Rode Heuvels
content warning: This content contains mature situations, and what some may consider gore and inappropriate for children . Discretion is advised.
The Kingdom of Holland, 1813
Three years earlier.
Beige sheets get caught like ship sails in the wind as Victoria stands under a clothes line. She is in a dutch made dress that shares the color of dark red earthly clay with a mostly white apron around the skirt that she acquired some time ago as a charitable gift. She picks up another beige sheet and while holding it up to be hung she stops to savor the burning orange light of this windy November day. Sometimes the clouds travel in front of the sun blocking its warmth and for a few minutes it pays as a reminder how much its buttery glow will be missed in the coming months. It is the first time she is experiencing autumn in this village.
With more clothes needing to be hung out to dry she continues at the clothes line. Behind her there is a house that is wood framed with a brick exterior and a grambel roof with centered dutch doors. It is similar to most of the homes in small villages that can scarcely be found in the kingdom of Holland. She spends a moment longer to breathe in the sight of the red mammoth beat fields. She see the wind run its hands through the clouds, along the fields and across the trees. She knows this will soon be a world of harvesting before the world goes into wintering. Just as cold as ocean water a tidal wave of northern winds stampedes over Victoria. With her eyes closed she takes in the fresh air and for as long as the wind passes, she is still. Never turning away from the force of nature.
After throwing another sheet over the line she takes a step forward and nudges some rocks with her foot. She looks down and lingers over what formations have been made with a few stones and pebbles. Mosaic’s formed into the images of a dog and a horse. She is stagnant peering over the work. She can hear the clatter of small feet skipping, “Did I do good?” A child no older than nine says from behind her. “Yes child.” Victoria spiritedly responds, “Very brilliant, child.”
She thinks about the stones that have passed through children's hands. Victoria reminisces about how shielded her childhood was and the comparison of how freely children are here in this village; in this time. How grateful she is to see children safely be children when the world they live in is not made for it.
“Susanna?” Victoria calls out to the girl. The girl comes to her side entwining their arms. “Yes beautiful Victoria?” Victoria flattered, laughs tilting her head back. With her hand over her chest she asks, “Why the compliment child?”
Susanna shrugs and answers, “I heard my mother telling father you were a woman of fifty-two. Well I stomped my foot, I spoke aloud to mother and father protestant. I don’t believe them insulting you like that. You are far to beautiful to be a woman in her fifties. But they are not liars. Shortly I believed them. I hope that I am as beautiful as you when I am a woman of fifty.”
Victoria, flattered, looks over Susanna’s long, broad face where she saw her wide nose, her blue eyes that gleam bright with all the artistry of stained-glass windows and her innocent radiant skin. “Brilliant child, carry with you forever an immortal goodness that ne’er crack nor parts at the seams as near’er to what you carry now and you will always be beautiful.”
From inside the house the raspy voice of a woman calls out with a Dutch accent in English, “Victoria?! Come, I have a deed!”
Susanna gasps positively excited at the sound of her mothers voice. She unwinds her arm from Victoria’s and with all the agility of a rabbit dashes inside calling out to her mother before even entering through the door. Victoria takes one last look at the horizon to see herself reflected back as the season’s changing is her mirror. Like the earth she is fragile, and its life will soon seek refuge from the cold. But she has found her refuge in the hands of caretakers. The machine of her life built up momentum in her spring and fueled and greased by her own conducting hands through her summer and autumn to never stop. Her wintering has begun and she looks on acknowledging it. Hoping she will allow for it. To put her stubbornness aside and accept that she is getting old. As a cool breeze sends a chill through her she hopes she can accept it and still have the endurance to enable in action all the knowledge she has obtained. The strength to fully live, in all of its eluding beauty, through her last season.
Victoria finally makes her way inside, “Geertrudia, what deed can I be of help with?” Victoria inquires. While in a rocking chair Geertrudia has her daughter Susanna sitting on her knee. Beside the chair stands a smaller girl by the age of seven in a dark brown tweed dress and white bonnet. She is a smaller version of Susanna with plumper cheeks that swallow her eyes up when she grins and as Victoria connects eyes with her they share a smile together and Victoria greets her with a, “Hello Madelief.”
Madelief walks over to her and reaches her tiny hand out to grip Victoria’s dress with stubby fingers rubbing her thumb across the fabric repeatedly. Geertrudia, who is a slim woman with hands conditioned in toil has a fixed smile that rests inside her pale complexion with wavy auburn hair pouring out of the sides and back of a sky blue bonnet. Motherly in presence and friendly in manner she focuses her attention on Victoria as two men enter the front door of the house.
“This evening is near’er to your first arrival one year ago. We wish to celebrate you being with us for one year by cooking you a dinner full of splendor.”
Geertrudia’s husband is one of the men that entered the house. He is tall and slender with wide shoulders and a plump long nose on an already long oval face. The wrinkles that ripple on the sides of his mouth as he smiles neighbor the crows feet beside his eyes giving hint that he is in close age to Victoria. He speaks in a British accent from across the house, “No better a reason to have a grand meal.”
“Jacop is right.” Geertrudia says, “You have grown to be a part of our family. My husband and I cherish you. Our girls look up to you. You are worthy of a feast.”
“I am grateful for you.” Victoria responds. “There has been no time in my life where I’ve known so many wholehearted people. Nor have I had better friends than I have had here.”
In reciprocation of Victoria’s gratitude Geertrudia responds, “As we are grateful for you. I have made arrangements to retrieve vegetables from the others in the village. Bernardo has agreed to spare us a few carrots from his garden. Will you do me the chore and go to Bernardo for the carrots he has promised?”
Susanna jumps off her mothers knee to then ask in her soft British accent, “Can I join miss Victoria on her walk, mother?” Geertudia tells her that it is up to Victoria. Victoria, with a charming smile gives Susanna a nod and reaches out her palm gesturing to take her hand.
Geertrudia picks up Madelief before saying, “We will get started on dinner while you get carrots from Bernardo.”
Just then Jacop can be heard asking the other man he came in with, “Knelis? Where is the axe we keep near the wood?” Knelis has fragile eyes and soft features for a man in his thirties. With both hands he brushes back his long blond hair and with a thick dutch accent he responds, “It broke earlier today while I was using it at Gerben’s home.” Jacob scoffs, “Geertrudia! Your brother broke our axe.”
Geertrudia stands up, “Its alright Jacop, Knelis will go to Ignaas to have us made up two axes in place of the one he broke. Isn’t that right Knelis?”
Knelis nods in agreement as Victoria turns to Geertrudia, “We are off. We shall return soon with carrots.”
Victoria and Susanna step out into the street of Rode Heuvals. It looks like a growing village with dirt roads and little brick paving around the foundation of homes and buildings. Their home is near the village gates and they pass through the village square where a water pump resides in the center. As they head south through the village Susanna says, “I was lying in the fields a day or two ago. It was me and Madelief. The sun was past noon. We were watching as the clouds swam past and I thought, what if clouds could talk? I wonder what tales they would have. What they love. What hurts them. What do you think Victoria?”
“I don’t believe the clouds have a love to tell of. Nor do I believe they have pain to share in good company. Clouds doth be the makings of gentle nature. Peace in the silence is their creation. Peace in silence is all they speak and need.” Susanna asks Victoria, “Praytell, what of you?” Victoria responds “What of me? What ever do you mean, child?” Susanna looks up at Victoria with a glow of naivety and asks, “What tales of love do you have to tell? What stories of woe?”
“Plenty!” Victoria says humored by the whims of this young girl. She has always been secure in her confidence and such a question would never puncture her ego. She responds with a soft delicate demeanor, “None of which I wish to ruminate about for I do not dwell in the realm of my villains. They need no hand in finding me. Mistake it not for when they do, it will be my realm they are in and it will be my force of nature they will have to answer to.” Victoria can see out of the corner of her eye that Susanna somewhat pouts and turns her face away to hide it as though she was being disciplined for asking. Victoria stops in the street and kneels down in front of Susanna.
“But just this once I will tell you of a love of mine I had some years ago,” Smiling at Susanna like it was their secret. Victoria grabs her hands, “He was gentle and he appreciated the light of life in people. He would call me the sunlight of his life. You see, he was a sad man as well. It was an illness that plagued his waking life damning him to the world of night because he was allergic to the sun.”
“No.” Susanna gasps.
“I’m afraid so. Even being in the shadows of a room that let in a single ray of sunlight blinded his eyes. So I made the quiet mid-night hours feel like a world filled with life, just to see him smile.”
Victoria stands up and they continue walking, passing the water pump that is in the middle of a beaten circular path at the entrance to the village.
“Where is he now?” Susanna Asks.
Reluctantly she answers with an obvious lie, “It has been some years since his departure.”
“He died?!”
“Yes, you see he was taken by his illness.”
“Oh Miss. Victoria! Both a story of love and woe. What was his name?”
“Voivode. He had lost all the members of his family before he could learn his surname. So all he had was one name.”
“Voivode… stupendous.” Susanna says and it makes Victoria laugh lightly finding a joy in learning that Susanna knows such a word as stupendous.
“I wish I were to have met him. He sounds handsome and charming.”
“He was bruiting, often quiet, opinionated… intelligent and understanding. He made it easy to love with little fret to get in the way of it. He was... irresistibly charming, loving, kind... and… at times... terribly sad. He was… beautiful. He was a kind man as well which t’was most important to me. I recall he would gift me my favorite flower every year for my birthday.”
“What is your favorite flower?”
“A white lotus.”
They continue into the condensed streets. Here the houses are closer together and more of the villagers can be seen working near their homes. There is a pulse where the whole community is actively working in progress of the town. Victoria can see in almost every person a motivation that contributes to help the growth of all in the community. She recognized decisions were made without doubt. She knew that it wasn’t only her small village that moved like bees in a hive. She had seen this before in the greater cities of the Dutch republic during the late 1700’s when their trade market was among the richest in the world before Napoleonic rule transpired. Now trades were weak and growth was difficult in this era but within this village there was a prosperity of hope that drove its life.
Susanna energetically jumps, “You said earlier, I do not dwell in the realm of my villains, and I had a thought. I love stories of Villains. They are always so much more to me than stories of monsters.”
Now caught in confusion Victoria stops in her steps to reply, “Now it is you who must praytell, I see no separation of the two. How do you perceive such a notion? Art not both the antagonist?”
“Not to I.” Susanna says, “The story of little red riding hood, the wolf is clearly a monster to be feared. But all the story, he wants to convince her that he is not what she thinks. He is not the monster at all, he lies. So is the same for all tales of monsters. The baba yaga wants children. But, to steal them away to the woods the monster has to make the children believe it is not a monster. My father tells me the stories he learned in his schooling about the Greek mythos of Hercules. All who he faced and defeated were without doubt that he, the mighty Hercules, was their enemy. Villains make me excited because they can be told different ways. The great lion Hercules faces fought him because it was his nature to fight or eat. The cyclops, truly only protecting his small corner of the earth where it could live without bother. Most villains know they are the villain, some perceive they are the hero justifying wrong doing for the sake of the good. Then there are the ones that can not see they are doing villainy at all. It is quite evident to me that all monsters are the same. Always taking with no end to their evil. Wretchedly repeating their stories where they lie about not being a monster, but they really are. To which no means to ever be human. It’s boring!”
“You are quite a brilliant child.” Victoria says as they start to walk again. Susana continues, “I want to learn more about mythos. I have heard the Greek mythos and the Romans. Truly… truly I wish to learn of the Irish and Scottish mythos. What wonders lay waiting there.”
“I know of a few I gladly will tell of.” Victoria says to Susanna to which the child eagerly nods and says, “Yes! Please!”
“Well Susanna, I can tell you of a Goddess that Scottish peoples would say, we are in the presence of. Beira, the queen of winter, and to some the goddess of harvest. They say she made the mountains, carved the creeks, and drinks from a spring of youth to live young and free all year till she ages in winter. Tis then when she is pale as the fields snow. The winter is her power, what she was made from. She takes from the earth to harvest for herself for the coming year.”
They enter off the street through a short gate where a path leads to a small wooden home as Victoria continues, “When she makes her presence known then it is time to harvest. Lo’ she does not come without fear for there are people who call her by another name.”
As Victoria and Susanna reach the door of the small home the door is opened by its residence before either one can raise a hand to knock. The man who greets them is tall and slim. An Italian man with black hair where gray is coming in on one side. Appearing to be in his 50’s his skin is tight on his long face where he adorns a bushy peppered mustache. He smiles at them with his half draped eyelids and immovable eyes and begins to speak in Italian but quickly stops himself to continue to speak in English with an Italian accent.
“Victoria… Susanna. Victoria you warm me like the afternoon sun with your beauty. What do I owe the pleasure, if not for the act to say hello?”
“By me, be tis the first I hath seen of your heartfelt compliments Bernardo.”
“I trust, dear Victoria, they are well received.”
“In kind, when they will be, I assure you I will voice it.”
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“I mean no harm of it. Truly”
“Nor do I feel harmed. Your company is still sought by me, dearest Bernardo. Be it understood we are in the presence of Susanna and she is a child who deserves to be acknowledged. I invite you to compliment me in other ways. In her presence or without. In kind of course.”
“Of course. My apologies Victoria-” Victoria is gesturing with her pointer finger down at Susanna, “My apologies… Young Susanna.”
Susanna nods her head to accept Bernardo’s apology and in the same instance she turns to Victoria befuddled, “Why is Mr. Bernardo apologizing to me?”
Victoria and Bernardo share a light laugh.
“Perhaps there is a difficulty in explaining. Rest assured, not knowing the reasoning of an apology is far better than to never receive the one you deserve.” Victoria turns her attention back to Bernardo.
“Bernardo we have come to retrieve the carrots you promised Geertrudia.”
“Yes, of course. I thought it so of being the true reason you were here but I enjoyed playing a fool shortly, I must admit.”
Bernardo steps away into his home to then return with a small burlap sack tied off with a hemp string. As he hands Victoria the sack he tells her there are five carrots just as Geertrudia asked for. It is just then that Bernardo, Victoria, and Susanna take notice to the romping of feet and noisy ruffling of high waist skirts. They all turn to see two teenage girls running through the street toward Bernardo’s home. They stop at the gate winded and gasping for air.
Bernardo hollers out to them, “Has something happened?”
“Yes Mr. Bernardo.” one of them says in between catching their breath. Victoria walks over to them, “Yvonne? Zoe? What hath transpired?” Yvonne a girl of nine-teen and her seven-teen year old sister Zoe are more than just out of breath. Their eyes red and wet from crying with tremors still in their voices. They go back and forth taking turns explaining what the matter is while speaking in English with Dutch accents.
They explain that their mother, Wilhelmina, is the mid wife for Ambroos. Her water had broken not an hour ago. After preparing Ambroos to deliver, Wilhelmina began to recognize that something was wrong. Soon Ambroos’s cries of pain would be the tell tale signs of birthing complications. The two girls look to each other before one of them says, “She didn’t know who to go to. You were the only one she could ask. Our father is there trying to convince Pepijn to rear their child into the world… to no avail.”
Victoria straightens up and for a moment stares above the homes into the sky. “Will you help her?” Yvonne asks as she wipes away at an endless stream of tears.
Victoria looks to them both and takes a few seconds to make eye contact with them one at a time and without making them wait for a reply any longer she responds, “Without a doubt.”
Victoria, still holding Susanna’s hand exits the yard gate. She hands Zoe the burlap sack of carrots, “Zoe, take Susanna home and tell Geertrudia what hath transpired. Hurry go along now.” Victoria then turns around to holler at Bernardo, “Mr. Bernardo! I need your assistance in this urgent matter, if you so oblige.”
He nods agreeing to be of assistance and Victoria continues, “Good. Please gather your carpentry tools along with any spirits you may have. Meet me at the home of Gerben as soon as humanly possible.”
He launches back into his home closing the door behind him.
“Yvonne,” Victoria says as she turns to the young girl again, “I need you to retrieve the root of a yam and the root of a cassava. Do you understand?”
She nods yes and Victoria commands, “Now tell me what I asked you to retrieve.”
“Miss. Victoria asked me to retrieve the root of a yam and the root of a cassava.”
“Brilliant Child. Now tell me what I asked you to retrieve again.”
“You asked me to retrieve the root of a yam and the root of a cassava.”
“Brilliant child! I need them as soon as humanly possible. Bring them straight to Ambroos’s home, now go!”
Yvonne goes off running and Victoria hurries in the opposite direction, heading further into town.
Inside Ambroos’s home a young dutch man named Gerben is raising a drenched towel from a bowl that he wrings out. He gently lays it over top Ambroos’ forehead as she lay in a bed that has been placed in the living room. The contractions put her in pain that make her eyes bulge and her hands shoot to her hips and stomach forcing a gut wrenching scream. Everyone in the room cringes at the sound. On the other side of the bed is Tessa, a fragile woman in her 30’s who is joined by the midwife Wilhelmina, her elder mother Anuschka, and two other elder woman in their eighties and nineties who reside at the foot of the bed in prayer. Their arms entwined while a fourth elderly woman in her sixties stands behind them. Across the room, Ignaas, a tall bulky man in a black leather apron with a bright blond beard is in a stern and rocky conversation with a slimmer man named Pepijn whom is dressed in a dirt coated farmers smauk. In Dutch Ignaas is working out how Pepijn can use his knowledge that he has in assisting the horses in birthing to help Ambroos with her birthing complications but Pepijn is not confident in rearing the birth of the child.
While they continue their heated discussion the front door to the house opens and enters a middle aged spanish man named Kasper. His hands still dirty from tending to the fields today. He is holding the hand of his wife, Jacintha. She has auburn hair pulled under her white bonnet and with her head slightly tilted downward she follows behind her husband. They give a nod to all and stand against the wall at the back of the room.
Ambroos screams fill the room. They could pull tears from the eyes like an audible extraction. Some flinch at her cries of, “It hurts! Help me! The pain! Make It stop! Save me!”
Her husband Gerben caresses her face and holds her hand trying to soothe her but he is unsure how much actually is getting through to her. He is on the verge of tears and struggling with his composure.
Anuschka, Wilhelmina’s elder mother, takes pause from prayer after one of Ambroos’s ground shaking cries.
Anuschka announces across the bed in Dutch, “Gerben. It’s time to say goodbye. Take this time now for fear, my child, there may be no time again.”
He contemplates that Anuschka might be right. His tears can be held back no more and he holds Ambroos’ hand against his face as he cries like the sun will burn out. He is powerless. Gerben falls weak and crumbles onto the beds edge. Kasper and Jacintha watch and begin to hold each other closer. Ignaas and Pepijn stop mid conversation at the sound of Gerben falling apart. Both men drop their heads and become quiet.
Wilhelmina tells Ambroos through her weeping, “I’m so sorry. Forgive me my dear Ambroos.” She then falls into Tessa’s shoulder where her wailing is muffled.
The room is filled with a tension. Weary anticipation builds like a sickness in everyone tying their stomachs in knots and making them nauseous for the heartbreak to come. An air thick with change that an era of heavy melancholy descends on them. Gerben cries to Ambroos, “If ever I have stolen any of your days, I am sorry. If ever I have given you a day without love, I am sorry. Dearest, My dearest Ambroos. Where will love live in this world if you are no longer here. I am sorry ever you wished more of me. You were the reason food was good and the air filled my lungs. Without you! Without you my dearest Ambroos, fire will lose its warmth.”
The front door swings open again and Victoria enters the house. Only Jacintha and kasper look up while the rest grieve. Wilhelmina feels the light touch of a hand on her shoulder. She looks back to see Victoria standing over her.
“Oh Victoria, I did what I could.”
Victoria reaches over to feel Ambroos’ stomach. “Worry not. For your goodness is recognized.” Victoria raises her voice to get the attention of the room, “There is still hope. Gerben! With your approval, I would like to conduct an operation that has seen the survival of both the mother and child. An operation that has been practiced in the African region of Uganda for hundreds of years. I know this operation to be reliable. With help... I can save the life of your wife and child.”
“Then there is no time to waste!” Geertrudia says from the open door. Standing with her is Jacop and Zoe.
Victoria looks to Geertrudia to acknowledge her and then looks to Gerben who gives her a nod of approval.
“Ambroos,” Victoria says while turning to grab her hand, “You are the only person in this room for which their wants truly matter. I trust myself. I know myself to shatter disbelief upon reaching the fruition of my ambitions. Grant me your trust and tell me this is what you want and I will hesitate no longer.”
Ambroos, heaving in pain, fights to stare Victoria in the eyes. She stares assessing, sweat stinging her eyes and pain drilling through her chest and up her neck. “Miss. Victoria… I grant you my trust. Do what you must… but against all odds... save my baby. If nothing else... th-that... is all I truly want.”
Victoria then faces everyone in the room, “Like all things in life, there is no guarantee this will be successful. I take full responsibility for the well-being of Ambroos and her child. In order for me to conduct this operation I will need the assistance of only a few.”
At that moment Victoria acknowledges Bernardo entering the house holding carpentry tools and she tells Geertrudia, “I need you and Tessa to retrieve water from the well. We need four buckets of water. Bernardo I need you to go with Ignaas to his black smith workshop to burn your tools. Burning your iron tools will make them sanitary for use. Everyone who has worked the field today and wears dirt on their person must leave for the remainder of the operation. Anyone who wishes to stay must be clean and must promise to not get in the way of my directions. If we can do everything under my guidance then there is every chance that Ambroos and her child will survive. Please, I need your trust.”
At the entrance of the village Tessa and Geertrudia clamor to the well where together they heave the crank to collect bucket after bucket of water. At Ambroos home Victoria is preparing for the operation. Jacintha and Zoe and Wilhelmina are petrified in the room as they watch melting of sweat in their noiseless presence. Bernardo returns with his tools without Ignaas and asks, “Do we need anything else before we begin?”
Just then Yvonne walks in holding roots in her hand, “Miss. Victoria! I have retrieved what you've asked.”
Victoria instructs Yvonne, “I need you to clean those roots and then I need you to crush them into a paste with water nothing else just root and water. Quickly!” Jacintha, Zoe and Wilhelmina come to life as they join Yvonne to assist her with making the paste. They all go into the kitchen to begin work on crushing the roots. Ambroos is writhing with each howl when she is handed a bottle of wine by Victoria, “Drink as much as you can as often as you want.”After watching Ambroos drink an entire bottle Victoria waits for signs of intoxication.
Tessa and Geertrudia return with the water. Victoria proceeds to clean the carpentry tools, clean her hands and instructs Wilhelmina and Bernardo to clean their hands the same way as she uses water to wipe Ambroos stomach. Victoria waits only short while longer and sees, Ambroos is intoxicated.
“It is time to begin.”
With Bernardo on one side and Wilhelmina on the other Victoria takes a sharp cleaned blade and cuts Ambroos’ lower abdomen. She makes incisions through multiple layers one after the other. First through her skin then fat. When she arrives at muscle she cuts it vertically. She pushes the muscle aside and using hooks she has Wilhelmina and Bernardo pull the muscle aside only slightly. Another layer of tissue is exposed now, another cut, now another set of hooks for Bernardo and Wilhelmina to use occupying both of their hands. Victoria is at a point where she must operate with no assistance. She reaches in through the muscle and tissue to the uterus wall. Another cut. With her hand she separates the incision to see the amniotic sac. One more layer. She must be slow, only to cut the layer of tissue and nothing more. Just one more layer deeper... into Ambroos’ body... with a carpenters blade.
Ambroos can feel her intestines on the outside of her body. She is awake, flushed with vulnerability and pouring of tears. With her eyes closed she can feel Gerbin holding her tight gripped hand.
“Gerbin,” Ambroos ghostly whispers. He leans closer to her with the expectation that there is more to follow but nothing else comes. All she can do is look up at him through half lidded eyes, finding her anchor in his presence. Victoria begins to pull the infants head through the incision. A grueling guttural moan rises from Ambroos. The infant is now fully removed and Victoria hands the newborn baby to Wilhelmina and while in her arms Victoria swiftly uses knitting string to urgently tie it off and cut the umbilical cord.
She looks to Gerben as she hands him his newborn daughter. Ambroos, lying as still as a statue asks, “Why is she not crying? Why is my baby quiet?” Ambroos begins to wheeze and whimper.
Victoria answers her, “My Dear, fear not. You will hear your daughter’s cry soon enough. A moment… is all the wait.” Just then while Gerben holds his newborn daughter she belts out in a short single breath her first cry. Everyone in the room becomes washed in a wave of relief.
Ambroos’ eyes search the room, “That, is the most beautiful sound… I’ve ever heard.”
Gerben lowers the baby to her to see and he says, “Its the most beautiful sound because you are already in love with her. Everything she will do will be beautiful to you.”
Victoria is listening to the new parents as she cleans her hands for the next part of the procedure. She remembers loving someone so much everything they did was beautiful. She thinks on how she felt expecting a child, basking in the days she was counting down till she could hear their beautiful cries. It is not long before her joy becomes fleeting and she resents herself.
Victoria expeditiously begins work on closing up Ambroos. She instructs everyone to patiently wait outside while they begin the process of sewing her open wounds shut. Bernardo and Wilhelmina stay to assist and Gerben is sitting in a wooden rocking chair in the corner holding his daughter. After the last layer of skin is stitched Victoria massages the stitches with the paste made of yam root and cassava root. Jacop steps back inside and with a troubled voice asks, “My friend, were you able to save Ambroos?”
Outside of the house waiting is Wilhelmina's two young daughters Zoe and Yvonne, and her husband Ignaas. Huddled next to them are the four elder mothers and Geertrudia alongside Tessa. Kasper and his wife Jacintha are stress ridden with the group as they hold each other.
“I hope to see them both survive,” Ignaas says, “Poor is the man Gerbin. He will have no choice but to know pain, losing one or the other. Rhode Heuvals hasn’t seen the loss of a child in three years. Not since you, Kasper and Jacintha lost your seven year old daughter.”
“Isabelle,” Geertrudia says.
“Yes, Isabelle, may God rest her soul.” Ignaas nods in sadness.
“This terror is in the same vain as it holds such close remnant to Isabelle and how we still mourn losing her,” Geertrudia recalls to Jacintha who is touched by Geertrudia’s sentiments. She reaches out to hold hands with her. Jacintha says lowly, in an unused voice, “Happen what may, we will remain strong, as we will have each other in any darkness.”
Victoria with her calm demeanor swiftly walks outside with Jacop and Bernardo and Wilhelmina following behind her. She looks over everyone's worry torn faces.
“Ambroos...” she says, “… will have to heal for weeks to come but fear not for she will get to watch her daughter grow up.”
As she finishes her sentence Wilhelmina's two young daughters Zoe and Yvonne begin to cry out with joy as the rest of the women, the elder mothers, Geertrudia, Tessa, and Jacintha collectively holler out a triumphant cheer together as though they were all holding their breath. The elder mothers begin to hold each other light heartedly. Zoe and Yvonne jump together as they hold one anothers arms. Geertrudia’s face is pulled apart by emotion bellowing as she darts for Victoria to embrace her. Jacop, walks up beside her and rests his hand on Victoria’s shoulder. Zoe and Yvonne join in wrapping around Victoria when Ignaas says joyously from where he stands, “You are an angel of life, Victoria.”
As she hears him say that her eyes shoot shut. Her indifferent demeanor crumbles away. Droplets drip out between her lashes and a euphoric stinging happens under her eyes. Jacop puts his arms around Geertrudia and Victoria in celebration with them.
Here in this moment she observes the heart of this little village become stronger. That new life has joined their communal family without losing Ambroos in the process. There is but a short moment where she absorbs how moved these people have become, the impact she has made on their lives because they needn’t suffer to loss on this day. A short moment only before the flash of a lightning strike replays in her mind and she finds the blackness of the silhouette in her memories. Here she returns to her nightmares of the monster she created, climbing out of the fire absorbing the light into the abyssal darkness it carries. She thinks to herself as she watches these people celebrate in this moment, “I am burdened with frustration to how I devalue what little good I do in this world for I am undeserving of the praise for the atrocity I committed. In the late hours I sorrow in thought of what poor souls suffer now to the hell I unearthed upon this land.”