Morning came much too soon for Anki. Her nightgown had tangled around her legs and she had thrown off the blanket. All night she had tried to devise a way to talk Piet out of going to see Frou de Bruin.
You reap what you sow. A harvest of hurt awaited her.
If Piet knew about the coming baby, she could plead morning sickness. But that was another lie that haunted her. Not so much of a lie as an omission.
Nee. There was no difference between the two.
She poured the meatball soup left over from last night into a pot, some of it splashing onto the counter. When she picked up the dish towel to wipe the mess, she dropped the cloth onto the floor. She had to quiet her trembling hands before Piet came downstairs when he finished shaving.
Perhaps she needed to tell him the truth before they went on their visit. That would be best. No public scene. Piet would never turn in Gerrit or Johan. Especially not Johan, her only brother. He wouldn’t hurt her that way.
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.