“Why would that be?”
“Maybe I’m close to finding out something. Maybe someone wants to stop me.”
Nico shook his head. “Seems unlikely. But it still might be dangerous for you to be alone.”
“What can I do? Hire a bodyguard?”
“No, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“What made you come here tonight?” She grasped his arm as fear and hope consumed her. “Did you find something? Tell me fast!”
“Ja, ja, rustig maar.” He pulled a small notebook out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “I was able to contact someone I know who specializes in wartime genealogy, one of those permanent graduate students with an obsession, in this case one that works in our favor.”
“What did he find?”
Nico patted her hand and smiled. “Give me a moment to explain. René—the graduate student—has a particular interest in high-ranking NSB-ers.”
“Why?”
“His father was shot down by an NSB-er for stealing food for his family. As you may know, we now have a growing problem with the resurgence of the national socialist movement. René decided that his thesis would focus on if—and how many—NSB children have become part of the new movement.”
“But how does that help us?”
“That’s the beauty of it. As it happens, your mother’s father, Joop Brouwer, was a prominent NSB-er. He was also admitted to the SS, extremely rare for a Dutchman. He was notorious for his savage treatment of the Jews.” He paused. “Apparently he was brilliant at locating Jews, whose names he then turned over to the Nazis.”
Nora felt sick. “How did he do that?”
“He knew Amsterdam. He was adept at ferreting out hiding places because he was so familiar with the city’s buildings. He also turned in many of his neighbors whom he felt were obstructing the unification of Holland with Germany.”
“But what did your friend find?”
Nico handed her the small notepad. “He read it to me over the telephone.”
She scanned the page, disappointment welling in her. “But I know this already. Joop, Miep—”
Nico shook his head, leaned in closer to her and pointed to a scrawled word. “Read this.”
She looked again, this time more closely. She saw it—a chicken scratch of a line across from Miep’s name. Saartje Steen. Stunned, Nora looked up. “Who is she?”
“I’m not sure. René thinks she may be their sister.”
“Why wasn’t she mentioned in Miep’s diary?”
Nico shrugged. “Maybe they had a falling out.... Or she moved away during the war.”
“Do you know if she’s still alive?” Nora was so afraid. She didn’t know if she could endure another dead end.
Nico pulled out another piece of paper and handed it to Nora. “She’s alive—old, but alive.”
Nora grabbed it and read it quickly. “Was she married?”
“Apparently,” said Nico. “Which is why the medewerker didn’t know to look for her.”
Nora clutched the paper. “I have to see her. Right now.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Look at the address,” he said. “She lives in Schiermonnikoog.”
“Friesland? Why in God’s name would she live there? It’s up north in the middle of nowhere!”
“Who knows?” he said. “Anyway, I found her.”
“And?”
“It’s the address of a convent,” he said. “Saartje is a nun.”
39
Amarisa opened the door. Dirk stood there looking bedraggled and filthy, as usual. “Wonder of wonders.” He grunted and then followed her silently to the kitchen. They sat on opposite sides of the table.
“Well, have you found anything? If you’ve screwed it up, I’m not paying you a cent—”
Dirk glared at her. “If you’d shut up for a minute, I’ll tell you.”
“Don’t push me, Dirk. Let’s not forget what side your bread is buttered on.”
“How could I forget? You shove it up my ass every day.”
“Get on with it.”
“Okay, I broke into her house last night after I made sure she was alone. But as I was going up the stairs, she heard me and screamed. Then some asshole came to the door, so I had to beat it out of there.”
“In other words, nothing.”
“Hey, nobody saw me and now she knows someone is after her.”
“A common burglar, nothing more.”
“Christ, Amarisa, don’t be such a bitch. I’ll still get her. She’s going to Schiermonnikoog. Train leaves at eleven.”
“How do you know?”
“’Cause I hung around outside under the bitch’s window and heard them talking. Some guy named Nico Meijer. Meeting her there tomorrow.”
“What in hell is in Friesland?”
“If you knew, you wouldn’t need me, now would you?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Dirk.”
“Okay, okay.”
“I’m going to tell my worthless nephew that the woman is on her way to Friesland. I’ll tell him to take the afternoon train. You may need a patsy to blame if it all goes wrong. And don’t fuck up like last night or you won’t see a single guilder.”
“Will you listen! It wasn’t my fault—”
“Save it.”
Dirk started to rise.
“Wait,” said Amarisa. “I have something to give you.” She stood, opened her refrigerator and took out the capped syringe, admiring her handiwork. Then she handed it to Dirk.
“What’s this?”
“What does it look like? Take it to Schiermonnikoog and inject it into her carotid artery. Do you even know where that is?” Then she demonstrated with her fingers.
His eyes widened. “What will it do to her?”
“Don’t worry, it works quickly.”
Dirk flung the syringe on the table as if it were a cobra ready to strike. “Look, Amarisa, whatever else I am, I’m not a murderer.”
“No, but you’re a thief, a heroin addict, a gambler and a thug who hurts people when I tell you to. This is just one step further.” Amarisa could see the hate in his eyes. “This isn’t a request, Dirk. It’s an order.”
“Goddamn it, I’m out of this!” He slammed his fist on the table. “Now you want me to kill this woman. And who do you think the police will be after? Me! Then even if I finger you, who do you think they’ll believe? Some street guy or a rich bitch with a diamond business? No, I won’t do it!”
Amarisa looked at him coolly. “Fine.” Suddenly she reached across the coffee table and yanked up his sleeve. “Look at those tracks. You think I don’t know you’re still dealing? I keep tabs on you, darling Dirk.” She handed him back the syringe. “And don’t forget. One tip from me to the police and you can kiss your life goodbye.”
“Stop threatening me!”
“You have five minutes to make up your mind. So just sit here and think about what you have to lose.” She strolled into the nursery to check on Jacoba. A few moments later, she came back.
Dirk hung his head in his hands. Fucking bitch. The thought of killing someone made him feel sick. He knew he was a bum, but a murderer? Then a thought struck him. Wait! Maybe he could run his own show.
“Sit down.” His voice was harsh. Amarisa sank slowly into the soft armchair across from him. “Here’s the deal—and it’s not negotiable. If I do this for you, then it’s over between us. You pay off my debts—all of them. Then ten thousand to do the job and a ticket to Greece with five thousand more to get the hell out of here and start over. That’s it.”
Amarisa stared at him, thinking. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Deal.”
“And I mean it.” He
glared at her. “You fuck me over, get me arrested, do anything to lay all this on me and I’ll turn you in so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“Dirk, I hold the same cards against you. So it serves neither of us to be pitted against the other.” She held out her hand. “Truce?”
Dirk looked at her warily. Finally he stuck out his hand. They shook. He stood and put the syringe inside his jacket pocket. “I’m out of here. I’ll let you know.”
“Good boy.”
He glared at her and stomped out.
40
Nora was so excited about Nico’s news that she threw her arms around him. “I can’t thank you enough,” she whispered. Sobs of relief racked her.
“Ach, lieveling,” he murmured. He held her in a tight embrace until her crying subsided. She reveled in the safety of his arms. She buried her face in his neck, overwhelmed that this man she had loved would help her despite how she had left him, despite his marriage to another woman and despite the bitterness he must still have toward her.
She felt as if she were falling back into the past. There was no ending to their bodies when they were this close. It had always been that way. They just—fit. As her trembling subsided, she inhaled the soaped leather scent that was his alone. It affected her like opium. She felt herself give in, give way, give up as she lifted her lips to be kissed. His warm, kind hands held her face, his mouth so close to hers. At that moment, she opened her eyes. Nico gazed at her, his lips a moment from hers, his eyes searching hers. She drew a shaky breath as the moment hung between them, then pulled back.
“Nico,” she whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you like I did last time—or your wife.”
Nico raised his hand and placed two gentle fingers on her lips. “Nee,” he said softly. Nora kissed them, not wanting the moment to end. “I want you to answer a question.”
She nodded. “Anything.”
“Other than the horrible things that have happened, are you happy with your life?”
How to answer? Words first caught in her throat. “With Rose,” she murmured, “I am as happy as I can be.”
Nico took her right hand and held it up. “You still wear my ring,” he said. “May I ask why?”
Nora knew she should pull her hand away, but it lay in his, an egg in its nest. “I don’t know.”
He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “Don’t you?” he whispered.
“Nico, please don’t,” she said softly. “You’re married. It isn’t right.”
“Since you came back, nothing is right.”
“I don’t want to interfere with your life.”
“It’s too late for that,” he said quietly. “I have a daughter. That changes everything.”
“Oh, Nico—”
“You are going to let me be involved in her life?”
“Of course, if that’s what you want.” Relief filled her until reality hit. “But what about your wife? Wouldn’t she mind that you’re kissing my hand?”
“I’m sure she would mind terribly.”
“Then how can you be here with me?”
Nico eyes looked sad. “My wife and I lived together for a year after you left. I was in such terrible shape that I let myself begin a relationship when I shouldn’t have. My wife had just divorced her husband, who cheated on her. Both of us were on the rebound. I did her a great disservice. She is a very good woman.” He sighed. “She knew about you, but thought I’d get over it. We both did. Obviously I haven’t. Then when we got married, everything went downhill fast. We’ve been separated for two months. She filed for divorce almost immediately.”
“Have you told her about Rose?”
“Not yet. I don’t think it would make a difference. The marriage is over.”
Nora looked away as the old pain coursed through her. “We had our chance,” she whispered. “And we ruined it. It’s too late.”
He clasped her to him. “It is never too late.”
A long moment passed. Nora stood and motioned for him to do the same. She took his hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom.
41
Nora sat in the train on one of the red seats with a view out the window. Dark rain whipped against the glass. Wet, green blocks of land fled by, taking her farther and farther from Amsterdam. She looked around, saw a few older passengers eating sandwiches, their heavy luggage on the overhead racks. The morning crush of people going to work had emptied as the train chugged farther north to Friesland.
She looked at the slim diary she had finished during the train trip. It had been more of the same. Miep’s sick adoration of her brother, concerts she had attended, a fur Joop had bought for her. Only snippets about Anneke. The NSB functions Anneke attended, their pride at Joop’s induction as an SS officer, Miep’s fervent hope that Anneke would marry the SS soldier she had continued to date. It made Nora feel sick.
She glanced at her watch. She had been to Schiermonnikoog with Nico one winter and the journey felt familiar. In an hour, the train would pull into Leeuwarden, where she would take a bus to Lauwersoog, then hop on the ferry to the island of Schiermonnikoog. The trip would be a long one—about five hours.
Nora nestled back into her seat and closed her eyes. She could still feel Nico’s warm lips upon hers. They had not spoken as they held each other close, their bodies entwined. It was as if they had never been apart. The naturalness of their coming together felt to her as if the pain of the past had disappeared. They were one, murmuring as their bodies spoke to one another. It was as it always had been. Sitting in the train, she could still feel his body over hers. Their love was still there—always new, always old, always forever.
After their first time, Nora had sobbed quietly as Nico held her. Her tears were not from the pain that had gripped her during the past weeks, but tears of coming home to her place in his heart. Last night she had reclaimed it—and him. Whatever happened next, she could live knowing that she had loved and been loved.
Nico had awakened early that morning and gone to the office. He had an important conference with members of the Cabinet that afternoon regarding measures that were under consideration involving the neo-Nazi movement. It could not be rescheduled and he had no idea how long it would last. The trains to Schiermonnikoog were infrequent and he had wanted Nora to wait for him so they could go together. He had reminded her that she had been attacked twice now and that he couldn’t let her risk it happening again. She needed protection.
But Nora had been too nervous to wait. She had finally convinced him that she would take the early train and that if all went well, Nico would join her that evening. If he couldn’t get away, they would be apart for only one night. When she promised that she would alert the railway guards if she saw any strange characters and then go straight to the hotel, he had finally agreed.
When she told Marijke what had happened, her friend had offered to come, but Nora knew that she was scheduled to be in Germany for the next two days. Marijke had made her promise to call when she arrived and said that if Nora needed her, she would hop on the next train.
Nora was stirred from her reverie by the clacking of the coffee cart rolling down the aisle. She nodded at the sour-looking man, handed him five guilders for a cup of coffee and then waved him off when he tried to give her change. She clasped the cup as it warmed her cold hands and the hot liquid slithered deliciously down her throat. Dutch coffee. The best.
“Leeuwarden,” the conductor announced in a gravelly voice. Nora picked up her purse and small overnight bag, stepped down and walked out of the station. She had a ten-minute wait for the bus to Lauwersoog. After she reached the ferry terminal and boarded, she felt her impatience grow, continuously checking her watch during the forty-five minute journey to Schiermonnikoog. She so wanted to be there, to talk to Saartje. There has to be so much she can tell me!
42
Amarisa slammed the door behind Dirk. Friesland! The whole thing was getting out of hand. She sat, looking out her window into the sunlight. Maybe he’d still pull it off and that woman would no longer be a threat.
Then a thought struck her. She grabbed the phone book from her desk, picked up the receiver and dialed.
“Rijksinstituut, central operator. May I help you?”
“Yes, this is Nora de Jong. I would like to leave a message for Nico Meijer.”
“I believe he is in his office—”
“No, thank you,” said Amarisa quickly. “I am in a terrible hurry. Please tell him I’m going back to the States today. That my daughter has been found. I’ll call when I arrive.”
“Then could you please give me the flight information and a number where he can reach you?”
“Just give him the message,” she snapped, and hung up.
Ha! That should keep this Nico, whoever he was, out of the picture for a while.
43
Nico stared at the message his secretary handed him. He closed his eyes, feeling miserable. While he knew he should feel thrilled that Rose had been found, he felt scared. Would Nora be out of his life now? He wondered what last night meant to her. Perhaps she would she go back to Houston and never return, and he would never get to know his daughter.
He crumpled the message and threw it in the wastebasket. Was he now supposed to wait until she called from Houston? He couldn’t bear it. He buzzed his secretary. “Book me on the next flight to Houston, Texas.”
A few moments later, she buzzed back. “All of the flights to Houston are already booked. I can get you out early tomorrow morning.”
The Tulip Eaters Page 19
