Yellow Crocus: A Novel by Laila Ibrahim Page B

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
     
    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,