by Lynn Austin
For some reason, I feel rebellious. “I’m a grown woman,” I tell him. “I can do whatever I please. Where shall we go?”
“Have you hiked up Mt. Pisgah yet?” he asks, pointing to the sand dune behind the hotel, partly covered with trees and bushes and dune grass. A row of private cottages perches near the base of it.
“I haven’t. And I hear it offers a beautiful view.”
“It’s a rigorous walk—”
“Lead the way,” I say, taking his arm. We follow the wooden walkway through the hotel grounds, then continue along the boardwalk as we slowly climb the dune. We pass lovely, whitewashed cottages with breezy front porches and gauzy curtains blowing from open second-story windows. No one seems to be up this early, and the only sounds I hear are birdsong and the distant call of gulls.
At first Derk is quiet, but as I pause a moment to catch my breath and look back at how far we’ve come, he finally says, “There’s something I feel compelled to speak to you about, Anna. I know we don’t know each other very well, but . . . but it’s been bothering me.” I wait. Derk looks unusually serious as he scratches his chin and rakes his fingers through his fair hair. “I don’t think you should marry William,” he says. “I think you would be making a mistake.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t this. “Why?” I ask.
“Well, for two reasons. First of all, you don’t love him, and I believe that love is a very important ingredient in a marriage. And second, a husband is the spiritual head of the family and should encourage his wife to grow in her faith, not hinder her.”
Derk is adding to my already considerable doubts about William. But I can’t let him talk me out of marrying him. I start walking again. “Thank you for your concern,” I say primly, “but I believe I’ve already explained that my father is having financial difficulties, and he needs my help. I have decided to marry William for my parents’ sakes, so they can continue living the only lifestyle they’ve ever known.”
Derk keeps up with me and takes my elbow again. “Your father’s problems are of his own making. He shouldn’t use you or ask you to sacrifice your future happiness in order to solve them.”
“He isn’t using me. He doesn’t know I overheard him. He doesn’t know that’s why I agreed to marry William. And I love my parents very much.” But even as I profess my love for them, I recall the conversation I overheard and the enormous emptiness I felt as I listened:
“She’s curious about her parents. Perhaps it’s time you told her.”
“Told her what? I don’t know anything about her parents, you know that.”
“You could tell her how you found her. How she came to us.”
“I don’t think that’s wise.”
I had been too afraid to ask how they had found me—nor did I know how to raise the question without admitting I’d been listening at their door. Even now an appalling feeling of rejection washes over me as I remember that my real parents abandoned me as a newborn baby. No matter what I learn about them, whether they left me on a street corner or in an orphans’ home, it won’t diminish the hurt and shame I feel. I was unwanted. Father and Mother were kind enough to give me a home. “I have to help them,” I say aloud. I hope Derk drops the matter, but he doesn’t.
“This country has been in a financial depression for four years,” he says. “People of all incomes have felt its effects. Yes, your marriage might well improve your father’s finances, but at what cost? He’ll be back on his feet and you’ll be stuck in a loveless, unfulfilling marriage for the rest of your life. Or what if your marriage doesn’t solve his problems? You’ll still be stuck. The only reason you should marry William or anyone else is because you love him. No other reason is good enough.”
I find it hard to breathe, whether from the gradual climb or the conversation, I can’t tell. “It’s too late. I already gave William my word for a second time. I can’t go back on it again.”
“Fine, then. Even if you do marry him, I think he should allow you to attend any church you want to. Tante Geesje and her family were persecuted in the Netherlands for wanting to worship God freely. They came here to Michigan when it was nothing but a wilderness and endured great hardship to carve out a town where they could have that freedom. The same story has replayed throughout America’s history, starting with the Pilgrims. Thousands of people came here for religious freedom, and so now, at the turn of a new century, it’s outrageous for a husband to forbid his wife to attend a perfectly acceptable Christian church where she feels close to God. It’s just not right. I know you must see that, Anna. And when you add in the fact that you don’t really love him—”
“In the social circle I come from, marriages are very often mere alliances between families and businesses. They are rarely motivated by love. It’s nice when the two parties are attracted to each other and enjoy being together, as William and I did before we argued. But people don’t consider marrying for love. No one expects it as the norm.”
“And they live together for years and years anyway? Like strangers?”
I recall the conversation I overheard between Mother and Honoria Stevens. “Your husband isn’t the first gentleman to have a little fling, nor will he be the last. It’s much more common than one might imagine.” I can easily imagine the hurt and rejection I would feel if I learned that my husband was unfaithful to me. And yet, according to Mother, it is a very real possibility. Anger makes my voice sound clipped, my replies to Derk seem cold. “The couples I know certainly don’t live like strangers. They share a home, a family. They attend social events together and have genuine respect and affection for each other. Yet each person leads his or her own life with its own set of social expectations.” I’m too embarrassed to add that the couples I know also have separate bedrooms.
“Pardon me for asking, but what about your own parents?”
I pause as we reach the end of the wooden walkway. From here, the steep, narrow path is sandy and crisscrossed with tree roots, bordered by weeds and beach grass as it winds its way to the top. “In many ways, yes, that does describe my parents. They lead mostly separate lives. But there is no doubt in my mind that they both adore me. That’s why I would do anything for them, including marry a man I’m not sure I love.” I step off the walkway and begin to climb, letting anger and uncertainty propel me. I’ve never hiked on such a crude, steep path before, and I’m forced to cling tightly to Derk’s arm, praying I don’t twist an ankle. Only stubbornness keeps me from turning back. “Besides, I believe that love can grow between two people as the years go by and as they raise their children. Didn’t you say your aunt Geesje married a man she didn’t love? How did that turn out?”
He exhales as if reluctant to concede the point. “They were together a long time and raised four children. She says they were happy—”
“There. You see? I’m certain I will be happy as well. I’ll have a great many privileges in return for marrying a powerful, important man like William—a beautiful home, dozens of servants—”
“I can’t believe you’d be content with that life. There is so much more to you than those superficial things. Am I wrong, Anna?”
I recall my diary entries and the emptiness I’ve felt, the nagging sense that I don’t belong. “It’s the only life I’ve ever known or expected,” I say, avoiding the truth. “It’s the only role I know how to play. Rich or poor, every woman has expectations she must fulfill. When you marry, won’t there be certain obligations that your wife will be expected to meet? Obligations that go along with your career and way of life?”
“Yes, I suppose so. She’ll have to help me with my work as a pastor, care for our home and our children, be part of a church community where we pray for each other and celebrate together and sometimes grieve together—”
“She’ll cook your meals, wash your clothes, change your children’s diapers?”
“Well . . . we might be able to afford to hire a girl to help—”
; “I wouldn’t know how to cook a meal or be part of a church community like yours any more than Caroline would know the rules of etiquette in my world.” For some reason, I’m fighting tears. “It seems to me that Caroline analyzed her future as a minister’s wife and decided she didn’t want it.”
“Yes, and you should do the same, Anna. Before you marry William, look into your future and decide if that’s what you want and if it’s how you want to live. That’s all I’m saying.”
My vision blurs, and I stumble over a large rock in the path. Derk grabs me to keep me from falling, and I cling to him in return. For a long moment we are in each other’s arms, closer than if we were dancing partners. I’m aware of his warmth and the scent of his soap, the bare skin of our arms touching. I find my balance and pull away to catch my breath, pretending it never happened.
“I appreciate your concern, Derk. It’s kind of you to offer your advice. Now if you would care to hear my opinion about your life, I’ll be happy to share it with you.” I sound stiff and formal and don’t know why.
“Go ahead. I would like to hear your opinion.” Derk folds his arms across his chest. He looks cross.
“I don’t think you should marry Caroline. I think you should pursue your intended career as a minister, not as a teacher or whatever else it was that she suggested. You told me when we first met that God had called you to be a minister. I don’t quite understand what it means that He ‘called’ you, but it seems to me you should do what God says. You once made the difficult choice to give up Caroline to become a minister, and I think you should follow through on it. I don’t think her compromise is a fair one at all.”
“Thank you for your advice.” Now he sounds reserved and formal. I’m sorry that we have annoyed each other, but I plunge on up the hill, continuing the conversation.
“When do you see her again?”
“Tonight.”
“And will you have to give her an answer tonight?”
“I’m sure she’ll be expecting one. She won’t like it very much if I make her wait.”
I halt and look up at him. “Do you realize how manipulative that makes her sound? I’m surprised you don’t see it. Perhaps you’re blinded by these feelings of love you keep touting so highly.”
“Have you ever been in love, Anna? If so, you would understand why it’s such a hard decision to make.”
At last we reach the top of the hill and the view steals what little breath I have left. Lake Michigan fills the horizon in front of us, reflecting the blue sky above my head. A passenger ship steams toward the channel that connects the two lakes, the lighthouse at the entrance looks like a toy. Below us on the left I see the sprawling Hotel Ottawa on the shores of Black Lake. More hotels and cottages dot the lake’s opposite shoreline. A sailboat is already taking advantage of the mild breeze to glide across the pristine water. The scene is so beautiful from up here that I can barely recall the noise and busyness of Chicago. Nor can I imagine returning to the life I just described to Derk, spending my days planning and attending parties and events, ordering clothes and making social calls, a life where my every move is scrutinized and gossiped about by my neighbors and peers. A life where thoughts of God or what my purpose in life might be are rarely considered, let alone discussed. This idyllic place on the shore of Lake Michigan isn’t the real world, merely a brief escape from it. In a few days, I’ll have to leave it all behind.
I look up at Derk. I’m still loosely holding his arm. “You and I are opposite sides of the same coin, don’t you see? You want to marry for love because you consider it all-important. You’re willing to compromise and possibly sacrifice your future for the sake of true love.”
“I haven’t decided yet—”
“And I don’t expect love at all. I believed I had a measure of it with William in the beginning, but now I’m not so sure. A secure future is more important to me, so I’m willing to sacrifice love in order to get it.”
“Why can’t we have both?” he asks heatedly. “Why can’t we marry for love and still have a good future? I could fall in love again with someone else who doesn’t mind being a minister’s wife. And surely there are other rich men you could fall in love with and marry, men who could help your father financially but who would still let you worship wherever you wanted to. You’re a beautiful woman, Anna. You can easily find a man who is more sympathetic and understanding than William is.”
I feel tears welling again and look away. “In an ideal world I suppose we could have both. But my world is hardly ideal. There’s a price to pay for the wealth and status my family enjoys. The truth is—and I’m realizing it just this moment—if I don’t marry William after announcing our engagement at a huge party, I’m not likely to receive a proposal from any other gentlemen in our social circle. William and his family are at the very top when it comes to prestige and prominence. They are highly respected, powerful, and perhaps a bit feared. Few men would risk the stigma of marrying William’s castoff fiancée. It would be assumed that something was wrong with me if our engagement ended, not the other way around, because no woman in her right mind would reject ‘perfect’ William.”
“You’re trapped.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me!” I say angrily. “I’ll have servants and a mansion and more money than I can possibly spend in one lifetime.”
“A beautiful bird in a gilded cage.”
“Listen, Derk, if you start giving away parts of your future to please Caroline, you’ll end up just as trapped as I am. Once she learns that she can manipulate you, she’ll never be satisfied with anything less than her own way from now on.”
“Caroline isn’t as bad as you seem to think she is.”
“And William isn’t as bad as you think, either. . . . And yet we’ve both advised each other not to marry them.”
“What do you make of that?”
“I don’t know. . . . But I think we’d better go back to the hotel now.”
He takes my arm again as we head down the hill, our shoes slipping on the sandy path. We don’t speak except to say things like “Watch your step!” I’m curious to know what will happen when Derk talks to Caroline tonight, and I long to ask him to tell me all about it tomorrow. But I have no right to know. The friendship we’ve briefly shared has come to an end, and now we must return to the lives we had before we met. Somewhere deep inside, I’m very sad about that.
“Thank you for the walk,” I say as we part. “It was very invigorating.”
“You’re welcome.” We’re back to speaking politely, distantly. The warm relationship we shared seems like only a dream.
“Good-bye, Derk. I wish you well with Caroline.”
I turn and start walking back toward the hotel. Behind me I hear him say, “Good-bye, Anna.”
Chapter 24
Geesje
Holland, Michigan
1897
I’m washing my supper dishes at the kitchen sink when I see Derk loping across my backyard from his house next door. I dry my hands and open the screen door for him. He’s so tall that his head barely misses the top of the frame. “I can’t stay. I’m on my way to see Caroline,” he says. “Tonight’s the night.”
“You look like you’re on your way to a funeral.” He’s wearing his best Sunday suit, and his blond hair is tamed and slicked with Macassar oil. From the expression on his handsome face, one would think doomsday has finally arrived.
Derk tries to smile but doesn’t quite manage it. “I had an upsetting talk with my friend Anna this morning. I asked her to meet with me one last time because I wanted to explain why she shouldn’t marry her fiancé. She didn’t take my advice very well and proceeded to tell me why I shouldn’t marry Caroline. We both gave our reasons . . .” He shrugs helplessly, hopelessly. He has fallen for this Anna harder than he realizes.
“So she’s still going through with her marriage after she returns to Chicago?”
“Yes. And now I feel very foolish for meddling. I have no right to get i
nvolved in her life. I don’t know anything about the high-society world she lives in.” He collapses onto a chair as if his legs have given up hope of carrying him any farther. “What upsets me the most is that she doesn’t think love is all that important in a marriage. I didn’t know how to convince her that it is. . . . What do you think, Tante Geesje?”
“About love? Well . . . I think the human heart is a very fickle thing. I’ve seen people who married for convenience end up deeply in love. And I’ve seen couples who were once deeply in love allow those feelings to die over the years. I’ve often wondered what my marriage to Hendrik would have been like if things had worked out differently. I have no way of knowing, of course. The truth is, we didn’t really know each other very well in spite of the powerful attraction we felt. Would that have been enough to sustain us through the rough times? I don’t know. We would have had a lot to learn about each other in order to make it work.”
“But you do know me very well. I stopped by on my way to Caroline’s house to see if you had any last words of advice for me.”
I take a long moment to consider his question. “Ask her why she loves you. Why she wants to marry you. Listen carefully to her reply. Then listen to your own reply if she asks you the same thing.”
After Derk hauls himself away again, I decide to take his advice and continue writing the story of my past. It’s not so much a decision as a compulsion. It has been interesting to relive my past from the vantage point of fifty years. And I’ve been surprised to find that putting my thoughts into words has helped liberate many dormant emotions. I’ve been sitting on those feelings all these years, keeping them safe and hidden away. And now, like baby birds that have finally hatched, they are free to fly from their nesting place in my heart. Yet I know there is still much more for me to work out. What went wrong with Christina, for instance? How and why did I fail with my daughter? What might I have done differently? I ache to have that final loose end between God and me tidied up and settled.
