Yellow Crocus: A Novel (29 page)
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 her gown, muttering to himself when he had difficulty. She jumped in sudden pleasure when he touched her again.
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.
He held her, patting her back without words, filled with despair and shame. He only wanted to protect her but he had hurt her instead. Lying in bed with precious Lisbeth, he did not know what to do.
For years he had been in love with Lisbeth, ever since their first dance when she was twelve years old. He had only attended the socials for the chance to dance with her or have a short conversation. And now, unbelievably, she was his bride. Since Saturday he had been a bundle of nerves, fluctuating between sheer joy and utter disbelief. More than once he thought she would not come back on Monday. He had agonized about how to make this night special, going so far as to ask his father how to pleasure a woman. And now he had ruined it. While this was the most fortunate night of his life, a dream come true, he feared that for Lisbeth it was a nightmare.
“I am sorry,” he whispered into her hair too quietly for her to hear.
JULY 24, 1858
Dearest Mary,
T
hank you ever so much for the news from home. You wrote in such detail, I feel as if I were present at your wedding. My biggest regret about my sudden move to Ohio is that I was not in attendance. I am delighted you and Daniel are having a lovely honeymoon. I am certain New York is wonderful.
I know you do not understand my decision. And I am truly sorry for the shame I have brought on my family. I miss you and regret that we will not be watching our children grow up from any veranda in Virginia. But I am pleased you have forgiven me enough to write. I promise to return each letter faithfully.
As for us, we are well. The house is progressing satisfactorily. You would be astonished at how many decisions must be made every day. We have chosen cherry trim in the entryway, living room, and dining room along with oak flooring. We will not be having a sitting room; apparently it is not in fashion out here, but will have a “sun porch” off the living room. It will have windows on three sides. That is in addition to a standard porch that will wrap the house on the other three sides. We shall only have four bedrooms upstairs, in addition to the servants’ quarters off of the kitchen. The fortunate part of a small home is that decorating it will not be a burden.
We are building servants’ quarters, though they may not ever be used for that purpose. In Ohio, most help choose to live “away.” It is actually wonderfully convenient not to be responsible for servants at all hours of the day. Matthew and I spend quiet evenings in one another’s company. We have agreed on most everything when it comes to the house, which is fortunate.
Oberlin is lovely. The weather is sticky right now, but they say that the leaves will turn the most beautiful shades of red, yellow, and orange in the autumn. I am preparing myself for a cold winter. We hope to be residing in our new home by Christmas. It shall be odd to have the holiday with only the two of us, but we are not in a position yet to entertain.
Well, I am running on, so I shall close. In the strictest of confidence I shall share with you my sincere feeling that I may be able to confirm in my next letter news of an addition to our family in the New Year. Please give my best regards to everyone in Virginia.
Your dear friend,
Lisbeth Johnson
L
isbeth was gathering eggs from the chicken coop when she felt the first labor pain. Even though it was uncomfortable, she smiled. Her baby was coming, possibly today. But she wanted to be sure this was not false labor before she shared the news with Matthew. So she said nothing and went about her morning, stopping to breathe slowly whenever a strong pain came.
Over dinner, Matthew noticed. “Are you in labor?” he asked.
“I am having some pains, but it is early yet.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, looking excited and scared.
