I raised my eyes to the sky and managed to feel joyful at last, fulfilling my grandmother’s last wish.

Farewell, Violet. Farewell.

Chapter Eighteen

Johanna

1891, January, Utrecht, Netherlands

Theo was admitted to the Maison Dubois. Dries had been relentless. Then, when more help was deemed necessary, the doctors moved my love to Faubourg St. Denis. And when he didn’t improve, to the clinic in Passy. And finally, so I could be closer to my family and the help they offered, my beloved husband was transported to the Willem Arntzkliniek in Utrecht in the Netherlands in November—on the night train, in a straitjacket.

Little Wil and I went with him, the three of us escorted by two attendants. Then Theo was spirited away, and we traveled on to Amsterdam. And then months of heartbreaking visits began.

I wanted to help him recover. I wanted my dearest back.

“He is improving,” I told Mama as the year came to a close and a new one, which I prayed would bring us relief, began. I was packing my bag at her kitchen table, my son napping upstairs.

“You should tell Dries.” She was embroidering a handkerchief for one of my sisters, blue cornflowers on white linen. “The good news would cheer him. He says you’re not answering his letters.”

I loved my brother with all my heart, but I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive him for having my husband committed.

“I wish Theo back in my own loving care.” The weekly visits to Utrecht were as unbearably bleak as they were insufficient. And I was turned away at the slightest whim of his doctor. “The patient is not feeling well.”

“But Theo has improved. You said he sits calmly and listens.”

“He still barely talks. I want him home. He will come home. Today, I shall get the doctor to commit to a discharge date.”

Mama sighed and patted my hand. “And then what? How will you live? Theo has quit Goupil.”

“They know he was sick already when he handed in his resignation. Once he improves, they’ll take him back. I can’t worry about anything right now but that he recovers.”

“I’m sorry. Of course, dear.”

“When Wil wakes up…”

Mama smiled. “I’ve raised my share of children.”

I picked up my bag, and then the white chrysanthemums, the symbol of loyalty and love. They had been preserved from my mother’s fall garden. “I will be back on the six o’clock train the latest.”

“Are you certain you don’t want one of your brothers to escort you?”

“No, Mama. I can manage.” I’d become a self-sufficient woman at last.

On the train, I composed what I would say to my beloved.

You mustn’t worry about us. All you have to do is regain your health. And then you will come back home, and everything will be as before. You’ll see. It’ll be even better.