Liz Tolsma

by Snow on the Tulips

  “But nothing did. God in His mercy preserved you.”

  “God took Hans from me.” Her eyes pleaded with him to help her understand why God did such a thing. He didn’t know what to say. “After a long while, I went to look for him. If he had been injured, he would need me to nurse him. I didn’t want him to be as alone as I was. I went to the hospitals, but he wasn’t at either. No one had seen him. They sent me to the morgue.

  “Dampness and mold seeped through the mortar in the morgue. The place reeked of chemicals I hadn’t smelled before. Death hung in the air. No one steadied me as I stumbled down the hallway. I don’t know how I got the strength to open the door.

  “There were a handful of bodies, and the coroner led me to a sheet-covered form across the room. Before he showed me the corpse, I ran to the bathroom to lose the contents of my empty stomach.”

  He wanted to stop his ears so he couldn’t hear another word.

  She gripped the edge of the pew, her fingernails digging into the soft, centuries-old wood. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she closed her eyes.

  “I lifted the sheet. Under it was my husband’s body, riddled with bullet holes, covered in blood.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Gerrit sat in stunned silence, light streaming through the stained-glass tsjerke windows coloring the dark pew blue and red and green. The whine of the planes’ engines faded and the twittering of birds on the trees in the churchyard filled the hush.

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to measure his words. “Those Nazis. Those murderous, vicious, bloodthirsty beasts.” He balled his fists and sat straight on the hard pew. “I hate that you had to go through such a terrible experience. You shouldn’t have had to live through that. Not you.” She raised her hand to touch his shoulder, but he caught her wrist and kissed her palm.

  She quivered. “Why are you angry?”

  He scrubbed his face. “No one—absolutely no one—should have to see the things you saw. Trained soldiers break when they encounter death like that. How much more a fragile young woman.”

  “Every night when I closed my eyes, I used to see Hans again. When I was little and had trouble falling asleep because I was afraid of things lurking in the dark, Mem would tell me to think nice thoughts to chase away the bad. Do you know what I think of now to soothe myself?”

  He shook his head.

  “You. I still have nightmares, but in the night when I wake up frightened, I think about you and about that psalm you taught me.”

  “You don’t want to fight back?”

  “I want them all to go home. There would be no more killing then. No more women would lose their husbands or mothers lose their sons.”

  He rose, hands in his pockets, and gazed at the soaring buttresses. He sighed. “Wishing it will not make it happen.”

  “We cannot all be Resistance workers.”

  “Why not? Our country would have been freed years ago if more joined the fight.”

  “We aren’t all like you. Some of us don’t have the courage.”

  He faced her. “You are the bravest woman I have ever met.”

  “I am?”

  How could he make her understand? “It takes strength to get out of bed every day, to live with what you have had to live with.”

  “But I don’t put myself in danger every day like you do. I cook and clean and do laundry. Nothing very grand. Nothing for our country and our queen.”

  “Look at the way you handled the soldiers who came to the house. You couldn’t have done any better. You even saved my life when I coughed. You did what you needed to do when you needed to do it.” And wasn’t that what the Resistance was all about?

  “Inside, my stomach quivered.”

  “Courage is not a feeling. Courage is an action.”

  Anki came and stood beside her. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Ja.” Cornelia came to him and brushed her lips across his stubbly cheek. “I need to take Anki home, but tomorrow I will see you when I come to work.”

  He rose and returned her kiss, her cheek soft and warm. “I can’t wait.”

  ANKI HELD CORNELIA’S hand as the two of them ambled through the streets of town. She had been strong throughout the entire service, not crying once. Piet would have been so proud of her for not breaking down. She heard his voice in her head. “I am in a better, happier place, Anki. Don’t cry. This should be a joyous day as I feast with our Savior.”

  But he had left her alone. His absence created a bomb-crater-sized hole in her life. Did this pain ever go away? Part of her wanted to hang on to Piet forever, always mourning his absence.

  She studied her sister, remembering the conversation between Corrie and Gerrit. She had observed her sister’s shoulders heave as she sobbed. “What were you and Gerrit discussing?”

  Cornelia tightened her grip on Anki’s hand. “Hans.”

  “What did he say that made you cry?”

  “Nothing.” She paused. “Actually, he asked about the night Hans died. I told him everything.”

  “All of it?”

  Cornelia nodded. “He knows I identified Hans’s body.”

  “He loves you.”

  Cornelia pressed her free hand to her chest. “He told me so.”

  “Do you love him?” She couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone other than Piet.

  “Ja. But it’s different this time, you know? It’s not like it was with Hans. Maybe I have changed, maybe the war has changed things. It is confusing and complicated.”

  “In what way?”

  “I am not the innocent young woman I was when I married Hans. I have been through things and have seen things that have made me feel older. Love is a wonderful thing, a gift from God, but a gift He can snatch away at any time.”

  “So you are still afraid?”

  “Not afraid of love, but of loss.”

  Anki paused in front of the dressmaker’s window and pressed her forehead against the glass. The forms the seamstress used to display her creations boasted remade dresses, some from men’s suits. “I don’t know what I am going to do.”

  Cornelia stood beside her and wrapped her arm around her sister. “You are going to do the same thing I am.”

  Anki’s breath steamed the cool glass. “What are we going to do?”

  “Live life.”

  “How do you do that?” Anki’s voice rose.

  “I am trying to figure that out.”

  THE MUSTY OLD farmhouse sat quiet and Johan spied his long-awaited opportunity. Gerrit had gone against Corrie’s wishes and went to Piet’s funeral and the old monarch Frou de Bruin had lain down for a nap. Now he could sneak from the house without anyone stopping him.

  He snatched his klompen from the breezeway between the barn and the house and sat on a barrel to put them on. His thoughts drowned out everything else and he didn’t hear Maarten enter until he saw klompen in his line of sight.

  “Is Gerrit here?”

  “Nee.” Johan had to crane his neck to look at the man’s thin face. “He went to Piet’s funeral.”

  “I hoped that he would reconsider.” What a stubborn man. “Where are you headed?”

  Would a little lie hurt? “Gerrit agreed to speak to Bear about an assignment for me. I am on my way to get to work.”

  “That is a surprise. Last time we talked, Gerrit had no intention of ever allowing you to help. I take back my old Dutchman comment. So he has agreed to let you help Bear and Junior on the rail line today.”

  “Ja, ja.” Perfect. The information he needed.

  “I’ll wait in the barn for Gerrit to return. Be careful. You are rather exposed on the dike.”

  With that detail, Johan had a strong idea of where to look for Bear and Junior.

  Keeping his eyes and ears at attention, he slogged across the muddy farm fields. His heart throbbed in his throat and blood whooshed through his ears. He controlled himself to keep from skipping. He passed some sheep grazing on tender new shoots of grass and a black-and-wh
ite cow flicking her tail back and forth, head down against the wind.

  At the precise place he expected to see Bear and Junior, Johan spied their figures advancing toward him. He quickened his pace as they dropped to the ground. Following suit, he cased the area. Nothing else moved, not even a fly dancing on the wind.

  Of course. They didn’t plan on meeting him here. They must have mistaken him for the NSB or something, walking across the field in his klompen. He crouched low and approached. They lay on their bellies, faces mashed into the soft ground.

  He hissed at them, “Bear, Junior, it’s me, Johan Kooistra. I want to help you.”

  Bear lifted his face from the dirt. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you know about this? You could ruin the entire operation.”

  Johan hadn’t thought about that. “Maarten told me. Don’t be upset with him—I tricked him into thinking you had given your approval. I just want to do something noble for our country and our queen.”

  He thought he heard Bear mumble something like, “Stupid, impulsive child.”

  Before he could ponder what the big man meant, Bear pulled Johan down farther. “Since you are here, you can stay. If you leave, you might draw unwanted attention. You can be our lookout. Warn us if you notice anyone coming.”

  “But …”

  Bear narrowed his eyes and glared at him. The withering look caused Johan to clamp his mouth shut. If Bear said he would be a watchman, he would be a watchman. Next time, though, he would be the one planting the explosives.

  While Bear and Junior worked their way down the line, placing the bombs in several locations, Johan kept a vigilant eye on the surrounding farmland. If he did this job well, perhaps he would earn a promotion and Bear’s trust. No one, however, passed through this drowsy area of the countryside. Only by guessing at what Bear’s wrath might be like if Johan fell asleep on the job did he manage to stay awake. Just once in his life had he ever been so bored—in the dominee’s catechism class. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to remain alert.

  Then from the corner of his eye, Johan spotted green trucks moving along the road in their direction.

  He sprinted to where the men were planting the explosives. His movement must have tipped off the Nazis, because as he ran, he spied them pouring from their trucks, racing toward them.

  “Bear, Junior,” he hissed. “I think some soldiers have seen us.”

  The great man looked up, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping. A moment later he regained his composure. “Run.” Bear shooed him. “The Germans will be here any moment. Run.”

  His quaking legs found life and he skimmed over the fields faster than he had ever run, his pulse keeping perfect time.

  Behind him, he heard gunshots and the soft thud of a body hitting the ground.

  CHAPTER 34

  April 1945

  Johan’s feet flew over the damp farm fields, his klompen collecting mud until they were almost too heavy to lift. He had run for a very long time and, unable to draw a deep breath, his chest heaving, he allowed himself to slow.

  All around him fell silent. Good, he must have outrun those Nazis. He tried not to think about the sounds he heard as he fled—the zing of bullets and the thunk of deadweight.

  A grinding of gears alerted him to trucks on the road. German military trucks. Many of them. All, he assumed, searching for him. He spun around, assessing his situation, standing in the middle of a flat farm field, no cover to be found.

  A few sheep grazed at his feet and about five meters from him, a heavily pregnant ewe lay in a furrow. While he would have preferred the cover of trees or his own hiding place in Corrie’s house, he didn’t have any other options. He curled up behind the sheep, thankful for his lean build. Not wanting the Huns to get a good shot, he lowered his head against the sheep’s side, burrowing against her, breathing in dirt and damp wool. What seemed like a few short minutes later, he heard the soldiers’ throaty voices.

  “We can’t go back to headquarters empty-handed. We killed the one, but I know I saw two escape. They don’t have that many places to hide. We have to find at least one of them.” As he spoke, the man’s voice grew louder. He approached.

  Johan thought he might wet himself. He couldn’t control the trembling in his legs. The odor of damp wool made him want to vomit.

  He sure had wanted adventure, but Corrie would be right in calling him foolish and headstrong. This wasn’t adventure. This was life and death.

  He lay there behind the sheep, quivering like a plucked string. Father, deliver me, I beseech You. Send Your angels to watch over me and protect me. Turn those soldiers away from me, I beg You.

  The dominee had been right when he told the group of uninterested teens in his catechism class that someday they would be grateful for his instruction. Johan clung to those precious truths now—that God was sovereign and He had everything in His control.

  The ewe stirred. For half a second, he thought she would move and he would lie exposed. His heart stopped beating and his breathing ceased. Lord, keep me from harm. The sheep settled into the same spot.

  A few moments later the soldiers’ voices quieted as they moved away.

  “No one here. I don’t know where they have gone, but we won’t give up. Come, let’s go a little farther.”

  Johan’s tears mixed with the mud. God gave Abraham a ram and Johan a ewe.

  CORNELIA STOOD and arched her back, lavishing in the sun streaming on her face. She pushed her red paisley kerchief farther back on her hair. April had arrived two weeks ago in all its glory. She had neglected to care for the flower bed in front of Frou de Bruin’s house for too long, and now the weeds threatened to take over. She hadn’t done much but already her knees and shoulders ached.

  A bird twittered in the bush at the corner of the house, but German trucks rumbling down the road almost drowned out its song. Allied planes buzzed overhead, the noise so constant she had learned to block out the hum.

  With all the kinks out of her shoulders, she returned to her job, working carefully around the leaves poking their heads above the ground. Frou de Bruin wouldn’t be pleased if she pulled out a wanted plant by accident.

  Tulip buds rested in the cup of leaves, their showy colors ready to burst. She touched one of the blossoms. She couldn’t wait for their riotous display.

  “Oh, there you are.”

  Cornelia startled, then turned to the voice. Gerrit stood in the doorway of the house, handsome as ever. “Don’t you hear the trucks? Don’t get reckless.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Long enough to know you are the most beautiful woman I ever met.”

  “‘Beauty is but dross if honesty be lost.’ The German traffic here has been heavy the past few days, you know. You shouldn’t be in the open.” She waved her hand shovel at him.

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Fine. I will sit on the threshold, with the door ajar just enough to see you and speak to you.” He plopped down most of the way inside, only his feet peeking out. If Frou de Bruin caught him with the door open, she would scold him for letting in the cold air and the bugs. If the Germans caught him, they would make the old woman look softhearted. “As soon as we see those trucks coming anywhere near at all, I will close the door.”

  His dimples appeared and she wanted to break into song. He sat without saying a word for a few minutes while she tugged a stubborn weed from the dirt, watching him from the corner of her eye.

  He inhaled deeply and let his breath trickle out. “I can almost taste spring.”

  She rubbed her gloved hand across her mouth. “I can taste it.”

  “And you have it smeared on your cheek. Come here.”

  Shovel still in hand, she obeyed, crouching in front of him. With his palm, he wiped the dirt away. The brush of his skin against hers awakened a long-forgotten passion, her mouth aching for his. More brazen than she had been even with Hans, she placed
her lips over his. He returned her ardor and cupped her face in his hands, pulling her closer.

  Light and warmth washed over her. Time didn’t matter anymore—not the past nor the future, only this precious moment with the man she loved. The spring flowers would fade, but she would always have this memory.

  From behind Gerrit, someone cleared his throat. Gerrit released his hold on her and she tottered, landing on her backside.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

  Cornelia glared at her brother. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to spy on us?”

  He held up his hands and smiled—something that had been missing the past couple of weeks. “I wasn’t snooping. It is getting chilly in here and I came to close the door. Never did I think I would find the two of you out here kissing like a couple of teenagers.”

  Gerrit stood, brushing dust from his creased pants, grinning like a child who had gotten away with raiding the cookie jar. “If that is how teenagers kiss, I want to be eighteen forever.”

  “Go back where you came from, Johan. Why don’t you muck out the cow’s stall?” The heat in her face had not a thing to do with sunburn.

  Trucks thundered as they approached. The glow of the moment fled. “You both need to get inside the house. Now.”

  “Come on, Johan. We will see if we can get Frou de Bruin to part with some of her precious tea.”

  Frou de Bruin picked that very moment to appear. Today she sported a jaunty red velvet hat with a large diamond-looking pin and a red feather. “Do we always sit and have coffee in the doorway? Be sensible and come inside.” The trucks approached as the drone of planes increased. “Gracious, you are letting the heat escape and we will all catch cold. Have you finished weeding the flower bed?”

  Cornelia shook her head. “I will be done here in a few minutes and then I’ll start dinner.”

  “See that you don’t dillydally anymore. I hate it when my dinner is late. It upsets my schedule for the entire day.” The old woman shooed the men inside and shut the door.

  Just before it clicked, Gerrit turned, smiled, and winked.

  She told her heart to slow its furious beating.