Birthright

1858 - The Cottage

Olivia sat at the edge of the bed in nothing but her slip. White cotton and frilled at the edges, leading to bare shoulders that she covered with hands and arms crossed at her chest. I reached out to caress those arms, the sharp edges of calloused fingers catching on her smooth porcelain. Working the farms since nine, my hands were well on their way to the weathered lines and gnarled knuckles of my Father. She gasped at the snagging pressure, but smiled at me nonetheless.

"It's okay, I just didn't expect them to be so rough," she said, grabbing my hands in hers, stroking along the palm and fingers in her form of apology. The understanding in her eyes showed that she was farther into her womanhood than I was a man.

We had just been wed earlier that afternoon. The ceremony was held until after the harvesting season, so that I could focus on learning how to be a husband during the lean time. Uncle Garrett had a small cottage built for us on the property, as a wedding gift. The entire town had turned up, the festivities modest in every way but attendance. Still, every guest left with bellies full and more than one with mind properly soused. While it was certainly no royal formality, it was the biggest shindig of a generation for those invited. It was, after all, a time to celebrate hope and prosperity, for our offspring would be the heirs to the Cartwright fortune. One to assume the burden of business and welfare of the populace. Another to shoulder the responsibilities of field and farm.

"They are hands that bear a love for labor. And they will bear love for you as well, dear. For you will be his solace and sanctuary in a world that has few for any man," my mother said, a few paces from the foot of the bed. She then addressed us both, "There will be some nights that you will wish to leave your garments away. Nothing wrong with that. It should be pleasing for a husband to look upon his wife, and she at he. For tonight however, leave your slip on above your waist. And Joshua, you stay in your breeches. I will not gaze upon your nakedness."

She made her way around the bed to Olivia, and clasped their fingers together, looking into her eyes with a comforting compassion.

"Now when you begin, Joshua will have to break through your virginity. You will bleed, but do not fret child, that is all perfectly natural. I assure you that you will not need a dressing or medical tending. It may be painful, it may not. Every woman is different, but I would rather you be prepared. Now lay down, sweet, on your back."

And so we spent our first night together. Tender, apprehensive touches and unsure movements. Olivia cried out when I first pierced her, but as I flinched away, she cradled my face in her hands. Assuring me of her safety. That she wanted this as much as I.

My mother's calm voice guided us through the motions, attuning me to my wife's sounds and reactions. Adulating me when Olivia's responded positively to my affections. Cautioning me when I became too aggressive. Stressing the importance of ability to please one's partner in carnal ways, as we would have our lifetimes to seek haven in each other in this fashion.

When I was spent, I rolled away, careful not to crush any of Olivia's limbs in my tiredness. Mother approached again, holding a bulky piece of embroidery.

"Lift your bottom, dear," she said as she slid a pillow underneath Olivia. "Keep yourself propped up and your legs together. This will help with conception. Make sure to do this every night afterwards, until it's confirmed that you are with child."

She gathered up the stained bedding for wash, and before leaving she planted a kiss on Olivia's forehead and smiled. "You will be a beautiful wife and mother, Mrs. Cartwright."

When she had left, I sidled up against my bride and lightly rubbed her stomach.

"What will we call it?" She asked.

"I like the name Luther."

"And if it's a girl?" She giggled at the fact I hadn't considered that particular outcome as she nuzzled into my neck.

"I dunno," I laughed back, sheepishly. "What do you like?"

"I think Evelyn would be perfect, don't you?"

"Perfect." I smiled, agreeing with her.

And like that, we fell asleep. My arm around her, the callouses and roughness no longer a disturbance as I traced along her silken arms.

                                                                 ***

Mother did not accompany us after that first night, although, I wish I had listened closer to her advice then. On the second night, I let my inexperience and eagerness get the better of me, and Olivia was torn. My mother prepared a balm for her, and we had to wait four nights before we could attempt to conceive again.

Olivia was stalwart throughout, alternate in her courage and tenderness, born of her love for me. Tutting away my oafish apologies, giving me only her understanding smile.

Mother did not have to tutor Olivia much in ways of being a good wife. It was I she had to work the hardest on. Instructing me in respect and devotion towards my beloved. She would say to me, "No matter how busy or grueling the workday, you must attend to your spouse as well. Like the crops you plant, she too, is alive. She needs your compassion and attention to thrive. Without it, your marriage will surely wilt away."

I had no idea how difficult it would be during the trying times, but between my Father's stoic patience and Mother's genial nature, these aspects came to me quickly. They enabled me to be the kind of husband a woman like Olivia would deserve.

In the second month of the new year came confirmation that we were to have a child. However, it was not to be. Olivia did not let her sadness show around me, but I could sense it deep in her eyes. Even though she did not cry after the night she miscarried, I made sure to embrace her whenever her look turned forlorn. To tell her our time for blessing would come. Mother would quote the story of Abraham and Sarah from the Bible, and how their faith was rewarded.

Luckily, it did not take me to the age of an hundred years to become a father. Three years later, Olivia and I were bestowed our Luther.