The Loom (21 page)

“Welcome home, Lazarus.” Ruth squeezed Abram’s hands. “Welcome home.”

Odessa let the tears come. Wet love streamed into the crevices of her face, raced through the maze fast and steady until they dripped down her chin onto her husband. She snuggled next to him and spoke to him. Only him.

“That night when I was in that shed, I know it was you that saved me.” She struggled with each word. “I knew. I always knew.

I saw your scarred hand, Abram, before you rescued me.”

Abram struggled up and stared at her.

“When I thought you was gone, that I had lost you right now, I was sad I didn’t say thank you.”

“Dessa…”

“I know, Abram. I’ve always known. You had the power to heal. You had the power to save.”

“No, love, you don’t understand. I never rescued nobody.”

“Sure you did. I—”

“I ain’t never rescued nobody, Dessa. Felt bad for years about it, too, that Sammy died the only real savior. He killed Mr. Tim, died because he did, died a horrible death. And I didn’t do nothing. Never got the chance to help one girl.”

“Sammy had a scar on his hand, too, then. In his right palm?”

“You know he didn’t. You saw him hanging there. Body hung for weeks. We was crazy, Dessa, but believe me, one wound was plenty enough. I stuck that poker on his right foot and he seared my right hand. Near killed each other when we did it.” Abram coughed through a pain edged with laughter.

“But I was saved… And the hand, I remember the hand. Ain’t nobody else you know scarred on the inside of they hand?”

“What are you talking about, Dessa?”

“Thank You, Jesus!” Lou hollered. She couldn’t stop shaking her head. “Can you believe it, Dessa? He’s alive! This here is a miracle if there ever was one.”

Odessa nodded. A miracle indeed.

Here you are,” Jackson said, swinging the bedroom door open with a flair and a movement much more grandiose than Lydia expected. She laughed.

“A little entertainment for the lady.” His hand remained on the knob. “Go on.” He nodded at her. “Have a look. Do you need some help?”

“No. No, thank you.” She had insisted on walking, hopping up the thirty steps to the entry of the manor though she had leaned against his grip on her elbow and rested midflight. She was winded but she would be fine. She glanced around the room. Hard not to be fine in this place.

Soft blue walls rose to a soaring arched ceiling over a high bed draped in white lace in the center of the room. In the corner there was a cedar armoire with three unlit candles and an ivory straight-back chair in front of a vanity. She hobbled toward the chair.

“I—I don’t know what to say. It’s so beautiful.” She was overwhelmed by the grandeur, the elegance, of the space. It was more than she had imagined.

“We’ll get this room filled with whatever you need,” he said, lighting the candles. “Let Annie know and I’ll see to it that you are well taken care of.” His face turned solemn. “So sorry to hear about your loss, Caroline.”

“Yes, thank you.”

It was a terrible loss. If he only knew how great. Everyone she loved was a memory to her now. She felt her spine curve under the weight of it. What was she doing here?

“I’m sure there are a few items Annie can gather to make you comfortable tonight. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. I’ll see you at supper.” He started toward the door. “Caroline. I’m glad you’re here.” He flashed a smile and closed the door behind him.

She was grateful to have a place to stay for the night. By tomorrow, she’d think of where to go, what she needed to do next. If she could walk on her sprain. She sighed. Tonight, she would rest and be thankful she had made it.

She touched the chair’s frame, running her fingertips over the curve of the backrest. The smooth wood had been buffed to perfection. She had seen Lizzy and Mrs. Kelly sit in one like it. Although this one was taller, wider, much more elegant in appearance. She sat and stared at herself in the mirror.

She was tired, weary to the bone, but beyond the structure of her features, there was something else in her appearance, a look that made her lean into her reflection and examine herself up close. There, in the wideness of her eyes, was a vulnerability, a fragileness she hadn’t seen before.

She unpinned her hair, raked through the tangles with her fingers, and swooped the length of it back into a low chignon.

Her skin was whiter, her features sharper in the flickering candlelight. She glanced at the three orange flames jumping behind her. When she turned back to the mirror, she noticed a shadow behind her. Like John coming in through the trees. She startled and steadied her hand on the strand of pearls at her neck.

She moved to the bed and flipped back the covers of lace, brushing her palm across the cold satin ivory sheets. She lifted the pillow to her face and cried. No worn blanket, no purple and red one, nothing to remind her. She placed her hand where she dreamed he would lie, ran her fingers, over the pillow like it was the back of his head.

But she had made her decision. A new life now.

A tap on the door sobered her. She wiped her eyes and stood.

Annie poked her head inside.

“Miss…Miss? I don’t know what to call you.”

“Oh. Lydia is fine.”

“May I come in, Miss Lydia?”

And then she remembered.

“No!”

“No?” Annie began to shut the door.

“No, please, Annie. Come in. Yes, come in.”

Annie crept in tentatively with thick, white towels in her arms. “I’m sorry, I was saying no about the name. I prefer Miss Caroline, if you don’t mind.”

Annie looked at her for a few seconds before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I brought a couple of things for you before dinner. Setting them here is fine?” When Lydia nodded, she placed hair pins and a brass brush on the cedar cabinet. “Master Whitfield said you’re going to be needing more. Plan on staying awhile?”

“Not long. No.”

“Well”—Annie glanced at her—“I’d be happy to find out what you need now or after supper, ma’am.”

“After supper would be fine, Annie.”

“If there’s anything else I can get you, Miss Caroline, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Annie stood there, her head slightly cocked, staring at her, studying her. Lydia’s heart quickened. The woman nodded and stepped out.

She would be one to watch.

“Did you get settled, Caroline? How is everything?” Jackson shook out the maroon linen cloth over his lap with a flip of his wrist.

“Annie get you what you need?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” He looked up at her. “That’s hardly in order.”

She was making too many slips. It seemed easier to act the part with Lizzy at her side. It had been just two silly girls playing make-believe, but this, this was real.

“Jackson,” she said, calmly, softly. “Yes, Annie was wonderful. She was a great help.”

“Good.”

She watched him cut into a slice of ham. The ting of silver sawed back and forth, sliding the meat into the hill of mashed potatoes and corn on his platter. He looked up and smiled.

“I appreciate your kindness. I don’t plan on staying long.”

He raised his brows. “I see.” He forked the pork into his mouth then looked at her plate. “Aren’t you hungry? You haven’t touched your food. Like the last time we dined together. You aren’t much of an eater, are you?”

“I am. Just a little tired.” She scooped corn onto her spoon and ate what she could.

“How long will I have the honor of enjoying your presence?”

“I don’t know. A day or two.”

“Well, it will take at least that for your items to be ready. I mean, you’re not planning on leaving here without clothing, certain necessities?”

“No.” She hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of anything. “I suppose I’ll need them.”

“I’d imagine it would be difficult to get too far on that ankle.” He raised his wineglass. “Either way, I’m a lucky man to have you even for a night.” He smiled and sipped his drink, his blue eyes steady on her.

Lydia shifted in her seat and looked away. Dining alone with a gentleman not her husband. Warmth rose to her cheeks. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, hoped this man wasn’t witnessing the shame, the embarrassment, in her pores. John didn’t deserve such disrespect.

“Are you all right, Caroline?”

She nodded. “Just been through a lot. I’m sorry I’m not much company.”

“It’s no problem at all.” He smiled. “Enjoy your food. We’ve got time.”

Lydia lowered her eyes and willed herself to eat, one bite at a time.

Later that night in bed, pictures of the day she had walked into drifted through her mind. She endured the blue sky of another day. She made it through, this time to the other side. And now she reclined on slippery sheets in the blackest of night. Royalty.

Jackson had turned out to be the perfect host, a wonderful gentleman in her time of need. His offer of material goods was just the thing she needed to move on once she decided where she was headed. The possibilities. As far as her mind would take her.

Her door creaked open. She drew the covers to her chest and sat up.

“Miss Caroline.”

It was Annie.

“Yes?” She only saw the girl’s silhouette in the door.

“Mr. Whitfield has called for you.”

“I’m sorry?” She hadn’t heard correctly. He had not called for her. At this hour? Lydia scrambled to the edge of her bed and blinked until she made out Annie’s face in the dimness. Surely she was jesting. One of them was not serious.

“He wants you in his chambers, ma’am.” When Lydia froze, she added, “Now.”

“Why?” Lydia’s heart raced. “Annie, please, tell him… tell him I’m asleep, all right? Would you do that? Would that be possible?”

“He’s waiting,” she said simply, and shut the door.

Annie.

The walk down the hall was as long as the journey it took to get from Dorchester to Manassas, from Colored to White, from bondage to freedom on a sore foot and a bruised heart.

Her hands trembled as she turned the knob to his room. She stood on the threshold in the dimly lit room in the same brown dress she had arrived in, waiting.

He was sitting on a chaise, reading by candlelight. He looked up from his book and smiled. “Caroline.”

She stood silent, waiting, praying.

“Come in.”

Oh, please, God.

She took a painful step forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked at her red ankle. “Please have a seat.”

She looked around. There was nowhere to sit. He was in the only chair in the room. He nodded toward his bed as he sipped from a copper goblet.

She teetered on the edge of the linen, pressing her damp palms together in her lap.

“Unwind, Caroline.” He placed his drink beside him and closed his book, resting it against the leg of the chaise. “I just thought you might feel like talking.”

“Oh.” She felt her shoulders fall, her face soften. She smiled. “Thank you, but I’m quite weary from the journey. If you don’t mind, Jackson, I would love to get some rest.” When she started to rise, he stood up. She stopped and stared at him.

“That will be fine. I didn’t want to keep you long.” He stepped closer, breathing through his mouth, the burnt caramel scent of rum. He swept wisps of her hair from her forehead.

Lydia flinched.

“What’s this?”

Her fingers touched his when she covered the scar.

“You had an accident?”

“Yes. As a child.”

“Ah, what a pity to have such a thing on a face like yours. I suppose no one is perfect.”

“No.” She was discovering that fact at the moment. She looked down. He tilted her chin up to him. “But you’re a beauty nonetheless.”

She slipped back from his touch. “Thank you.”

“Caroline…” He reached for her again. She looked down at the hand, so like the one that grabbed her in the hall of the old colonial, and her heart raced just the same. She had been afraid then, but this time, she felt nothing close. Something else sped through. Never again would she allow a man, allow anyone, to do whatever they wanted. Folk had touched, had whipped, had killed for too long. No more. He could not lay his hands on her. She was not subject to him. She had power and she used it on the one panting in her ear.