After the Ashes Read Online Free Page A

was an earthquake. She said the beach exploded.
    What could have caused this? An eruption? From an extinct volcano?
    â€œMy husband hopes we can all go to Batavia in July,” said Mrs. Brinckerhoff, changing the subject. “He said the circus will be there, and the children would love to see the animals.”
    â€œIf the circus is in town, I can guarantee that Maarten will attend,” Tante Greet said. “You’ve heard me talk about him. He might even have more fun than your children.”
    The two of them laughed, but I missed what was so funny. I wanted to hear more about Krakatau and growled in frustration.
    Tante Greet turned to me. “You may be excused, Katrien.”
    â€œDank u!”
I fled the room, leaving my labels for later. Right now, I had to tell Slamet what I had learned.

Chapter 4
    I thought I would find Slamet in the kitchen, but instead Indah was there now, scrubbing the table with strong, steady movements.
    â€œIndah, do you know where Slamet is?”
    She paused her scrubbing and said something in Javanese.
    â€œWhat?” I understood some of the natives’ language, but not much.
    Indah sighed. “He is boy.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou are girl.”
    â€œJa . . .”
I drew the word out, unsure what Indah meant.
    â€œI want . . .” She hesitated and stared out the window, muttering under her breath in Javanese.
    â€œIndah, what’s the matter?”
    â€œHe is”—She struggled with the next words—“at water.” She nodded in the direction of the beach.
    â€œPerfect.
Terima kasih
, Indah.”
    She indicated a plate of sugar-covered doughnuts resting on a table by the oven.
    â€œYou made
oliebollen
?” I could sometimes get such treats when we ate at the Hotel Anjer, but they were rare and quite a delicacy.
    â€œFirst time.” Indah held her head high. She excelled at making local dishes like rice and seafood but had trouble with Dutch food.Tante Greet helped, since she didn’t care for spicy Javanese food. My aunt would be thrilled that Indah had made something Dutch without any assistance.
    I snatched an
oliebol
off the plate and popped it into my mouth. Still warm. “Mmm. These are delicious,” I said around a mouthful of the sugary goodness.
“Dank u!”
Indah grinned, and I grabbed another one before running out the door.
    Outside, the humid air slammed into me so hard that I took a step back. Thankfully, though, a gentle breeze sprang up and helped keep me comfortable as I walked. Squinting against the bright afternoon sun, I slowly inhaled the scent of coffee and tea, flowers and fruits, and the sweet smell of my
oliebol
. I took another bite and brushed sugar from my face and skirts.
    Anjer songbirds trilled, greeting me with their cheerful chirps. Their chattering reminded me of something. I hadn’t heard any birds on May twentieth. During those long tremors in Batavia, there was no birdsong at all.
    I always noticed birds and animals, so I knew I wasn’t mistaken. I paid strict attention to the sights and sounds of nature. It was how Mr. Charles Darwin made his great discoveries: by observing the lives of those creatures he saw every day.
    Since I wanted to be a naturalist, I followed his lead. And I was in the perfect place to do just that, for interesting and unusual and amazing and beautiful creatures covered the entire west coast of Java. “
The Malay Archipelago is one of the richest regions in organic beings
.” Mr. Charles Darwin’s words spoke to my very soul.
    I loved my town of Anjer. I loved the coastline at high tide with its pristine beaches. I loved the coastline at low tide with its exposed corals. I loved the jungle that awaited me less than a kilometer away. It was my temple. My sanctuary.
    And the insects there! So many fascinating insects lived in the forest. I don’t know what drew me to collect beetles; their