029. Birth - Prompt Table for The Crucible on fanfic100
He remembers what he first thought of her when she first started to interest him in that way. They had grown up together of course, she had moved to Salam with her parents, sister Mary and brother William when she was quite young and from then on they had gone to church together, had their lessons together and generally saw each other in their small town nearly every day.
She had always been so quiet. He would have never thought she would be anything more to him than just a name he knew and yet... He would have guessed that if anything her fiery older sister would have been the one to catch his eye. She was a DeRich now, married off at what was considered young even in their times and said to have eight children or more now - and not all to her first husband either.
But Elizabeth... Her soft smile, the way he could never tell what she was thinking, the way she articulated her thoughts when asked to explain a passage from the bible... she was someone could really be a wife, she really could. He wanted to know what she was thinking, actually wanted or felt like he needed to know. Her cakes were always the best too. Moist inside, light and fluffy with just the right amount of cream on top or in the middle. Sometimes he looks back and he wonders why she didn't become so much more to him so much sooner, but she was his wife now, and that was what was important, wasn't it?
She wasn't his first wife though, Martha was, and from her they'd had his first son, Benjamin, named for John's brother who had died from illness when he were young. Martha had died in the birth and for years John was alone until she caught his eye again.
Elizabeth was still alone, something John had pondered about for weeks until her father, William Bassett pointed out why. Her love for God was good enough for her until a man just as worthy came along for her love, he said. Words Elizabeth's mother Mary, God rest her soul, had filled her head with since she was young. No, God was a jealous creature and he who got to share Elizabeth's love had to be worthy, Elizabeth nodded quietly when he had asked if that were true, and then nodded again when he's asked whether perhaps a widower like him was worthy too, even if he had a son.
"Your Benjamin is a good boy." she had replied. "...Like your brother. He was good, too."
It took a few months but then they were married, and then after a few more, just after she was finally happy with the house it was announced she was with child that would be William. He liked seeing her happy and happier she could not have been, what with a large kitchen to cook and keep in and a belly swelling under her apron. The house was alive with wildflowers she grew under the windows or that he picked for her out during his days work, and everything was good. It was sturdy. Martha had been a good wife to him in the short chance that she got, but Elizabeth was Elizabeth, and she easily and quickly changed his shadowy home into something warm and comfortable.
Hardly a year after there came Sarah, and things were unspeakably good. The birth went well, something which always worried Proctor for obvious reasons but his Elizabeth was strong and had God on her side which, sadly, perhaps Martha had not.
And then…
And then…
She had always been so quiet. He would have never thought she would be anything more to him than just a name he knew and yet... He would have guessed that if anything her fiery older sister would have been the one to catch his eye. She was a DeRich now, married off at what was considered young even in their times and said to have eight children or more now - and not all to her first husband either.
But Elizabeth... Her soft smile, the way he could never tell what she was thinking, the way she articulated her thoughts when asked to explain a passage from the bible... she was someone could really be a wife, she really could. He wanted to know what she was thinking, actually wanted or felt like he needed to know. Her cakes were always the best too. Moist inside, light and fluffy with just the right amount of cream on top or in the middle. Sometimes he looks back and he wonders why she didn't become so much more to him so much sooner, but she was his wife now, and that was what was important, wasn't it?
She wasn't his first wife though, Martha was, and from her they'd had his first son, Benjamin, named for John's brother who had died from illness when he were young. Martha had died in the birth and for years John was alone until she caught his eye again.
Elizabeth was still alone, something John had pondered about for weeks until her father, William Bassett pointed out why. Her love for God was good enough for her until a man just as worthy came along for her love, he said. Words Elizabeth's mother Mary, God rest her soul, had filled her head with since she was young. No, God was a jealous creature and he who got to share Elizabeth's love had to be worthy, Elizabeth nodded quietly when he had asked if that were true, and then nodded again when he's asked whether perhaps a widower like him was worthy too, even if he had a son.
"Your Benjamin is a good boy." she had replied. "...Like your brother. He was good, too."
It took a few months but then they were married, and then after a few more, just after she was finally happy with the house it was announced she was with child that would be William. He liked seeing her happy and happier she could not have been, what with a large kitchen to cook and keep in and a belly swelling under her apron. The house was alive with wildflowers she grew under the windows or that he picked for her out during his days work, and everything was good. It was sturdy. Martha had been a good wife to him in the short chance that she got, but Elizabeth was Elizabeth, and she easily and quickly changed his shadowy home into something warm and comfortable.
Hardly a year after there came Sarah, and things were unspeakably good. The birth went well, something which always worried Proctor for obvious reasons but his Elizabeth was strong and had God on her side which, sadly, perhaps Martha had not.
And then…
And then…