And Then There Was Her

by Tagan Shepard

  Thinking of the work left in her studio, she felt even more content. A dam of inspiration had broken. Everything she was making now made her feel like she was finally working toward her dream. Like one day soon she would sit down at the wheel and re-create solid light with her fingertips. The thought made her high and she was almost afraid to stop throwing.

  Madison stopped, a clump of green leaves catching her eye. She had wandered into the rows of chardonnay. No grapes hung on the vines yet, but they would be here soon. She brushed her fingertips against the new leaves. Days and weeks and months before they could amount to anything substantial.

  The potential energy of this place was infectious. It seeped into her. The vineyard fed her soul, her soul fed her work. They all fed each other, the people, the grapes, the lavender, and the mint.

  Madison reached down into the soil. There had been a rare rainfall recently and the ground was still soft with the dampness. She pressed her fingers into it. The lavender was just shooting, delicate stems fresh with burgeoning life. The mint, however, was far hardier. It had already spread its leaves to the sun, leaves twining in among the vines as though holding hands with the grapes.

  She was walking through a dream, and so it was inevitable that CS was standing at the end of the row, her eyes on Madison. Her form stiffened when Madison turned to her, the serenity of her expression shifting to discomfort. Madison half expected CS to bolt like a startled deer. She was pleased to the point of giddiness when CS held her ground, even smiling sheepishly as Madison approached.

  “Good afternoon,” CS said, her voice croaking ever so slightly. “Nice to see you out and about. It’s…been a while.”

  Now it was Madison’s turn to be sheepish. She crammed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and kept her eyes on ground. She blurted out the words before they’d fully formed in her mind. “I owe you an apology.”

  “It’s fine. You can stay inside all you want.”

  “No, I mean…” Madison tried to ignore the heat on her cheeks, but it colored her words as much as her skin. “I mean I’m sorry for…coming at you like that the other night.”

  CS answered a little too quickly, “That’s fine too.”

  “No, it isn’t. I didn’t know you had…something else going on.”

  CS’s eyebrows pushed together, a pair of wrinkles as thin as spiderwebs creasing the skin between them. “Something else going on?”

  “Laura.” Try as she might, the name still came out with a hint of accusation. “I came to apologize to you the morning after. It was early. Very early. She came out of your apartment and said you were in the shower.”

  The implication wasn’t lost on CS any more than it had been lost on Madison that morning. She opened her mouth to respond, but Madison hurried on.

  “It actually wasn’t the first time we’d talked. The night before she…warned me off.”

  “And I’m sure she used the same abundance of tact that she used when she dumped me after a decade together.”

  Madison’s pulse thrummed in her ears. She wished very much that she had a chair or at least a wall to lean against. Some way to ground herself but still keep up the appearance that this was a casual conversation.

  “She dumped you?”

  “A couple of years ago. We’re still friends, but there’s nothing else.” She looked hard at Madison. “Nothing else.”

  “I guess I just don’t understand why you’d still be friends if she broke your heart.”

  “Because she didn’t break my heart. We both knew we’d never work. Too many things stacked against us. Both too stubborn. We were just…marching in place for a while together because we didn’t want to be alone.”

  Stillness returned to the vineyard while they both digested the words. CS kept a wary eye on Madison. For her part, Madison didn’t know what she felt. It seemed to be good news, considering the way her pulse quickened every time CS was around her, but it was also confusing. Then there was the lingering reality that CS had turned her down that night.

  “To be clear,” CS said, her voice halting. “I didn’t spend that night with Laura. She showed up the next morning because she was concerned when I’d left early. In retrospect, she may have been fishing.”

  Madison thought of the angry look in Laura’s eyes, the repeated warning. “I think you’re right.”

  CS said in a quiet voice, avoiding Madison’s gaze with practiced nonchalance. “She was pretty annoyed when she didn’t get anything.”

  Madison felt her body lurching forward and stopped herself just in time. She wanted to—ached—to ask CS to explain. To hear her say out loud that she didn’t tell Laura about the kiss. She wouldn’t do it, though, wouldn’t ask why. She wanted a very specific answer to that question and it would hurt too badly not to get it. Better not to ask. For now.

  CS wiped at nonexistent dirt on her jeans. “I should be getting back to work.”

  Madison let out her breath slowly, relieved to have escaped. “Me too. I have pots to throw.”

  “I…hope to see more of you. Around the vineyard, I mean.”

  “Definitely.”

  CS smiled and turned, marching off down the path away from Madison and toward the far end of the vineyard. As soon as she was out of sight, Madison started up the path back home. The air was thin and cool on her face. She broke into a jog and let her feet fly with the same lightness of her heart.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Her growling stomach finally pulled Madison away from her studio and into the kitchen. She’d been eating much more regularly these days. Her hipbones, poking at the waistband of her jeans just a few days ago, had slid away under her normal amount of flesh. Still, she’d skipped breakfast to prepare for the arrival of more movers.

  Yanking open the refrigerator door, Madison saw that Boots had delivered groceries again. She hadn’t heard him come in and wasn’t even sure when he’d made the delivery, but she had food and that was all that mattered. A block of cheddar cheese, a jar of pickles, and a package of sliced turkey made it to the counter along with a bottle of seltzer water. She snagged the box of graham crackers for dessert and hopped up on the kitchen counter, biting off a hunk of cheese and fishing a pickle spear out of the jar.

  Madison looked around her house. She hadn’t taken stock in a long time. The first thing she noticed was a smear of dried clay on the counter in front of the coffeemaker. The handle of the carafe was gray, too, and still half-full of coffee she didn’t remember making. Looking around the kitchen, she saw smudges of clay on the sink, a few cabinets, several places on the refrigerator door and on all the dirty dishes piled in the sink. She looked down to see a greasy oil-slick of gray floating in the pickle juice.

  Her hands were covered in clay, from wrist to fingertips. She’d meant to wash them in the mudroom sink before coming out here, but she must’ve forgotten.

  Her cell phone rang and she had to weave through vases and carefully stacked bowls on her way through the living room. Her work, destined for another show in Denver, filled every available inch of space.

  She dove onto the couch, leaping over a matched pair of milky-jade amphora, their surfaces laced with the delicate pattern of mint leaves. She snatched up the phone as she rolled onto her back, waggling her toes at the soaring ceiling.

  “Hey, Maddie. Didn’t think you’d ever make it to the phone.”

  “Sorry.” She smiled at Jada’s teasing. “Someone made me stack up all my finest work between me and my phone.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Don’t you know you’re supposed to be attached to your phone at all times? I don’t go five minutes without checking mine.”

  “I’m nowhere near as popular as you are.”

  “That’ll change after you sell out your second show.” The shift in her manner was palpable, and her voice went from teasing friend to worried parent. “Are you sure you aren’t ready to move here? You have a few weeks until the opening. There’s still time to change your mind.”

>   “I still can’t afford it.”

  “I’m worried about you out there all alone. Are you okay, Maddie?”

  “To be honest, Jada, I’m not sure.”

  The question had been loaded, but also off the mark. Madison was still overwhelmingly sad sometimes about Kacey, not least of which because it seemed she had dropped Madison and her old life without looking back. She hadn’t called, hadn’t emailed, hadn’t even tried to pick up the rest of her things. Madison was also relieved, and that was the part she was hesitant to admit. Relieved that she didn’t have to hide how happy it made her to catch a glimpse of CS walking through the vines.

  She would watch until CS moved out of her line of sight, then she would relive the night they kissed, feeling CS’s lips on hers and those hands on her back. Worse were the days when CS would see her, smile and wave or, even better and infinitely worse, come and talk to Madison. They’d become more comfortable with each other since the apology and the Laura explanation, but there had been so much left unsaid. It hovered between them every time they spoke, pulling Madison toward CS yet also pushing her away.

  She was falling in love with CS, but it was so much easier to say she didn’t know how she was feeling.

  “Well, take care of yourself, that’s all I can say. You deserve to be happy, Madison. I don’t want to see you pine over that shrill little worthless cunt for the rest of your life.”

  Madison laughed, genuinely this time and made the easiest promise of her life. “I won’t.”

  “Good. On to business.” It was incredible how Jada shifted from one thought to another, throwing herself completely into each. “I just got a call from the shipping company.”

  “Please don’t tell me something went wrong.”

  “Nothing went wrong, but they’re pissed. Apparently someone at the gate is telling them they can’t drive the truck onto the property. They’re angry because they have to haul all of their equipment in and all your work out on…Oh, what did he call it? Right, ‘a fucking horse cart like it’s a damn hayride.’”

  Madison laughed, burrowing into the soft cushions of the couch. “Everyone gets mad about that.”

  “I made sure to remind them that they are moving priceless pieces of artwork and if they break anything I will personally break every bone in their bodies. On a more positive note, everything will be stored in my gallery until the show, so we don’t have to move it again after this.”

  The usual fear of moving time wormed into Madison’s gut, leaving her stomach a pit of wriggling snakes. “They’ll be careful? You promise?”

  “I promise. Just stay out of their way.”

  “I always do. Thanks, Jada. I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

  They hung up and Madison stared at the wall, trying to ignore the worry that had been needling her all day. She’d started moving her work down from the loft and out of the studio before sunrise. She agonized over the placement of everything, gulping with dread every time she took her hands off a pot. Now she decided that lying perfectly still on the couch would help with the panic. It worked for the split second before she heard the groaning of the cart and the clopping of horse hooves on packed earth.

  Boots didn’t knock, just came in, a trio of scowling men trailing behind. He called out when he got inside, and Madison returned the greeting.

  “These guys are eager to get going, Denver. Is it okay if we start?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You don’t want to leave? I know how worried you get.”

  “We’re professionals, ma’am.” One of the shipping guys said, dropping a human-sized roll of bubble wrap next to his feet. “You don’t have to worry about your art.”

  “I know. Thank you. It isn’t you guys, it’s me.”

  She turned her back, letting them get started. Boots gave instructions in his upbeat, joking way. The guys gave him clipped, one-word replies. Madison tried not to cringe at the thought of him insulting the movers and them taking it out on her work.

  With her back to the door, she could look through the wall of windows. She saw CS walking nonchalantly up the hill, one hand in her pocket, watching the activity at Madison’s cottage. She shot a quick smile through the glass, and Madison returned it, watching her cross the yard to the front door. She gave herself a moment to let her heart rate return to normal.

  CS stopped by the door to chat with Boots. Madison slipped into the kitchen to wash the clay off her hands and face. She scrubbed herself clean, feeling infinitely more presentable after running clean fingers through her hair.

  “Not to rush you, guys, but there’s a storm on the way,” CS said to the men in Madison’s living room. “I had Boots call for a tarp to cover the cart just in case.”

  The shippers’ tempers had cooled and they were almost polite when they thanked her. Madison felt the moment coming, but still reveled in the way CS turned her full attention on her. The moment did not disappoint. Madison’s whole body responded to the depth of those blue eyes. She felt electricity arcing between them. Felt it in the way she couldn’t quite keep still. In the way CS shoved her hands further into her pockets, pressing her shoulders up almost to her ears. Her tongue grew so heavy that she wouldn’t have been able to speak if she had anything coherent to say.

  As usual, Boots broke the moment. He threw an arm around Madison’s shoulders, arriving out of nowhere beside her.

  “Nice guys, huh, Denver?” He grinned and then went on, shaking her just a little, “Makes you wanna hang around all day and watch them toss stuff into the cart.”

  “Toss!”

  Madison lurched toward the door, but Boots held her in place. “I’m just messin’ with ya, Denver. They’re fine.”

  “Oh.” She settled back onto her feet, letting her eyes flicker back to CS. “Okay.”

  “What’s going on with them anyway?” CS asked. “Where are they taking your work?”

  “Jada’s arranging a new show for me. Probably in six weeks or so, but she wants the pieces on hand while she figures out the timing.”

  “The Welch Gallery again?”

  “Yes. Jada’s hoping it’ll be as successful as last time.”

  “I’m sure it will be.”

  Boots, hating to be left out of a conversation, piped up, “What’s that over the fireplace?”

  CS turned to look. Madison watched her react to the piece, hoping she would approve. It was hard to read at first, but the way she started across the living room, floating through the obstacles like she was in a trance, made it clear how much she liked it.

  Madison looked at it with them, her eyes traveling over its swooping curves. The pieces of vine were rough with knots and gnarled edges. Some spots were jagged, some were smooth. A few of the branches had dark stains of crushed grapes ground into their crevices. They were all beautifully weathered from their unprotected winter.

  CS walked toward it, gracefully dodging the pottery at her feet. Once she was beneath the sculpture, she turned back to Madison. “You made this?”

  She nodded. “Boots gave me some of the cuttings last fall. I just didn’t know what to do with them until now.”

  “It’s cool, Denver. What is it?”

  “What do you see?”

  “I dunno. What am I supposed to see?”

  “Oh no,” Madison said with a smile. They crossed the living room, joining CS in front of the hearth. “That would be cheating. What you see when you look at a piece of art says a lot about you. And what you think of the artist.”

  He shrugged and nudged CS with his elbow. “What do you see, CS?”

  She was quiet for a long minute, her brows pushed together, her eyes constantly moving. “A crown of thorns.”

  Boots stroked his chin in a mockery of thoughtfulness. “Interesting observation, don’t you think, Denver?”

  “Hmmm.” She played along, enjoying the relaxed feel of Boots’ banter. “Passion, sacrifice, pain.”

  CS turned her head ever so slightly, shifting her gaze slowl
y to meet Madison’s. She spoke in that low rumble that set Madison’s blood on fire and stopped her lungs. “Perfection.”

  Boots, oblivious as always, immediately asked, “Is that the answer? Is that what you see?”

  Madison finally relented. “I like that, but it isn’t what I see.”

  “What do you see?”

  She kept her eyes locked on CS, swimming through the crystal-clear depths and loving the feeling of drowning. “A bird’s nest. Rebirth, freedom, home.”

  CS blinked and it broke the spell. Madison came back to herself, looking around the room and feeling the anxiety that came with the bubble wrap and the strangers. Mild discomfort made her squirm. She needed to get out of the house. Breathe the fresh air and forget about all the movers.

  “I need a walk,” she blurted out, catching the others by surprise. “Can I go for a walk?”

  Boots barked a laugh. “You can do whatever you want, Denver. I can supervise here and make sure to lock up when they’re done.”

  “Don’t lock up. I don’t even know if I have a key anymore. Just close the door when it’s over. Thanks.”

  “Are you okay?” CS asked, concern etching her face.

  “She’s fine. Denver doesn’t like moving day, do you Denver?”

  “No. I don’t. I hate it.”

  She was backing away from the sofa, trying not to look at the way the men had moved the pieces all around. They were going to drive them halfway across the country and she couldn’t even bring herself to trust them in the entryway. She hastened to the bench by the door, sitting to slip her feet into her shoes.

  “Care for some company?” CS was in front of her, looking down at Madison as she struggled with the shoes. “I need to inspect this section of the estate anyway.”

  Hope bubbled inside Madison, changing the shape of her nervous energy. “That would be wonderful.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Walking in comfortable silence with CS, Madison could appreciate the full bounty of spring for the first time. She’d been sequestered at her wheel for days, seeing the emerging green through her studio windows.