very well, Caspar, and you?”

  “Oh, I’m quite pleased, quite pleased.” He puffed his chest. “Katrien? You look lovely this evening. Are you trying to turn the head of a special young man?”

  I choked on my breath and felt my face go up in flames. “N-no, sir,” I sputtered. “Tante Greet made me dress for dinner.” My aunt did not need to hear about special young men and heads turning. Ugh! Now she would speak of nothing else all night.

  Mr. Schuyler smiled, and my father and aunt joined him. I pushed my spectacles up and glared at them. How dare they!

  “Will the Burkarts be joining you this evening?” Mr. Schuyler asked.

  “Ja,” Vader answered, “are they not here yet?”

  Mr. Schuyler shook his head and showed us to our table. Of course they weren’t here yet. Brigitta probably changed clothes three times before deciding what to wear. She would be the one trying to turn boys’ heads.

  Why couldn’t she do something useful with herself? I truly did not understand her. Even I admitted that she possessed intelligence. In school, she and I were often the only girls who could answer some of the more difficult questions the nuns asked. Why did she waste that talent? How could she stand spending time with Maud, Rika and Inge, who didn’t have one brain among them?

  As I took my seat I noticed Adriaan Vogel seated at a nearby table with his parents and younger brother. All of the girls in my class talked about Adriaan and how handsome he was, but to me, his mustache looked like a fuzzy caterpillar on his upper lip. Why would anyone find a caterpillar growing on a person’s face attractive?

  Other familiar faces filled the restaurant. Not surprisingly, we weren’t the only ones hungry for beef. I hoped there would be enough for everyone.

  Our table stood beside an open window and I was glad of it. A gentle breeze cooled my cheeks and the view of the Sunda Strait stole my breath away. The setting sun sparkled across the water’s surface, giving it the glistening quality of topaz and rubies. The sight calmed my nerves and eased my embarrassment. Perhaps the rest of the evening would go smoothly.

  Mr. Schuyler interrupted my thoughts. “Niels, while you’re waiting for the Burkarts, I’ll get you a bottle of wine.”

  “Dank u, Caspar,” Vader said.

  While we waited for the wine, who should come sashaying up to our table but Mrs. Brinckerhoff. It wasn’t enough for her to come into our home unannounced; she had to ruin our meal as well. “Johanna, what a pleasant surprise,” Vader said. “Katrien told me you visited the house yesterday. That was quite a story your husband had about Krakatau.”

  “Ja, it was.” She appeared distracted. “Greet, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Of course.” She excused herself and joined Mrs. Brinckerhoff in an empty corner.

  “I wonder what that’s all about,” Vader said, shrugging.

  My heart sank. Seeing Mrs. Brinckerhoff’s gestures and Tante Greet’s stricken face, I knew. And I knew it wouldn’t be pretty when my aunt returned to the table. It took all my strength not to flee. My fingers squeezed the bottom of my seat as tightly as a reticulated python constricts its prey.

  When Tante Greet sat back down, Vader said, “Is everything—”

  She interrupted him. “No, Niels, everything is not well.” She whipped around to me, her lips white. “Johanna was just telling me she saw Katrien carrying on with some boy in the middle of town yesterday. Some native boy.”

  “What?” This caught me off guard. I thought Mrs. Brinckerhoff was going to tell Tante Greet about my hair or my not wearing a hat.

  Even though he was disappointed in my behavior, Vader defended me. “That doesn’t sound like Katrien. Is she certain of what she saw?”

  “She is positive.” Tante Greet’s eyes never left mine.

  Vader turned to me, eyebrows drawn together in a solid line. “Katrien, can you explain yourself?”

  I opened my mouth, but the wine steward arrived. “Your wine, sir,” he said, showing Vader the bottle.

  While the steward poured, Vader and Tante Greet kept me locked in their gazes. “Well?” he said.

  The steward set the bottle on the table and left. The wine sloshed a bit before settling.

  “Katrien, what do you have to say for yourself?” Vader asked. His voice was quiet but forceful, and I heard him loud and clear in spite of the noise in the dining room.

  I took a deep breath. “After Slamet and I left your office, we walked home through town. We teased each other and got to laughing. That’s all! I was just with Slamet!”

  “Ah, well, that explains it,” he said, but the little crease between his eyebrows didn’t vanish entirely.

  Tante Greet’s lips pursed. “She should stop being so affectionate with that boy.”

  “He’s my friend,” I said.

  Tante Greet turned on me so suddenly that I jumped. She reminded me of a mongoose I once saw attacking a cobra in the market in Batavia. Swift and ruthless. “Katrien, you are thirteen years old,” she hissed. “You are too old to be friends with a native boy. You are not a child anymore. You need to learn to behave yourself in public. You need to be more ladylike.”

  Hadn’t she spent all afternoon lecturing me on these very things? I pushed up my spectacles and glared at my aunt.

  “Lift your spectacles, Katrien,” she said automatically. “Don’t push them.”

/>   Vader tapped the table in front of me. “Remember what we discussed.”

  I balled my skirts in my fists and seethed. Blast Mrs. Brinckerhoff anyhow! I didn’t care what Tante Greet said about her. The woman was the devil!

  Vader took a small sip of wine and ignored my rage. “This is quite good.”

  Tante Greet sipped hers and agreed. “What do you think, Katrien?”

  Since my thirteenth birthday, Vader had allowed me to have one glass of wine with dinner. I didn’t like any of it, but that didn’t stop Tante Greet from trying to teach me to savor its nuances. This was part of my education in the social graces, she said.

  I resented performing for her tonight, especially when I had just been so thoroughly reprimanded. But I didn’t have a choice. If I sulked, it would only lead to them limiting my visits to the jungle. They both sat and watched me like Javan scops owls. I drank a small mouthful and held the liquid on my tongue to taste the flavors before I let it go down my throat. “Ummm . . . dirt?”

  “Your wine tastes like dirt?” asked a familiar, haughty voice.

  I did not need to lift my eyes to know that Brigitta and her family had arrived.

  Chapter 12

  At the sound of Brigitta’s voice I closed my eyes and tried to capture the peace I found in the jungle. When I opened them I sipped my wine once more. “Ja, dirt.” It was always safe to say you could taste the earth in which the grapes grew . . . wasn’t it?

  “What a pleasure to see you, Brigitta,” my aunt said, standing up and kissing her on the cheeks.

  Vader stood as well. “Where are your parents?”

  Brigitta waved her hand behind her. “Talking to the Vogels. It seems like all of Anjer is here tonight, doesn’t it?”

  She sounded like another adult talking to Vader and Tante Greet. I wished I had her ease with people. It would be so much simpler. She socialized so well, and I never could master the art of small talk. Asking people about the weather or other nonsense bored me. I didn’t care what people thought of the weather!

  My aunt turned her attention back to me. “Katrien, dirt is not a flavor you taste in wine. Please use proper terminology.”

 

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