Crushed Gardenias
Luisa and the children were just settling down to eat when there was a gentle knock on the nursery door. William frowned, but Luisa shushed him with a look and called out, “Come in!”
“It’s nice and cozy in here,” said the beautiful fair-haired lady dressed in a dark green ruffled evening gown. Four-year old Susannah smiled at her, but William kept his eyes on his plate.
“What’s for supper, William?”
“Scrambled eggs and toast,” the seven-year-old mumbled, refusing to look at her.
“Sounds delicious. I wish I could join you.”
William snorted. He couldn’t remember ever sharing a meal with this almost-stranger.
She kissed the top of Susannah’s head, then turned to kiss William, but he deftly moved out of her reach. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked longingly around the room. “Please, William ….” she began, but her whisper was drowned out by a stern voice from below. “Our guests are arriving, Abigail. Get downstairs now.”
Colonel Montgomery believed that children should neither be seen nor heard, but Abigail’s arms ached with emptiness.
“Hurry up, woman!” The Colonel was getting angry. Abigail scurried out of the room, trailing a scent of gardenias.
“Your mother’s a lovely lady.” Luisa tried to ease the tension.
“She makes me sad.” Susannah’s lower lip trembled.
“She’s not my mother,” William insisted as he ran to hug Luisa. “You are.”
Later that night, as her charges slept, Luisa slipped out to a tiny cabin below the big house. She kissed her daughter Dulcie and mother Mae lightly, careful not to waken them. She quietly unpacked the basket of stolen treasures – three apples, two tomatoes, a slab of butter, a few thick slices of bread, a chunk of cheese – and placed them on the wooden table. At least her precious family wouldn’t have to live on lard, molasses and cornmeal, like the other field slaves.
On her way back, she heard muffled sobbing.
“Such a sorrowful house,” she thought. When she reached the safety of the nursery, Luisa bolted the door, checked in on the sleeping children, and finally wept.
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleSuch a heartrending scene. Initially, it was interpreted as Aristocratic England, or Colonial India, until the last part, “the other field slaves”. Sad to think that all cultures have harbored such households.
Great work, Juma!
It is sad indeed that this story could have taken place almost anywhere, at any time. Thanks for the recognition. This story has a lot of special meaning for me, so it feels good to have others appreciate the complex tangles that so many families, and especially mothers, have had to endure.
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleJuma, I adore your title “Crushed Gardinias” which perfectly parallels the feelings of both William and his almost stranger mother. Such a well chosen and moving line, “Abigail’s arms ached with emptiness…”
Tragic on so many levels when distance is forced between a mother and child by a bullying husband and cultural differences.
Margarida, I so appreciate your comment! I pondered the title for this story for a long time. To me, gardenias represent the essence of Southern Living (in the American South, of course). The concept of crushed gardenias speaks of the dichotomy of the lush, beautiful gardens and stately homes and the lives lived within those plantations. There are three mothers in this story whose families have been torn apart – Luisa, Abigail… Read more »
Sadly, women raising other women’s children while their own went motherless was the norm on many of the southern plantations. How interesting that in this story, your plantation owner’s wife is also without her children. This situation was probably all too prevalent as well. A sad story, but well-written. We feel the pain of these women, and appreciate the strides we women have made since those days!
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleThank you Fuji. I appreciate your comments.
Hello, Juma. Your story really broke my heart. As a woman, I deeply feel the pain of a mother and child. Well done.
Thank you, Lotchie. It is heartbreaking to witness this kind of pain. Thank heavens for loving, committed mothers like you. Your children are blessed.
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleYou’re welcome, Juma.
There is a lot of human suffering, loneliness, deception and longing in this excellently written story, Juma. Yes, the three mothers are all suffering, but so are the children who are left without them. I am curious about the men and the boys. How does William’s upbringing affect him and his emotional life and future? And what about his father? Did he have a similar childhood as his son that would explain… Read more »
Hello Christer, and thank you for your comments and questions. I do feel deeply for William. I hadn’t thought much about his father, but knowing the paths of many generations of slave owners, it’s very likely that he too suffered from having no close ties to either his father or mother in his early childhood. Sadly, this phenomenon is not limited to the American South or to plantation days, as you know… Read more »
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleOh my, Juma, a story that really tugs at the heart. Both mothers deprived of their children for different reasons but each feeling the same heartbreaking loss. Beautifully written.
Thank you, Linda. Your comments always mean a lot to me.
What a beautiful but heartbreaking story, Juma. I felt so sorry for the mothers, all going through their own heartache in their own way. Very nicely done.
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleThank you, Carrie. How lucky we have been that we were able to raise our children in loving, supportive homes.
Congratulations on your win, Juma.