The Loom by Shella Gillus Page B

grandmother on her new bench and watched the folds of skirts lift and spread around caramel and mocha-colored legs like the petals of flowers opening and closing above stems, thick and thin.
    “I’m glad I lived to see the day,” Lou said, patting her leg. “It was beautiful.”
    It was. Like a dream.
    Lydia squeezed the walnut-shelled hand on her thigh and smiled at her husband several feet away. John clasped the tips of Cora’s fingers and spun the girl until she collapsed in giggles at his feet. A yellow glimmer drew her attention away. Lizzy ambled through the crowd in her ballroom gown. She waved when she saw her and pressed her way through, sunshine tendrils tumbling left, then right as she strained to keep contact.
    Lizzy clutched her hand when she reached her and kissed Lou’s cheek.
    “I didn’t know what to wear.”
    “Oh, it’s fine, Lizzy. It’s fine.” Lydia stood to her feet, happy to see her. But it was a risk.
    “Did you really think I’d miss this? Your wedding?” Lizzy looked around. “But I did miss it, didn’t I?”
    “Just the vows.” Lydia wrapped her arm around Lizzy’s and led her toward the dancing. “I want you to meet John, but, Lizzy, it’s not wise for you to stay.”
    “You don’t want me here?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Lydia, please. I’m here and I’m staying.”
    Lydia stared at the soft image of her master and forced a smile.
    “I wanted to give you something.” Lizzy touched the strand of pearls against her throat and grinned.
    “Lizzy. Lizzy, no.” But just as Lizzy had the night she discovered her adorned in the formal dress in her room, she unlatched the necklace from her neck. Through bleary eyes, Lydia looked at the gems, the treasure, the gift in her palm and the woman at her side. “Lizzy.”
    “For you, my friend.”
    Lydia clutched the pearls in her fist and Lizzy even tighter and cried.
    Lizzy wiped her eyes and smiled. “Now where is this husband of yours?”
    Lydia slipped the necklace in the pocket of her dress and spotted John and Charles bantering near an old, withered oak.
    “Lydia,” Charles said, grabbing her hand. A smile, as wide as it was bright, spread across his narrow face before he released her. “The Lord’s blessing with this one.” He cocked his brow and nodded at the man at his right. “I guess this is it. I’ve got to find another place to lay my head tonight.”
    “No, it’s all right.” John gripped his shoulder. “We’ll give you one more night.”
    “Will we?” Lydia asked.
    “Yes. I’ve got things set up somewhere else.”
    The storehouse. She smiled.
    “Introduce me,” Lizzy said, stepping forward a few feet from the men. Charles’s long, thin limbs shadowed like a maple over her. “Oh, I’m sorry. John, Charles, this is—”
    “This is Elizabeth Kelly,” Charles inserted. “Of course we know the master’s daughter.”
    “The master’s daughter? Is that what I’m known as?” She stretched her hand to him. “I’d much rather be called Lizzy.”
    “I see.” He was hesitant. “Lizzy, then.” Tentatively, he shook her hand.
    “Shall we?” Lizzy glanced at the couples swinging around them and shrugged. “It’s just a dance.”
    “Miss Elizabeth.”
    Lydia’s father appeared in the midst of them. The top button of his white shirt was now undone and his sleeves cuffed at the wrist.“Daddy.” She hadn’t seen him in hours, hadn’t even seen him walk up. She smiled up at him, but he was looking at the White men planted among them.
    “Surprised to see you here,” he said to her friend.
    “I didn’t want to miss Lydia’s big day.”
    “Well, that was nice.” He glanced around and nodded. “But it’s probably best you head back over to the manor now.”
    “I will.” Her face flushed red. “I was just going to have a dance with Charles.”
    Charles backed up, shook his head.
    “I think you need to go home, Miss Elizabeth. We don’t want no trouble.”
    “There’s not going