This was what she had been born for, to be with somebody who needed her love. There didn’t have to be sorrow or fearsome excitement, only a daily presence. This is what her parents had, even when they argued, and maybe what Miss Opal had with Dante’s father, before he had gone to Vietnam and come back saddened and shot himself in the head. This was what the Bible had failed to explain to Lydia. Because the Bible didn’t say, loving a man in the flesh took more devotion than loving a heavenly promise. And if you really loved somebody, they became greater than a god.
Her month with Dante went too quickly, and then Lydia drove to Chicasetta to join her mother and sisters. She didn’t want to tell anyone about her love. She wasn’t ashamed of Dante, his bad grammar, his high school diploma but no years of college. But she was afraid of Mama and her prescient dreams, of what they might reveal about the man Lydia loved. Dante was too important to her. Lydia couldn’t give him up.
And she couldn’t keep still, those summer days. In the garden, the weeds weren’t enough for her hands. She rushed through plucking her rows, and then asked her granny, was there something more she could do? Miss Rose set her to snapping beans for dinner, but Lydia would finish those quickly, too. So she’d sew a dress for Ailey to wear to church, because her baby sister was complaining that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was almost an adult, and she didn’t want to wear pinafores and puff sleeves, and that was Lydia’s excuse to drive to Macon to the fabric shop. On the way back, she’d stop at a pay phone and use her phone card to call Dante at work.
“When you coming to see me? I need you, woman.”
“It’s only been two weeks.”
“You telling me you don’t miss me?”
“You know I do, but I can’t come. Mama’s here.”
“Baby, you grown!”
“Not to her. I told you how she is.”
They talked until their ten minutes were up. She wanted to save the minutes, because her mother would be suspicious. What had taken Lydia so long? But Dante wanted to know, was Lydia still his lady? Was she trying to break up with him on the sly? Was some nigger in Chicasetta trying to beat his time? Then Lydia had to spend three more minutes to tell him there was nobody else but him. She couldn’t think of another man touching her, not anymore, and she and Dante talked naughty for a few moments before offering their love to each other. You hang up first. No, you hang up. I love you. I miss you so much.
When Lydia returned to the farm, Mama would ask her, had she been standing in the sun? Her face looked so flushed. Was she coming down with something? She would put a hand to her daughter’s forehead. Maybe Lydia needed to go lie down.
What made her ache the most was Dante’s absence at her great-grandmother’s funeral. He should have been there when Dear Pearl was laid to rest. Dante had plenty church clothes, and he owned his own Bible. He would have fit right in with these people she’d grown up with. He would have put his arm around Lydia as she cried over the old lady who hadn’t smiled much and had always seemed in a bad mood, but she had made Lydia feel smart. Dear Pearl had taken away her shame without even knowing, before Lydia had to return to her grandfather’s abuse and suffer the shame all over again.
It was Dante’s idea that they marry at City Hall, when the semester started in late August. He’d been without his woman for three months, and though Lydia spent the weekends with him, he missed her during the week when she was away at school. He wanted to make this thing permanent, and was happy when Lydia told him she felt the same way. She cut class and visited the Fulton County courthouse to fill out the forms.
For the ceremony, she wore a green silk dress, and he wore a black suit he’d bought out of the trunk of somebody’s car. It would have been perfect for Lydia, if her family had been there. But she hadn’t been able to bear to tell them—not when she knew how disappointed Mama would be.
And perfect for Dante, too, if his uncle and his wife hadn’t come. Uncle Warren was retired and had plenty time on his hands. When Miss Opal had called him, Uncle Warren had declared that he wouldn’t miss this wedding for nothing in the world.
There was almost a scene when the man insisted that he stand beside his nephew, as a witness. Miss Opal and her sister agreed. Family should do this.
Dante pulled his mother by the arm, and Lydia followed.
“This ain’t about y’all,” he said. “This about me and my lady. This our day. And why you bring him here? You know I don’t like that nigger.”