The Netherlands – Summer, 1846

Today is market day. Finally! My favorite day of the week.

I twist my hair into a braid and tuck it under my bonnet. In the kitchen, Mother sets out a pitcher of fresh milk and a tray of warm gingerbread. I eat a quick breakfast and head for the door.

Three-year-old Luc blocks my way. “Play with me.”

I tousle his hair. “I can’t. I have to help Father and Theo at the market.”

“What’s market?”

“It’s where we sell our cheese.”

“What’s sell?”

He’ll go on like this all day if no one stops him. I look to Mother for help.

She hands him a piece of gingerbread. “No more questions. Tess has to go.”

Outside, the air is moist and gray. My brother Theo lugs wheels of cheese down to the canal, where our flat-bottomed boat awaits. He’s fifteen, two years older than me. Father says he’s a big help on the farm already. I say he’s annoying. And ignorant. And rude. I could go on.

I ask him, “Where is Father?”

“Milking.”

“Still? We don’t want to be late to the market.”

He lifts a wheel of cheese into the boat. “You don’t care about the market. You just want to see your friends.”

See what I mean? Annoying.

Not that he’s wrong. With school out for the summer, I only see my friends at church and the market.

But Mother says it’s good to have friends. Father too. I tell Theo, “Friends are important. The Bible says Jonathan and David were friends and Jonathan saved David’s life. Wouldn’t it be exciting to save someone’s life? Would you save my life if the king wanted to kill me?”

“Hmmm.” He rubs his chin. Like he can’t make up his mind.

To be fair, it isn’t likely the king will want to kill me. All I do is feed chickens, gather eggs, weed long rows of beans, and on market day, help sell Mother’s cheese.

Father emerges from the barn, pulling on a clean apron. We climb into the canalboat and push away from the bank toward the town of Otten.

Mist hangs heavy on the canal. Gray, hazy barns peek out at us as Father poles past neighboring farms.

I pull my shawl closer. “Misty mornings are my favorite. They’re so…”

“Quiet?” Theo offers. Like he’s hoping it stays that way.

“Mysterious.” I point to the shadowy outline of a windmill. “It’s a giant, I think.”

“Maybe if we’re quiet, it’ll leave us alone.”

I have no interest in being left alone. I stand up and wave my hand over my head. “Good morning, giant!”

The boat rocks and Theo scowls at me. Father just smiles.

This is my first year going to market. I could have gone last year, but Mother needed my help with Luc. At least that’s what she said. Sometimes she treats me like I’m still ten.

Theo’s been going to market for years. He says sometimes, on the way home, Father sings. I hope this is one of those days.

He asks Father, “What was Uncle Ed upset about last night?”

Uncle Ed is Father’s older brother. When he’s upset, which is quite often, he comes to our house and talks with Father. I don’t mind, because he usually brings Betsie with him. Betsie is my cousin and also my best friend.

Last night, Uncle Ed came without Betsie. And he stayed past dark. Which means he was very upset. Why? Because of our new minister at church. He told Father, “Rev. Bloem’s preaching isn’t Reformed. He preaches the wisdom of men instead of the Bible.”

I know he said those things because I was listening in from the other room. Yes, I know it’s rude to listen in on adult conversations. It’s one of my worst faults. But Uncle Ed talks loud. And how else can I learn anything?

Father presses his lips together before answering Theo’s question, like he’s searching for the right words. “Uncle Ed wanted to discuss some church matters.”

See what I mean? That’s not an answer.

The motion of our boat sends V-shaped waves lapping at the banks of the canal. Soon our canal empties into a larger canal that flows past the pretty, red-tiled roofs of Otten.

Below the market square, Father ties our boat to the bank. He and Theo set up our booth while I sweep the area clean. I attach yellow and red streamers to the booth to catch the breeze while they unload cheese from the boat.

Other farmers and merchants arrive and set up their booths. The baker sets out dozens of golden-brown loaves. The butcher places dark slabs of beef on a clean white sheet. He stands by with his cleaver and scale.

Excitement spreads across the square as neighbors greet each other and prepare for the day. I work quickly so I’ll have time to visit with my friends before the market opens.

Betsie is the first to arrive. She and Uncle Ed sell cabbage and turnips. Her mother died when she was a baby and Uncle Ed needs her help, so this is already her third year going to the market.

We’re soon joined by other friends—Julia Jonkeer, Nellie Vogel, and Johannah Bos.

Julia is my best friend who isn’t my cousin. She has dark eyes and long dark curls. I envy those curls. But she wishes she had straight blond hair like me, so I guess we’re even.

Nellie sells flowers at the market. Johannah sells eggs. Julia doesn’t have to sell anything. Her father is an elder in the church and an important man. But she comes to the market so she can visit with us.

She grasps my hand. “Have you seen my mother? She’s going to have her baby any day now.”

Betsie starts to giggle. Julia’s been saying “any day now” for weeks.

Nellie says, “That reminds me,” then claps a hand over her mouth. “But I’m not supposed to say.”

We all wait to hear more.

Nellie is good at lots of things. She can sing beautifully. She can arrange flowers into amazing bouquets. But she can’t keep a secret to save her life.

“It’s my sister, Tina,” she says. “The one who got married last summer. She’s going to have a baby! But don’t tell anyone.”

Johannah claps her hands. “You’ll be an aunt.”

“I know. And I love babies.”

Eva Everhart swishes up in a new calico skirt. She says, “Everyone loves babies.” Like she’s the expert.

I don’t disagree. “They smell so good.”

Betsie grins. “Except when they don’t.”

Everyone laughs. Everyone but Eva. Eva only laughs when she says something funny.

“I hope my mother has a girl,” Julia says.

Eva puts her nose in the air. “Boys are boring. You can’t even play dress-up with them.”

“And besides,” Julia says, “I already have three brothers.”

I know how she feels. I’m also plagued with brothers. Luc drives me crazy with all his questions. And Theo, well, I already told you about him.

Eva twirls her new skirt in case we didn’t notice.

I noticed, believe me. When it comes to clothes, I envy Eva. She always has nice things. She doesn’t have to sell anything at the market either. Her father has a good government job.

Theo walks past, carrying a large wheel of cheese on his shoulder. My friends stop talking. Nellie smiles at him. Eva laughs and tosses her hair.

Fortunately, Theo is ignorant about girls.

The tower clock chimes nine o’clock. Time for the market to open. We split up, and I take my place at our booth.

It’s a busy morning. Everyone knows Mother’s cheese is the best. It sells quickly. Father and Theo have to return to the boat to bring up more.

While they’re away, the widow Wolters approaches. She wears an old gray top and a ragged skirt. She’s shorter than I am and walks with a cane, but still she frightens me.

Mrs. Everhart, Eva’s mother, arrives at the same moment. She frightens everyone. She pushes in front of the widow. “Be careful with that cane. You could trip someone.”

The widow looks at her cane, then back at Mrs. Everhart. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of that.”

There’s mischief in her eyes. I have to hide my smile.

Mrs. Everhart doesn’t say hello or even look at me. She pokes at the cheese and sniffs her disapproval. “We haven’t had proper cheese since the Hofmans moved to Amsterdam.”

I’d like to tell her what I think of that, but I don’t want Father to think I can’t handle difficult customers. Besides, no one in their right mind picks a fight with Mrs. Everhart.

The widow Wolters, who might be out of her right mind, says, “You mustn’t settle for second-rate cheese. I suggest you go to the market in Amsterdam.”

Mrs. Everhart ignores her. She buys a large wheel, all the while complaining about the price and quality. When she turns to go, she gives the widow a withering glare. The widow does not wither.

When Mrs. Everhart is gone, the widow steps forward, examines our cheese, and selects a small wheel. It has a dent in the side. Theo got careless, probably.

I offer her a different one, but she refuses to part with the one in her hand.

“But it has…”

“I know what it has.”

She’s hoping for a discount and that’s what I give her. Theo won’t like it, but Father will approve. After all, she’s a widow and poor.

By noon, the square begins to empty. We’re happy with the day’s sales. The money box is full. Father and Theo take down the booth while I pack up the remaining cheese for the trip home.

After the market closes, the men gather to visit on the steps in front of the church. Most of them are farmers like Father, with square shoulders, sun-weathered faces, and simple clothing.

The men discuss the weather, wondering how the heat will affect the crops. I’m not especially interested in farm talk.

Mr. Everhart arrives. He’s Eva’s father and magistrate over Otten and all the surrounding countryside. He wears a tall black hat, a bulging waistcoat, and a fine linen shirt with a purple cravat. The men part as he makes his way to the top step.

Mr. Jonkeer follows close behind, as if connected by an invisible string. He’s Julia’s father and an elder at church. He wears a similar hat and waistcoat and positions himself one step below Mr. Everhart.

Father and the other men doff their caps in deference to the wealthy and important leaders. Talk dies down while they wait to hear what the two men will say.

Mr. Everhart speaks first. “Another successful market day. If there’s a finer market in all of the Netherlands, I haven’t seen it.”

“Yes. Yes.” Everyone agrees.

“And no finer town than Otten.”

“Indeed. No finer town.”

“And no finer church.” Mr. Jonkeer gestures to the church building behind him.

“Yes. Yes.”

“And now,” he adds, “we have a pastor who understands the natural potential of our people. Rev. Bloem studied divinity in Paris. He has degrees in philosophy and French literature.”

Mr. Everhart nods in agreement. “It speaks well of our town, that a man of his stature is willing to lead us in matters of religion.”

Mr. Jonkeer’s face beams at Mr. Everhart’s approval. His chest nearly bursts through his waistcoat.

I’m not especially interested in church talk either. But a new edge in Mr. Jonkeer’s voice gets my attention. “We have one Reformed church in Otten. You’ve heard of troublemakers in other towns, starting new churches, not part of the state-approved church, mind you. These churches are free of government control.”

Last night, Uncle Ed talked with Father about the new churches too. He used those same words, “free of government control.” But he said it like it was a good thing.

Mr. Jonkeer’s voice is tinged with anger as he continues. “These new churches are a disgrace. Something must be done.”

I watch Father, wondering what he’s thinking.

Uncle Ed steps forward. “I say the state church is a disgrace.” No one ever has to wonder what Uncle Ed is thinking. He says, “It’s the new churches that are faithful to the Bible and the Reformed confessions.”

Mr. Jonkeer eyes him coolly. “That’s your opinion.”

Mr. Everhart holds up a hand, making clear he will have the last word. “Be assured of one thing. We will not allow these new churches in Otten. Not while I’m magistrate.”

Having said what he came to say, Mr. Everhart strides back through the crowd. Mr. Jonkeer scurries after him, like a shadow not wanting to be left behind.

Talk among the men slowly turns back to crops and weather.

I stop listening and make my way back toward the canal.

Julia appears at my side. “Did you hear what Betsie’s father said?”

Before I can answer, Eva joins us. “Why would Betsie’s father defend those bad churches? My father says he’s a radical.”

I don’t respond. To be honest, I’m not sure what “radical” means. I’m not sure Eva does either.

“My father is a judge,” she says, “so he should know.” She turns to Julia. “You agree, don’t you?”

That’s just like Eva. She always tries to get Julia on her side.

Today, Julia resists. “He can’t be that bad. He’s Betsie’s father.”

Eva doesn’t give up. “Our teacher said it’s wicked to leave the church.”

It’s true, he did say that. I don’t think Uncle Ed is wicked, but our teacher can’t be wrong. It’s confusing.

“Julia!” Mr. Jonkeer calls her from across the square.

She sighs. “Sorry. I have to go. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Eva hurries after Julia, still complaining about Uncle Ed.

Back at the canal, Theo is leaning against a tree, whittling a piece of wood. I ask him, “Did you hear the men talking?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hear what Uncle Ed said?”

“Yeah.”

That’s all. No comment. No opinion. Never even takes his eyes off his whittling. So helpful.

Soon Uncle Ed and Betsie join us. Uncle Ed looks serious, but then he always looks serious. He sees Father approaching and says, “We need to talk.”

Father shakes his head. “Not here. Not now.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Alright.”

Back in our canalboat, Father guides us away from the bank. I remember what Theo told me before. Sometimes, on the way home from the market, Father sings. This is not one of those days.

You've just finished a sample chapter of In Times of Trouble, a new book by author P.M. Kuiper. Perfect for ages 12 to 16, this book is written from the perspective of 13-year-old Tess, a young Dutchwoman experiencing religious persecution during the Afscheiding of the 1800s.

Interested in what you just read? You can order a copy of the book here or by clicking the image above. Or visit Challies.com on Friday, June 6, 2025, to enter your name in a giveaway and win 1 of 10 free copies!

Subscribe to the Reformed Free Publishing Association email list to be notified of sales, news, and upcoming children's book releases.