* * * * *
Chapter 41
Abby put down the phone and rest back on her bed. The pitch in Mitch’s voice was one she had heard from herself more than once. The voice that said ‘Don’t worry about me’. She now knew for sure that he felt the same way about her as she did about him. Abby really did not doubt that before. She ran her fingers through her hair and then sat up letting out a sound of frustration. She stood up and took off her shirt and pants and in her panties walked to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Once in the bathroom, she decided to draw a hot bath instead with bubbles and salts. To be back in her apartment among her things felt good and after travelling a bath would relax her. She could sort out the discussion with her father, the phone call with Mitch, or just forget everything altogether.
When the bath was ready, the whole room smelled like lilac and rose. Abby dimmed the lights and slipped into the tub. She let herself ease into the hot soapy water slowly. The bubbles tingled on her skin as she slid through them. The hot water held her. At the back of the bath, Abby had rolled soft terry towels, and she let her head rest against them. The bath was silent, warm, and enveloping.
Abby rested in the steamy bath and let the world wash away. She began to drift and let herself relax in both body and mind. As her mind relaxed, images of Mitch began to return. Memories of the phone call had been put aside. Passing through her mind now were the images of the intimacy they had shared. She imagined the contours of Mitch’s chest, muscular and firm, and how she had pressed her head against him and held his back with her hands spread open to pull all of him to her. Abby could see Mitch’s deep brown eyes peering into hers and could feel his breath on her neck. Her stomach had been unsettled all day because of the emotional evening the night before. Her insides yearned the recognizable ache that comes from wanting to be close to someone, to be close to someone that you care about and cares about you. She caressed herself for comfort, imagining that the touch, soft, gentle, and tender was Mitch’s. Abby’s eyes began to lightly tear as she let her self go with her imagination.
* * * * *
When Abby felt the water cold around her, she was unsure how long she had let herself relax. Sleep must have overtaken her. The day had been long. She removed herself from the bath and felt a cool chill, the room no longer warmed by the heat of the water. She dressed in her robe and then toweled off her hair. Leaving the dim light of the bathroom on she went directly to her bedroom. If Abby went to bed sleep would still be close. Sleep was close. Sometime later, she awoke abruptly in her dark room overwhelmed that she had made a dreadful mistake.
* * * * *
Chapter 42
Will sat on the edge of his bed. He knew he would not be sleeping. He started to take a cigarette out of the pack he had put on the nightstand and stopped. A promise had been made to Abby that he would not smoke in the house. He had never smoked in the house when Emily was alive. He tried to remember if he smoked that often back then. Cigarettes used to be a nickel. He was not sure if he even smoked then. His mind was wandering on nonsense.
Will pulled his trousers on and walked to the back door where he slipped on his boots and jacket. He let the door slam as he exited the house then urgently pushed through the studio door. He flipped on the lights and heat as he marched into the room. He tossed his jacket on the bench by the window then went to get two fists of clay. He carried the clay to a wheel, plopped the blob down, and then got two fists more. His jaw firm, his blue eyes bright, his white hair disheveled, he looked vibrant, possessed, ten, fifteen years junior. He brought some water to the wheel then began the spin by powering the pedal. Clay slid through his hands. The clay enveloped them, competed with them. The clay resisted changing form, fought to keep shape. Will’s hands were steady and his eyes fixed. He had thrown the clay on the wheel in such a way that now he was breaking a stallion. The sides that wanted to break free he kept to the middle. Not by shifting his hands back and forth to adjust and shift, no, Will’s hands were steady and his eyes fixed. Will’s cool blue eyes were peeking deep inside of the clay, soothing the clay, and the clay soothed, the clay mellowed, until a perfect half sphere spun on the wheel.
Will relaxed his shoulders and his brow. He smiled. “There,” said Will. When Will was with the clay nothing else could cloud him. This interlude had chased away the thoughts he could not otherwise escape. He considered himself a good person. Emily would not have married him otherwise. How he could hurt anyone, he could not fathom. He literally could not fathom. There was a lot of clay, and there were many orders. All he had to do was keep busy. That would not be hard from here on out.
Will began to caress the sides of the clay. To start the dance this way had not been necessary still the dance had begun.
* * * * *
Nathan had gone home after dinner. Will had told Nathan he was going to want to stop early. The day had been long. Though Will had put on his usual good face Nathan knew that he was bothered. He had only been with the Bellens’ for a few days yet he could see that hidden in their family there was much pain. When Nathan got home to his apartment overlooking Willow Lake, he looked back at the Bellen Studio across the water. He could see the lights of the studio shining out into the night. There would be no rest for Will tonight and Nathan felt that in the city there would surely be no rest for Abby. Nathan went to his bedside and knelt down. He clasped his hands together and said a prayer in the Lord’s name for the Bellen family.
* * * * *
Chapter 43
Mitch grabbed the kettle with his bare hand then instantly released. He curled his knuckles to free the slight tinge then reached again, this time with a towel, and pulled the boiling water from the stove. He poured the hot water into a cup then shoveled in instant coffee. Oatmeal bubbled in a saucepan. Mitch was not thinking clearly. His head was cloudy from lack of sleep. He was awake in bed most of the night and had been up periodically, compelled with thirst or the urge to leave the inside of the cabin and walk out onto the lake. At one point in the late evening, or early morning, he wrapped a blanket around himself and sat out on the porch. He sat until he was numb from the cold and then sat a while longer before sauntering back to bed. The air on the porch had been refreshing and he thought that might help him rest better. Rather the fresh air revitalized his restlessness.
The coffee went down before the oatmeal finished cooking. The coffee was acrid still he was invigorated. Mitch may have lost a night’s sleep, yet he was still a fit man that could be jolted by a cup of caffeine.
By the time Mitch went outside to start his truck he had begun to feel confident about the day ahead of him. As he waited for the engine of the truck to warm, he looked up through his windshield to the tops of the maples and pines that surrounded his yard. The sky was a bright blue and the morning sun shown golden on the highest branches of the trees. He looked at the small Japanese maple that grew just in front of the cabin with branches still covered in morning frost that lightly glistened whatever light could reach the shadowy hiding place.
Mitch reflected on the strong, constant, and majestic trees. Whether he was going to be out in his truck this morning to catch their splendor did not matter, they were still going to be there. No matter what was said or done today, the sun would shine on the tallest pines, and the Japanese maple would be pleased with whatever light was received. Since there was no breeze, they would stand silent today as they did this morning. He watched the trees until he heard the truck’s engine change tone, signaling the vehicle was warm enough to drive. He switched on the heater and pulled out of the driveway.
Mitch’s mind was no longer cloudy. He felt refreshed and clear while he drove the pickup along Willow Lake road with the sun through the trees and the radio off. Inevitably his mind began to wander. He wondered what Abby was doing in the city.
* * * * *
Chapter 44
Abby had thought about going back to work first thing then realized that she needed to take a day to get things sorted. One more d
ay was not a big deal, as she was not expected back any way. She called Olivia at the museum to check in. Olivia asked about lunch and went on to describe how unbelievably tired the pregnancy had made her. Abby was no more up for lunch than she was for going into the museum. To catch up on all of the latest gossip was fun though. The five-minute phone call easily turned into forty-five minutes. The best part of the forty-five minutes was that Abby did not have to bring up anything concerning Willow Lake. When Olivia did ask how her father was, Abby replied that her father was fine and that was the end of that, refreshing. There was plenty of talk about coworkers and Henry, Olivia’s partner, and an event that Abby had missed. All were fun topics and Abby enjoyed the conversation. When Abby finally put down the phone and the reality of being back in her apartment struck, she no longer needed affirmation as to whether coming back to the city had been the right thing to do. Her doubts rested with how she could have done anything differently.
Abby decided that she needed to keep herself busy. She got up from her comfy couch and started to clean up from the night before. Now was the time for the cleansers to come out. The apartment needed a scrub down anyway. Cleaning the bath and kitchen took up the rest of the morning. Then she made a list of errands. The problem was that the list was short. Abby had taken care of most everything before she left. There was dry cleaning to drop off and she could stop by the market on the way back from whatever she did. She grabbed the dry cleaning and scurried out of the apartment to the elevator.
Once on the street Abby stretched her legs and moved with purpose. She dropped the dry cleaning off and then kept going in the direction away from the apartment with no particular destination in mind. The sidewalks and streets appeared clean with the snow freshly melted from the midmorning sun. People were out on their lunch breaks, running errands or in the city just to shop. The smells of the restaurants, their lunch crowds chattering as she walked by, did not appeal to her. Abby had coffee and a muffin this morning and nothing since, yet was not really hungry.
Abby thought going to a movie would be a good distraction yet when she turned the corner to the small neighborhood theater she hesitated, reminiscing of a few days prior. The memory warmed her, yet she still did not want to think about that day too much. Going into the theater would be fine, and silly not to.
Abby approached the ticket counter to see what was playing on the three screens. Her lucky day, she thought, a date movie, and a romantic foreign film, both she had been waiting to see and a lousy action movie about a robot blowing everything to pieces. This was a no brainer for Abby. She bought a ticket for the action movie.
* * * * *
Chapter 45
The Bellen assembly line had not seen this much production in years. Anyone walking into the studio would have been surprised to learn that. Will had been at the electric wheel all night and on the worktables he already amassed several pieces for the ornamentation: leaves, ivy, birds all created with the clay leavings from the wheel. Other worktables were covered with light mossy green ceramics glazed earlier in the week. The only area of the studio that did not smell like clay was over by the dingy plastic coffee maker with the pot, cracked on the rim and burnt on the bottom, sitting half full on a stained burner. Each time Will poured a cup of coffee some would leak out onto the burner and the alkaloid smell would fill that section of the room. Will kept a fresh cup beside him throughout the night to help maintain a whirlwind around the studio. Now one sat on the worktable where Will just finished aligning and organizing the pieces in rows across the top, staging them for the next step in the line. He leaned back against the worktable his eyes fixed on the door to the adjoining kiln rooms, and started to think about firing up one of the kilns. His elbow in one hand, Will plied his Zippo in his other near his chin, his thumb maneuvering the lighter so that the lid would begin to lift on the spring and then force back closed against his finger. He did this again and again, making a clicking noise every time the lighter snapped shut. The math did not take up much of his mind. He knew which pieces would need to go into electric kilns and which would need to go into the gas. There were two small electric kilns by the door that could be filled with the smaller pieces from the table, they were ornamental pieces, and for a uniform result would be electric fired for the oxidation. The large pots and urns had to go into the gas kiln to get a proper firing, he did not mind the subtle differences of reduction firing caused by the gas. He dwelled on whether he wanted to fire the gas giants up now, after being up all night, or wait until he had slept. The electric kilns were like little space capsules and were as easy to run as a microwave oven. The gas kilns would have to be watched with a keen eye. Will was not ready to throw in the towel and head to sleep quite yet, though he certainly did not want to babysit the kiln. Then an epiphany, Nathan was supposed to be his babysitter, and Will could tell him to babysit the kiln. All Nathan would have to do was to let Will know if anything went wrong. Will would come in and do the temperature regulation himself. That would give Will time to continue at the wheel and, if he needed to sleep, Nathan could grab him.
Will curled his lip up on one side having satisfied himself and slipped his Zippo into the front pocket of his pants.
Traditional craftsmanship was honored above all else in the Bellen studio yet the utilization of the best tools available was an expenditure that Will kept up on. So in reliance to auto-magic Will loaded the squat silos of the electric kilns with some of the smaller pieces he had put together midmorning and with some of the pieces Nathan had glazed that needed oxidation. When the electric kilns were loaded he switched them on and went back to his wheel, getting another cup of coffee along the way.
* * * * *
Chapter 46
Caroline parked her Subaru in the back circle drive of the Johansson house. The morning was late and the sun was high in the sky. The light reflecting off the snow made her eyes tighten when she slipped off her sunglasses. Brian had been here earlier in the day and when he returned home, he mentioned that the carpenters had run to Fremont for supplies leaving Mitch alone at the house. Caroline had wanted to speak to Mitch so she told Brian that she had errands to run and drove directly to the worksite.
Caroline tapped her sunglasses on the steering wheel a couple of times then took a key fastened with a green bread tie from the console and opened the door of the Subaru. The key unlocked the large wooden doors to the foyer. She could hear hammering coming from the front of the house. Saying nothing as she entered, Caroline removed her gloves and scanned for signs of progress on work since her last visit a few weeks ago. Her face revealed no reflection as to what her thoughts were on the matter. A person of expectation, Caroline would only respond if anything were out of sorts from predicted. Things in the Johansson house were as she expected them to be.
The furnace was on and the foyer was quite cozy. Caroline removed then folded her coat over the banister of the front stairwell and then ran her thumbs along her waist adjusting her pencil skirt before walking into the next room.
When Caroline entered the hearth room Mitch did not appear to notice. He was kneeling on a piece of cardboard in the fireplace with his head awkwardly cocked up toward the flue. The hammering sound was coming from a piece of wood Mitch was knocking against something up inside. She stood silent in the door and watched. In just a t-shirt, Mitch’s muscles appeared contorted as he bent forward and twisted his torso up to his side.
“What brings you up here Caroline?” Mitch asked without turning his head toward her.
Caroline smiled at his apparent sixth sense, “Did you see me pull up the drive?”
“It’s that floral perfume you’re wearing, China Flower,” said Mitch.
Caroline chuckled lightly, “It’s China Rose, but that’s good.” She stepped toward the window so that she was standing near him. Crossing her arms across her chest, she peered out over the lake. Mitch continued to bang the inside of the flue a few more times before maneuvering himself out of his awkward physical position an
d setting down the small section of two by four he had been using next to him.
“What are you doing?” asked Caroline.
Mitch spun around and sat on the floor, he responded by reaching into the fireplace and moving the handle of the flue back and forth. From inside the chimney came a series of squeaks and thugs.
“There,” said Mitch, “the handle was a little loose. All set now.”
Arms still crossed, Caroline shifted her gaze down from the window to Mitch and raised her eyebrows. “That’s great,” said Caroline.
“Well it’s ok, good at best,” said Mitch. If he had a sixth sense then he was now sensing that Caroline had something else on her mind that was making her slightly pensive and that he was about to find out what that was. Mitch would not have to wait long to see if he was correct.
“You are here alone today,” said Caroline. Her feet began to tap one to the other.
“Yea, the fellas went to get some things from town,” said Mitch. He peeled off his heavy leather gloves and rested his arms on his knees.
“Brian said they would be gone for the rest of the day.”
The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series) Page 15