time.
Opening the door, he found Janan engulfed in a white flannel nightgown huddled on the bed with her hair tumbling around her shoulders, her eyes huge in her ashen face.
Pieter leaned heavily against a bedpost with his heart pounding from the sudden exertion. “It’s all right. It’s just a thunder snowstorm,” he said gently over and over. Slowly, still trembling, she relaxed against her pillows as she focused on his face. Resisting the urge to rock her in his arms, he repeated, “It’s just thunder. You’re safe.”
When she dropped back against her pillows, he covered her carefully with the comforter. “It’s over now. It’s all over.”
Standing at the foot of the stairs, Carl asked anxiously, “Is she sleeping now?”
“I don’t think she really woke up.” Pieter rubbed the back of his neck. “Does she have these flashbacks often?”
“When she first came, her adoptive parents said that she had them often, night terrors they called them then but now . . . I don’t really know.” Carl passed a hand over his face. “Her adoptive father was like a younger brother to me. We were close when we were growing up but, in later years, we had less contact. Her parents were both ill a long time before they died, her father soon after her mother. I saw them frequently as their doctor but they never talked about Janan. She took care of both of them and now she lives alone.” He mumbled hesitantly, “She started sleeping here a few months ago so that I would not be alone.”
“There is treatment for posttraumatic stress disorder, for the flashbacks and nightmares.”
“Yes, I’ve tried to convince her to get treatment but she refuses. She said something once about it being disloyal to her family to try to get rid of the memories.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t help to hang on to painful memories of what we have lost, but we all do it, don’t we?”
“She will be exhausted in the morning. I can drive myself, really I can. Let her sleep.”
“No. She would be so upset. She wants to do this for me. She knows that I would go with you if I could. She’s taking my place.” He patted Pieter on the shoulder. “Let her.”
Chapter 3
The next morning, Pieter paced the Inn’s porch overlooking the parking lot as he waited for Janan. As soon as he had buckled his seatbelt and grunted a response to Janan’s “good morning”, he began to question her. “Carl seems frailer than I expected. Tell me how he really is.”
“He was managing on his own quite well until about a year ago.” She concentrated on merging with the morning commuter traffic.
“I should’ve come back sooner. It’s been over two years.” He groaned in frustration. “No matter what, I should’ve come back sooner.”
“He seemed lost when Roel, my adoptive father, died. Roel had always been like a younger brother to Carl, and when he died, Carl seemed to age very rapidly. He is only 78,” she said protectively, “but the neuropathy in his legs limits his ability to get around. He won’t say it but I think he worries that his legs will give way and he will fall. He feels safer at home.”
“Who is looking after him?” Pieter frowned as he spoke.
“I help him. I live nearby and I make his meals and so on.” She continued slowly, “Mrs. Potter comes each morning to clean and to heat up his lunch.”
“Is he alone the rest of the time?”
“Not anymore. Now, I sleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms and, during the day . . .” She stopped, uncertain of how much to say.
“Tell me everything,” Pieter commanded.
“There have been some worrisome events and so I arranged for a retired school teacher, Miss Abbott, to come after lunch and stay until I get back.”
“What events?” His voice was sharp.
“Carl’s great-nephew, Arnold, is pressuring him to sign the power of attorney over to him so that he can ‘look after him properly.’” Janan could not keep the scorn out of her voice. “He would drop in when he knew that Carl would be alone and urge him to sign the papers.”
“Are you saying that someone is harassing Carl?” He shook his head in confusion. “Carl never said anything about a nephew.”
“It’s complicated. Carl’s mother’s younger sister had married a Dutchman and so, when the Nazis forced Carl’s family to leave their home in Leiden, to go to the concentration camps, she and her husband moved into Carl’s