Chapter 39

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Anna

Holland, Michigan
1897

I’ve been staying here with Oma Geesje for nearly a week, and the longer I stay, the more I dread returning to Chicago. I hate my wasteful life in our mansion, which has more bedrooms than we ever use, closetsful of dresses that I wear only once or twice, and tables overflowing with more food than we can possibly eat. Oma’s simpler way of life suits me. I do everything for myself here without servants, even making my own bed. I feel lighter and freer without my petticoats and corsets and gloves and stockings weighing me down. Instead of attending boring teas, I go with Oma to bring meals to people who are sick and deliver warm socks that she has knit herself to needy families. “These are for the cold winter that’s surely coming,” she tells them as she smiles and pats the children’s heads.

I’ve learned how to dry dishes and to bake cookies, and for the first time in my life I picked a fresh tomato from the vine. I met my wonderful Uncle Arie who lost his leg during the war and who loved my mama dearly. He told me how Mama traveled to the military hospital with Oma and saved his life when he was wounded and in pain and wanting to die. He now runs a print shop like his father and grandfather before him. I also met my Uncle Jakob and Aunt Joanna and their family, including Elizabeth, who could easily be my sister instead of my cousin. And I’ve spent time with my dear friend Derk, who comes over in the evenings after work to chat with Oma and me and eat the cookies we’ve baked.

We are in Oma’s kitchen, washing the lunch dishes, when a delivery boy comes to the door with a telegram for me. It’s from my father. I tear open the envelope and quickly scan it then let out a groan. “I can’t believe it! My father has made arrangements for me to return to Chicago by train.”

“When?” Oma asks.

“Tomorrow.” It’s too soon—much too soon. But whether I’m ready or not, the reservations have been made. I’m going home tomorrow.

Oma eases onto a kitchen chair, drying her hands on her apron. I can see from her expression that she is sad and disappointed. But then she smiles and says, “Well, we both knew this day was coming, didn’t we?”

“But it’s too soon! I feel like there’s so much more we need to talk about. I have so many questions I want to ask you about love and marriage and the Bible and our family and—”

“I know,” she says. “I know.” She studies me for a moment, and I can tell that she’s thinking about something. Then she rises to her feet and walks into the sitting room, beckoning for me to follow her. She pulls a notebook from a drawer in her desk and hands it to me.

“Here, I want you to read this. It’s the story of my life, Anneke, and a little of your mother’s story, too. The city officials asked me to write down my memories to help celebrate Holland’s fiftieth anniversary, but I think it might help you answer some of your questions about marriage and life and faith. You can sit out on the front porch and read it, if you’d like. I’ll finish tidying up.”

I leaf through the lined pages as I carry it out to a chair on the shady porch. The notebook contains page after page of writing, all in pencil. I’m drawn into Oma Geesje’s story from the very first page, which begins with the words, On the night of my fifteenth birthday, a huge brick shattered the window of Papa’s print shop and ended my childhood. . . .

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I have no idea how much time has passed, but by the time I finish reading, I’m overwhelmed by how much my grandmother has endured during her lifetime. I now see the town of Holland and the people who moved here and built its homes and churches and schools in a new light. Most of all, I marvel at Oma Geesje’s abiding faith in God through it all. I tell her so when she comes outside to sit with me on the porch.

“It has more to do with God’s faithfulness to me than the other way around,” she replies.

“But you’ve done so much during your lifetime,” I tell her. “I know God probably has a purpose for my life, too, but I don’t know what it is.”

She smiles and says in her gentle way, “Often, it’s not one great, dramatic thing that God asks us to do but hundreds of little everyday things. If we want to be used by Him, if we’re ready to be used and aren’t all tangled up with our own plans and projects, then He’ll show us the work He has for us. He sees your heart, Anneke. You can trust Him to direct your path.”

I think about the train tickets that are waiting for me, and I feel a great heaviness in my chest. “I’m not sure I want to go back to Chicago, Oma. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong there. It scares me to think that I’ll get all caught up in parties and teas and that superficial life again. I want to stay here. Mama was bringing me back to Holland because she wanted me to live here. With you.”

Oma is quiet for a long time, and I can see that she is struggling with what she’s about to say. When she’s finally ready, she reaches for my hand. “That may be what your mother wanted, Anneke, but I believe God wanted you to live in Chicago. Otherwise, if He had wanted you to grow up here, then things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. Maarten and I would have learned that you were Christina’s daughter, and we would have brought you home with us. Instead, God placed you in the arms of the father He wanted you to have. As much as I would love for you to stay here with me, I believe your place is in Chicago, in the home where God put you.”

“But I—” I start to protest, then stop, remembering that my father’s financial problems were the reason I had agreed to reconcile with William. Father saved my life at the risk of his own—maybe now I can repay him. And when William and I talked on the night of the fire, he had seemed willing to change. But there is another reason why I want to stay here, one that I’m reluctant to share with Oma Geesje.

“There’s something else, isn’t there,” she says as if reading my mind. “Is it because you have feelings for Derk? It’s plain to see that you two care for each other.”

I nod, staring down at my lap. “We’ve become friends, and I needed a good friend, Oma, someone I could confide in. Derk is the first good friend I’ve had in a long, long time. I wanted to know more about the Bible, and he answered so many of my questions this summer and now . . .” Now my feelings for him have grown stronger each day as we’ve spent time together.

“I’m glad that Derk could be a friend to you. I can tell that he is very fond of you, too.” Oma sighs before saying, “I’ll admit that I’ve thought about how miraculous it would be if my granddaughter married Hendrik’s grandson. But can you picture Derk living in Chicago and working for your father every day? Can you imagine him fitting into your social world and learning proper manners and all the rules of etiquette and so on?”

“He would probably feel even more miserable than I do, at times.”

“I have no doubt that Derk is intelligent enough to do the work that your father does—but that’s not what God has called him to do.”

“I could stay here—”

“You, my dear, sweet girl, would be like a fish on land as Derk’s wife. Your Aunt Joanna can tell you that life as a dominie’s wife is a very special calling for a woman. Derk won’t earn very much money, so his wife will have to cook all his meals and clean his house and raise his children—while taking care of all the extra duties her position as a dominie’s wife requires. No, I believe God has prepared you and suited you for a much different future.”

“I suppose . . . and I did give William my word that I would marry him.”

“But there’s no hurry to marry, is there? Can you give yourself more time, first? Get to know him better? I advise you to ask God if this is His will for you before you say your vows.”

I nod, remembering how Oma rushed into marriage with Maarten without taking time to pray. “Right now I feel so much closer to Derk than I do to William even though we’ve only known each other for a short time. I’m able to talk to him like a friend and tell him how I really feel. And he listens to me. Though William and I did have a good talk on the night of the fire, and he promised he would try to be more understanding of my spiritual pursuits. I’m very fond of William, but I don’t love him the way you loved Hendrik.” I pause before asking, “Do you think I could ever learn to love him the way you loved Maarten?”

“That’s up to you. It means making a decision to love him day after day, one loving act at a time. Love is a very powerful emotion, Anneke, but it’s also a decision—one you can choose to make. I had an advantage because Maarten was such a wonderful man of faith who loved God—and I’m assuming from everything you’ve told me that William isn’t nearly as committed to his faith as Maarten was. Or as Derk is.”

“No. He isn’t.”

“Then perhaps you should test the waters a bit before you get married. Talk to him about your faith and see how he responds. In time, you could have the same godly influence on William that Maarten had on me. Imagine all the good that a wealthy man like William could do if his heart was surrendered to God. I can already imagine the good that a woman in your position could do. Think of all the young women like Christina who are trapped in Chicago, poor and alone in a huge city with no family to help them, living in a room like the one you remember, and being taken advantage of by unscrupulous men.”

“I see what you mean.” And for the first time I feel a glimmer of excitement about returning home.

“God will lead you every step of the way, Anneke. He knows the plans He has for you, plans for you to prosper and have hope and a future. That’s why He saved you from the shipwreck twenty years ago and gave you to such wonderful parents to raise.” Oma reaches to give me a hug—how I’ve grown to love her hugs! Then she smiles and says, “I need to start making dinner.”

“Is it that late?”

“Derk will be coming home from work soon, and I thought we would invite him to eat with us tonight.” Oma returns her notebook to her desk, and we go into the kitchen to make supper together.

I’m putting plates and cutlery on the table an hour later when Derk arrives. My heart can’t help speeding up when I see him duck through the door, his face and arms bronzed from the summer sun. “How was work, dear?” Oma Geesje asks him.

“On days like today it hardly seems like work,” he says, running his fingers through his fair hair. “I took guests out sailing on Black Lake twice today, once this morning and again this afternoon. The water was beautiful, the breeze just right. It was great!”

“Will you stay and have dinner with us?” Oma asks.

He looks at me and his smile broadens. “I would love to. Let me run home and wash up, then I’ll come back.”

Derk is his usual, cheerful self as we sit down to eat later, but I feel a lingering sadness from reading Oma’s story and from the disappointing news I will have to share with him. “I’m taking the train home to Chicago tomorrow,” I say. “Father sent me a telegram today with all the arrangements.”

“Oh. I see. I thought you two ladies seemed somber tonight.” And now Derk is somber, too, his broad, handsome smile gone. “Your father didn’t give you very much notice, did he?”

“No . . . but I suppose I did agree that I would only stay for a week.” We all do our best to keep up a cheerful conversation while we eat, but with little success. None of us seems to have much of an appetite.

Oma asks Derk to read today’s Bible portion aloud when we finish eating, a ritual she follows every day. Then she says, “Why don’t you two go out on the front porch. I’ll clear up these dishes and join you in a little bit.”

Derk and I sit side by side on the front steps, staring straight ahead. The evening sky stays light here during the summer months, the sun never setting until after nine o’clock at night. I can tell that neither of us knows what to say or where to begin.

“Well!” Derk finally says, heaving an enormous sigh. “I can’t believe we have to say good-bye.”

“We’ll see each other again, I know we will. I’ll be back to visit Oma Geesje and . . .” My voice trails off as I run out of words.

“I guess I was hoping that there might be a future for us . . . together . . .” We look at each other, and I have an overwhelming urge to kiss him. I quickly turn my face away, sensing that he longs to kiss me, too. “Anna, I know I could never give you all of the things you’re accustomed to . . . and that your way of life is—”

“That isn’t it at all!” I say, facing him again. “I would love to have a future with you, Derk. You’re the most wonderful, amazing man I’ve ever met!”

“But . . . ?” he asks with a crooked grin.

I take my time, needing to explain everything to Derk the way that Oma explained it to me. I’m still struggling to understand it all myself. “Oma Geesje thinks I was rescued and adopted by my parents for a reason. That God has a plan for me in Chicago. She says I should return home and trust God to show me what it is. Maybe it means marrying William—maybe not. But for now, I need to go home.”

Derk sighs again. “I hate to admit it, but she’s probably right. She usually is.”

“She let me read her memoir today, and I agree that it would be amazing if you and I ended up together. Imagine Geesje’s granddaughter marrying Hendrik’s grandson. But that isn’t the way God seems to be directing either one of us. You need a partner for the ministry He has given you, and I don’t think I would be the right wife for you any more than Caroline was.”

He pulls me into his arms and holds me tightly. I feel so comfortable there, and as I return his embrace, I wish with all my heart that it could be different for us—but it can’t.

“Derk, I truly believe that God brought you and me and Oma Geesje together this summer for a reason. All three of our lives have been changed. Now . . . now it’s just so very, very hard to say good-bye.”

“Then we won’t,” he says, still holding me tightly. “We’ll just say . . . until next time.” We finally release each other and stand at the same time. “You’ll always be in my prayers, Anna. And I hope I will always be in yours.”

Tears stick in my throat as I nod. I can’t reply. Derk bends to kiss my cheek, and I watch him turn and walk away. I think I understand how hard it was for Oma Geesje to say good-bye to Hendrik on that long ago day, to watch him walk away into the woods and out of her life forever.