tight curls on his head. He pulled away, but she kept her hand behind his head. He pushed back against her flesh and bones as he attempted to pull away. She rubbed his hair again. He quickly turned his head slightly from left to right, opened his mouth wide, and then pulled her nipple deep into his mouth. Then he sucked with vigor. Her milk rushed out into him.
“That right, baby boy. That right. You know. You know what to do.”
Mattie breathed a sigh of relief. She still had this. They hadn’t taken her son away from her completely. Sitting on the edge of the pallet, Mattie was determined to enjoy this moment, this precious time with her son.
Chapter 4
M iss Elizabeth sat comfortably against Mattie’s left hip as they came down the front stairs. When Mattie turned to enter the formal sitting room their bodies tensed in unison. Mattie gently patted Miss Elizabeth’s leg as she privately whispered, “You all right” into the ten-month-old baby’s small pink ear. “I ain’t gonna leave you.”
Mrs. Ann and Grandmother Wainwright sat in waiting for this Saturday afternoon ritual. Mrs. Ann perched uncomfortably at one end of the blue upholstered couch in the center of the large, high-ceilinged room, a brown muslin dress pulled taut across her large, round abdomen. Nodding absently at the words coming out of Grandmother Wainwright’s mouth, Miss Ann gazed away from her mother-in-law.
Grandmother Wainwright, the widowed matriarch of the household, had married into the Wainwright family in 1800. She gave birth to a son, Alistair, in 1803, and then suffered through several pregnancies that ended in miscarriage. A daughter, Rose, arrived in 1808, followed by Jonathan in 1810. When Rose succumbed to scarlet fever in 1812, Grandmother Wainwright locked her husband out of her bedroom, declaring she no longer wished to risk another broken heart. When Alistair broke his neck at the age of thirty-one while attempting a risky jump on horseback, she saw it as further confirmation that it was best not to love too deeply or become too attached. It was a principle that had served her well since then.
Grandmother Wainwright fully occupied one end of the blue couch. Volumes of black fabric from her skirt covered the seat of the couch. Her pale eyes stayed fixed on Mrs. Ann’s face as Mattie and Miss Elizabeth waited in the entryway of the room.
“Of course you shall not suckle this one either,” she said. “I do not care if it is the fashion. It is unseemly for a woman of your stature to feed a child. Elizabeth is to be weaned to goat’s milk. As soon as my grandson is born, she can start with him.”
Mrs. Ann continued to nod.
“Now bring the child over to visit her mother,” Grandmother Wainwright commanded, finally acknowledging Mattie’s presence.
As they crossed the room, Mattie felt Miss Elizabeth slip her hand across the neck of Mattie’s dress. Pudgy pink fingers traveled along Mattie’s collarbone until they grasped the shells of the necklace that nestled there. The toddler rested her head in the crook of Mattie’s neck, hiding her face from the two women on the couch. Rubbing the child’s back with her free arm, Mattie resisted the impulse to kiss the top of Miss Elizabeth’s head or whisper words of comfort into the little girl’s ear. When they reached the couch, the child tightened her grip on the shell necklace as Mattie pulled her away from her body. Tears filled Miss Elizabeth’s bright blue eyes, and her bottom lip quivered as she clung to Mattie.
When Mrs. Ann spoke, resignation tinged her voice. “I am too big to hold her. Keep her on your lap for today.”
Mattie hid her relief.
Grandmother Wainwright snapped, making no attempt to hide the contempt in her voice, “You spoil that child. She needs to know she is not in control.”
“She will learn soon enough. I am too tired for tears today.”
Mattie, careful not to make eye contact with either of the women, sat on the chair next
“That right, baby boy. That right. You know. You know what to do.”
Mattie breathed a sigh of relief. She still had this. They hadn’t taken her son away from her completely. Sitting on the edge of the pallet, Mattie was determined to enjoy this moment, this precious time with her son.
Chapter 4
M iss Elizabeth sat comfortably against Mattie’s left hip as they came down the front stairs. When Mattie turned to enter the formal sitting room their bodies tensed in unison. Mattie gently patted Miss Elizabeth’s leg as she privately whispered, “You all right” into the ten-month-old baby’s small pink ear. “I ain’t gonna leave you.”
Mrs. Ann and Grandmother Wainwright sat in waiting for this Saturday afternoon ritual. Mrs. Ann perched uncomfortably at one end of the blue upholstered couch in the center of the large, high-ceilinged room, a brown muslin dress pulled taut across her large, round abdomen. Nodding absently at the words coming out of Grandmother Wainwright’s mouth, Miss Ann gazed away from her mother-in-law.
Grandmother Wainwright, the widowed matriarch of the household, had married into the Wainwright family in 1800. She gave birth to a son, Alistair, in 1803, and then suffered through several pregnancies that ended in miscarriage. A daughter, Rose, arrived in 1808, followed by Jonathan in 1810. When Rose succumbed to scarlet fever in 1812, Grandmother Wainwright locked her husband out of her bedroom, declaring she no longer wished to risk another broken heart. When Alistair broke his neck at the age of thirty-one while attempting a risky jump on horseback, she saw it as further confirmation that it was best not to love too deeply or become too attached. It was a principle that had served her well since then.
Grandmother Wainwright fully occupied one end of the blue couch. Volumes of black fabric from her skirt covered the seat of the couch. Her pale eyes stayed fixed on Mrs. Ann’s face as Mattie and Miss Elizabeth waited in the entryway of the room.
“Of course you shall not suckle this one either,” she said. “I do not care if it is the fashion. It is unseemly for a woman of your stature to feed a child. Elizabeth is to be weaned to goat’s milk. As soon as my grandson is born, she can start with him.”
Mrs. Ann continued to nod.
“Now bring the child over to visit her mother,” Grandmother Wainwright commanded, finally acknowledging Mattie’s presence.
As they crossed the room, Mattie felt Miss Elizabeth slip her hand across the neck of Mattie’s dress. Pudgy pink fingers traveled along Mattie’s collarbone until they grasped the shells of the necklace that nestled there. The toddler rested her head in the crook of Mattie’s neck, hiding her face from the two women on the couch. Rubbing the child’s back with her free arm, Mattie resisted the impulse to kiss the top of Miss Elizabeth’s head or whisper words of comfort into the little girl’s ear. When they reached the couch, the child tightened her grip on the shell necklace as Mattie pulled her away from her body. Tears filled Miss Elizabeth’s bright blue eyes, and her bottom lip quivered as she clung to Mattie.
When Mrs. Ann spoke, resignation tinged her voice. “I am too big to hold her. Keep her on your lap for today.”
Mattie hid her relief.
Grandmother Wainwright snapped, making no attempt to hide the contempt in her voice, “You spoil that child. She needs to know she is not in control.”
“She will learn soon enough. I am too tired for tears today.”
Mattie, careful not to make eye contact with either of the women, sat on the chair next
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