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-white 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.