Yellow Crocus: A Novel by Laila Ibrahim
Grateful that the buggy was still in front of the house, she rushed down the stairs toward it. After she climbed into the safety of her transportation, she look over at the porch. The door flew open. Edward stormed out in a rage, his eyes burning and his face red. He reached back his arm and hurled something directly at Lisbeth. A necklace flew through the air. Lisbeth ducked and it sailed past her. She urged her horse forward. Edward continued to hurl his gifts at her, hatred in his eyes, yelling with each movement of his arm: “You…will…never… be…accepted…again!”
One of the missiles, a sapphire ear bob, landed in the buggy next to Lisbeth’s foot. She stopped the horse, tossed the jewel onto the ground, and turned for one last look. Edward sat bent over on the top stair, his head buried in his hands, fingers entwined in his dark brown hair, his body shaking. In the foreground, Francis was bent over, slowly gathering the scattered jewels.
“I made the correct choice, I made the correct choice, I made the correct choice,” she panted to herself, water streaming down her cheeks as she continued on her path.
Rehearsing along the way, Lisbeth prepared for the ordeal that was to come. She did not expect her parents to understand her choice, but she hoped they would let her go without a scene.
“Lisbeth, whatever is the matter? You look as if you have seen a ghost,” Father commented when Lisbeth came into the drawing room.
“You must be tired from your excursion, dear,” asserted Mother lightly. “Have a rest before supper. We shall eat in one hour.”
“Mother, Father, I have something to tell you. It cannot wait.”
Lisbeth studied her parents, then looked around the room. She might never be allowed in it again. She noticed the final napkin for her trousseau peeking out from her basket, the texture of the velvet curtains, the mingled scent of smoke and perfume. Memories flooded in: listening to poetry while stitching by the fireplace, singing at the piano, Father arguing with the newspaper, Grandmother Wainwright picking out her sewing, memorizing scripture. She took in every corner before returning her gaze to her parents. She wanted her bearing to convey strength and confidence, but her glassy eyes betrayed her.
“Elizabeth, you are frightening me,” Mother said forcefully, but there was no disguising the anxiety in her voice. “Stop being dramatic and tell us what you have to say.”
“Go on, Elizabeth,” Father prodded gently.
“I am not marrying Edward,” Lisbeth blurted out.
“Oh, that nonsense again,” said Mother, clearly relieved. “You are only having pre-marriage concerns. Every young woman has them. You had me overwrought. Go have a rest. You will feel better when you are not so tired.”
“No, Mother. Truly, I am not marrying Edward,” Lisbeth insisted. “In fact, I cannot…I am already married…to someone else.”
Father leapt up, outrage and confusion shooting from his eyes. “What do you mean ‘already married’? Elizabeth, this is not a joking matter!”
“Mother, Father, I am sorry, but I will not marry Edward and be the mistress of White Pines,” she choked out through a tight throat. “I married Matthew Johnson earlier today. We will be moving to Ohio. I do not expect you to understand, but I hope you will accept him.”
“Matthew Johnson!” screeched Mother, her face scarlet. “You expect Matthew Johnson to be the father of my grandchildren, in Ohio? Absolutely not, we forbid it.”
“It is too late, Mother. We were married this afternoon in Charles City.”
“We will have it annulled,” declared Father.
“I do not want my marriage to be annulled.” Lisbeth stood firm. “I am Matthew Johnson’s wife.”
Father stormed around the room. He paced at the edge of the room, moving between the globe and the piano. Unable to contain himself, he turned to Lisbeth and glared with undisguised fury burning in his eyes. He hissed at Lisbeth, “I do not think you understand the implications of your decision. Your reputation will be ruined. My reputation will be ruined. You have disgraced yourself, this family, and all of Fair Oaks. I absolutely forbid you to do this.”
“It is done,” Lisbeth said, shaking all over. “I am an adult. You cannot stop me. I am leaving with Matthew. The only decision you have to make is whether we leave before supper or after. I am going to pack. Please inform me if you wish me to leave behind any of my personal belongings.”
Giving her parents a wide berth, she walked to the sewing basket, removed the nearly finished napkin, and slipped out the door. Behind her, Mother’s sobs echoed in time with Father’s pounding on the top of the piano.
Lisbeth shook as she ascended to the second floor. In her bedroom, she collapsed into her familiar rocking chair and bent over sobbing. Her body heaved uncontrollably as all the emotion of the day came pouring out in this safe, familiar place. Then she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Here you go, miss,” Emily said, handing Lisbeth a glass of water.
Lisbeth tried to take the water, but her hands were shaking too hard.
“I just gonna leave it here. You let me know if you need anything else. Sorry you so sad.”
Lisbeth took in a gasping breath to calm herself. After three tries, she was able to stammer out a weak “thank you” to Emily. Emily stood quietly next to Lisbeth, patting her back, murmuring soothing words. Finally, when no more tears came, Lisbeth took a sip of the cool water, wiped her damp face, and told Emily she needed to pack her belongings.
“So soon, miss? The wedding not for two weeks.”
“Actually, though it is hard to believe, I am a married woman already. I ended my engagement with Edward Cunningham. I am now Mrs. Matthew Johnson. We were married this morning. I will be leaving with him this evening. Can you please fetch my trunk?”
“Yes,” Emily replied, then went to fetch Lisbeth’s luggage. At the door she turned back and quietly said, “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Emily. Thank you very much.”
“Do I ready myself to leave tonight as well, miss? I mean, madam.”
“No, Emily. My parents will no longer be giving you to me as a wedding gift.”
While Lisbeth and Emily were sorting through items to pack and items to leave behind, Mother came into the room. Her eyes were puffy and red. She looked concerned and exhausted. She sat carefully in the chair by the fireplace.
“I will not change my mind, Mother,” Lisbeth preempted.
“You are clearly upset by your decision. Your father and I are as well. I want to understand what you are thinking. Edward’s actions were harmful to you. I can see that, but is it worth throwing your life away over his garish behavior? I do not believe you understand what you are giving up. You will be the wife of a farmer, very far from home. You have the opportunity to stay so very nearby, to have holidays with us. To have the better things in life, to maintain your friendships. Do you truly want to give all that up? You are naïve and romantic if you believe Matthew Johnson will be devoted to only you. Yes, Edward hurt you, but you are hurting yourself even more.”
“I will tell you what I told him, though I do not expect you to understand either,” Lisbeth asserted. “I did not cancel the wedding because Edward hurt me. I ended my engagement because of the girl he hurt.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Mother exclaimed.
“That is exactly the problem, Mother! You do not even see the trauma he caused the girl he mounted. I, on the other hand, cannot stop seeing it! Every night when I close my eyes, she is floating in my mind, desperation in her eyes. What did she ever do to deserve such treatment? She was hurt, far worse than I will ever be. And you try to convince me, and yourself, that she would be flattered by such an experience!” Lisbeth said with contempt. “Well, I do not believe you, Mother! She was not flattered. She was in pain. That is why I will be moving to Ohio, a free state, where I will not have to be a part of the evil of slavery.”
“You are naïve, Elizabeth,” Mother scoffed. “Slavery will be a part of you wherever you go. It is as much
Lisbeth had no response. Her mother’s lack of understanding and compassion were predictable. She saw no reason to persevere with the conversation. The women were silent as Lisbeth continued to pack her belongings while Emily, who had heard every word, scurried in the background attempting to be both helpful and invisible.
Eventually Lisbeth broke the silence. “Mother, I would like to take the rocker, if that is acceptable.”
“You may take anything from this room except Emily.” Mother rose with a deep sigh and stared at the pile of belongings gathered on the bed. She walked slowly to the door. From the threshold, tears glistening in her eyes, she spoke softly, “Let me know when you are finished. I will send William to fetch your belongings. You and Mr. Johnson may have tea with us before supper. Neither of you are welcome at my table tonight.”
While she was packing, Lisbeth heard the front door open and close. Curious about the visitor, she went downstairs, but by the time she got to the entryway, it was empty. She heard voices coming from Father’s study and started to walk toward it.
“Elizabeth, move away from that door,” Mother commanded.
“Who is Father speaking with?” Lisbeth asked.
“The sheriff is here to uphold our rights.”
Lisbeth panicked. “What about my rights, Mother? I am an adult. You cannot force me to marry Edward!”
The door to the study opened. Father walked out and said, “The sheriff has some questions for you, Elizabeth.”
“I have my birth certificate that shows I am of age,” Lisbeth told the sheriff.
Father looked surprised.
“Well, go get it,” the sheriff directed.
Lisbeth rushed upstairs and returned with the document from her room.
The sheriff looked it over. “This her birth certificate?” he asked Father.
Father nodded with a scowl.
“There is nothing I can do for you, sir.”
Mother insisted, “Matthew Johnson took advantage of Elizabeth. She was pressured into this mistake.”
“Is that true?” the sheriff asked.
“No,” Lisbeth replied. “Matthew did not force me to marry him. I did so of my own free will.”
“I am sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright, there is nothing the law can do for you. The judges are clear on this matter,” the sheriff said, ending his inquiry.
Relieved, Lisbeth slipped away from her parents without a word and went back to her room to finish gathering her belongings.
Tea in the drawing room was tense but civil. Jack, being intentionally provocative, inquired about Matthew’s views on abolition.
“I have come to the firm conviction that the phrase ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,’ includes men of all races.”
Stunned, Father countered, “Certainly Jefferson meant only the dominant races shall have such freedoms.”
“I believe we must include men of the lesser races as well,” Matthew replied.
“Whatever you believe, it is only a matter of time before we enter into war over it,” inserted Jack. “I will fight with Virginia, whichever side it chooses.”
“That is enough! I do not want any further discussion on this topic,” declared Mother, not bothering to hide her anger. “Tell me about the frontier where you will be taking my only daughter.”
“Oberlin, ma’am,” Matthew explained.
“The town with the college that admits niggers?” glared Father.
“Yes, that is the place, sir,” Matthew replied, then turned the conversation. “It is said to be quite lovely with good soil. I…uh, we, have 120 acres to plant.”
“You plan to farm it yourself?” inquired Mother.
“With the assistance of paid farm hands. Ohio has plenty of laborers.”
“Where will you live?”
“I have rented a house in town. We shall live there while our home is being built.” He turned to Lisbeth and smiled. “We have many decisions to make.”
Lost in her own thoughts, she did not see that he was looking at her, awaiting a response. By the time she smiled back, he had looked away already. Decisions to make, she thought to herself. She was too tired to make any more decisions.
Driving away, Lisbeth was a jumble of emotions. She was grateful to be away from the tension, yet sad to be leaving her family and the only home she had ever known. She could hardly comprehend the enormous shift her life had already taken. And yet there would still be more. She did not want to focus on it, but she grew more and more nervous as they drove closer to her new home, where she would lay with Matthew for the first time.
Matthew broke into Lisbeth’s thoughts. “If you prefer, we do not have to share a room tonight.”
Though the offer was tempting, Lisbeth rejected it. She was determined to be a good wife. It was the least she could do for the man who had given her a way out. She said, “No, Matthew. I am your wife. I shall sleep in your room.”
They drove on in silence for the rest of the long ride.
Matthew’s parents greeted them warmly at the door.
“Welcome to the family,” Matthew’s father said as his wife gave Lisbeth a shy hug.
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” Lisbeth replied.
“You must call us Mother and Father Johnson now. We are your family.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lisbeth agreed. “That would be nice…Mother Johnson.”
“It is late. You have had a long day. We will see you in the morning,” her new father-in-law said.
The two couples went upstairs. As they prepared for bed, Lisbeth made a request. “May I please get changed and under the covers in privacy? A man has never seen me in my night clothes.”
“Certainly,” replied Matthew. “Do you wish to have Mother or Fanny help you undress?”
“No. Thank you. I can manage on my own. Shall I hang my things in this wardrobe?”
“Yes. I removed my things from it. It is for your use alone,” Matthew informed her and left the room.
Lisbeth took a deep breath. You can do this, she told herself. Though she had planned for items she could remove herself, it was extremely difficult to unlace her corset with nervous hands. After slipping on her nightgown, she hung the gown in the oak wardrobe. She unbound her hair, carefully brushed it, and then climbed under the blue and brown log cabin quilt to await Matthew.
After an eternity of waiting—she supposed he wanted to give her adequate time to undress—he returned. She stared at his face, wanting to avoid looking at his night clothes, but her eyes flickered across his body against her will. In a flash she saw a bit of dark hair on his pale leg below the white cotton sleeping gown. As he climbed into bed Matthew’s foot touched hers. She flinched. Though her heart was racing, she lay still on her back, arms at her sides, looking up at the wooden ceiling.
“We do not have to—” Matthew started to say.
“Yes, we do,” Lisbeth interrupted. She wanted to get this over with, not have it hanging over her head for yet another day.
Matthew leaned over her and gently kissed her lips. She wanted to kiss him back, but her lips would not move. He abandoned her mouth to softly kiss her across one check and then the other before returning to her lips. This time she returned the kiss. Her lips opened as she began to relax, meeting his open mouth.
He made a trail of kisses across her chin, traveling down her neck, and pulled away the neck of her gown to reach the hollow where it met her shoulders. She shuddered with pleasure as he tasted her skin with his tongue. Every bit of her attention was focused on the movements of his mouth across her body.
When he came to an obstacle of fabric, she watched as he fumbled with the buttons of he
Matthew pulled away from her. He exclaimed, “I am sorry.”
“No, no, you mistake me. Please, go on,” Lisbeth whispered.
One hand was intertwined in her hair, and his other hand traveled across her body starting at her shoulder, moving down to her waist, only to be met by another obstacle of fabric. He pulled the material up and reached his hand under her gown, gaining full access to her smooth, warm hip. He slowly moved down her thigh, coming to the end of his reach at her knee. She opened her leg; his hand moved to the inside of her knee.
His hand froze for a moment before it started its ascent up the inside of her thigh. The tips of his fingers meandered along, up, up, up, ever so slowly, crisscrossing back and forth and from side to side. He froze. She was quivering. Why did he stop? She turned to look at him. He was staring at her intently. Was she doing something wrong? Was she supposed to do something besides lay here? She looked at him with a silent question in her eyes.
He whispered so quietly that she barely heard him, “I do not want to hurt you.”
“Oh, Matthew, I am fine. Whatever comes next, I will be all right.”
A shiver went down her spine. This truly was wonderful. She did not know it could be so lovely. She turned to him and ran her fingers across his back. She hoped his fingers would continue where they had left off, and soon enough they did.
Quivering with desire, Lisbeth pressed her body against him until he entered her. He cried out in pleasure and surprise. She cried out, in pain and longing.
After a few minutes, Matthew froze then shook all over. She feared that he was hurt. Just as she considered asking him if he was all right, he exhaled deeply and collapsed across her chest. Matthew lay there panting. Then he rolled to the side and hugged her tight. It was finished. She had done it. She lay in his arms pressing her body close to his, astonished by her own yearning. Overwhelmed with a flood of emotions, joy, shock, excitement, and relief, she wept onto Matthew’s bare chest.