The noise reached her first.
The noise of the loom shuttling back and forth greeted her as she reached the doors. She stared unbelieving at the inch of silk already woven and growing as she watched. Pearl cream silk threads rose and fell on the warp. Above her head, hundreds of spools, lilac, sage-green, apple green, pale yellow, peach, lavender, silver, gold… all of them spun at a dizzying speed as threads were pulled into the weft.
How had this been done?
She looked around. Not only Rovena but several other women were there and by the look of them, none had slept.
“How?” she stammered.
Samira, one of the women turned to her and grinned excitedly.
“How did you get this done so fast?”
“What?” The other woman strained to hear above the noise of the loom.
Laura pointed at the growing strip of fabric and at the hundreds of spools above them. Threads moved at incredible speed.
Understanding dawned in the other woman’s eyes. “Rovena …” She mimed a phone and said something then mimed a baby.
Rovena, on the other side of the loom, saw them and came over. They walked out into the early morning. It was still cold and damp, drops of dew still glistening on the grass. The silver threads on the loom would become tiny shining points, juts like dew drops.
“How?”
“I phoned some of the women and told them you were going to help save the dress.”
“You must have worked all night.”
Rovena shrugged. “You remember when you worked all night to help deliver my daughter’s baby?” she asked as if the answer weren’t obvious. “When something must happen now, it must happen. Some of us walked across the border from Kosovo during the war, without sleep, without rest, without food. When something is necessary, people find a way.”
Samira nodded agreement. “You have to have hope.”
When Laura went back inside, the silk weave had grown to four inches. Already she could see the design showing through. A dance of silver and green leaves along the hem of what would be the skirt.
She stood there, unable to take her eyes off the growing length of fabric, her vision coming to life inch by slow inch.
This was better than painted silk. More delicate. The colours weren’t the ones she had chosen, but close enough. Had they known this could be done, she would have ordered the right colour thread ages ago and they could have woven enough to make a hundred wedding dresses.
She lifted her eyes to the workers who had made this happen. The hard working and loyal women who wanted more than anything to save their business but had not hesitated to help her.
Rovena caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile.
“Come,” Laura mouthed over the noise of the loom and went back outside.
Rovena and Samira followed.
Laura’s mind was racing as it did when a new idea came to life; she prayed God was still on her side.
“You know,” she said, closing the door behind them to reduce the noise. “The reason you can’t sell what you’ve made here is because it’s the same as all the damask and jacquard being made in China.”
They knew all this, already. It was old news. The storeroom had shelves and shelves of unsold bolts of silk.
“But what if you weave unique designs, inspired by the colours of this island?” She waved at the fields of swaying pink and yellow. The green against the blue of the sea. “This can become a boutique manufacturer of very special silks, and those…” She paused waiting for them to come to the same conclusion.
“We can sell for a higher price,” Someone else spoke.
Laura turned and found three more women had followed them.
The speaker, Asia was her name, a forty-something woman with reddish hair, clasped her hands together excited. “We can finally compete.”
