After the Ashes (7 page)

A strong gust of wind from the ocean lifted my hat and I clamped my hand down on the scratchy straw. The late evening sun tinted the sky a radiant pink as we climbed the steps to the hotel, and the chattering of the people inside grew louder. Their laughter, the tinkling of glasses and the sharp sound of silver scraping against china followed us as we made our way around the porch.

Was Brigitta here already, giggling with her silly friends? Telling even more people stories about how improperly I acted the day before? If so, she was no doubt leaving out the part about how cruel she was to
me
.

A few people stood inside the dim teak-walled lobby when we entered, but none of them were Brigitta or her family. With any luck, they would be late, and I wouldn't have to spend as much time with her.

“Perhaps she won't even come tonight,” I murmured aloud.

“Did you say something, Katrien?” Vader asked.

“Nothing, Vader.” I removed my hat. The breeze coming in through the open doors blew strands of my hair loose, despite all the
pins. Tante Greet made her disgruntled clicking noise at the little wispy bits of hair tickling my neck.

Wilhemina De Graff, a tall blond woman with a kind smile, stood at the reception counter helping a customer. Her dark blue-and-black dress mimicked the feathers of a crested jay.

Wilhemina amazed me. Only a few years older than I, she had traveled here from the Netherlands all on her own. Away from all the awful people she must have known. Such independence! If I could go off on my own, I would go into the jungle and never return. Maybe I would even go to the Amazon.

I waved at Wilhemina and followed my family to the dining room. Mr. Schuyler, the hotel owner, stood at the entrance, looking dapper in his white linen suit. His clothes and the gray hair at his temples made him look like a whiskered tern. He greeted us with his arms spread wide. “Ah, my good friend, Niels Courtlandt.” He grabbed Vader's narrow hand in his pudgy one. “And his lovely family.” He kissed my aunt on her cheeks. “How are you, Greet?”

“I am very well, Caspar, and you?”

“Oh, I'm quite pleased, quite pleased.” He puffed his chest. “Katrien? You look lovely this evening. Are you trying to turn the head of a special young man?”

I choked on my breath and felt my face go up in flames. “N-no, sir,” I sputtered. “Tante Greet made me dress for dinner.” My aunt did not need to hear about special young men and heads turning. Ugh! Now she would speak of nothing else all night.

Mr. Schuyler smiled, and my father and aunt joined him. I pushed my spectacles up and glared at them. How dare they!

“Will the Burkarts be joining you this evening?” Mr. Schuyler asked.

“Ja,”
Vader answered, “are they not here yet?”

Mr. Schuyler shook his head and showed us to our table. Of course they weren't here yet. Brigitta probably changed clothes three times before deciding what to wear. She would be the one trying to turn boys' heads.

Why couldn't she do something useful with herself? I truly did
not understand her. Even I admitted that she possessed intelligence. In school, she and I were often the only girls who could answer some of the more difficult questions the nuns asked. Why did she waste that talent? How could she stand spending time with Maud, Rika and Inge, who didn't have one brain among them?

As I took my seat I noticed Adriaan Vogel seated at a nearby table with his parents and younger brother. All of the girls in my class talked about Adriaan and how handsome he was, but to me, his mustache looked like a fuzzy caterpillar on his upper lip. Why would anyone find a caterpillar growing on a person's face attractive?

Other familiar faces filled the restaurant. Not surprisingly, we weren't the only ones hungry for beef. I hoped there would be enough for everyone.

Our table stood beside an open window and I was glad of it. A gentle breeze cooled my cheeks and the view of the Sunda Strait stole my breath away. The setting sun sparkled across the water's surface, giving it the glistening quality of topaz and rubies. The sight calmed my nerves and eased my embarrassment. Perhaps the rest of the evening would go smoothly.

Mr. Schuyler interrupted my thoughts. “Niels, while you're waiting for the Burkarts, I'll get you a bottle of wine.”

“
Dank u
, Caspar,” Vader said.

While we waited for the wine, who should come sashaying up to our table but Mrs. Brinckerhoff. It wasn't enough for her to come into our home unannounced; she had to ruin our meal as well. “Johanna, what a pleasant surprise,” Vader said. “Katrien told me you visited the house yesterday. That was quite a story your husband had about Krakatau.”

“
Ja
, it was.” She appeared distracted. “Greet, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course.” She excused herself and joined Mrs. Brinckerhoff in an empty corner.

“I wonder what that's all about,” Vader said, shrugging.

My heart sank. Seeing Mrs. Brinckerhoff's gestures and Tante Greet's stricken face, I knew. And I knew it wouldn't be pretty when
my aunt returned to the table. It took all my strength not to flee. My fingers squeezed the bottom of my seat as tightly as a reticulated python constricts its prey.

When Tante Greet sat back down, Vader said, “Is everything—”

She interrupted him. “No, Niels, everything is not well.” She whipped around to me, her lips white. “Johanna was just telling me she saw Katrien carrying on with some boy in the middle of town yesterday. Some native boy.”

“What?” This caught me off guard. I thought Mrs. Brinckerhoff was going to tell Tante Greet about my hair or my not wearing a hat.

Even though he was disappointed in my behavior, Vader defended me. “That doesn't sound like Katrien. Is she certain of what she saw?”

“She is positive.” Tante Greet's eyes never left mine.

Vader turned to me, eyebrows drawn together in a solid line. “Katrien, can you explain yourself?”

I opened my mouth, but the wine steward arrived. “Your wine, sir,” he said, showing Vader the bottle.

While the steward poured, Vader and Tante Greet kept me locked in their gazes. “Well?” he said.

The steward set the bottle on the table and left. The wine sloshed a bit before settling.

“Katrien, what do you have to say for yourself?” Vader asked. His voice was quiet but forceful, and I heard him loud and clear in spite of the noise in the dining room.

I took a deep breath. “After Slamet and I left your office, we walked home through town. We teased each other and got to laughing. That's all! I was just with Slamet!”

“Ah, well, that explains it,” he said, but the little crease between his eyebrows didn't vanish entirely.

Tante Greet's lips pursed. “She should stop being so affectionate with that boy.”

“He's my friend,” I said.

Tante Greet turned on me so suddenly that I jumped. She reminded me of a mongoose I once saw attacking a cobra in the
market in Batavia. Swift and ruthless. “Katrien, you are thirteen years old,” she hissed. “You are too old to be friends with a native boy. You are not a child anymore. You need to learn to behave yourself in public. You need to be more ladylike.”

Hadn't she spent all afternoon lecturing me on these very things? I pushed up my spectacles and glared at my aunt.

“
Lift
your spectacles, Katrien,” she said automatically. “Don't push them.”

Vader tapped the table in front of me. “Remember what we discussed.”

I balled my skirts in my fists and seethed. Blast Mrs. Brinckerhoff anyhow! I didn't care what Tante Greet said about her. The woman was the devil!

Vader took a small sip of wine and ignored my rage. “This is quite good.”

Tante Greet sipped hers and agreed. “What do you think, Katrien?”

Since my thirteenth birthday, Vader had allowed me to have one glass of wine with dinner. I didn't like any of it, but that didn't stop Tante Greet from trying to teach me to savor its nuances. This was part of my education in the social graces, she said.

I resented performing for her tonight, especially when I had just been so thoroughly reprimanded. But I didn't have a choice. If I sulked, it would only lead to them limiting my visits to the jungle. They both sat and watched me like Javan scops owls. I drank a small mouthful and held the liquid on my tongue to taste the flavors before I let it go down my throat. “Ummm . . . dirt?”

“Your wine tastes like dirt?” asked a familiar, haughty voice.

I did not need to lift my eyes to know that Brigitta and her family had arrived.

At the sound of Brigitta's voice I closed my eyes and tried to capture the peace I found in the jungle. When I opened them I sipped my wine once more. “
Ja
, dirt.” It was always safe to say you could taste the earth in which the grapes grew . . . wasn't it?

“What a pleasure to see you, Brigitta,” my aunt said, standing up and kissing her on the cheeks.

Vader stood as well. “Where are your parents?”

Brigitta waved her hand behind her. “Talking to the Vogels. It seems like all of Anjer is here tonight, doesn't it?”

She sounded like another adult talking to Vader and Tante Greet. I wished I had her ease with people. It would be so much simpler. She socialized so well, and I never could master the art of small talk. Asking people about the weather or other nonsense bored me. I didn't care what people thought of the weather!

My aunt turned her attention back to me. “Katrien,
dirt
is not a flavor you taste in wine. Please use proper terminology.”

“Soil, then.”

“What else?” she asked.

Brigitta watched me with scornful eyes, and any admiration I felt for her disappeared like sugar in tea. I took another sip. “I think . . . rosemary?”

Tante Greet smiled. “Very good, Katrien. You are learning. I
just wish you would pick up these social graces as quickly as you do your science.”

I frowned. I wasn't as bad as she made me sound, and she certainly didn't have to lecture me right in front of Brigitta. It wasn't as if I chewed with my mouth open.

Thankfully, Mr. Burkart and his wife arrived just then and my etiquette lesson ended for the night. Hands were shaken and cheeks were kissed. Even mine.

Then Mrs. Burkart settled little Jeroen into his chair, and the Burkarts took their seats. Brigitta, naturally, took the time to smooth her skirts first. My legs trembled nervously as I sat back down, and I called on God and Mr. Charles Darwin for help to get me safely through this meal.

Brigitta was seated next to me, and as she sank into the upholstered chair she gave her head an arrogant shake. Her blond hair, braided in an elaborate knot, glistened in the evening sun. Tante Greet would love for my hair to be so prettily styled. How did Brigitta do that? Did she rub some ointment on it? I grinned suddenly, recalling a description from
On the Origin of Species
that described her perfectly: “
The insect-species confined to sea-coasts, as every collector knows, are often brassy or lurid
.”

We hadn't even fully settled back into our seats when the waiter appeared. “Good evening,” he said. “Let me tell you about tonight's menu.”

Mr. Burkart held up his hand with a smile. “We understand you have beef.”

“
Ja
, we have veal with red onion dressing.”

Mrs. Burkart gave a small clap. “Not just beef but veal! How delightful.”

“We also have a pork dish or a fish dish if you prefer,” the waiter said.

“The veal,” we all said at once.

“Wonderful choice,” the waiter said. “I'll bring your soup right away. Would you like something else to drink, or more wine perhaps?”

“Could you bring me some tea?” I asked.

He nodded once and rushed off.

My aunt turned to Mrs. Burkart. “Anneke, I cannot believe what a handsome boy little Jeroen is becoming.” Both women were the epitome of ladylike courtesy—erect posture, content expressions, gentle conversation. I could pretend to be civil to Brigitta, but I could never be as graceful as these ladies. I slouched in defeat, and Tante Greet poked me under the table. Yet somehow her concentration on Mrs. Burkart never faltered. “Don't you think little Jeroen is handsome, Katrien?” she asked me.

I had no idea if he was or not. I didn't know what a three-year-old was supposed to look like, but I knew a test when I saw one. My aunt was forcing me to join the conversation and be polite. “
Ja
, Tante, he is.”

Mrs. Burkart smiled at her son. “I can scarcely believe he is five years old. So much time passes in the blink of an eye.”

“He's five?” I asked. “I thought he was closer to three.”

Brigitta let out a soft laugh. “You can certainly tell you're an only child, Katrien, or you would know he's far too big for three.”

I clenched my teeth.
Ignore her
, I told myself.

Vader leaned toward Mr. Burkart. “What do you think is happening on Krakatau?”

I shifted my chair to hear the answer, because this was a conversation I wanted to follow. Unfortunately, the men were seated on the other side of my aunt and Mrs. Burkart, and between the women's boring talk and the noisy dining room, I couldn't make out Mr. Burkart's response.

I gave up and instead turned my attention to the waiter, who had returned with the soup and was ladling it into our bowls. As he stretched to fill the last bowl, he overreached and tipped forward, splashing Jeroen's lap with the hot liquid.

The boy cried out and the waiter immediately apologized and jumped to assist him. Mrs. Burkart gasped and fluttered her hands uselessly, but everyone else sprang from their seats to help. Vader ran for water, Mr. Burkart fanned his napkin in the boy's direction,
and Tante Greet and I offered our handkerchiefs, which Brigitta grabbed and used to dab at her brother's legs with deft movements.