The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series)

by Smith, Daniel Arthur

  “You wanna know?” said Will, his eyes lighting up, his back straightening from a slump.

  Abby startled at his reaction, “Yea.”

  “You want to know?”

  “Yes, I want to know,” said Abby, unsure now if she really did now that he had offered up an answer.

  “Which question do you want an answer to? What’s with Michael? What’s with me? Whadda ya wanna know?”

  Abby was surprised by his frankness. The discourse was emotional and she was confused. She decided to walk over to the table and sit down. She placed her elbows on the table, clasped her hands together, and looked up at her father, “I don’t know. Either, both.”

  “Well,” said Will. He approached the table to sit down beside Abby, “ the answer is the same.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 35

  Abby flashed her eyes to Will and softly said, “This is no time for games, Dad.”

  “It’s no game,” said Will, “The answer is: I deserve it.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “That’s the answer. I deserve it.”

  “Ok,” Abby was tiring, “why do you think you deserve it?”

  “I deserve it because of what I did. I can’t sleep. I’m haunted knowing what I did. I’ve told your Mother I’m sorry a thousand times but it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “What you did, what did you do? You’re right, I don’t understand. What are you talking about? What did you do?”

  “Those boys, Michael and Thomas, I might as well have been driving the jeep myself,” said Will.

  Abby rested her hands flat on the table, her jaw dropped open. Was Will sincere or could he be trying to frustrate her. Abby had heard her father voice this frustration after her brother’s death. To blame ones self was an understandable part of the grieving process, still Will was going too far. She spoke deadpan, “Really? That’s the best you have to offer.”

  “Really,” said Will surprised.

  “Michael was drunk. He hit a tree. He died Dad. You get it. You didn’t put him in the car,” Abby was becoming disgusted with her father.

  “You’re wrong, I did.”

  “You did,” said Abby.

  “To get beer,” said Will. Abby looked at him and said nothing, “to get beer,” Will repeated.

  “What?”

  “To get beer.” Will threw up his hands, “I sent the boys to get beer.”

  Abby furrowed her brow, “Really Dad?”

  Michael and Will had been drinking buddies long before that night. To hear him speak now as if there were something that never occurred was hypocrisy and Abby knew as well.

  Still Will was serious. His cool blue eyes deepened as he subtly leaned toward his daughter. His unwavering voice aged ten years, “We were tending the kilns the whole night and all day. The Lee boy was there to help Michael out by moving stuff around out in the old kiln and chopping wood. And we were drinking, drinking whiskey and beer. The beer ran out. I threw Michael his keys and told ‘em that we needed more beer. I knew he was drunk. We were all drunk. But he was happy to go. Said he’d be right back. But he wasn’t.”

  Abby tried to understand her father. “Don’t you think I knew that?” she asked. She realized her eyes were watering again at the thought of her brother.

  “I guess I knew you did, but I was ashamed.”

  Abby put her hands in her face and sighed, “So this is what you’re doing to yourself? Making amends by punishing yourself and me?”

  “I don’t think I’m punishing anybody.”

  “Of course not,” said Abby, “but you have to see yourself. You need to let it go.”

  “I just can’t.”

  “Not the way you’re going about it. I should’ve put two and two together a long time ago. Stop blaming yourself. Michael knew better. He was a grown man, you need to stop taking all the credit for him being an idiot.” Abby pulled her head up straight and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  “It’s not that easy,” said Will.

  “It is,” said Abby, she felt as if she were speaking to a child, “I’m here for you, if you let me. I always have been.”

  “I know, I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “You were always with your mother. You look like her; you talk like her, hell you even argue like her. After she died, I saw her every time I looked into your eyes. And it hurt, I miss her so much.”

  “I miss her too,” said Abby, “but you didn’t have to ignore me. I needed you.”

  “You didn’t need me like you thought you did. You’re strong like your Mother. Michael, he needed me. He was lost. He could never go out in the world like you did. He barely made it through high school. You—well look at you—fancy job at one of the best museums in the world. You’ve traveled places your mother and I never made it to. You’ve seen things your mother never lived to see, things that I’ll never live to see. You’re doing the things your mother would have wanted you to do.” Will’s eyes were blue pools of water, “Don’t you think I know you can throw a pot better than anyone? I can teach any lummox to do what I do over time. Your brother was always going to make a career here because he never could do anything else. Your Mother nurtured you because you could do anything since you were small… like her.”

  Abby’s eyes too were wet again. She had not expected Will to say anything like that. She put a soft smile across her face, “You never told me any of that before. That you felt like that.”

  “Well that’s how it is.”

  “That’s how it is,” said Abby. “I see then, you don’t need my help after all. I better finish packing and get out of here.”

  “I don’t want you rushing out of here like this. I tell you what, why don’t you stay for a few more days. In the mean time, if you don’t mind, you can help me catch up in the studio.”

  Abby’s heart filled with the idea that Will had just extended an olive branch. “I appreciate that, but you’re right, there are things I need to get back to. I’ll pack up tonight and you can take me to Fremont in the morning.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 36

  Mitch raised his hand above his right ear and then let his arm fly forward, releasing the dart too early. The steel tip planted into the green cork above the twenty, the second to miss the board in a row. He had been throwing darts for the last hour. Playing cricket against himself and not faring so well. On most occasions, his precision was spot on however Mitch was not really paying much attention to the board. His thoughts were where they had been most of the week, with the girl with the chestnut hair. He thought about how she smelled. He thought about how she talked. He thought about how she smiled, laughed, and tasted.

  Mitch thought about the way that Abby Bellen made him feel. Certainly she made him feel good, there was that, she was a pleasure to be around, and there was more than that too. She made him physically feel something in the pit of his stomach. He felt a flutter, an ache, and nausea all at once. Maybe he was coming down with something, whatever that something was felt stronger when she was near. He threw another dart scoring not on the twenty rather the eighteen.

  Mitch did not like the way things had left off yesterday when he last saw Abby. He had tried calling the Bellen house today and no one had answered. He was not exactly sure what he wanted to say to Abby. What was his next move? Dinner he supposed, though that seemed so formal. He reasoned they had already had a date at the theater, definitely a date, so why not ask her out for another.

  Mitch walked to the dartboard and pulled a dart from the board and two from the wall, prying one that had sunk deep. He marked an eighteen on the chalkboard and then walked back to throw badly again.

  Mitch asked himself where to have dinner. Of course, he could cook himself, would that be too presumptuous? He could take her to the South Point Inn for a gourmet meal. Then again, he did not want to come off as too overbearing. Perhaps to just try to call her again would be best and
see where things went from there. He dialed her cell this time rather than the house and the call went right to voice mail. Stammering Mitch left a quick message for Abby to give him a call back. Putting his phone back into his pocket he sighed to himself then sat down at the table, poured a beer from his pitcher, and then took a drink.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 37

  Abby flipped through a copy of the City News that someone had left on the train with little interest. Will had taken her to the station in Fremont midmorning after a stop at the cemetery to wipe the snow away from her mother and brother’s stones.

  As the train came through the next populated area Abby’s cell phone chimed. She saw a new message in her voicemail inbox. She put the phone to her ear and struggled to hear the message. She could not entirely decipher what was being said. She could hear Mitch’s deep voice through the static and did get the four words that mattered, “give me a call.” She placed the phone on her lap realizing that she may have blundered. Abby could have at least stopped by to say good-bye yet had decided that she did not want to complicate things, that she had was obvious to her now. Opening her cell phone, she could see that the chance to call back would have to wait until she returned to the city. That would be for the better because that would give her a chance to call Caroline.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 38

  Will offered to help Nathan clean the dishes after their late lunch. Nathan told him that washing dishes was his responsibility and that Will should feel free to take care of the work he had piled up in the studio. Will headed out to the studio yet he did not feel free at all, despite what Nathan had told him. As he crossed the walkway to the studio he looked out across the lake, paused, and then turned to walk toward the birch bench. His walk to the bench, slow and determined, carried him through the same steps he had taken too many times to count since his youth. On the bench, he pulled out his camels and took one from the pack. He thought to himself that he smoked more lately. He cuffed the cigarette when he lit the end and glanced up at the willow towering next to the bench then out to the lake. He looked up at the tree again as he exhaled. As Will peered at the willow he thought that there were things, such as what was bothering him now, which could not be hidden. Still he took a posture away from the tree by resting both of his hands by his sides on the edge of the bench and leaned forward into them, peering out across the lake. He slowly rocked back and forth occasionally sucking on his cigarette and then peeking up at the tree before turning his head back out to the lake. When Will finally gathered enough courage, he lifted his eyes high into the tree and spoke. “Sorry,” was all he said. Emily and Will shared a love deep and dear. Will felt Emily could hear him talking to her as closely as when they were young. Will did not feel right about what he had done. Abby got on the train congenially yet he knew things were still not right between them.

  Though the words seemed foreign to him when spoken the night before, Will could not pretend to himself that there had not been an issue all of these years past. He had chosen to deny the gulf between him and his daughter like all of those other things in his life that had not made sense since Emily had gotten ill. Abby even now embodied Emily in his eyes. After last night, he could not be sure if the rift would ever be closed.

  Will peered deeply into the weave of willow branches towering above him in search of solace. Emily would not have been pleased with him all of this time. She would not have been pleased with him last night and Abby was right that Emily would not be pleased as to how he was taking care of himself.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 39

  Caroline had just put the twins to bed when her phone rang. The call was expected. Brian had gone over to the studio earlier in the day to check on part of the order and spoke to Nathan. Nathan told him that Will had taken Abby to Fremont to catch the train. Caroline had asked Brian not to mention to Mitch that Abby had gone until she had a chance to speak to her. Brian told Caroline that Mitch would want to know why Abby had left so abruptly. She was expected to stay through the week. Caroline assured Brian that Abby leaving must have something to do with Will. Abby’s issues always had something to do with Will.

  By fortune, Brian did not have to mention anything to Mitch as Mitch had made himself scarce for the day. Caroline had waited for the call that she knew would come.

  Leaving Willow Lake quickly was typical of Abby, not saying goodbye was not, especially to Caroline and the twins. When Caroline picked up the phone apologies for the quick exit came first.

  “I’m really sorry,” said Abby. “I just had to get out of there.”

  “I understand completely,” said Caroline, “if you needed to get away from Will then that is what you had to do.”

  “I’m not sure what to think now. He really caught me off guard.”

  “You just need some time to process.”

  “You think?”

  “I do.” Caroline set Abby at ease then quickly changed the topic, “But it wasn’t right to leave Mitch hanging like that no matter what the circumstances. It’s not only unfair to Mitch to leave without saying goodbye, but unfair to you too.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You just let a great guy, the right guy, slip through your fingers. Besides, it’s just cruel of you not reaching out to him and letting him know that you were going back to the city. I mean... He is so sweet.”

  “Well, I feel a bit better about Will. But I gotta say, you know how to pour on the guilt.”

  Of course Abby would need to call Mitch, yet what to say? “Sorry and thanks for the good time,” she thought. How many times in her life had she let a man put her in that position? Now the shoe somehow ended up on the other foot and did not fit her well.

  “What are the words?” asked Abby. Caroline was her best friend since childhood, Abby should have known better.

  “You will have to find your own and you had better think of them quick because this can’t be put off until tomorrow, that would be childish beyond cruel,” said Caroline. That Caroline was always right usually assured Abby yet this time she felt as though she had been a child caught doing something wrong.

  “Ok, ok. I’ll call Mitch as soon as we get off the phone.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 40

  Mitch had left two messages on Abby’s phone. He called again then hung up when her voicemail began. He was afraid of sounding like a stalker. He was convinced that her cell phone battery had died and did not want to be the guy that had left fifteen messages. By trying to call back periodically he was confident that he would catch the phone recharging. By afternoon he stopped calling all together because he decided that if she had heard his messages and had chosen not to call him, he would still come off as a stalker. All he could do was wait.

  Mitch took his guitar in hand and sat on the couch. He let his hand lightly brush up and down the strings as he searched for a chord. The fireplace was lit and the flame shown on the side of his face. He began to play a wandering melody that soon formed into a softer and sweeter version of the Ode to Abby melody he had composed earlier. He closed his eyes and thought about the theater. Abby’s kisses so soft and intent, her body so nimble, and her passion so giving. Mitch pushed the ache he was creating from his chest out to his fingers adding lightly defined notes to the warm melody. His inside warmed with the images of Abby and the room warmed by the music she inspired. He felt less lonely and only now realized he had ever been lonely at all.

  When the phone rang Mitch almost did not hear. Mitch awoke from his daze. The guitar stopped and a sobering silence took place of the warm music. Mitch almost tripped over himself getting across the room to answer the phone.

  “Hello,” said Mitch.

  “Mitch,” came the voice on the other line.

  “Hello, Hello.”

  “It’s Abby.”

  “Yea, I mean Hi,” said Mitch. Mitch now stood straight composing himself.

  “I can’t hear you that well.”
<
br />   “Just a second, I’ll go near the porch.” Mitch walked quickly onto his screen porch, grabbing a jacket by the door to pull over his t-shirt.

  “I tried to call you,” said Mitch. “Earlier.”

  “Yea, my phone didn’t have any reception.” Abby had planned a drawn out explanation, as was her nature she went direct, “I was on the train.”

  “I see,” said Mitch. His voice had lowered then he quickly recovered, “I didn’t realize you needed to get back so soon.”

  Relieved at Mitch’s response Abby quickly said the first thing that came to mind, “Well, something came up this morning and I didn’t really have time to get things in order at the lake. I’m really sorry.” She asked herself if that sounded as bad as she thought.

  “No don’t worry about it, things come up,” said Mitch, his heart pounding.

  “I plan to get back to the lake again soon though.”

  “That would be great!”

  “Yea,” said Abby.

  “So, you’re probably tired of traveling all day?”

  “Yea. I better get some rest.” This was to be a quick call.

  “Well, ok then, thanks for calling.” Mitch could not get off the phone fast enough. He felt like he was fourteen.

  “Well all right, see you when I get up to the lake,” said Abby.

  “See you then,” said Mitch.

  And that was all.

  Mitch looked into the phone in disbelief. His heart sunk deep into his chest. The porch was cold. He had only socks on his feet and his whole body was numb. He had known that things had been left awkward with Abby yet this had struck him by surprise. What had he done, what had he said that scared her off. Mitch looked up to the screen facing the lake and could see only darkness behind. He shook his head, turned back into his cabin, and sat back on the couch. His guitar sat at the other end where he had just put the instrument while stumbling to the phone. Mitch raised his brow, reached for his guitar, and began to play where he thought he had left off. The melody still sounded passionate and sweet and now also a touch melancholy.