Snow on the Tulips

by Liz Tolsma

  Should he?

  He remembered his sisters’ wrath and the paddling he received from Heit. While curiosity drove his desire to find out more about the very attractive woman who stirred his heart, his recollections of the ire he had incurred at the time of his youthful indiscretion made him return the letters to their place. In time, perhaps Cornelia would open her heart to him and tell him everything. He replaced the lid and opened the cupboard door to put it back in its spot.

  At that precise moment, the floor behind him creaked. He turned to see Cornelia in the doorway, her mouth open like a gasping fish. Horror twisted her lovely features.

  Gerrit looked down. In his hands he held the box with the tulip carved on the cover.

  CORNELIA STARED AT Gerrit, the white cupboard door open behind him, the precious wooden box Hans carved for her clutched in his leathery hands.

  A bubble built in her chest, ready to burst. She dropped the mail she had retrieved, rushed forward, and snatched the box, hugging it close. “How dare you?”

  They both stood stock still, Cornelia breathing hard. The clock suspended its timekeeping for a minute as they gawked at each other, a muscle jumping in his square jaw.

  Then Johan bounded down the stairs, paused, and touched her shoulder. She brushed him away, keeping her focus on Gerrit. “How could you?”

  Gerrit licked his lips, clearly uncomfortable. And he should be. Those letters were between Hans and her. No one else had a right to touch them.

  “I let you into my house. I nursed you back to health and risked my life for you. I have lied for you and protected and trusted you. You betrayed me. Is that who you really are? A liar and a traitor?”

  His face turned ashen and he opened his mouth to speak, but she couldn’t stop the stream of words. “You have violated my privacy. You intruded on my life with my husband. I should have known better than to give you refuge here. What else have you uncovered?”

  Johan squeezed her elbow, probably trying to restrain her from clobbering Gerrit. “Give him a chance to say something.”

  “What can he say? There is no defending what he did.”

  “Just give him a chance.”

  Gerrit stared at the floor, tracing circles on the scarred wood planks with his stocking toe. He said nothing for a full minute. Cornelia clenched her teeth until her jaw ached.

  Then he directed his focus on her, his scrutiny enough to make her squirm. He squared his shoulders, looking ready to defend himself to the death. Because of what he did, he might have to.

  He gazed hard at her. “I will tell you the truth because I want you to be able to trust me. I decided to make some coffee because I know my question startled you. I didn’t know where you kept the canister, so I did search your cabinets. I saw that box and thought maybe you might have a few tea leaves left in there. Never did I expect to find letters.”

  Cornelia crossed her arms, the box still clasped in her hand.

  “I didn’t read any of them. I didn’t even pull any of them from their envelopes.”

  “Because I surprised you.”

  “Nee. I was about to put the box away when you came in. Please believe me.”

  She turned to her brother.

  “I think he’s telling us the truth, Corrie.”

  She looked at Gerrit, who continued to stare straight at her, his blue eyes fixed and unmoving. Her shoulders slumped.

  Without saying a word, she returned the box to the cupboard. After the men went to bed tonight, she would move it to a more secure spot. She withdrew another tin, the one with the ersatz coffee made from chicory. “I haven’t had real tea for a long time, and I won’t be able to make any substitute until spring.”

  Gerrit touched her hand. “I am sorry.”

  His touch caused her skin to tingle. She yanked back her hand. “If you would like coffee, I will make you some.”

  “Cornelia, please tell me you forgive me. I stumbled on the box by accident and I was about to put it away. I am sorry for upsetting you.”

  She wished he didn’t sound so sincere. Squatting, she gathered the mail scattered on the floor. An official-looking letter addressed to Johan caught her eye. Her heart pounded and moisture dampened her hands. “Wait.”

  The paper shook as she stood. “We have a bigger problem.” She handed the letter to Johan, who opened and read it while she held her breath.

  CHAPTER 20

  Johan’s face turned as white as the winter snow. “A razzia. At eight o’clock tomorrow morning we are to be on the front stoop with our cases packed, ready to go to work for the Germans.”

  Gerrit watched as Johan handed the piece of paper to Cornelia. She read it, her fair face paling. Then it fluttered feather-like toward the floor. Gerrit swooped it up before it touched the ground. He scanned the page, then his hands crushed the paper.

  All of the men of the town between seventeen and forty-five were to be on their front steps to report for work for the Fatherland.

  All of this, most likely, because of him. The Nazis took their revenge on the entire town because he had escaped execution and they couldn’t find him. Because he had survived, many of this village’s men would be taken away. Probably never to return.

  And Cornelia, was she now angry enough to turn him in like Mies had done?

  Would it be better if he turned himself in? Would that stop this nightmare?

  Nee. The authorities had given the order and their underlings would carry it to completion. No matter what. If he went to the Gestapo or to the NSB, he would sacrifice his life for nothing. That was the greatest waste of all.

  Cornelia came to his side, smelling like the fresh outdoors. “Look at the bottom.” She pointed one trembling slender finger at the type. “Even men with an ausweis, like my brother-in-law, Piet. But what are we going to do? The hiding place isn’t big enough for both of you.”

  “You could throw me out on the street.”

  She stared at him in disbelief, her hazel eyes wide. “Nee, I could never do that.”

  “Even though not five minutes ago you were ready to do such a thing?”

  She straightened. “I wouldn’t have put you out.”

  He searched her face, studying the light in her eyes, the arch of her brows, the tilt of her mouth. What he saw surprised him. She didn’t hate him. Quite the opposite.

  “I know you wouldn’t. And as to where I will hide—in the attic, between the wall and the rafters. Johan will keep his usual place.”

  “Can you get in there with your shoulder?” A crease marred her brow.

  He nodded. “Ja, I can do it.” For her, he would do anything.

  She grabbed the corner of her apron and crushed it in her hands. “Will this work?”

  More than anything, he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he held his hands at his sides. “It will have to. Otherwise, we will all be on our way to build defenses against the very people who are on their way to save us.”

  ANKI WATCHED PIET move about their home, carrying that hated letter with him. He climbed to the attic and found her small, pale blue overnight case.

  She followed him like his shadow. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m packing the things on this list.” He flashed the notice that all men had to report for duty.

  She blocked his path to the stairs, unable to believe what her husband was doing. Piet was about to leave her alone and pregnant. She stood there, numb.

  “Please move. I want to finish this and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “You are not seriously going to stand on the step, are you?”

  He pushed past her and marched down the attic stairs. She followed close on his heels, her stomach threatening to spill its contents.

  He entered their bedroom and packed a few pairs of the warmest clothes he could find. Some she had just put away this morning.

  “Piet, you can’t do this.”

  His green eyes met hers. “Why not?”

  “You are punishing me for going to deliv
er that baby, aren’t you?” The baby boy had entered the world an hour ago, healthy and hearty. She had arrived home as Piet opened the letter requiring him to report for duty to the Fatherland.

  “That wasn’t just a baby, was it? It was a Jewish baby.”

  Enough of the lies. “Ja, it was. A boy who is alive because I went. A life precious to God.”

  “And your marriage vows and His law aren’t precious to you?”

  “Is your child precious to you?”

  “My child?”

  “I am carrying your child, Piet. If there were complications to the delivery, you would want a doktor or a nurse to be there, wouldn’t you?”

  “You aren’t a Jew. The doktor wouldn’t be breaking the law by coming to you.”

  She flopped on the bed, unable to believe his mule-headed stubborness. “Haven’t you heard what happens to these men who go to Germany or to the defense works? And to the women who are left behind? They don’t receive what is promised them.

  “Remember Putten? After all the men were gone, they burned the town to the ground. None of those men sent a single guilder to their wives. Or their children. Never are they coming home. The Allies bomb the factories where they work and kill them, or they die because of poor conditions on the front. I don’t know why I am telling you this. You know the facts.”

  Piet nodded once. “I know. I don’t want to leave you, but I must obey the authorities no matter what the consequences.”

  “Aren’t you even happy about the baby?” She hadn’t been able to bring herself to share her news with her husband as Nell had told her to do.

  Piet shut the wardrobe door. He turned to his wife and for the first time in weeks, his expression softened. “You really are pregnant?”

  “Of course.”

  “You weren’t lying about that?”

  So many lies, each one eroding the trust between them.

  “Nee, I wasn’t. I am expecting. We are expecting.”

  A smile turned his mouth upward. He sat on the bed next to her and held her hand. “Ja, I am happy. Imagine me, a father.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re going to make a wonderful father.”

  “I will take him out on the canals when they freeze over and teach him to skate. He will be so fast he will skate the Elfstedentocht and make it all two hundred kilometers. Or he will skate in the Olympics, maybe even win a gold medal.”

  “What if she is a girl?”

  “She can learn to skate too. She will have her mem’s green eyes and pouty mouth.”

  She relaxed against him. “I don’t have a pouty mouth.”

  Now he kissed her. “A puckered mouth, then. Perfect for kissing.” His lips met hers once more. She returned his ardor, wanting him always.

  He broke their connection. “When is the baby due?”

  “In the fall.”

  “Good. I will be back from my work detail then. Everyone says the war will be over by summer.”

  “Piet, we are going to have a baby. You have to stay with us.

  You can hide. I have heard talk about men hiding in the attic walls, those without an ausweis who have been through this before.”

  “That would be lying. Please, stop worrying. Nothing bad is going to happen.” He touched her cheek.

  She must be going deaf. The short-lived joy vanished. “Nothing bad? Where have you been these past five years? Look at what happened to Hans. And to all the Jewish people. What about the men who were executed by the canal? And Doktor Boukma.”

  This was what happened when you went behind your husband’s back and lied to him. If only she hadn’t helped Gerrit, none of this would have happened. She should have gone to the authorities. Then her husband wouldn’t be talking so crazy about going to work in Germany.

  “You will be fine, Anki.”

  “You don’t think I will be distraught when you leave?” Her voice raised in pitch at a steady rate until she screeched. “You will never return. I can’t live without you.”

  He closed the small valise and latched it shut. “My heavy work boots, where are they?”

  Again she stood in his path, this time grabbing his upper arms and shaking him. “Listen to yourself. You can’t do this. You can’t do this to me, to us, to our child. Please.” A lone tear fell across her cheek.

  He brushed it away. “If I had my choice, I wouldn’t go. But they have given the order and I must obey.”

  “Obey at the cost of your own life? Risk having your child never know you?”

  He sighed, like she was a little child who didn’t understand complicated grown-up things. “The Bible tells us we are to submit to the authorities. Like a wife is to submit to her husband. That is what I am doing. I am following the Lord’s command by following the occupiers’ command.”

  “You are punishing me. For the sake of our child, reconsider. Please.”

  “Not punishing, Anki, obeying. Even if you had done what I asked, I would still go. One thing has nothing to do with the other.”

  “What will happen to me? And to our baby? Have you thought about that?”

  “You and your sister will look out for each other and you will be fine. The money I send home will be enough to support you.”

  “Haven’t you heard anything I have said? You won’t send back any money. You won’t send back anything because you will be dead.”

  “I cannot lie. I must obey.” He moved past her and she followed as he located his mud-caked work boots by the back door.

  “Piet, please. I’m begging you, don’t do this.”

  “All I need in the morning is my coat and I will be ready to go.”

  “Think about our child.”

  “I am.”

  She collapsed onto a kitchen chair.

  The one thing she thought would keep him home wouldn’t.

  CORNELIA SAT AT the kitchen table, the notice spread in front of her, though without electric lights or lamps, she couldn’t see it in the shadows of the night. She had tried to sleep but couldn’t stop the horrific images chasing through her mind, the past mingling with the present. Sitting in the dark hadn’t erased them.

  A stair creaked and a moment later Johan entered the room. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Neither could I. I am thinking about tomorrow.”

  “We sure are good at hiding. Another adventure come morning.” She didn’t miss the near-excitement in his voice.

  “Aren’t you tired of all of this?”

  She heard his shirt crinkle as he shrugged. “It’s exciting. I will have something to tell my children and grandchildren. Sitting around all day is making me crazy. Tomorrow will be a break from the routine.”

  “You don’t know what life is all about yet.”

  “I have seen enough of it to know.” He pulled out the chair across the table from her and sat. “You didn’t have to be so rough on Gerrit. He told us the truth. He didn’t read any of Hans’s letters.”

  “But he found them and touched them. He stumbled onto something very private and personal, you know.”

  Johan leaned across the table. “Hans has been dead for over four years.”

  Cornelia clutched the edge of her chair. “It feels like only yesterday.”

  “You need to let him go.”

  Could she? “I can’t.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Of course I do. Never will I love another.”

  Johan moved to the chair beside her, his voice deep and quiet.

  “You think I don’t understand, but I do. I have watched you over the years. In your eyes, I see your sadness. I sure want you to be happy.”

  “You remind me of Heit before he died and of Anki every time I see her.”

  “Mem and Heit should never have died. I should have gone out and gotten the medicine for them.”

  “There was no medicine to be had.”

  “You don’t know what I would have found.”

  “Doktor Boukma would have had the medicine if th
ere had been any. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine. Risking your life won’t bring them back.”

  “And mourning will never bring Hans back.” Her brother sounded far older than his years and not at all like the kid who came home a couple of months ago. Had he grown up so much in the past few weeks?

  “You don’t understand. You are young and have never been married, or in love, for that matter. God robbed us of a life together.”

  Johan scraped back his chair and patted her hand, his skin cool against hers. “Maybe God is giving you a different love, one just as amazing as the love you shared with Hans.”

  Cornelia thought of Gerrit and the way her soul danced when he touched her. Closing her eyes, she also closed her mind to the suggestion.

  GERRIT WOKE EARLY the next morning from his fitful sleep. Cornelia was already in the kitchen, so he washed in the sink in her room, which provided a measure of privacy. As he splashed cold water on his cheeks, he thought about the emotions that played on Cornelia’s face last night.

  Did she have the beginning of feelings for him? Did it matter? She believed she still belonged to Hans. Maybe she always would.

  He scrubbed his face. If only he could wash away his feelings with as much ease as he washed away the dirt. Thinking about Cornelia all the time, wondering how to get her to leave Hans behind, jeopardized his work. He needed to remain focused to be effective and to avoid another arrest.

  He descended the stairs and found her preparing breakfast. He watched her struggle to open a jar. “Let me help you.”

  She turned and smiled, holding out the container. As he took it from her, their fingers brushed and his heart zinged. He released the lid in one motion.

  “Bedankt. Frou de Bruin sent this. If they find you, at least you won’t be hungry for a while.”

  “About last night and the letters, I am sorry.”

  He expected her to turn away, but she continued to peer at him. “I believe you. But I did move the box.”