Page 32 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)

Hannah

I walk into the petit salon alone, the soft amber light casting a warm glow over the room.

The familiar scent of polished wood and old books fills the air, evoking memories of countless family gatherings.

The room is elegantly furnished, with plush chairs and an intricately carved mahogany bar in the corner, where my dad stands, preparing a drink with a practiced hand.

To my left, Amelia is deep in conversation with Mom and Oma on the couch, their voices a low murmur of laughter and shared stories.

By the fireplace, Andries, Dan, and Roxanne are sipping drinks, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames as they engage in relaxed conversation.

As I approach the bar, I take in my dad’s appearance: his hair, now more salt than pepper, and the slight furrow in his brow as he focuses on his task. I can tell he's lost in thought.

“What are you drinking, Pops?” I ask, my voice breaking the comfortable silence as I sit at the bar beside him.

He looks up, his eyes softening as he sees me. A slight smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “A Macallan. Do you want one?”

“Sure,” I reply, trying to sound casual even though my heart quickens with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

It's my first time drinking whiskey, but I don't let on.

He pours a glass and hands it to me, the amber liquid catching the light.

We clink our glasses together, the soft chime echoing in the room.

“Well, to your wonderful future in England. I guess you have your life all in order. Far from us,” he says, raising his glass.

There's a hint of sadness in his voice, a slight tremor that betrays his attempt to sound cheerful.

His expression mirrors his tone, the lines on his face deepening as he speaks.

I take a sip, the whiskey burning slightly as it goes down, and ask gently, “Dad, are you sad?” I can't ignore the melancholy I see in his eyes, a mix of pride and longing.

“Not sad per se. Just…” He meets my gaze, his eyes searching mine. “You grew up so fast. I still remember those dinners we had, just the two of us, while your mom was away.”

“While she was considering a divorce, you mean…” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. A small chuckle escapes my lips, but it feels forced. Then, straightening my posture, I add more seriously, “You still have Joris, Aleida, and Arthur at home. Must be busy.”

He sighs, a deep, weary sound. “Well, yes and no. Joris is twelve and only cares about fencing and hanging out with his friends. I'm an old dinosaur to him. Andries almost never shows up at home now that he’s part of a lit club in Amsterdam. Thank God Elise is still around, but that’s only because I'm paying her the same wage as a ten-year-experience employee.”

“Are you serious? The only way you would see Elise is by having her employed at the company?” I ask, unable to hide the disbelief in my voice.

“Well, it's not a bad choice. She’s learning fast, and at least I get to see one of my children daily. Worth every penny.” His attempt at humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which remain clouded with a hint of sadness.

In that moment, I realize how much my dad is struggling with the oldest three of us leaving to live our own lives.

The weight of his emotions presses down on me, making my chest ache with a mix of guilt and empathy.

“Why don't you ever call if you miss us that much?” I ask him gently, hoping to bridge the gap that has grown between us.

“Oh well, I don't want to bother,” he says, looking away as if ashamed to admit his loneliness.

"You wouldn’t be bothering us. You should call from time to time,” I pause, taking another sip of the whiskey, feeling it warm me from the inside out.

“I know you're used to asking Mom to call us and then give you an update, but there’s no harm in reaching out directly, even for a two-minute catch-up.”

He nods slowly, considering my words. The room feels heavy with unspoken emotions, the walls closing in as we stand there, father and daughter, trying to navigate this new phase of our relationship.

I hope he understands how much we still need and want his presence in our lives, no matter how far away we are.

The silence stretches on, but it feels comforting now, filled with the promise of new beginnings and the strength of our bond.

As we stand there, Elise walks in and heads straight for the group around the fireplace. She starts whispering to Andries, Dan, and Roxanne, who all look in my direction. I roll my eyes and turn back to my dad. “To be honest, I really enjoy living in Cambridge. It's really nice. Way less gossipy.”

My dad hums in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips, when Johan walks in, looking around the room. His eyes meet mine, and I call him over.

Johan makes his way towards us, and my dad notices his expression. “You look like you need a drink,” he says to Johan.

“I do, indeed. Just had a bad phone call,” Johan replies, his voice heavy with whatever news he just received.

“Yeah, I can see that,” I say, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the furrow in his brow.

I glance over Johan’s shoulder and see Elise still whispering to the others, her eyes flicking towards us.

My irritation flares up again. “Dad, can you serve Johan a Macallan? I will be right back. And refill mine, please.”

I walk over to where Elise, Dan, Andries, and Roxanne are gathered. Their hushed conversation stops as I approach. “What's up since you all seem so engrossed in secrecy?” I ask, my voice edged with impatience.

Elise looks up, her expression blank. “Nothing,” she says, but I don't believe her.

“Really? Nothing? You just arrived and started spreading gossip like a vicious snake. I know you,” I say, my tone sharp.

Roxanne steps in, her voice calm but firm. “You're right, Hannah. Elise, unfortunately, hasn’t grown much and still believes the world only revolves around her.”

Elise gasps at Roxanne’s words, but Roxanne continues, “You know I'm right. The best is to fess up to your sister.”

I wait, my eyes locked on Elise. Finally, she speaks. “What? I was commenting on how strange it is to see Johan again, that's all.”

“And what else were you saying?” I press on.

Elise taps her feet, her mind mulling over what to say next. “I just don’t understand why you’d bring an engaged man here. What are you? His mistress? I'm just worried about you.”

“Bullshit. You're just pissed because you don't know the underlying reason for his presence. As I told you all before, we are good friends. Now leave us alone.” I turn on my heels and head back to my dad and Johan, feeling a renewed sense of confidence.

Facing Elise, who always looked down on me, feels liberating.

When I return, my dad and Johan are chatting, their drinks in hand. I join them, feeling lighter and more self-assured. The room feels warmer now, the earlier tension dissipating as we share this moment together.

As the evening winds down, everyone begins to gather their coats, exchanging hugs and warm farewells as they make their way toward the foyer.

Johan, Amelia, and I are staying the night, a decision I’m grateful for given the long drive home.

The familiar comfort of Oma’s house feels like a needed respite.

Mom approaches me, a crease of concern in her brow, her voice soft but tinged with worry. “Are you sure you want to stay at Oma’s?”

I nod, offering her a reassuring smile as I gently squeeze her hand. “I’m sure, Mom. We’ll be fine.”

Just then, the soft patter of footsteps echoes down the stairs. The nanny appears, her expression calm but purposeful. “Ma’am? The children have fallen asleep in the guest room where they were playing.”

Oma steps forward. “You can collect them tomorrow,” she says gently, her eyes full of understanding.

Mom hesitates, glancing toward the clock on the wall. “But we were supposed to open their gifts tomorrow morning by the tree,” she says, a note of reluctance in her voice.

Oma checks her watch, her tone softening but still practical. “It’s already 1 a.m., Julia. Better to let them sleep and pick them up tomorrow after lunch. They can open their gifts then.”

Dad steps in, his tone supportive yet steady. “They can open their gifts after lunch. What’s the harm?” he asks, his expression calm and reassuring.

Mom sighs, the internal conflict still lingering on her face. “I know, but it just doesn’t feel the same.”

Sensing her daughter’s unease, Oma offers a gentle compromise. “If you’d like, I can place the gifts I have for them under the tree so they’ll have something special waiting when they wake up.”

Mom’s expression softens, the tension easing from her shoulders as she offers a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mom. That sounds perfect. We’ll be back for lunch tomorrow, and I’ll bring the rest of the gifts for them to open.”

“Great idea,” Dad agrees, placing a comforting hand on Julia’s shoulder, his presence steadying her as they exchange a look of understanding.

The foyer fills with the sounds of goodbyes and the rustling of fabric.

Stuart helps everyone with their coats, his kind smile and gentle manner making the process smoother.

Elise, Dan, Andries, and Roxanne join the crowd in the foyer, their laughter and chatter slowly fading as they step outside into the night.

The front door closes softly behind them, and the house falls into a calm silence.

Once they are gone, I heave a sigh of relief. The air feels lighter, the tension dissipating.

Amelia, standing beside us, stretches and yawns. “I'm so ready to get some sleep.”

Oma chuckles softly, nodding in agreement. “It’s been a long night. But it was wonderful to have everyone together.”