The Loom (26 page)

She could dine every night with a man who hated her only if she imagined it wasn’t so, but pretending was exhausting.

Capturing every thought, reining in every impulse, pulling in every emotion, pressing down all honesty at all times—it was more than exhausting. It was suffocating, killing her. Every truth she bit down against, she swallowed until her belly swelled. She feared after a while, Jackson would take notice if she didn’t burst before.

Caroline felt the weight of her lids close, only to open again moments later at the sound of a tap. She glanced at the door, waiting for Annie to knock again. When she didn’t, she rolled over on her back and closed her eyes. She was as worn out as the first day she arrived, as weary as she had been as a slave.

Another tap. At the window. She dragged herself to the edge of the bed and sat with hunched shoulders and a hung head until she mustered the strength to rise.

She crept across the wooden floor and peeked through the drapes. John. His face lit hers before she fought the impulse.

Even from two stories above, she could see what she had always seen in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t wave. He just stood there waiting, waiting until something in his stare, something about the way he looked at her, stirred her and made her walk away from the window to him.

Caroline headed down the back steps of the manor for the fields. When she saw him, she smiled.

She lifted the hem of her skirt over her ankles and made her way toward him.

He simply waited.

In the dark corner of the stable, Caroline watched John light a candle.

Two days. Two days he had been on the same land with her. When he turned to her, she could feel a sprout, one tiny sprout of life break through.

He sat leaning forward, his elbows on denim-covered knees crossed in front of him. A thin cord around his neck peeked from inside the collar of his dark shirt, navy, black, she couldn’t tell in the dimness, but she could see his sleeves were cuffed. She nodded. Always cuffed.

He watched her head move, her hands fidget. Finally, she spoke.

“I left because I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Is that right?” He didn’t believe the lie.

“I didn’t tell you about Dr. Kelly because I was yours. He tried to take the only thing you had. He had so much, so many women, and what did you have?”

“I had everything.”

His words cut, they always cut, made her heart bleed. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing had changed, Lydia. I was angry, but nothing changed.”

“I wish…” But the words broke off in her mind. She didn’t even know what she wished anymore. The thing she had wished for, she had wanted all her life, she now had. Didn’t she?

He looked at her for a long time until finally she could feel the corners of her mouth lift. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You too.” He nodded.

She was glad he was alive, but speaking with him, meeting with him at this place, on this land, was unwise.

“You have to be careful, John. Careful here.”

“I come and go as I please.”

“No, you don’t understand. Jackson hates Coloreds.”

“Does he?” She watched his eyes glance over her.

“He doesn’t know, of course.” If Jackson found out, if he discovered the truth… She could feel an unrest, a panic creeping in, bubbling in her veins. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

“Who do you think I am, Lydia?” He shook his head. “I don’t know who you think I am.”

“I was just making certain. I’m scared.”

“Be scared, that’s fine, but don’t be scared of me.”

She looked at the face of the man she loved, she had loved. Quickly, she swallowed the feeling. She couldn’t feel it and stay where she was. She batted away the tears.

“How is everyone? I heard Lizzy’s getting married. How’s Lou?”

He shook his head.

“John?” Her heart thumped. “Something happen?”

“No, but she’s not doing well. A bad sickness fell in The Room a couple of weeks ago. She’s been asking for you. I don’t know. Looks bad, Lydia.”

“I’ve got to see her.”

“Lydia…”

“I have to.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” He leaned forward. “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

She knew. He had no idea how much. What she had seen, the change in Jackson’s demeanor, the loathing in his eyes. She knew, but she had no choice.

“I’m going.”

“Now?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow night. Please, will you come?”

Cold settled in Lou’s chest like a web, thin at first, practically unnoticed, but slowly it netted and weaved itself around her lungs until she felt trapped.

It was freezing lying on the ground, no matter how close she was to the others, no matter how many covers she wrapped herself in. Although several young slaves had filled as many cracks in the walls as they could with mud to keep out the air, there was no getting warm in the winter. She could see that now. She shivered. What would night bring?

The knock startled her. No one knocked here, especially this time of morning. They just walked right on in whenever they felt moved to do so.

She eased her quilt down low enough to peek at the sleeping faces of her friends and saw Cora walk in with a wooden bowl and a cup.

“Miss Lou, you getting better, right?” The girl squatted next to her, flashing a bright smile. “Yes is all the answer I’ll hear, I hope you know.”

“You gotta give me some time to get better. I’m old now. This body don’t do like it used to.”

“Try and eat something, Miss Lou.” Cora sat with a bowl of okra in her lap and smiled. “Maybe some tea would make you feel better.” She lowered the hot toddy to her mouth. “Can you sit up?” Lou pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“You seen my baby yet?”

Cora’s smile faded.

“Ain’t she ever coming back?”

Please, Lord, send my baby.

“Drink.”

“Where’s my Lydia?”

“She’ll be here.”

“When she coming?” Lou coughed. The web tightened, refusing to break. A fire fought on the inside of cold limbs. Panting, she shifted to her side.

“You’re going to be all right.” Cora patted her hand. “You’re going to make it.”

“Yes. God’s going to do it.” On this side or the other.

“And if He don’t, this here hot toddy will.” Cora laughed.

“If God don’t do it…,” Lou whispered. She shook her head. No more words. No more moving.

“You need some doctoring. I’m going to see what I can do to get Master over here to see about you. Get you some tonic. Don’t seem like nothing I’m doing is working much.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t need no doctor, no man poking and prodding. Just some rest and Jesus. If God didn’t do it, it wasn’t going to be done.When Cora waved good-bye, Lou didn’t pray for her, didn’t say a word.

“You sure you all right, Miss Lou?”

“I’m fine.” Just don’t want to get up!

But she was far from fine. Couldn’t get up if she wanted to.

Sunday night. Finally.

Caroline slipped out of the still house through the back door and dashed down the steps. A rush flared in her chest so hot, she hardly noticed she needed more on her shoulders than the cotton shirt to ward off the night breeze.

Her heart pitter-pattered when she brushed past the roses. From the hill she couldn’t tell how low and tight the vines hung.

Thorns grazed her cheeks, her arms. She ducked under its mild assault until she reached the fence. A withering oak.

When Caroline wiggled through the bushes, the throbbing leapt to her throat. She was suddenly back to the night she had escaped. And here she was escaping again. Once again fighting the tug between life and death. This time, her life, Lou’s death. With a hard swallow, she shoved down fear and exhaled. She was here now, standing before the small log house where she had arranged to meet John.

With him at her side, she ran across the green meadow, past the hill, through the garden, and didn’t stop until they were at the wagon at the back of the stable, winded and weary.

John hitched the horses and they traveled back to their old plantation.

Lydia watched the way. Folk would find it odd for a lady to travel without a companion, but none would stop her because of the color of her skin. They avoided the ones who might question by journeying late at night.

She was traveling through time. Back through history. Back to being a Colored girl named Lydia. Back to a world of passion that had drawn a well of love from the pit of her. And pain. She would never shake the horror of her father’s murder. But she was back for a reason. And in all it could cost her, Lou was worth the risk.

“Grandma.”

“There’s my girl. There she is.” Lou chuckled, coughed. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m fine, Grandma.”

“Then why you just now seeing me?” Her voice was hoarse, strained.

“I’m here now.” She patted Lou’s hand and kissed it.

“We all missed you, Lydia.” Odessa hugged her before bumping Ruth off the loom.

“This place wasn’t the same.” Abram grinned. “You make this place special, girl.”

“Oh no, it was that before I came, but I did miss all of you. So much.” Lydia gazed at each face. Her eyes settled on John. She turned away. “You hurting, Grandma?”