Page 111 of Winter’s End

“Well, that is a relief. Then, go!”

He moved toward the helm and studied the controls. Zoe took a pair of binoculars from a hook on the wall and moved to the small rear deck.

A slight wind ruffled her hair, but the river was calm, the sky a deep azure, and the air warm with promise that the stubborn winter might indeed give way to spring.

She heard the engine sputter and cough, and finally spring to life. She felt the shudder of the old boards beneath her feet and the first sensation of movement.

In the near distance, a small boat cut a shallow swath through the water. Squinting through the binoculars Zoe thought she saw two figures in the boat, one of them wearing a bright blue cap with a yellow butterfly on the side.

EPILOGUE

Fairfield, New Jersey

April, 2017

She reached for a cut glass dish on the second shelf, then pulled back and winced in pain, massaging her left shoulder.Idioot,she told herself.Wouldn’t you think, after all these years, you would know better!

She stepped on a stool, retrieved the dish, and filled it with homemade pickles, then glanced at the clock as she stowed it in the refrigerator next to a pitcher of iced tea.

From the yard, where her son, Thomas, was roasting chickens on a spit, she heard the lilting voices of his wife and Anneke’s sister, Klara. They were busy cutting roses for the table, and as she turned to fill a vase with water, the door burst open and her daughter, Hannah, and her laughing gaggle of granddaughters and great grands bustled into the kitchen.

“Oma,” called the youngest, “they had stamppotat the European Deli, not as good as your potatoes, of course, but we bought some anyway.”

“Andstroopwaffels,” said Hannah, also not as good as yours, but we can never have too many sweets.”

“I made six dozenspeculaas,” she started to protest, but her voice was drowned out by the sounds of seven women talking, laughing, unpacking bags of way too much food to fit in her crowded refrigerator.

She gave herself up to the noise and the bustle because she knew it was hopeless not to, but she heard it instantly when the front door opened at just after four, and Anneke called, “Oma, we’re here!”

“Lieve god,” she breathed, tears springing to her eyes as she rushed to the figures in the doorway. “Zoe…lieve god, I can’t believe it…”

Zoe fell into her arms. “Evi….”

The woman she hugged was stooped and smaller than she remembered, but she would have known her anywhere, Evi thought, hugging Zoe tight. The decades fell away and the short, white curls were once again a lively brown and the frail little figure robust.

Now, as Zoe began to pull back, she saw the tall, silver-haired man at her side.

“Evi,” Zoe said. “This is Anton - “

Zoe’s son, Evi guessed.

“Oma, where are your silver candlesticks?” Hilde called.

“And your large Delft platter - for the chickens?”

And just like that, the greetings were done, and the guests piled in, and chairs were unfolded, and platters of food were laid on the table and the house hummed with busy, laughing people.

“L’ Chaim,” they shouted as glasses were raised.To life, Evi thought.Indeed. And it was not until the dishes were cleared and coffee andspeculaasandstroopwaffelwere on the table, and Zoe was deep in conversation with her daughters and their daughters, that she found herself facing the good-looking man who had stood at Zoe’s side in the doorway.

Early seventies,she guessed, about the same age as Thomas. Tall and dark-haired, with flecks of grey in his brows, and a pleasantly ruddy face.

“Anton, yes?” she smiled.

“Yes, Ma’am. Anton Kuyper.”

“Please, call me Evi. You are Zoe’s son, ja?”

The pleasant face broke into a grin. “Oh, no, ma’am. Sorry for the confusion. I met Zoe – that is, Doctor Visser – in Amsterdam only ayear ago. I was searching for connections to the Dutch Resistance in the Netherlands during World War Two.”