Prologue

Holland, Michigan

July 1858

“I don’t see him, Moeder.” Eva Van der Heiden spun away from the rain splattered window and rushed back to her mother’s bedside. She thrust aside the curtains that were affixed to the posts of the stained-oak bed frame. Her hazel eyes darted over the bloated figure of the slight woman looking tiny and frail within the giant bed.

Restless, Mother’s tousled blonde curls bounced as she rocked her head back and forth. A sheen of sweat coated her pallid face. “Dear God, please bring my husband to me.” Her trembling fingers clawed at the thin white sheets.

Eva clenched the side of her lower lip between her teeth. “I’ll go find Vader.”

“Nee, Eva.” Mother’s sky-blue eyes bulged, the whites glistening like wet stones. Her fingers untangled from the bedsheets and latched onto Eva’s wrist. “You are the eldest. The others, your sisters, they cannot come. I don’t want them to see me in this way. You must stay here with me in case the babe—ah!”

Mother’s grip tightened on her wrist as she panted. Her noisy breaths scratched the still air of the room. For endless seconds, Mother’s body resembled a statue chiseled in the struggle of childbirth. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared, limbs stiff as she bore lashings of unfathomable pain.

Something dark, terrifying, and nameless came over Eva. It smothered her with the oppressive weight of a sodden blanket. Bile pooled at the back of her throat. What did she know about bringing a babe into the world? It was an impossible thing Mother asked of her.

Father, where are you? Why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you ever here?

A moment later, Mother’s hold loosened as she slumped against the headboard. If possible, she’d gone paler than before.

“You must stay by my side. There is no one else.”

Eva’s hands quivered. There must be someone she could reach out to for help.

Father disappeared that morning and no one had an inkling when he would return. Aunt Nethanja had stormed out of the house two hours ago. She and Mother had a fierce row that ended with Aunt Nethanja’s declaration she’d never step foot in the house again. Their closest neighbors had gone visiting family in another Dutch settlement. The midwife was attending to another birth in town.

Eva swallowed. Was there truly no one else?

Mother cried out again. Eva grabbed her clammy hand. The resultant, nearly bone-crushing grip made her wince. She bit back her own cries until the moment passed.

“Something is wrong.” Her mother sagged against the pillows. “The babe is too early, but I’ve never felt pain like this before. Oh, how I wish your vader were here.”

Eva’s mouth thinned. Father should be here. He would be here. They’ll just have to find him. “Moeder, I am going to see if I can find him.”

Her mother’s overly bright blue eyes pleaded with her. “Nee, you mustn’t leave me.”

Where was the strong, capable woman Eva had known all her life? In the past few months that woman had gradually disappeared, replaced by this anxious doppelganger.

Eva smoothed the damp curls away from her lined forehead. “I am not leaving you, Moeder,” she whispered, using the same soothing tone she employed when calming her younger sisters’ fears. “But we must have help. I cannot do this alone.” She bent and kissed the delicate skin of her mother’s hairline. “I will be back as quick as I can. I promise.”

Eva left the door ajar and raced down the unlit hall toward the firelight’s glow emanating from downstairs. With each stride the same thought echoed in her mind like the refrain of a song. Father has to come. Mother needs him.

Her bare feet slapped down the stairs. The homey aroma of beeswax polish wafted to her nose. Its tang presented a welcome respite from the cloying scent of illness in her mother’s room. Her toe caught the hem of her too-long nightgown, and her foot went out from under her. She flailed, gripped the banister to keep from falling forward, but her foot skidded against the step’s unfinished wood.

“Ow!” she yelped, holding her foot, hopping on one leg. Twisting and bending the leg at its knee, she lifted her foot, gaping at the sight of the two-inch long splinter that pierced its center. She hobbled on her injured foot as four of her sisters ran toward her, dressed in the same white nightgown as she.

They called out questions like volleys of arrows from bows.

“Eva, is Moeder all right? Are you all right?”

“What’s happening?”

“Is the baby here?”

“Shh!” She waved them to silence. “I don’t have time to explain. I need your help.”

“What do you mean?” Debora’s blonde brows lowered over her ice blue eyes. “What’s happening? Is it Moeder? Will she let us come see her?”

“Nee!” Eva held her hands up as if to ward off an evil spell. She couldn’t allow her sisters to see the things she’d seen. Not the soiled bed nor her mother’s misery because of their father’s absence. Instead she clasped Debora’s shoulder. “You must go find Vader at once!”

Debora’s head jerked back. “Vader?”

Eva’s foot throbbed. She needed to get the splinter out. “Ja. The babe is coming and Moeder needs him.”

“Vader will not come.” Debora folded her arms across her chest. “He said to send for him only if—”

“I do not care. You must bring him home.”

“He will not come.” Debora’s jaw set and a tightness entered her eyes. “Not for you. Not for me, or any of his witch daughters.”

Eva yanked her sister’s arms down and gave her a slight shake. She gritted each word through clenched teeth. “Bring. Him. Home.”

They stared at each other for a long moment until Eva sighed. Her hands loosened their grip on Debora’s arms and hung limply at her sides. “There is no one else who can.”

Debora’s eyebrow twitched but she nodded. Her mouth firmed into a hard line. “I will drag him back by his ear.”

The image Debora’s words evoked brought forth a burst of unexpected laughter mixed with an underlying sob. Eva hugged her sister. “Do that,” she whispered in her ear.

Debora ran past her and up the stairs as Eva pointed to her other sister. “Dorkas, you go to Tante Nethanja and ask her to come now.”