Yellow Crocus: A Novel

by Laila Ibrahim

  It took some doing, getting Samuel away without the overseer knowing, but in nearly two years he had hardly missed a lesson. Rebecca, Lawrence, and others worked extra to cover Samuel’s share of planting or picking while he was away. The overseer didn’t pay much attention to the comings and goings of a young boy, so long as all the work was getting done. Though only Samuel slipped out to the willow tree, other children in the Quarters were learning to read as well. He brought his knowledge back to the cabins, and by scratching into the dirt, he taught Sarah and some other children to unlock the mystery of letters.

  Having mastered all of Lisbeth’s reading primers, Samuel now read from the Holy Bible. Mattie loved hearing her son’s lips form the words of the Lord. On a hot late-summer day, sheltered by the cool of the tree, resting her head against the smooth bark of the trunk, she closed her eyes and listened to the soft sounds of the children. Samuel sat to her left, Lisbeth sat to her right, and the Bible was open upon her lap. Samuel easily read most of the book and only needed assistance from Lisbeth when a particularly difficult word came along. Occasionally they worked together to sound out a word that was beyond Lisbeth’s vocabulary. They delighted when they found names of friends and family members, such as Rebecca, Mary, or Sarah, and chuckled over unfamiliar names like Epoch.

  “Eeepooooch,” Samuel drew out in a silly voice. The three of them laughed hard and long until they had stitches in their sides.

  Recently the lessons began to include writing. Even Mattie learned to write her name, though she refused Lisbeth’s offer to teach her any letters beyond M-A-T-T-I-E, arguing, “I don’ see how I ever gonna have any use for writin’ my own name, much less any other letterin’. I jus’ glad to know the shape of it. You jus’ keep on learnin’ Samuel his letters. You young folks need readin’ and writin’, not me.”

  Samuel had mastered writing capital letters and was moving on to lower case. Using the ground as a chalkboard, he copied the shapes Lisbeth wrote in the dirt. Again and again Samuel formed careful loops and lines while his mother listened. The children teased her that she fell asleep during the lessons, but Mattie insisted she was “jus’ resting her eyes.”

  “All the letters are correct except the ‘q.’ See how the loop is to the back?” Lisbeth pointed out to Samuel. “You are making a ‘g’.”

  Samuel tried again. “Like this?”

  “No, this direction.” Lisbeth showed him.

  Samuel tried again.

  “You are still making it backwards. This is a ‘g’,” Lisbeth instructed, reaching over Mattie to guide Samuel’s hand with her own to form the distinct letters, “and this is a ‘q’.”

  “Don’ do that!” Mattie sat forward quickly and barked. She leapt up, grabbed Samuel by the arm, and yelled, “Never touch a white girl! Never! Do you hear me?” Spit flew from her mouth. “You gonna get yourself killed!”

  The two children stared at Mattie, frozen in fear with their hearts beating fast. Neither one had ever seen Mattie so angry.

  Trembling with rage and adrenelin, Mattie hissed into Samuel’s face, “Now go! Back to the fields. You done learnin’ for the day.”

  Her hand dug into Samuel’s arm as she spun him around toward the Quarters and shoved him hard between his shoulder blades. His back hunched over, Samuel rubbed his arm and walked away from the trunk without a word.

  “Get your hat!” Mattie hissed at him. Samuel always returned to the fields with his hat on his head. The head covering was his cover for being away from the fields if the overseer caught him. He parted the willow branches and peered around before he left their cool shelter.

  “Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Mattie mumbled to herself.

  “I am sorry, Mattie,” Lisbeth’s small voice apologized. “I was only trying to teach him. I did not know it was dangerous.”

  “Well, your not knowin’ might get my son killed someday. He can never touch a white girl. Never,” Mattie muttered under her breath. “Never touch a white lady.”

  Chapter 10

  MARCH 1847

  Lisbeth sat all alone in the shade of her beloved willow tree reading. Now that she was nearly ten years old, Lisbeth was expected to take care of herself during the day while Mattie attended to other chores. This afternoon Mattie was ironing sheets. Samuel, his reading and writing lessons complete, no longer joined her under the tree either. Those conspiratorial afternoons were a part of the past, though Lisbeth occasionally gave Mattie a book to sneak to Samuel.

  Taking a moment to enjoy the luscious spring day, Lisbeth was surprised to hear the sound of jeering intrude upon her quiet. It was rare that anyone came near her private fortress. She listened as taunting voices got louder and louder. She made her way to the edge of the tree and parted the branches. Her brother and his friends were in the clearing behind the Quarters. Lisbeth was appalled when she realized what she was seeing. Her brother, Jack, was showing off for some of his older friends—Edward Cunningham, Nathaniel Jackson, and William Anderson—by harassing one of the negroes. They made a ring around their victim, taunting and threatening him with a rope that swung from Jack’s hands.

  Lisbeth threw down her book and stormed down the rise to her brother and his friends. She hated the way they tormented the field hands for sport. As she got closer her breath caught. Their victim was Samuel! His head was bowed and he did not see her approaching. Shame and rage poured through her, but she covered her feelings quickly. She knew she must handle this right or she would make things worse, as Jack was not inclined to take directions from his older sister.

  As she walked up to the boys she was careful not to look at Samuel lest she betray that he mattered to her. Mustering as much self-righteous indignation as possible, doing her best to mask her fear, Lisbeth haughtily declared, “You are disturbing my reading. You know you are supposed to let me study.”

  “Study elsewhere,” Jack taunted without taking his eyes off of Samuel.

  “I do not wish to,” Lisbeth stated. “You know this is my preferred place to learn. What are you doing?”

  “Teaching this nigger to show us respect.”

  “Father does not approve when you interfere with the niggers,” she replied.

  “He does not care about this one,” Jack replied with a sneer. “He is to be sold. We do not need another buck around here.” Jack turned his gaze to Lisbeth and stared hard.

  Stunned by the news, but not wanting to reveal anything to her brother, Lisbeth lied, “Well, I do not care about him either. I simply want to study in peace. Now go elsewhere.”

  She stared hard at her brother, not allowing herself to glance at Samuel or avert her eyes. Jack stared back. Lisbeth did not look away. She felt the eyes of the onlookers pass back and forth between the two of them. Her hands were moist but she did not make a move to wipe them dry.

  Finally Jack snorted and looked away. “Come on,” he said to his friends, “there are frogs down at the creek. I bet I catch the biggest one.”

  The tension broke the instant the boys, done playing at being men, walked away without a backwards glance, their minds on their next task. The gang frolicked like a pack of puppies, bumping into one another as they made their way down the path. Lisbeth sighed with relief and wiped her damp hands on her gown. She had done it—she had driven off her brother and his friends.

  With Jack gone, Lisbeth dared to look at Samuel. She studied him as he glared after Jack. Rage burned on his face. His tormentors played with one another, not giving him another thought.

  When they were entirely alone, Lisbeth quietly, shamefully spoke, “I am sorry, Samuel. I will tell Mattie what Jack said. It will be all right.”

  Samuel stared at Lisbeth, fury beaming from his eyes. Her eyes welled up; her chest tightened.

  “It will be all right,” she insisted, trying to convince herself as much as Samuel.

  A cold, hard look sat on Samuel’s face. Without a word, he shook his head, turned away, and made his way back to his cabin.

 
Counting her steps as she walked, 1…2…3…, Lisbeth returned to the willow. She sat down, picked up her book in her shaking hands, and pretended to read. She willed her heart to slow down, taking deep breaths. After she calmed herself, she ran to Mattie.

  Mattie was in their rooms, waiting to dress Lisbeth for supper. A breathless Lisbeth blurted out, “Mattie, Jack says Samuel is to be sold! He might only be teasing, but it may be true.”

  Mattie sank into the rocking chair. Lisbeth stared intently at her nurse waiting for a response.

  Lisbeth broke the long silence. “Mattie, he will be fine. They will sell him to someone nice.”

  “Hush!” Mattie snapped as she stared blankly. “Let me think.”

  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.

  Chapter 11

  Mattie 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.”

  Mattie snapped, “Lisbeth, I know you tryin’ to make me feel better. But ain’t no little flower gonna do it.” Mattie’s voice rose, “Ain’t no little bits of your left-over dessert gonna make me feel better. I scared for my son, child. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make me feel better but to see him again.”

  Lisbeth’s face fell.

  More gently, Mattie went on, “Now you go on and have that picnic without me.”

  Lisbeth stared at Mattie, confused because her nurse had always loved the first picnic of spring, and then ran out of the room. Mattie considered going after her, but could not stir herself to action.