Free The Loom by Shella Gillus

top lid, the first three cents she ever earned. She passed that box filled with all her money—didn’t spend one penny on herself—to her son, my grandfather, Lee Sanders. He was a carpenter and followed after the path of his mother faithfully. Cutting wood, carving detailed designs into rocking chairs, tables, benches, all things wooden subject to splintered hands and a mind, I believe, powerful enough to create a world. A gifted man who made the most for his children’s children. He brought in the most money out of all of us together. I’m telling you, Lydia, he could’ve used that wealth for himself. Could’ve bought himself out of bondage, I’m sure, but he remained faithful to his mother’s dream. He wanted it more for me, more for those to come.”
    “That’s amazing.”
    “It is. My mother, just before she died, passed the box on to me.”
    “Where is it?”
    “Here. Buried. She sold vegetables from her garden on Saturdays. I tell you, she never did see a day’s rest.” He dropped his head, hated to think of the weariness that hung her lids, her shoulders heavy. “Master Ridge let me hire myself out, welding, at the end of the week to small farms near his plantation. And here we are. Finally enough.”
    The telling of his story, this account of his people whispered to the one he loved, was sacred. It moved him and he found his palm open against his chest, his heart, the thumping, the rhythm of life from kin to kin.
    “But with all the trading, the selling, the moving around, how did it stay in your family?”
    “That’s the miracle, Lydia. It stayed because it was supposed to stay, settled in my hands for such a time as this. For us.”
    “That money was saved for you. We’re not even married or nothing.” Her words were light and lyrical, but worry creased her brow. Although the world didn’t recognize their union, they could, should acknowledge themselves. She rubbed a piece of straw between her fingers. Large green eyes blinked up at him.
    Those eyes. Married…Yes. They’d have to do something about that.
    “I just need to talk to Dr. Kelly.” He pulled at the straw in her hand. “At the right time.”
    She didn’t answer.
    “What do we have to lose, Lydia?”
    “Nothing.”
    The word tumbled from her lips too fast, fell deep in the pit of him. She had nothing to lose. Not a thing.
    She sat up on her legs and stretched the length of her dress around her, inching forward beside him. Her knee against his thigh.
    She smiled and he felt himself breathing again. Had he been holding his breath? He wanted to keep her smiling. What he would do to keep her happy…
    John lay back with his hand behind his head and closed his eyes and saw himself answering to no one but God. A real man.
    Pieces of straw pricked his arm as Lydia slid beside him. When he opened his eyes, hers were closed and he saw the girl in the woods. He would carry her again. Take her home. Keep her safe. He slid his arm behind her, around her, and folded her into him.
    What he needed was the perfect timing that would lead them on a path out of here, but what he wanted was another miracle, a way to keep the world from ever hurting her again.
    He drifted off. Lydia danced in his dreams, light and free. His Lady.
    “John…John?”
    He awoke to her smile shining down on him. He scrambled up and swiped his face with his palm.
    “Lydia, I’m sorry.”
    “You’re fine.”
    “How long was I asleep?”
    “Not long. An hour maybe.”
    “Why didn’t you wake me? I’ve got to get you back.”
    “You were smiling.”
    “Smiling?”
    “In your sleep.” She grinned. “As close to free as you could be tonight.”

CHAPTER TEN
    It wasn’t easy living without love.
    Love was the breath that moved through a body, lit a soul, the spirit that, if quenched, left one empty on the outside of a changing world simply watching.
    Emma Kelly watched the girls picking blueberries from the sheer curtains of her bedroom window and shook her