The Loom by Shella Gillus Page A

want to keep John waiting.”
    “Oh, Lydia. I want to come. I’ll come with you.”
    “Lizzy, you can’t. You know your parents wouldn’t approve.”
    “Well, then, I’ll just sit with you until it’s time.”
    Lydia squeezed her tight. Lizzy giggled all the way down the hall to Lydia’s hushes.

    In the room, Lizzy sat on Lydia’s bed and smiled. The dingy, thin cotton sheets crinkled around her like sun rays. Everything was beautiful today.
    Lydia pulled the sheer drapes aside and sat in the rough-hewn chair at the foot of her bed.
    “What about you, Lizzy? Still thinking about Jackson?” She hadn’t mentioned his private conversation with her.
    “He’s a bit stuffy for my taste.” Lizzy shrugged, then her eyes lit. “Andrew’s interesting.”
    “He’s nice, but no more sneaking around.”
    “Well, no, I certainly can’t ask you to go with me now. Not now.” She slurred the word and laughed.
    Lydia smiled. Lizzy looked like her father. She’d never noticed how much before. She turned away.
    “You all right, Lydia? Seems you should be happier. You do love him, don’t you?”
    “Yes. Yes, very much. Lizzy, I wish you knew him. He’s wonderful.”
    “So what is it?”
    “I just wish…”
    “What, Lydia? You wish, what? I wish I’d known you were getting married. I would’ve gotten you something. If there’s something you want…”
    But what she wanted her friend couldn’t give.
    “You’re a good friend, Lizzy.”
    “You’re my best, Lydia. My best.”
    The beauty of The Room stunned her.
    Ruth and Odessa had wrapped their heads in crimson scarves and much of the fabric on the floor was half stuffed in the cracks of the walls so that they hung down in flaps on every side. Lydia felt a tug in her heart and swallowed the lump that swelled inside her throat. She looked at the women and Old Abram inside, who wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see her wed had she not decided to come to them. She stared at her father, her grandmother, and Cora smiling at her against the open door. Her family. The sacrifice, the effort of ones with little power, moved her. Tears welled up and she tried to look at, touch, take in each piece of material they had placed like feathers in a hallowed nest. Each one took breath, strength they didn’t have. Lydia cried. Each one gave love, they did.
    “Oh, now, what did I tell you about that?” Lou chastised through tears. “No crying, Lydia. Got me crying again and ya’ll ain’t even married yet!”
    “Come inside.” Lydia motioned but Lou shook her head.
    “I can see plenty good from here.”
    Truth be told, there would only be room for John in the tight quarters.
    Abram and Odessa sat in a half circle on the mounts of fabric that remained. Ruth, at the loom.
    “Got something for you.”
    “Miss Ruth…”
    “Ain’t much, but you know it’s from my heart.”
    Ruth lifted a woven rainbow band of cotton. When she heard her approach, she reached out and loosened the yellow ribbon from Lydia’s waist and tied the colorful belt behind her.
    “I had to do something.” Her fingers climbed from Lydia’s chin to the cheek she patted. “Had to do something.”
    “He’s here,” her father announced.
    Lydia brushed past her daddy and the others and stepped outside. Her heart lifted when she saw him a few feet away.
    John gripped a tattered Bible in his right hand and a red rose in his left. He ran to her.
    “I made it,” he said, dusting his faded black trousers and white shirt. He grabbed then kissed her hand and handed her the flower.
    “A rose.”
    “Yes.” He looked at her. “You look beautiful.”
    “You think so?”
    He nodded, his fingers slipping over the shiny scar she hid behind wisps of hair.
    “Who would’ve thought we’d get married in this sad little place?” She laughed.
    “It’s not sad today.”
    No. No, it wasn’t. Not today.
    In the moonlight near the log structures where slaves found rest, Lydia leaned against her