The Tulip Eaters

Anneke hung her head. When she raised her eyes, she felt only dullness and defeat.

“Enough. You’re a liar and a murderer and you’re finally going to get what’s coming to you.”

Anneke fell to her knees. Hopelessness filled her. “Do what you want to me. I don’t care. Just please, please, don’t hurt the baby.”

Isaac pointed the pistol at her and shook his head. “No, I’m not finished with you yet. I want you to imagine my father starving in that miserable camp after you betrayed him.” He stepped closer, lowering the gun barrel until it touched the top of her head. “Do you know how we even knew he was alive? He got messages to us from a cell he shared with fifteen other men! Fifteen men with only one bucket to piss and shit in! He wrote on lousy scraps of toilet paper that he sewed into the lining of his filthy clothes. The laundry girl passed them on to us.”

Isaac choked up and then pressed the barrel harder against her head. “And do you know the first question my brother always asked when I snuck into whatever hellhole you found for him to hide in? ‘Where is Anneke? Is she all right? Tell her I love her.’”

“Oh, Isaac, I loved him, too—you must know that! And I protected you. What about the day you were walking down the Singel and were stopped by the Groene Politie? Don’t you remember?”

“You wore the NSB uniform, that’s what I remember,” he snarled.

“No, you know what I’m talking about. I pretended to fall off my bicycle and the Duitsers ran over to help me—”

“Because they saw your uniform and knew that you were a filthy Nazi, too.”

Anneke looked into his angry eyes. She had to make him understand! “No! I did it to distract them so you could get away. And you did!” Isaac still glared at her, but said nothing. “What about the food I brought your parents every week? And in the winter of ’44, when your mother was so sick, I brought medicine for her that I stole from my father.”

“What I remember about your Nazi father is that he turned in four of my friends. Shipped them off. Dead now. And we all know why you pretended to protect us, feed us and even made Abram fall in love with you.”

“Why?” cried Anneke. “Why would I have done that if I didn’t love all of you?”

“Because it was all part of your plan to turn in a Jewish family to win more NSB medals to pin on that Nazi outfit you wore. We were just another notch in your belt.”

“You don’t understand any of it.”

“I understand perfectly.” Then Rose wailed from her bassinet. Isaac picked her up and walked to Anneke, baby under one arm, pointing his pistol at her with the other. But Rose kicked and cried in his arms. He tried to switch her to his right side, but she screamed louder. “Shut up, godverdomme!”

Anneke saw her chance and sprang up. She kicked out at Isaac and caught him in the knee, grabbed Rose and ran. Off balance, Isaac recovered quickly, shoved the pistol in his pocket and dashed after her. Anneke bolted up the back stairway, adrenaline erasing her pain, and hurtled breathlessly into her bedroom with Rose under one arm. Hands shaking, she slammed and locked the door and then flung open a drawer on the night table. Where was it? Her hand closed around the cool metal.

Isaac banged on the door. “I’ll break it down, you bitch!” he yelled. “And when I do, I’ll kill you with my bare hands—and that child!”

Anneke flung the door open. With Rose on her hip, she moved toward him. Isaac lunged forward, his hands reaching for her throat. But when he saw what she held, he stopped cold.

“Get your hands behind you.” She pointed her pistol at the spot between his eyes. She waved its barrel gently up and down. A deadly calm filled her. When she spoke, her words sounded like silk. “I know how to use this, as you are well aware.”

Isaac’s face contorted with rage. “A Luger!” he shouted. “And you say you’re not a Nazi? You lying whore!”

Anneke gave him a small, bitter smile. “Shut your goddamned mouth,” she said softly. Then she saw him frantically try to free the pistol from his pocket. She clicked off the safety. Isaac froze. “Put your fucking hands behind your back.”

“No.”

Anneke hiked Rose higher on her hip and trained her eye down the sights of her pistol. “I never enjoyed killing. But you are threatening me and my family. If you don’t do as I say, what happens will be your fault—no one else’s.”

She saw the artery in Isaac’s neck bulge with each ragged breath he drew. He was clearly calculating his odds, but finally did as she said. The bastard was listening to her now, wasn’t he? “Turn and walk slowly down the stairs.” Rose began to whimper and struggle, but Anneke shushed her, jiggling her as they followed behind him.

Isaac quickened his descent, tensing as he glanced sharply behind him. Anneke jabbed the gun barrel into the back of his neck. “Run and I’ll kill you.”

As they neared the foot of the stairs, suddenly Anneke heard the front door open and someone burst into the front hallway. “Papa! Papa, are you here? It’s Ariel!” a man called in Dutch.

Anneke shoved the barrel into Isaac’s neck—hard. “Don’t move!” she said with deliberate calm. Isaac halted like a marionette whose string had been jerked.

She heard this Ariel’s voice coming from the dining room. “Papa!”

“Walk.” Anneke’s voice sounded like the slice of dueling swords as she prodded Isaac with the gun barrel. They crept farther down the back stairway in silent tandem. “Say one word and I’ll kill you both.” He gave her a deadly glare, but obeyed. At the bottom step, Rose slipped on Anneke’s hip and cried out. Isaac whirled around and managed to grab the baby and wrench the Luger out of Anneke’s hand.

“Rose!” Anneke leaped forward to wrest away the baby, but Isaac grabbed the pistol and shoved her aside. Then he turned and pressed the black barrel into Rose’s pink cheek. The baby twisted and screamed, but Isaac held her fast. Now he smiled.

“You! Walk here!” His voice was an evil whisper as he pointed the gun at her. “Slowly, very slowly.”

Horror gripped her as she saw the black pistol sink farther into Rose’s cheek. Then she saw the younger man, Ariel he called himself, on the far side of the room. “Help us!” she pleaded.

“Papa!” he cried. “Put down the gun!”

Barely breathing, Anneke continued her careful approach, trying not to hurry, to alert Isaac. But when she was a few feet away, he pressed the barrel against Rose’s temple so hard that the baby screamed. “Stop!” he thundered.

Anneke halted as he backed away from her. “Isaac!” she screamed. “Don’t!”

Ariel rushed toward them but stumbled on a small rug. By the time he righted himself, Isaac was on the far side, away from him and Anneke. “Ariel, don’t move!” he shouted.

“Papa, I can’t let you do this....”

“Stop right there!” he bellowed, swinging the barrel from Anneke to Rose and back again. “Or pick which one you want to die.”

“No!” he cried. “Neither!”

Isaac gave him a hard look. “Why the hell are you here?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Anneke saw Ariel inch closer to her. She felt a wild hope. Maybe he could stop him!

“I went to your apartment and couldn’t find you,” he said. “Then I saw the plane reservations and I knew—”

“Enough! Let me do what I have to do!” He clutched Rose tighter and pressed the barrel to her temple.

Anneke fell to her knees, sobbing. “You can’t kill her!”

“Now you will see what it is to watch a member of your family murdered.” His voice was a deadly whisper. “First her, then you.”

“No, please!” She had to do something. And then it hit her. “Wait—you don’t know!”

“Oh? And what don’t I know?”

“The baby...” Anneke choked on her sobs.

“Spit it out. It will be last thing you say before I kill you both.”

“Rose, she’s—” Anneke, still choking, uttered her next words. “She’s Abram’s granddaughter.”