Chapter 7
Geesje’s Story
The Netherlands
50 years earlier
Against all reason and common sense, I fell in love with Hendrik. He had been sent to our home to punish us, yet I thought about him nearly every minute of the day and dreamt about him at night. I made excuses to talk to him whenever I could, even though we were never really alone. And the more I got to know him, the more I longed to be with him all the time. He was a wonderful storyteller, and my family often gathered in our sitting room in the evenings and listened as Hendrik told us about all the places he’d been stationed and all the adventures he’d had. He could describe a scene so vividly that it was as if we’d traveled there with him. One of his ancestors had sailed to the East Indies on a spice ship, and he kept us enthralled for hours as he retold tales that his family had passed down, tales of exotic islands, pirate ships, terrifying storms at sea, and of long days waiting in the doldrums for the wind to rise. I listened to Hendrik spellbound, studying his handsome face. I loved the endearing way he raked his fingers through his fair hair until it stood on end. I wondered what it would be like to feel his arms around me. Or taste his kiss.
I had no idea if Hendrik felt the same way about me until one afternoon when I was hanging clothes on the line in our tiny backyard. I heard the back door squeal open, but I didn’t turn around, thinking it was Mama. When she didn’t speak, I finally turned and saw that it was Hendrik. The moment our eyes met, a wave of heat seared through me. My heart started beating faster than it ever had. I couldn’t draw my gaze away from him. Hendrik didn’t look away, either.
“Geesje . . .” he said. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He took a step closer, and I wanted him to kiss me. “Geesje, I don’t know what it is that I feel for you, but I know that I’ve never felt this way before. You are such a beautiful person and . . . and I want to be near you all the time.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Hendrik usually wore a confident grin on his face but not that day. The expression on his lean, handsome face was somber, his pale brows arched above his gray eyes as if asking me a question. I had never seen him so tongue-tied before.
“I-I know that your father could never allow me to marry you,” he continued, “because I don’t belong to your church. But the months that I’ve lived here have been the happiest ones of my life.” He swallowed and took another step closer. “I wake up in the morning to the sound of your singing. Your smile is more beautiful to me than the sunshine. I just learned that I may be transferred out of Arnhem soon, and I’m terrified because I don’t think I can live without you.” His face blurred as tears filled my eyes. “Geesje . . . please say something.”
“I love you,” I said.
“You . . . you do?”
I nodded. Hendrik quickly glanced all around, then pulled me to himself, clutching me tightly as we hid behind the line of flapping towels and aprons. The top of my head barely reached his chin, and he rested his cheek on my hair for a long moment. The warmth and strength of his embrace was everything I had imagined it would be. And more. “Geesje, tell me what I need to do so that I can hold you this way for the rest of my life.”
I didn’t know what to say. I only knew that I wanted the same thing that Hendrik did. And that I would dream of his wonderful embrace for many nights to come. Much too soon, he released me. I felt shaken, as if I stood out in an open field during a powerful storm. I bent to finish pinning the laundry on the line, worried that my mother would peer out of the window to see what was taking me so long. “The man I marry must be a Christian,” I finally said.
Hendrik lifted the basket for me so I wouldn’t have to bend. “Ya, I understand how important your faith is to your family. I have been listening from my bedroom on Sunday mornings whenever I’m not on duty. The dominie’s words are very moving, and I want to live like you and your family do. I have been bringing my questions to Maarten, and he has very kindly explained everything to me. I want to become a true Christian, if God will have me. Even before I knew that I loved you, I wanted this.”
Against everything I had been taught, I threw my arms around Hendrik again, the basket crushed awkwardly between us. “That’s wonderful, Hendrik! I’m so glad! We can be together for the rest of our lives if you make a profession of your faith as a Christian!” Everything was falling into place. When I pulled away again, I said, “I’m sure Dominie Van Raalte will be happy to talk with you and welcome you into our congregation. After that, nothing will stand in our way.”
He smiled his dazzling smile, then grew serious again. “My faith will have to remain a secret for now. The captain and the other soldiers can’t find out that I’ve become a Separatist until after my term of duty is over.”
“When will that be?”
“Not for another year and a half. Pieter and Kees are already suspicious of my interest in your meetings—and in you—but I don’t think they will give me away.”
Once again I returned to the mundane task of hanging laundry as if my world hadn’t just changed completely. My mind spun in a dozen directions, and I could barely make my fingers work. I had never felt so happy.
“There is just one thing,” Hendrik said, and the solemnity of his voice made me afraid. I stopped pinning laundry. “Maarten has been a very good friend to me. I have known from almost the first day I moved here that he is in love with you. He says there is an understanding between him and your father and that if you agree, the two of you will be married one day.”
I looked away, knowing as Hendrik did, how deeply hurt Maarten would be. Gentle, patient Maarten. “Ya, he has been part of our family ever since he became Papa’s apprentice years ago,” I said. “I know he cares for me. And I’ve always been fond of him. But I’m not in love with him. . . . I’m in love with you.”
“How will we ever explain to him that the soldier he has befriended and the woman he loves . . . ?”
“Neither of us meant to fall in love, Hendrik. But I feel certain that God meant for us to be together. I believe that’s why He brought you here to live with us.”
“Really? . . . How do you know?”
“Because my heart tells me it’s true. Maarten will be hurt but he’ll understand. Besides, he deserves to have a wife who loves him fully and truly. I’m not that woman.”
“So what should we do next? Will you wait another year and a half until I’m discharged?”
“Ya, of course I will! Go talk with the dominie, Hendrik. Tell him everything we talked about. He’ll tell us what to do next.”
Hendrik promised that he would as soon as he found a way to do it without his fellow soldiers finding out. He would face very stern discipline if it was ever discovered that he’d joined the enemy.
After that magical afternoon in our backyard, Hendrik and I looked for ways to be alone for a few minutes nearly every day, sometimes in the open, sometimes in dark hallways and back stairwells. We held each other close whenever we could, and a few of those times he kissed me. It was the most wonderful sensation I had ever experienced. One afternoon we arranged to meet in the backyard again, hiding behind a clothesline full of bedsheets so we could kiss. Then a gust of wind blew, uncovering our hiding place, and when I looked up Maarten stood in the back doorway, watching. Hendrik called to him, but he disappeared inside.
“Oh, no,” Hendrik groaned. “I don’t want you to get into trouble, Geesje. Do you think he’ll tell on us?” At that moment, I didn’t care if my parents were angry or even if they punished me. Hendrik’s kisses made any punishment worthwhile. I had never felt so happy in my life.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should go talk to him,” I said.
“No, I’ll do it.” Hendrik gave me a quick hug, and I watched him cross the yard to the house in a few quick strides.
In the end, Maarten never told Papa what he had witnessed. But before Hendrik had a chance to talk to the dominie about becoming a Christian, before either of us had a chance to take another step toward spending the rest of our lives together, two terrible blows struck our community. The first blow came when the potato blight destroyed all the crops yet again. The blight affected everyone. Thousands of farmhands were out of work with no way to support their families. Wealthy landowners lost an important source of income. The poorest people in our nation faced starvation. Papa’s printing business barely had been able to pay the rent, much less feed us and four hungry soldiers. Now the blight would cause the price of everything to go up, including the taxes Papa was forced to pay. The men in our congregation began holding worried meetings as they prayed for guidance in this worsening crisis.
The second blow came within days of the first. Hendrik and the other three soldiers left our house as usual right after breakfast, then returned barely an hour later. I was sweeping the walkway in front of the print shop when I saw them coming back. Hendrik looked worried, and he touched my arm briefly as he walked past me. I followed them into the shop and heard Pieter tell Papa, “We were told to pack our gear and prepare to move to Utrecht.”
“Utrecht?” Papa asked. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I stood frozen in the doorway of the print shop as their footsteps thundered up the stairs to my old bedroom. I was stunned by the news and too upset to finish sweeping. I heard the floorboards creaking above my head as they moved around, hastily packing their things. My world was coming to an end. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from Papa’s desk and scribbled our address on it. Within minutes, the footsteps thundered down the stairs again and the men trooped back through the print shop.
“Wait a moment, please,” Papa said as he paused from his work. “Before we say good-bye, I would like to pray for you, if you would allow me to.” All four men bowed their heads while Papa prayed for their health and safety, and for God’s blessings on their lives. The steady thunk and swoosh of the printing press rumbled in the background. I saw Hendrik wipe his eyes when Papa finished.
Mama hurried in from the kitchen with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. “Here’s some bread and cheese and a few apples for you to share on your journey. We will miss you.”
Maarten shook Hendrik’s hand. “I wish you Godspeed,” he said.
I followed the men out the door and into the street with my broom, not caring who saw Hendrik and me together. We barely had time to say good-bye as we stood outside on the busy street, longing to hold each other one last time. “I love you, Geesje,” he said. “I want to marry you if you’ll wait for me.”
“I’ll wait forever if I have to. I love you, too.”
Hendrik glanced at his three friends who had started walking without him as if unwilling to risk being late for duty. “I promise to come back for you the moment I’m discharged. I’ll save every cent of my pay until then so we can be married right away.”
“We can write to each other until then. Here’s my address.”
He took the paper from me and tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll write as soon as I get to Utrecht and let you know my address.”
“It’s going to seem like an eternity until we see each other again.” Hendrik’s friends had reached the corner and were crossing the street. I wiped the tears from my eyes so I could take one last, lingering look at the man I loved. “You’d better run,” I said.
Hendrik nodded. Tears filled his eyes, too. “I love you, Geesje.” Then he turned and sprinted down the street without looking back. A feeling of dread crept over me as the space lengthened between us. I wondered if I would ever see him again.