Yellow Crocus: A Novel

by Laila Ibrahim

  APRIL 1849

  Two weeks before Lisbeth’s twelfth birthday, she sat with her family in the drawing room after dinner, stitching on her last piece of “practice” work before she began in earnest on her trousseau.

  “Elizabeth, I have news. We know the date of your first dance. The Parkers have announced they will be hosting at Willowbrook on the first of May.”

  Lisbeth blurted out, “We only have a month to prepare. What shall I wear? Mother, I am so nervous!”

  “Do not be silly, Elizabeth. We have known for quite some time you would begin attending dances this spring. You are well prepared to do what is expected of you. Your father and I are counting on you to make a marvelous impression. As for your dress, I have arranged for the seamstress to come here tomorrow to take measurements. Be prepared to choose a fabric and style.”

  “Mother, can Mattie come in to dress me on the day of the dance?”

  “Elizabeth, it is sweet that you are still so attached to Mattie, but Emily will make you presentable for the dance. You were fortunate to have your mammy until you were so old. Most of us give up our nurses long before you did. Why, I was only four years old when my nurse was sold.” Mother went on, “Mattie is like your old baby quilt: she was important to you when you were little, but you have outgrown her now. I hope we did not make a mistake in letting her stay with you so long.”

  “No, Mother. I understand. What color do you think I should wear?”

  “Deep blue is my first choice, if the seamstress has one. Such an elegant color will accentuate your eyes and make your skin appear to be fair. I can tell you have not been wearing your hat when you go out of doors.”

  “I will now. I promise. I want to be as beautiful as I can for the dance.”

  Mother corrected her, “Focus on bearing, and beauty will follow. Your looks will not remain with you for life. But your bearing will go with you to the grave, Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Lisbeth agreed with her mouth but not her heart.

  The seamstress carried a red and beige carpetbag bulging with swatches of fabric and patterns of dresses into the drawing room. Lisbeth watched eagerly as small rectangles of material were pulled out and sorted by material and color. Bright blues were followed by paler blues transforming into deep and pale greens, then reds, yellows, and, finally, boring white, black, and brown. She yearned to touch the smooth silks, but did not dare take such a liberty.

  Mother had no such hesitation and fingered each of the fabrics in turn, inquiring about the cost and content when she found one she might choose.

  “Printed cotton is quite in style for the young ones this year,” the seamstress informed them. “These ones are twenty-four cents a yard, and these are twenty-eight cents per yard.”

  “They are lovely, but I prefer something more elegant for Elizabeth. Have you taken the order for Camilla Anderson?” asked Mother.

  “Yes. They chose this silk chiffon in a pale yellow,” the seamstress pointed out the fabric.

  Mother fingered it idly. “How much is the silk?”

  “The domestic chiffon is eighty-eight cents and the imported is one dollar per yard.”

  “This is terribly thin. She would have to be very careful not to tear it. Elizabeth, can you manage that?”

  “Absolutely, Mother. It is very lovely,” Lisbeth enthused. “I would be very happy in a gown from this material.”

  The seamstress suggested, “This taffeta is heavier and only slightly more expensive than the domestic chiffon at ninety-two cents per yard.”

  Lisbeth reached out to touch the material. “Oh Mother, this is so lovely!” Lisbeth dared not say more. She watched as Mother made social as well as financial calculations.

  The seamstress broke the silence. “If you prefer, this linen, which has a heavy texture and will wear well, is fifty-five cents a yard. However, your color choices will be limited.”

  “No. We shall go with the silk taffeta. In the deep blue, I believe. What do you think, Elizabeth?”

  “Oh, thank you, Mother!” Lisbeth beamed. “Yes, I am very fond of the blue. I promise I shall take very good care of it.”

  Mother smiled in approval at Lisbeth.

  “Show me your patterns,” instructed Mother.

  “This is the one the Andersons chose,” the seamstress explained, pulling out a drawing. The fabric puffed out over a full-length hoop skirt. The hem of the gown was gathered into a series of scalloped rows tied by large bows.

  “No. That is too frilly,” Mother declared. “I want something more elegant. What did the Cunninghams choose for Emma?”

  “I will be taking their order tomorrow.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Mother murmured under her breath.

  Mother sorted through the patterns. All the gowns had fashionable hoop skirts and tight bodices. She rejected any dresses with long sleeves and high necklines as unsuitable for an evening event.

  “Elizabeth, do you care for either of these?” Mother asked, holding out two drawings.

  “I like them both. But this one is more lovely, in my opinion.” Lisbeth pointed to the pattern with a single row of shallow scallops across the bottom.

  “That is fine,” Mother agreed. “We will have this one with the light blue silk chiffon as the underskirt. If Emma Cunningham’s dress will take away from or conflict with Elizabeth’s, please let me know and we will revise our order.”

  “Of course, Ma’am. I will inform you right away if that is the case,” replied the seamstress.

  Lisbeth slowly reached out a hand to lovingly stroke the blue silk taffeta. It was soft and smooth, so beautiful. Excited, she thanked Mother once again. “This is so lovely! I am very excited. Thank you, Mother!”

  “I trust you will make us proud, Elizabeth. We are going to quite an expense so that you may make a good first impression.”

  “I will, Mother. I will make you so very proud of me.”

  Lisbeth burst into Mattie’s cabin, too excited to contain herself. After settling on a chair with Jordan on her lap she spoke in a rush, “Mattie, my first dance will be in three weeks. I am frightened. Mother says I am prepared, but I am still nervous. We have asked the seamstress to make a gown in deep blue. It is almost exactly the shade of my eyes. I hope I will look beautiful. Mother says beauty is not as important as bearing. But I so want to be beautiful.

  “Mother says we will not know the song list until the week before. And even then they may change it. I must be prepared for anything. Oh, I shall die if they play a Cumberland Reel. I am not so good at the Cumberland. But a waltz or the Virginia Reel, those I can do very well. So Mary tells me.

  “How do you think I should wear my hair? It cannot be all the way up because I have not had my debut yet—not until I am nineteen as you know, but still I want it to be elegant. I am trying to decide between sweeping up the front and pulling it all back or simply pulling back the sides. What do you think, Mattie? Do I look better like this…or like this…?”

  Mattie replied gruffly, “I don’ care how you do your hair, Lisbeth. It just fine either way.”

  Shocked at Mattie’s callousness, Lisbeth exclaimed, “How can you say that? This dance is extremely important. Mother says your first dance sets the stage for the rest of your life. It has to be perfect. My entire future depends upon it.”

  Mattie sighed, “Ain’t nothin’ ever perfect and it hard to believe one dance can change your life.”

  “Well, it is important. You do not even care, do you? How can you be so selfish?”

  “Lisbeth, I just worked from sun-up to sundown in the fields after bein’ up all night with Jordan. Jordan weak from havin’ the runs for five days. Wanna know what I care about? I care about my daughter gettin’ better.”

  Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “Then give her some salt water with sugar like you served me when I was ill. She will become better soon enough.”

  “I ain’t got no salt and I ain’t got no sugar. How I gonna give my daughter what I don’ got?
” Mattie stared at Lisbeth.

  “Oh,” said Lisbeth, instantly deflated. Then, for the first time since walking in the door, she looked carefully at the child resting against her body. Through the dusky light, Lisbeth made out dark circles under the little girl’s sunken eyes. Jordan was nearly motionless. Jordan was extremely ill and Lisbeth had not noticed. Stunned into silence, Lisbeth felt deeply ashamed.

  “Oh, Mattie, I am sorry. Cook will give me sugar and salt if I tell her I have the runs. I shall bring it to you.”

  True to her word, later that night Lisbeth snuck down the rear stairs to deliver the elixir that Jordan desperately needed.

  “Mattie, the evening was simply awful,” Lisbeth reported after greeting Mattie and kissing Jordan. “I cannot believe I have wanted to attend those dances for years. I hated it. Everyone behaved so cruelly. I missed my last dance because nasty Camilla Anderson spilled punch on my dress. She did it on purpose, I am certain, although Mother says a lady never does such a thing. Camilla Anderson is no lady, I tell you. She gave me cruel looks from the moment I walked into Willowbrook. I think she still holds it against us because Samuel ran away. I do not blame him one bit. They must be an awful family to have such a daughter.

  “First I danced with Matthew Johnson. Matthew behaved very kindly and gentlemanly throughout the entire dance. It was a waltz, so I know I did not embarrass myself. He has lovely hazel green eyes, but Mother says I need not concern myself with Matthew’s eyes. His family has only ten acres and three slaves. Mother says they are ‘not in our league and are practically abolitionists’ although she thought it fine for me to dance with him once as a kindness. As she likes to say, ‘It is always proper to show generosity to our inferiors.’ I am glad that I shall be allowed to dance with him because truly he is the most pleasant dance partner.

  “Next I danced with Nathaniel Jackson, who has horrid breath. I turned my head to avoid the stench. You can imagine how difficult it is to dance whilst trying to avoid inhaling. After Nathaniel, I was parterned with William Anderson, Camilla’s brother, who could not dance at all, I tell you. He pulled me entirely too close and stepped on my toes on more than one occasion. As a lady, I had to pretend not to notice. It is difficult to stay quiet with a smile on your face when a large, clumsy buffoon smashes your foot. But I behaved as a lady should.

  “My last dance, the Virginia Reel, which was not meant to be my last, started with Robert Ford, Mary’s brother. He is entertaining. Robert is very accomplished in mimicking the adults. He did a perfect Mister Anderson, which made me laugh out loud, but I do not think he was bothered. In fact, I think he was pleased I found him so amusing.

  “Then while I was waiting for my next dance, Camilla pretended to trip, spilling her glass of punch as well as mine all over my gorgeous blue gown. It was so beautiful. And if I do say so myself, I looked lovely in it. And now it is ruined due to Camilla’s cruelty. I am certain that she did not want me to dance with Edward Cunningham. She already had her dance with him. I do not think she wanted me, or anyone else, to have time with him. Mother says he is going to make the best marriage in the valley. After the incident he attended to me, which I believe made Camilla even more cross. But he did not dare to dance with me so as to not ruin his suit. Instead we sat together, but I was so furious I could not steer the conversation in an amusing or delightful direction.”

  The young woman asked, “Mattie, do you think I have ruined my chance at the best marriage on the river?”

  “Lisbeth, I can’ say much ’bout marriage. I know a good man make life more sweet. Someone to hold you and love you, someone to share your dreams with, someone kind and thoughtful. A good man’s a treasure.”

  “Oh, Mattie, I am sorry. I am being thoughtless again. You must miss Emmanuel very much. It has been two years since he left, has it not? Do you think about him and Samuel often?”

  Mattie replied, “Ev’ry day. I pray to God for them ev’ry day.”

  Tentatively Lisbeth asked, “Have you heard from them at all? Do you know if they are safe?”

  Mattie shook her head. “Miss Lisbeth, you know I can’ answer such a question. They in God’s hands, just leave it at that. You don’ want to be knowin’ any more. It ain’t safe for neither of us to know more ’en that.” Mattie paused. She looked at Lisbeth carefully. She sighed and went on, “’Nuff about that. Tell me more about the dance. You say you had no fun at all? What about Mary?”

  “Mother allowed no talk with Mary at all! She ordered me to fetch tea and food to all the old ladies, except for during my times to dance. Then I was to be on the floor for everyone to watch. It was awful having all those eyes on me waiting for me to make a mistake. I cannot believe I have to do this for years to come.”

  “You can always say no to the dances.”

  “Oh, no, I cannot!” Lisbeth said emphatically. “Father and Mother will not let me forgo the season. They have been preparing me for this for years. I shall be fortunate if they allow me to miss some of the dances at lesser estates.”

  Chapter 15

  Several weeks after the dance, Lisbeth ventured down to the fields to visit with Jordan, but she was not with Grandma Washington. “She ain’t been here all day,” the old woman informed Lisbeth. “Don’t know why. Go looky in their cabin. Maybe she sick.”

  Lisbeth trotted up the dirt path to Mattie’s cabin, but it was empty. Lisbeth resisted rushing down to the fields to check for them. Instead she waited on the benches behind the cabin. Lisbeth stared up at the back of her home. She tried to see inside, but the windows reflected all light. Patiently she waited for Mattie and Jordan.

  Soon folks started returning from the fields. Lisbeth did not see Mattie, but she recognized Rebecca’s distinctive limp far down the path. She rushed to Rebecca’s cabin, where she was waiting when Rebecca came near. Rebecca stopped walking the instant she saw Lisbeth. Staring at the young mistress, she shook her head.

  “Didn’ expect you so soon,” she said. “Come on in. I got somethin’ for you.” Rebecca’s eyes were moist. Tension filled her shoulders as they entered her cabin. Rebecca closed the door tight.

  In a hoarse voice Rebecca whispered into the girl’s ear, “Lisbeth, Mattie left this for you.” Pulling a single shell on a string from her pocket, she uncurled Lisbeth’s fingers and placed it in her hand.

  Lisbeth felt the shell and knew it at once. A chill traveled down her spine. “Where is Mattie?” Lisbeth screeched. “Where is Jordan?”

  “Shh!” Rebecca rebuked. “Honey, they gone. Mattie gone to be with Emmanuel and Samuel.”

  “But…? Where…? Why…?” Lisbeth formed incomplete questions. Blinking, she tried to comprehend Rebecca’s words. A sharp arrow stabbed through her heart. Rebecca’s deep brown eyes mirrored the panic and confusion Lisbeth felt.

  “Mattie trusts you. No one know she gone,” Rebecca whispered fiercely. “Don’ go tellin’ no one, promise?”

  “Where did they go? Will they be all right? Will we ever see them again?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “They in God’s hands now. Mattie strong and smart. If anyone gonna make it, she gonna. I pray we ain’t gonna see them again. She gonna be in big trouble if she caught.”

  “But…but…how could…? Where did…?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “There nothing else for me to tell you. You gotta keep this quiet. Promise?”

  Lisbeth agreed before she flew out of Rebecca’s cabin. She ran and ran, fast and far, running past the fields along the bank of the river until she collapsed in a heap on the ground. Her body heaved with sobs, and tears streamed down her face. They were gone. Just gone. They did not say goodbye. How could Mattie leave her? She did not even say goodbye!

  She clutched the shell tight in her hand. In a fury she flung it into the tall grass in front of her. Her eyes followed the arc of the shell. The moment it left her hand regret flooded through her. She crawled after it, into the grass. She desperately pushed aside the green stems. Tears poured from her eyes. Sharp bl
ades cut her hands until they bled. Her fingers became red and swollen from pushing aside the grass. After nearly an hour, long after her tears had dried up, she found it. Relieved, she collapsed to the ground and clutched the shell and string to her chest. Then she ran inside to get ready for supper before her parents realized she was missing too.

  Two nights before

  Mattie lay in bed with her mind racing, going over every last detail. Jordan, drugged with valerian root, slept soundly next to her. Dried meat and a bladder of water were packed away with other essentials in an old burlap seed sack tied shut with heavy twine. Stolen boots sat under the cot waiting for Mattie to fit her feet into them and escape. Only three things were left to do: pray to God, say her goodbyes, and head out.

  “Dear God, please watch over us tonight. Keep us safe and guide us to freedom. I promise once we there we gonna help other folks get they freedom too. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

  Her grandfather tied Jordan tightly against Mattie’s torso with a heavy cloth.

  Poppy whispered, “You go hard, girl, and don’ look back. You strong, you can do this. Emmanuel got you a good home in Ohio. You gonna make it.” His voice broke, but he looked straight into her eyes. “I don’ ever want to see you again, you hear me? You gonna be free. Your family the first ones of us that got away. You makin’ me proud.”

  Blinking the tears from her eyes, Mattie gave him a hug to last a lifetime and left. Quietly making her way to Rebecca’s cabin, she worked the latch without knocking and slowly opened the creaky door. Rebecca was sitting up, waiting for Mattie, ready for their goodbye.

  “I gonna miss you so much,” Mattie said. “You gotta come some day. All of you.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as Rebecca whispered, “Mattie, I ain’t got it in me, but you do. You gonna make it. Here you go.”

  Rebecca handed Mattie traveling papers written in Sarah’s distinct handwriting. Mattie had given up a portion of her rations for six months to trade for the paper and ink necessary to create this ticket to freedom. They declared that “the bearer of these papers, Georgia Freedman, a free African, is traveling to Clarksburg, Virginia, to visit her kin.” Mattie folded the forged document carefully and squirreled it in the bodice of her dress.