Liz Tolsma

by Snow on the Tulips

  A moment later her husband towered over her, leaning in to place a peck on her cheek. “Are you just about ready? I do need to get to work soon.”

  “Can’t we go once you get home from the milk plant? It is too early to be making calls.”

  Piet stood to his full height, hands on his narrow hips. “Nonsense. Corrie gets there much earlier than this. If we bring the soup, she will not have to make Frou de Bruin any dinner. It saves her that much trouble.”

  “I have so many chores to finish today.”

  “We will only visit for a few minutes.”

  If she didn’t know any better, she would say that Piet was bent on uncovering what she had been hiding from him. Yet she could not get the truth past her padlocked lips. She could not tell him. Instead, she papered a smile onto her face.

  Once she had curled her shoulder-length hair under and caught it in a clip, she pinned her little brown hat to her head. She pulled on white cotton gloves to just past her wrist and was ready to go. To whatever lay in front of her.

  Hand in hand, she and Piet walked through the small town, past the windmill churning in the breeze, toward the de Bruin farm.

  Piet squeezed her hand. “What is the matter? You are shaking like a frightened puppy.”

  “Even four years after marriage, your touch still makes me tremble.”

  He gave her a cross-eyed look.

  All too soon, they drew near to what had been the finest farm in the area. The de Bruins had been renowned for the quality of their milk and cheese.

  They approached the property. The thatched barn roof sagged like an old woman’s face. Dark red paint peeled from the front door of the attached house.

  Corrie answered their knock within seconds. Her eyes grew as large as a harvest moon when she saw them, and panic raced across her face. “What are you doing here?”

  Piet kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek and stepped inside. “That is a fine welcome. Since Frou de Bruin has been under the weather, we thought a bowl of soup might speed her recovery.”

  Anki held the pot forward. “If she isn’t up to receiving visitors, we understand. You can wish her all the best and tell her we are praying she recovers soon.” Corrie wouldn’t want Piet to see Frou de Bruin either. She would do all she could to protect their secret.

  “Who is that at the door?” Frou de Bruin banged her cane on the floor. “Bring them in here.”

  Corrie shot Anki a what-in-the-world-are-we-going-to-do-now look. She had no answers for her sister.

  Piet grabbed the pot from Anki’s hands as they entered the kitchen where Frou de Bruin sat, her chin high in the air, her hand wrapped around a gold-tipped cane, her arm festooned with gold and silver bangle bracelets. She wore a white lawn dress she must have bought before Anki’s mem and heit had been born.

  Piet held the pot high. “Anki tells me you haven’t been feeling well, so we brought you some soup.” He set it on the coal-burning stove and took a place at the table next to the old woman. A red-and-white luncheon plate with an Oriental garden design held a slice of toast, and a matching bowl contained a few spoonfuls of yogurt.

  Anki stood in the doorway. “See, Piet, we are interrupting breakfast. Let’s go so she can finish eating.”

  He leveled a steady gaze in her direction. “I would think you would want to make sure she is feeling better.”

  “No need. I can see she is fine. You need to get to work, so let’s leave her in peace. I will see you later, Frou de Bruin. Sorry to be in your way.”

  Corrie all but lifted Piet from his chair. “That was such a nice thought but not necessary. All is well here and so you should go ahead to work. Besides, it won’t do for Anki to examine Frou de Bruin while you are here.”

  Anki dared to breathe. She would get out of here without Piet learning the truth.

  Then a big voice boomed from Frou de Bruin’s little body. “Why would Anki examine me? I’m not sick.”

  Piet smiled, almost triumphant. Anki grabbed him by the elbow and steered him into the hall. She hushed her words to a whisper. “We don’t want to say anything that would upset Frou de Bruin, but she has been quite forgetful recently. Dementia is setting in. If she has a bad day, she doesn’t even recognize Corrie. She can’t remember being sick or me being here. So sad, but not surprising given her age.”

  Piet acquiesced, poking his head into the kitchen. “Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good day and enjoy the soup. No need to see us out, Cornelia.”

  Anki drooped like a flower in the heat.

  As she shut the door behind them, she heard Frou de Bruin say, “Why would Piet Dykstra bring me soup?”

  Anki broke into a near run to keep up with her husband’s long strides. “I told you we shouldn’t have bothered them.”

  Piet came to a sudden stop and made the quarter turn to face his wife. Red blotches covered his cheeks. “You lied to me.” The words sounded as if he squeezed them through his throat.

  Her stomach flip-flopped and she fought the bile gurgling from her stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  “Frou de Bruin is not sick. Never was she sick. She is not senile. Why would you lie? Where were you if not here?” He raised his hand.

  Anki took a step back. “Please, Piet, calm down. Don’t hit me.”

  He dropped his arm to his side. “I would never hurt you. But I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “I can’t. I promised.”

  “This involves Cornelia somehow.” He balled one hand into a fist and rubbed it with the other.

  “Piet …”

  “Quit your lying.” The cows in the field raised their lash-framed eyes in their direction.

  She stared at her husband, her heart flailing in her chest, fluttering like a sail in a gale.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  She had no choice. “I have been helping the Resistance. That is all I am going to tell you.”

  “How have you helped?”

  “I have been nursing a man back to health.”

  “A man.” He stepped toward her. “What else?”

  “Nothing. Cornelia was there the entire time. Nothing inappropriate happened. I promise you that. Anyway, they have found a doktor now to take care of him.”

  “You will not help this man anymore. Do you hear me?”

  She nodded.

  “The blood on your skirt had nothing to do with the neighbor boy, did it?”

  This time she shook her head.

  “No more, Anki, no more. I forbid it. You are lying to me. You are breaking the law. Breaking God’s law. Do you understand me?”

  She wanted to shout yes and no at the same time. Not knowing what to do—help an injured man and her own brother or obey her husband—she said nothing.

  “Do you understand?” Piet thundered and her heart sped away like a race car.

  She gave one simple nod of her head.

  CHAPTER 17

  March 1945

  Good morning.” Piet, ever the dutiful husband, gave Anki her customary wake-up kiss as she stood over the coal stove and fried a little ham Corrie had brought for them.

  “Good morning.” She slid the meat onto a white china plate and set it on the kitchen table. Without saying another word, she poured a cup of ersatz coffee and placed it in front of her spouse.

  Her stomach rebelled at the sight of the food, but she choked back the wave of queasiness and sat across the blue-cloth-covered table from Piet.

  He folded his hands and bowed his blond head. “Dear Father, thank You for the provision of this food and for the hands that prepared it. Bless it to our bodies and strengthen us for this day. In Your Son’s name, amen.”

  Though it was located in the front room, separated from the kitchen by a wall, Anki heard the mantel clock keep time while Piet’s fork and knife clanked against the plate. She heard him swallow as he kept his attention focused on the food. She nibbled at a bit of dry toast and moved the meat around her dish without taking a bite. Piet didn’t com
ment on her lack of appetite.

  When at last he pushed back his breakfast and downed his coffee, she went to the light and bright front room and brought him the Bible from its spot on the end table beside her brown chair. He read a psalm—Anki had no idea which one—closed in prayer, scraped his chair back, and left the room.

  Both of the dishes and the pan were washed and put away before he descended the stairs. With another peck on her cheek, he slipped into his klompen and disappeared out the back door.

  A typical day in her life now.

  She ran her finger over the bookcase and end table in the front room. Dusty. She did not have the umph to clean it. She walked a circuit of the room and into the kitchen. An oppressive weight bore down on her.

  How long would it be until Piet forgave her? It would have to be before she told him about the baby so he didn’t pay attention to her for the baby’s sake. Then again, telling him about their child might lessen the strain between them.

  She had to get out of this house. She grabbed her ration book and set a course for Hear Smeet’s bakery.

  The cool air refreshed her.

  The line in front of the little shop stretched out the door and onto the street. When the war first started and standing in line for bread was a novelty, it was almost fun to go shopping. Women chatted and preschool children played. It could be a pleasant way to spend a morning.

  That didn’t last long. For the most part, the women greeted each other, then drew their coats around themselves to ward off the North Sea chill, stamping their feet until they reached the counter inside.

  Anki queued up and said a hello to the women, all of whom she recognized. Other than that, she didn’t engage in idle chitchat.

  Someone tapped her shoulder, jostling her in the crowd. She tapped again. Frowning, she turned to see Nell, her childhood friend. She jostled one infant on her hip while three other little ones, their button noses all running, clung to her legs. A brown strand of hair had escaped from its pins and she struggled to get it under control.

  “Anki.” Nell hugged her. The baby, crushed between them, whimpered. “Is everything good with you? I have been thinking about you so much. I never get a chance to talk to you anymore. Ach, that is how it goes. Never does the house stay clean for more than a minute. Rikhart, please keep your hands off your sister. And the kids require my attention, so I don’t have a spare minute to breathe, but I am glad I ran into you today.”

  Anki found herself smiling. “I am fine. How about you?”

  “Fine, fine. The kids don’t go to school at all because the schools are closed. They stay at home and drive me crazy. Margrit, please get off the ground. You have dirt all over. Luuk works in the garden a little here and a little there when he can, but I have had to take in washing and mending for the Germans just to feed us. Another thing to do.”

  For that one thing Anki could be happy. Piet had a job.

  “And now baby number five is on its way. Can you believe it? This is not the time to bring a child into the world, but God had different ideas. What can we do? Falco is only nine months old. Hillie, don’t put that in your mouth.”

  Anki peeked at her friend’s stomach, a slight bulge announcing the blessed event. “Congratulations.” She leaned in. “We have some news of our own.”

  Nell clapped her chapped hands. “That’s wonderful. When is the baby due? What did Piet have to say when you told him? I wish I could have been there to see his face. He must have been so surprised. You waited so long for this and will make a great mother.”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “He doesn’t know? How far along are you? You have to tell him. He won’t be upset. Rikhart, I told you not to pinch your sister.”

  “Far enough that I am going to have to tell him soon.”

  They moved forward with the line. Anki’s stomach tossed when she caught a whiff of the yeasty bread.

  Nell scrunched her round face. “Why aren’t you telling him? He will be so excited. He will want to know right away.”

  “You know.” Anki waved her hand. “This comes up and that comes up and the subject of babies never comes up.”

  Nell shook her head, another strand of hair escaping from its pins. “Nothing should come up. Hush, Falco. I know how many years you have wanted this. You should be making an announcement in front of the tsjerke. You can’t hide it forever. What is happening that you don’t want to share this news with your husband? Is the pregnancy not going well?”

  “The baby is fine.” She paused for a moment and gathered her thoughts. “Has Luuk ever been so angry with you that he stopped speaking to you?”

  “Is that what is happening? Nee, Luuk has never stopped talking to me. Not for long, anyway. He often tells me not to talk so much. Listen, I have known you both since we were children. Whatever squabble you are having will pass. Especially once you tell him about the baby.” She squeezed Anki’s arm.

  They now entered the small bakery, the once-laden shelves bare save for a few small loaves of bread. In times past they had held banket and olliebollen and other pastries, as well as raisin bread and brown bread. All of that had disappeared. Now their ration coupons would get them nothing but a small loaf of bread, more like a roll than anything.

  “Ja, you are right. I have to tell him. Soon.”

  “Now, Anki, now. In this time, with the war, you can’t waste a moment with each other. As soon as he comes home from work, you have to tell him. He will be so happy, all the anger will be forgotten. I know these things. You need to listen to me.”

  Anki laughed. “You always were the smartest of the two of us, including when it came to boys.” She presented her coupons and the baker wrapped up two loaves for her. “Here, let me take the baby so you have one hand free.”

  Anki cuddled with the little boy, dark hair peeping from under a blue knitted cap. The infant alternated between studying her and screwing up his face. She jiggled him. To think, soon she would have a little one like this at home.

  Nell made her purchase and took back the infant. “I will come to your house tomorrow and we can talk babies. How fun. Margrit, please hold your brother’s hand. Our children will be the same age. Imagine it. They can play together and if I have a girl and you have a boy, perhaps they could even get married.”

  Hoping not to step on a child, Anki leaned in and kissed her friend’s rosy cheek. Piet did need to know. Right away.

  THE MONOTONOUS WEEKS passed slower than the snow melts. All of Gerrit’s nerve endings pulsed. He walked about the house, played checkers and dominoes with Johan, and stroked Pepper.

  Maarten had become a regular visitor to the de Vries’s house, but today his banging at the door held an air of urgency. Gerrit shooed Pepper from his lap, left his spot on the blue davenport in the front room, and went to admit his friend.

  Without a word, Maarten pushed past him and shut the door behind himself. He swiped the sweat from his forehead. “I came as soon as I could.” His forged ausweis allowed him some measure of freedom of movement.

  “What is going on?”

  Maarten shook his head. “I am having a hard time believing this.”

  Gerrit waited. His friend took a minute to catch his breath.

  “First thing this morning the Gestapo raided Doktor Boukma’s home. They ransacked the place and found the false bookcase. When they opened it, they discovered five Juden hiding.”

  Gerrit’s stomach dropped to his toes. “Nee. Nee.”

  Maarten tousled his dark hair. “The Juden went without a fuss, but Doktor Boukma resisted. Who knows why he did that. Things might have gone better if he hadn’t. He struggled with one of the soldiers, shouting, screaming. The soldiers shot the doktor dead on the spot.”

  A surge of heat raced through Gerrit’s body. He pounded his fist into his hand. “Those brutes. Those beasts. He was an old man. How many more will die before all of this is over?” He paced from one end of the hall to the other. “These men need to be brought to justice. W
e have to find a way to give them what they deserve.”

  Maarten blocked his way, halting Gerrit’s pacing. “We will. Don’t doubt that. The sweetest revenge will come when the Allies march into town.”

  “Nee. We can’t wait that long. We have to take action. Now. Otherwise, too many more innocent people will be hurt or killed. Too many have already been hurt and killed.” He closed his eyes to block out the image of Dorathee crying. “Put me to work, Maarten.”

  “Don’t rush it. Remember what happened the last time you moved around too soon. Get stronger and then we will talk. For the time being, we will make do.”

  “There is no reason for me to sit in this house any longer. You need me and I need to get back to work. I can step right in. When all the Juden and onderduikers appear after the war, we will show those Nazi pigs who was triumphant.”

  Gerrit returned to the davenport in the front room and Maarten followed, taking a seat on Cornelia’s rocker. “Nee, we aren’t going to rush you. That is my final word.”

  “I can’t sit here all day long while I could be out there giving assistance to all who need it and kicking the Germans back to their Fatherland. Don’t turn me away. You need me.”

  Johan picked that moment to thunder down the stairs and into the room. He stopped short and studied Gerrit.

  “Sit down.” Gerrit motioned to the empty place next to him on the davenport.

  Johan obeyed. “This doesn’t sound good.”

  Maarten opened his mouth, but Gerrit shook his head. He needed to be the one to deliver this news to Cornelia’s brother. “Doktor Boukma’s house was raided this morning and the Juden hiding there were taken away. The doktor was shot and killed.”

  Johan’s mouth swung open and his eyes widened. “This is a joke, right?”

  “Nee. It’s the truth.”

  The young man paused for a second, staring at Gerrit, then Maarten, then Gerrit again. A second later he bounded from his chair. “Corrie needs to know.”

  “We will tell her when she gets home.”

  “That is too long to wait. I have to go now. I mean, she’ll want to know.”