Yellow Crocus: A Novel (12 page)
That night Lisbeth and Mother sat in the drawing room with embroidery hoops in their hands. Mother occupied one side of the divan while Lisbeth sat at an angle to her in an upholstered chair.
“Let me see your stitches,” Mother commanded.
Lisbeth passed her work into judging hands. Mother studied the needlework carefully.
“Much improved, Elizabeth. Although you still tend toward carelessness in your transitions. Right here, the transition from sky to cloud is too tight, see how the material puckers? And here it is too loose. Tear out these areas. But the rest is quite acceptable.”
A timid knock interrupted them.
“Enter,” Mother called.
“Oh, Mattie, it is you,” smiled Mother. “Time for bed, Elizabeth.”
Lisbeth finished snipping out a stitch and left the unfinished pillow case bound in the hoop in the basket next to her chair. “Good night, Mother,” said Lisbeth as she stood.
“Kisses, dear,” reminded Mother.
Lisbeth returned and kissed her Mother’s smooth, pale cheek before joining Mattie.
Before the pair departed, Mattie spoke out, her voice shaking with emotion. “Mrs. Ann, I…uh…got somethin’ to ask you, ma’am. I need a favor real bad. I cared for your daughter all these years and now I, uh, need your help.”
“My goodness, Mattie,” declared Mother, “come out with it.”
“My son, Samuel, is to be sold, ma’am,” Mattie begged. “Please, ma’am, please see to it he gets sold to where his Daddy live—over at Berkeley. They need some men there. Please, ma’am.”
Uncomfortable witnessing her nurse’s despair, Lisbeth looked away. Standing by the door, she longed to leave yet wanted to hear her mother’s response. She pretended not to listen as her eyes followed the trail of gold flowers.
“Mattie, as you well know, I have nothing to do with the field hands. They are Mr. Wainwright’s affair.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But I will pass on your request. He is not an unreasonable man. If he can get a fair price…” Mother hastily added, “I am making you no promise, you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”Mattie nodded as she left the room.
A week later, Mrs. Ann gave Mattie an answer when she came for Lisbeth in the drawing room. “Mattie, I am sorry, but Mr. Wainwright was unable to fulfill your request. He has arranged for Samuel to be sold to the Andersons. Their estate is only three miles away. He will be able to visit with you on Sundays. You can be consoled by that.”
Lisbeth stared at the stony face of her nurse as they made their way to her room in absolute silence. Mattie radiated an emotion that Lisbeth could not name. Each step up the staircase and down the long hallway weighed heavily.
Once the door to their rooms closed Lisbeth cried out, “I am sorry, Mattie. But he is not going far. You will get to see him once a week, just like you do now.”
“I get to see my son everyday, twice a day or more, out that window. It ain’t much, but it been enough. Ain’t nothing you can say that is gonna make this better for me. Don’ even try.”
Mattie and Emmanuel whispered in the dark, making plans in response to the news that Samuel would be leaving for the Anderson estate. Mattie was finally ready to take their chances on freedom.
“It too soon,” Emmanuel insisted. “The rain might come still.”
“You saying you want Samuel just to stay there? All alone?”
“He strong. He smart. He gonna be all right for a while.”
Mattie started to cry. “What if they…”
“I know some folks there. I gonna tell them to keep an eye on him. Six weeks after the first sign of spring, that the best timing. You know I thought about this…lots. We got to plan careful and not rush if we want any chance to make it.”
Mattie nodded silently.
Emmanuel went on, “We got to set things up with the right folks.”
“How you know we can trust them?”
Emmanuel shrugged, “Got no choice but to trust strangers. They say it their Christian duty.”
Mattie had nothing else to say. She rested her head against Emmanuel’s warm chest and let her tears fall against his skin. His comforting pats led to slow, sweet love-making. Mattie did not concern herself with the fact that it was her fertile time.
M
attie did not cry as she gave Samuel final directions. He stood before her, trying to look brave, but she knew he was scared, nearly as terrified as she was.
“They gonna put you with all men, young and old. If someone nice to you, offer you some of his food, you stay away from him. Find an old man, as old as Poppy, and stay close. Keep to yourself if you don’ find an old man. Sleep with your back to the wall if you can.”
Samuel looked confused, but he nodded.
Mattie went on, “Hold tight till you hear from us. Your daddy say it gonna be in six weeks or so. Don’ worry if it longer. We ain’t gonna forget about you, I promise. We got to wait for a sign of spring.”
Mattie pulled out a piece of paper with a drawing. “Here the map he drew up. Study it good, but keep it hidden inside your shoe. Make it look like it part of the shoe. We gonna meet by this tree when the time come. But that not for a while. I gonna see you next Sunday. They gonna let you walk here. Go on the main road. Keep the river to your left and you find your way back. It gonna take you half the morning to get here so start early—just at sunrise.”
Mattie returned to her room, sat down on her bed, and let the tears flow. Salty water streamed down her cheeks, soaking into her dusty skirt. Wracked by sobs, her shoulders jerked up and down in rhythm with her breath. She collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in the covers to muffle her cries. She was consumed by pain and fear. Samuel, with Poppy for his last night at home, was leaving at dawn to move to the Anderson estate.
When she stopped crying, Mattie went down upon her knees to pray. “Please, Lord, please watch over my son tonight and all the nights to come. Take care o’ him for me. Make ’em treat him right, keep him warm and fed. Don’ let no harm come to him. Please, Lord, keep him safe.”
She stayed on her knees and repeated her prayer again and again. So intent on her petitions, Mattie neglected to fetch Lisbeth from the drawing room and eventually the girl was sent upstairs alone. Mattie did not acknowledge Lisbeth when she walked into the room or when Lisbeth knelt beside her with prayers of her own.
After a night of tossing and turning punctuated with fitful dreams, Mattie rose before the sun. She quietly made her way to the window by Lisbeth’s bed. Staring out into the still dark morning she stood rigid, waiting for a last look at her son. Before the sun finished making its way over the horizon, a wagon pulled up. Samuel, followed by Poppy, walked out of his cabin and climbed into the wagon. Though he could not see her, he looked up at his mother, knowing she was there.
Mattie muffled a cry into one hand and waved through the cold, damp glass with the other. Dropping her hands to her sides, she stood stiff as a board as she watched her son being driven away, growing ever smaller in the distance until she could not make him out any more.
While standing there frozen, staring at an empty road, small, sticky fingers slipped into her hand.
Lisbeth’s little girl voice broke into the horrible morning, “It is all right, Mattie. I will not leave you. You still have me.”
With no other way to help her son, Mattie prayed for him as she went about her duties. Sometimes she spoke her prayers out loud, but mostly her petitions were spoken in her heart. Distracted and bereft, Mattie barely was able to care for Lisbeth’s physical needs and paid little attention to her charge otherwise. Lisbeth, in a futile attempt to cheer up her nurse, took to the habit of sneaking up some dessert in her pocket. But Mattie did not eat it.
Samuel’s Sunday visit did nothing to diminish Mattie’s anxiety. In less than a week he had lost weight and gained a panicked look. He did not say much about his time at the Andersons’, but it could not be good.
“I don’ wanna go back,” he pleaded to Mattie on Sunday evening. “Don’ make me. Hide me here!”
“Samuel, that just gonna make things worse. Hold on for jus’ a few more weeks,” Mattie attempted to reassure him. “Then we gonna all be together.”
On a bright March afternoon, nearly two weeks after Samuel’s departure, Mattie was waiting in Lisbeth’s room with their midday dinner when Lisbeth bounced in. Excitement shone in her eyes as she proudly proclaimed, “Mattie, come see! I found the first crocus. It is spring. I asked Cook to make us a picnic: cornbread and black beans! It will be ready soon.”