LIZZY

by Jim Wetton

  Lizzy was also impressed with Stanton’s recent work which she held firmly in her hands. She thought of its title punctuated boldly on the hard cover: The Woman’s Bible. Lizzy thought of the choice for its title and smiled. She had asked Stanton to sign a copy, but Stanton declined. At first taken aback, Lizzy was encouraged when Stanton spoke directly at her. “Do your part, girl, and you’ll write the sequel!”

  On her return trip home, Lizzy thought of all the women in the room. Those women are incredible. But, why me?

  She pulled her carriage off the road and under a tree. Her mind raced as she felt her stomach knot up. So many questions and so many doubts. Can I even do this?

  Lizzy looked down at Stanton’s book, lying close to her right hip. Her smile was radiant, full of excitement. Spotting a bench in a clearing, she pulled the reins to the right and guided the carriage in. She attached the reins to the brake then looked back down at Stanton’s book. Her gloved hands caressed the leather cover as her thoughts wandered to the older woman’s request.

  The large elm tree she had parked under gave her an umbrella of much-needed shade. The breeze was light and Lizzy wished for more. The sounds of a slight chirp from a bird, sitting on the highest limb, was soothing to her ears. Her tranquility soon vanished at the quacking sounds coming from a family of ducklings; their disapproval over Lizzy’s intrusion was duly and loudly noted. So much for serenity.

  Lizzy’s thoughts of the meeting gave her a renewed desire to join the cause for woman’s suffrage. But could she?

  She knew that through Hannah’s diary, she was asked to find a way to give women their rights and their voices. She understood that it was that same request that caused Harriet Tubman to seek her out.

  Yet it was Mary Elizabeth’s unexpected death that stirred her the most. Lizzy thought of her oldest daughter and knew that it would be in that beautiful young woman’s silent voice that she would find her own strength. Lizzy sat on the carriage bench and looked out to the pond, the ducklings now long gone. A gust of wind blew fiercely against the right side of her face. She smiled and lightly touched her cheek.

  “By God, I’m going to do it, yes I am!” Lizzy moved her hand back up to her cheek and looked up to the sky. “And, I’ll be doing this for you, Mary Elizabeth, you and Hannah.”

  The breeze caused some of the elm’s leaves to fall onto her head, which made Lizzy laugh. You never had the chance to speak out, so I’ll do it for you.

  Lizzy climbed down from the carriage seat, The Woman’s Bible in hand. She walked over to a bench and looked one last time up to the highest twig where the once-chirping bird had just recently flown away. She pulled her skirt out of her way and sat down. Across the Potomac Basin, she viewed her favorite bench not a hundred yards to her right. At that very location, one of which Lizzy had laid claim to for several years now, she could still see the Washington Monument. From where she now sat, she was also able to get a partial view of the Capitol. This is it, Lizzy. This is where the change of power will take place, mark my word!

  She picked up the book and an envelope slipped out. Lizzy shook her head and smiled. You ninny, you got yourself so wrapped up with all those women, you plumb forgot all about the letter from William. It would be the second letter she’d received from her oldest son since James’ and Martin’s death. The first one had been delivered to her by Tubman. It was much more about his work in general and the country’s affairs. Lizzy remembered how odd it felt to receive such a matter-of-fact letter from a son three thousand miles away. She prayed that this second letter would be written more by the William she thought she knew, her first born, the namesake of her dear and departed oldest brother. Placing Stanton’s book back down on the bench, she raised the letter up, crossed her legs, leaned back and began to read.

  To My Dearest Mother,

  It is with an utmost and overwhelming broken heart that I reach out to you. Caroline and I had just returned from our holiday in the states of Idaho and Utah when we read your letter about my dear sister. I hope you know that I would have been on the first train eastbound had I received your letter but since it has now been far too long, I deem it past due for my visit.

  Past due for a visit? Lizzy let her hand fall to her lap; her heart ached at the lack of consolation from her oldest son. Doesn’t he realize that I just lost a daughter? That he just lost a sister!? Lizzy exhaled hard as her face reddened. She looked down at the crumpled pages in the grasp of her now clutched hands. “No, he doesn’t. But that’s just William. He probably never paid a second thought to how he hurt me by not coming out after he’d lost his own father, let alone his own little brother. No, that’s just William . . . unfortunately.”

  Lizzy looked around her with the hope that there wasn’t anyone nearby to witness her talking to herself. She sank deeper on the bench and brought the letter up but couldn’t find the energy to read on. She rested her head back against the back of the bench and looked out on the Basin. It wasn’t the sparkling view of the Ohio or even the Hudson, but it was home. Just the Potomac and the Basin, but it’s mine. She looked up into the tree above her. She loved the large tree outside her window at home. In the mornings, she’d always welcome her daily feathered friends who came to her with different songs. Their chirping always cheered her up with anticipated joy. She breathed in hard and frowned when she looked to the top of the tree she now sat under. The bird had long flown away.

  She bit lightly on her upper lip and suddenly felt very alone. On this late afternoon, sitting on a bench near the tidal basin, it was only her and what appeared to be a cold-hearted letter from her son. An adult man now, whom she bore, raised and taught what was right and what was wrong. Guess I didn’t do a very good job, now did I? How do you teach a person how to treat another? You’d hope it was from watching his parents. She paused deep in thought. Were we good examples? She thought of James and Mary Elizabeth. They were kind and giving. Even to a lonely bug that just happened to make its way inside. She smiled at the memory. They—especially James—didn’t have a mean bone in their bodies. She shook her head sadly and frowned. How is it that William doesn’t see it?

  “Dear God help me, but I cannot understand that young man!” Her voice trailed off into the air. As angry as she was, she raised her hands and slowly unfolded the crumpled pages of William’s letter.

  I know that I disappointed you when Caroline and I didn’t come east for Father and James’ funeral. I’d hoped that my explanation would suffice in lessoning the pain that I know I caused. But to reiterate, we were overseas on our honeymoon and by the time we returned, the services had taken place and they’d been buried. I didn’t feel it would do either of us any good to rekindle the horror of that night, so I decided not to come. I do have to tell you, though, and hopefully it will come to be some form of an olive branch, but Caroline and I fought for weeks over my decision. She adamantly wanted to go. In her heart, she wanted to go to you to offer comfort. She pleaded to me to just allow her to go. I told her that I would have agreed “if” it had been timelier, but it had been so long already since Father and James had been killed. So, for what it’s worth, we didn’t come. Hate me, be angry at me, but know that Caroline wanted to come and I forbad her from doing it.

  “Forbad her from doing it!?” Lizzy forcefully slapped her hands onto her lap. Her chest tightened with anger as she held back the desire to scream out.

  Lizzy rose abruptly and walked a hundred feet closer to the Potomac. She stopped and leaned against a tree. Its bark was old and frail and half its leaves had fallen. She looked and tried to think of the type of tree it was, but quickly lost any interest. To her, all that mattered was that the tree was obviously dying. She instinctively put her outstretched arms around its trunk and hugged it as tight as she could. Her chest tight with grief, she stepped back a foot and placed a hand on the trunk and tried to think of something that would give her some form of comfort.

  With her eyes closed, she thought of the warmth that came from her littl
e home. Even though it was just her now, her tiny abode still gave her a sense of peace. It helped raise her spirits that Nellie and Henry and her ever-growing clan of grandchildren so often filled her rooms with laughter. It was the quietness of her nightly routine that warmed her the most as much as she hated to admit it.

  Almost every night on her way to her bedroom, she’d walk down her hallway. She’d stop and stare blindly at Mary Elizabeth’s closed door. In spite of the sad memories brought to her by her daughter’s closed door, the hallway trip, in itself, allowed Lizzy to indulge in so many happy memories.

  One side of Lizzy’s hallway, filled with a plethora of family pictures and an assortment of decorative plates, was a sight to behold. The other side proudly displayed her collection of spoons from the various places that she’d visited or that were sent to her by friends and relatives. One of her favorite spoons was from Wheeling, West Virginia, with its sketching of the town and Wheeling Island carved into its handle. She didn’t care that most of the pictures were crooked or if a spoon was out of place; to Lizzy, her hallway was her own memory lane.

  At the end of the hall, when she’d get to Mary Elizabeth’s room, she’d kiss her hand and place it on the front of the door and then move on. She never opened the door. Never will.

  *  *  *  *

  With one hand tight around her middle, Lizzy turned away from the dying tree and walked back up towards the bench. She looked around, noticing how quiet it was. She again thought of her home. “Need to put up more pictures in the hallway.”

  Lizzy thought of how her great-grandmother Hannah would react to William’s letter. She laughed at the thought. No way, Lizzy! Hannah would have his hide!

  Finally regaining her composure, she sat back down and continued with William’s letter.

  You’d be real pleased though to hear about our holiday.

  Why would I be pleased to hear you were out on holiday while your sister lay dead in my arms, pray tell? Dear God, what’s the matter with this boy?!

  I know you’ve talked for years about your interest in the rights of women. Our holiday was actually Caroline’s idea, but I agreed and gave my permission for us to go.”

  Oh, dear God, help me. Is he really my son? Permission?

  I told Caroline that we’d go, but that I’d measure how far her hare-brained idea went before pulling us back in.

  Don’t know if you’d read about it yet, but the states of Idaho and Utah have ratified into their states’ constitution that women now have the legal right to vote. I’m not really for the idea, but I know she is and I’ve known that you’ve been since as far back as I can remember. You’ll just have to understand that even though I love you so much, I’ll never be able to understand nor honor your ideas on women’s rights. Men and women are NOT equal. It’s in the Bible.

  Lizzy could feel her finger twitching as her anger grew. It was something she’d inherited from her father.

  When we came back to California, Caroline went on a rabid tangent. Can you believe that my own wife has already begun to organize groups of women throughout the San Francisco region? She wants them to unite for the same rights for women in this state as they have done in Idaho and Utah. She was told that the federal government will never come together to pass any legislature as a country, which I have to admit, I’d vote against it anyway.

  Who raised you?

  I won’t get into any of that in this letter. I’m sure you’re already angry as all get out over my reluctance to come to Mary Elizabeth’s services and all. You do realize it’s three thousand miles away and I would have to take almost a month off work to be able to come out there.

  Oh, dear Lord!

  Caroline would love it if you’d come to us.

  Maybe it’s a different three thousand miles from east to west.

  She says that she’d stay up all night long talking with you. Though in reality, she’s never met you, she feels like she knows you better than her own mother, who unfortunately passed when Caroline was only five.

  I do have to admit that my wife has filled herself up with more passion than I know what to do with, so a visit from you would certainly take a load off my mind and bring some sanity back into this household.

  Caroline is also with child and your assistance during this delicate period would hopefully convince her to drop this idiotic cause of hers, this woman’s rights nonsense. You have to agree that she needs to turn her focus on what really matters and that, of course, is being a mother and a wife. Mother, you’d be most helpful on both fronts, since you know about such things.

  Lizzy shot up from her bench. She shoved the letter into her sleeve and pranced over to the carriage. With two heaving lunges, she was up on the seat, reins in hand and brake released. She pulled her carriage onto the road and headed north. Once past Constitution, she began to slow down. Get yourself together, Lizzy. It’s just a letter!

  She pulled the carriage to the side of the road and stopped. Her hands ached from holding so tightly to the reins. Her chest was still beating rapidly and her breathing was forced. She scolded herself for being so angry but as she looked farther down her street, things turned from bad to worse.

  “Damn it, Lizzy!” Giving herself a mouthful of accusations, she snapped the reins and whistled like she’d never done before. The horse jolted and soon they were racing down the last few blocks of her neighborhood. Not realizing the time, Lizzy had waited too late to return the carriage which meant that she’d be the one to unhitch it, wipe down the horse and tuck both horse and carriage away in the livery. She could only pray that the normal footman was just closing up, but as dark as it was getting, she didn’t get her hopes up.

  *  *  *  *

  She stood looking out the kitchen window and into the darkness of the night. She knew how lucky she’d been that she’d spotted the footman closing up the last stall. After several minutes of heavy negotiations, the footman had agreed to take care of the horse and carriage and Lizzy had breathed a slow, yet expensive, breath of fresh air before heading back towards the front door of her house.

  Once inside her home, she opened a half-dozen windows to get some air inside. She looked around, her anger still manifesting from deep inside. She was still visibly shaking despite her attempts to calm herself down. She looked down the hall, too upset to be calmed by her wall of memories. She turned and walked into the kitchen and then right back out again. She thought of what she really needed at that very moment.

  She looked up at Jacob’s portrait as she walked by it and into the kitchen again. She reached up and retrieved a snifter and poured herself a small helping of brandy. In one gulp, she swallowed her first pour before refilling the snifter to the brim.

  Continuing to stare into the darkness, Lizzy took another sip and snickered out loud at the sight of the footman walking down the street, barely illuminated by the dim street lamp.

  “What a kind young man; I’d have paid him double what we agreed on—no, triple!” After refilling her snifter once again, her anger shifted towards William.

  “What a selfish, condescending, fool of a man!” Lizzy shook her head in disgust. “No, he’s no man. Martin was a man. A kind and loving father, husband and a great and caring man. James was becoming a great and caring man as well. What happened to William, for God’s sake?”

  Lizzy’s voice cracked and her words were beginning to slur. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and looked around the room for a place to sit. She took another sip from her snifter as she settled slowly into her oversized living room chair.

  “Is it because he left us at such a young age? Is he showing his anger at something I did or didn’t do?” Lizzy racked her brain. “Did I treat them differently? Did I? No! It was always Martin who would give in and pamper them, let them off the hook. What kind of upbringing was that, huh Martin?”

  Lizzy was beginning to feel the effects of the brandy as she began to blame Martin for how William turned out. “Martin never should have le
t him go to Oklahoma in the first place!”

  Lizzy picked up the snifter and stared at its contents. She looked over at the side table where she’d tossed the letter in anger. She brought the brandy up to her lips and held it there as she contemplated not finishing the letter.

  No, you’ve got to finish it, Lizzy. And don’t blame Martin for any of this; it’s no one’s fault but William’s.

  Between her thoughts and the effects of the brandy, Lizzy was beginning to relax enough to read.

  I’ve been promoted to oversee future development of city planning for the water district of San Francisco. In order for me to really have hands-on access with all the planning and approval, I moved Caroline into a small, but suitable home near the waterfront.

  With her taking care of my needs, the household chores and minding the needs of a newborn, I don’t know how she’ll find time to get too involved with whether or not she can vote. To be honest, Mother, I just don’t see why you and a handful of women find it so important to put a mark next to a person’s name. You all have followed our lead for centuries and all is well, right? Why the need to change all that? Yes, I may sound harsh, but I’m not alone. Many of my colleagues agree and some are quite pointed on the matter. I warned Caroline about the possibility of aggression and I feel obliged to warn you as well. Mother, a woman’s place is in the home, period. How else can civilization continue to evolve? It’s done fine since the beginning of time, just don’t know why you women are so fired up to change it all.

  Please consider my request to assist Caroline with the delivery and to redirect her towards her primary role as a mother and wife.

  Yours Respectfully,