Authors: Gilbert Morris
“Do you think she will go back to England?”
Liza shook her head. “She hasn’t said a word about it, but I don’t think so. She has no other family there.”
“There’s her grandfather in France. She might go to him.”
“He’s quite old and feeble, unable to take care of himself. He couldn’t take on the responsibility of raising a young woman.”
Dalton was quiet, and for a time the two just sat there. Their marriage was happy, but they had been disappointed that they had not been able to have children. Liza had been pregnant three times, but each pregnancy had ended prematurely in miscarriage. Now he suddenly knew what must be done. “She must stay with us, Liza.”
She raised her eyes. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, but we’d be taking on a lot of responsibility.”
“Perhaps, but she needs us—and we need her.”
Liza reached across the table, and the two clasped hands. Tears came to her eyes, and she whispered, “She has no one
but us, Dalton. We must take her in! I’m sure that’s what Lance and Jo would have wanted.”
****
Gabby was walking through one of the tulip fields close to the village. Ordinarily, the vibrant colors would have thrilled her, but now they might as well have been gray or black. Ever since the terrible news of her parents’ deaths, she had been dazed with grief at her loss. Part of her moved and ate and drank and slept, but another part of her was completely cut off from all that was alive in the world. She had not known that grief could be so terrible. At first, she felt as though a sword plunged into her heart every time she thought of her parents. Now she felt trapped in a huge, dark void, with no color or sound of any kind. The feeling of crushing despair would overtake her at times, usually at night as she tossed on her bed. Even now, as she walked past the beautifully flowered field with the blue sky overhead and the warm breeze on her face, she might as well have been locked in a prison cell for all the beauty of the world that surrounded her.
A flock of crows passed over, their sharp cries falling to the earth. Gabby glanced up, but the sight of them did not stir anything within her. Over to her left a windmill slowly turned its majestic blades. Where there had once been ten thousand windmills in the Netherlands, there were now only about three thousand remaining. This particular one was pumping water away from the land into the sea.
Ordinarily, Gabby would have stopped and watched the blades turn. She might even have gone over to look inside and see how the pump operated, but this held no charm for her now. She walked along the well-beaten path until she came to a grove of trees and then stood still. Fond memories, which she tried to block, seemed to climb over the walls that she attempted to build and flooded her mind. She thought of the time her father had taken her up in an open airplane. She had been delighted with the exhilarating experience, and he had
laughed at her joy as she gazed down at the earth far below. She could see his face as clearly as if he were standing before her. She thought of her stepmother, Jo, always laughing, always eager to spend time with her, and she remembered the many times Jo had read aloud to her.
The creaking of the windmill suddenly brought her to her senses, and she cried out, “Oh, God, I don’t know what to do! Help me! I can’t live with this grief!”
But the only response was the groan of the windmill and the raucous shrieks of the crows overhead. Gabby’s mind went back to her date with Greg the night before she left England, back in May. She could clearly see the horses and wagons in Lovers’ Grove, the dark faces of the people who greeted her and Greg, their flashing smiles as they sat around the fire. She heard the wild music of Duke Zanko’s violin—and then she remembered the ancient face of Madame Jana and her prayer. And she heard her voice again, saying,
“A dark time lies before you, but Jesus will never forsake you. When you think all is lost, He will bring you strength.”
With trembling fingers, Gabby grasped the gold coin that hung from the necklace she had worn since that day. She held it tightly and tried to call out to God, but it seemed that the heavens were brass. Finally she blinked her tears back and said, “I have no one else to turn to, Jesus, so I’m trusting you.”
She turned and stumbled home, where she found her aunt and uncle waiting for her.
“We must talk to you, dear,” Liza said. “Come in.”
“What is it, Aunt Liza?”
Liza led her into the low-ceilinged living area and pulled her down to sit beside her on the sofa. Dalton stood a few feet away beside the window, his eyes full of concern. “We’ve been talking about you, dear, and your uncle and I want to know if you want to go back to England.”
Gabby thought of her home in England, the only one she had ever known, but the idea of going back to it without her father or mother was unbearable. “I don’t want to,” she
whispered. “I don’t think I could bear it. But I have no other choice.”
Dalton came over and sat down on the other side of her, taking her hand. “We very much want you to make your home with us, Gabrielle. We’re your family, and you’re like the daughter we never had.”
Tears suddenly flooded Gabrielle’s eyes, and she threw her arms around her uncle’s neck. He held her tightly, and she felt her aunt Liza’s hand stroking her hair. She wept then as she had not wept since she had heard the tragic news. The three sat there embracing one another until Gabby was exhausted and could cry no more.
As she continued to cling to her uncle, he said, “You will live here with us. You will finish secondary school here and then go on to college. There’s a fine medical college in Amsterdam. You’ll become a doctor, and we will be a family for one another.”
Gabby gave her uncle a tight squeeze and then turned to her aunt. As the two clung to each other, Gabby felt the security her heart had longed for. It was like coming into a safe harbor after a terrible storm.
I can stay here, and they’ll take care of me.
The thought was comforting, and she knew that somehow she would survive even this terrible loss. Again she thought of Madame Jana’s words and knew that they had come true by way of her aunt and uncle.
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Winslow
During the nine years since the death of her parents, Gabrielle Winslow had found not one home but two in the Netherlands. She lived, for the most part, with her uncle Dalton and aunt Liza, but Dorcas Burke, Dalton’s mother, had also proved herself to be a safe harbor for a young woman making her way in life. Dorcas lived only a few miles from Dalton and Liza, and this distance was easily manageable for a girl on a bicycle or later as an aspiring medical student with an automobile of her own.
As Gabby looked across the dining room table at Dorcas, she felt a warm sensation of comfort as she realized she couldn’t have made it through those difficult years had it not been for the great-aunt she now called “Grandmother.” Dorcas had invited her to use the name, saying, “You seem more like a granddaughter to me than a niece. And since I have no other grandchildren, that makes you extra special.”
A smile spread across Gabby’s lips as she waited for Matilda, the housekeeper, to serve breakfast. She felt deep love and admiration for the woman sitting across from her. Dorcas Burke was not tall and had gained weight over the years. Her silver hair was done up in a simple arrangement, and her blue eyes were as clear as those of a young girl. Her face was far younger-looking than her sixty-five years. She wore her age as gracefully and as lightly as most women wear a spring bonnet. And she had a depth of strength that Gabby had leaned on time and time again through the years.
Dorcas always seemed to have the right word for whatever Gabby was facing.
“We may starve to death before we get any of those
pannekoeken,
” Dorcas teased.
Gabby had learned years ago that her great-aunt loved her housekeeper like a daughter, but they constantly gave each other a hard time.
Matilda, a tall, gaunt woman with stern brown eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, responded in Dutch. “I’m comin’, aren’t I?” She came to the table and put two sugar-dusted, apple-filled pancakes on each plate. Dutch pancakes had become Gabby’s favorite.
“These look delicious, Matilda!” Gabby said. Her Dutch had become very good over the years, and she spoke with hardly a trace of an accent. Her German was quite proficient as well. French was another language she spoke well, but not as fluently as Dutch.
“Some people don’t appreciate!” Matilda sniffed and went into the kitchen, her head held high.
“Matilda’s having proud thoughts,” Dorcas said loud enough for the housekeeper to hear. “I shall have to remember to pray for her to become more humble.” She winked at Gabby and then bowed her head and asked a quick blessing on the food. Dorcas ate heartily, and as she did, she fired a series of direct questions at her great-niece.
Gabby was accustomed to this routine and answered each question as clearly as possible as she savored the delicious filling in the pancakes. When she had first gotten to know Dorcas, she had been somewhat put off by the woman’s rather intimidating manner. But Gabby had quickly discovered that deep down, the woman had the most enormous heart she had ever encountered. She loved her son and his wife, and she loved Gabby—she just loved people in general—although she shied away from physical affection. She loved God most of all, which was apparent to anyone who knew her. At the church she attended with Dalton, Liza, and Gabby, her voice
seemed to fill the building with praises. It was there that Gabby had learned that this woman had a deep love for God and for others, for she was always giving an encouraging word to someone or helping in a practical way.
Suddenly, Dorcas fired a question as if it were a bullet from a gun. “What about your men friends?”
Startled, Gabby paused, holding a fragment of the pannekoeken on her fork. “My men friends?”
“Yes. Are you keeping appropriate boundaries in your relationships?”
Gabby knew exactly what she meant and realized she’d better answer directly before the woman rephrased the question and embarrassed them both. She was sure her face was already flaming red.
“Of course, Grandmother.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. I thought so, but since you’ve become my only granddaughter, I have to be sure you don’t fall into the evil ways of this terrible generation. I’m certain you know there’s no real love involved in these adulterous habits many young people have fallen into.”
“Yes, I know.”
Dorcas changed subjects quickly, as was her custom. “Are you proud that you’re now a full-fledged doctor and finished with your studies?”
“It’s wonderful to be a doctor, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be finished with my studies.”
“But you received your degree.”
“Yes, of course, but I want to do more advanced studies.”
“Hmm, I don’t see what for. You’re working in a hospital and treating sick people. Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”
“Yes, but I need to know so much more. The medical field is always encountering new challenges.”
“I suppose you’re very proud now that people call you
Doctor.
”
Gabby laughed. “I was for about two days, but that didn’t last. I quickly realized how little I knew.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Don’t be proud, Gabrielle. God hates pride. More people stumble in life over pride than anything else.”
Gabby smiled at the woman’s wise words and finished her breakfast, drinking the last of her tea. “Don’t forget, I’ll be using the wagon and Samson again this year.”
“You’re going to the fete again rigged out like a gypsy? I think it’s foolish,” Dorcas scolded.
For several years Gabby had taken part in the local church’s annual event to raise money for overseas missions. Two years after her parents’ death, the pastor had asked her if she could come up with a plan to raise money. Gabrielle had always been interested in dramatics, and as she had thought about what to do, a small wagon at her great-aunt’s barn had caught her attention. She came up with the idea of converting it into something resembling a gypsy wagon. Dorcas even had a horse named Samson that the hired man used to plow the garden.
Gabby’s first effort had been very successful. She had dressed herself in colorful flowing garments, complete with big gold earrings, and pretended to tell fortunes. The people who came to the event enjoyed her act because it was new and different, and their contributions had been generous. She had continued this every May, and as the event grew closer every year, Dorcas made the same comment. “It doesn’t sound Christian to me. I don’t believe in fortune-telling.”
“Oh, I don’t either, Grandmother,” Gabby answered now. “It’s just for fun. I know many of the people who come, and I tell them silly things that make them laugh.”
Gabby got up from her chair and went around the table to kiss her great-aunt. “I’ll make sure Oskar knows I’ll need the wagon this afternoon.”
Dorcas reached up and laid her hand on Gabby’s cheek. She was thinking back to the frightened young fifteen-year-old who had just lost her parents. She had seen her grow up into a twenty-four-year-old woman with such maturity and
poise. She had found her place in the world of medicine, and Dorcas Burke was tremendously proud of this young woman—of her character as well as her beauty.
As Gabby left the house, she waved at Oskar Grotman and paused long enough to say, “Oskar, will you get Samson and the wagon ready for this afternoon?”
“Ja, you be a gypsy again, will you, miss? I mean Doctor.” He grinned. “I forget. You still seem like a little girl to me.”
Gabby smiled. “Miss is fine. Yes, I’m going to play the role of a gypsy again, but first I need to check on my patients at the orphanage.”
****
Deman van der Klei, the director of the Vermeer Orphanage, greeted Gabby warmly. “Ah, Dr. Winslow, I’m so happy to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, Herr Director,” Gabby responded.
“I would like to introduce you to Reverend Karel Citroen, our new pastor.”
Gabby turned to the tall, strong-looking man with blond hair and nodded. “I welcome you to the congregation, Reverend.”