“So you knew I was up here alone?”
“I confess,” said Caroline.
“So what’s on your mind?” asked Mitch.
“I just thought it has been a while since we talked.”
“So what would you like to talk about?” asked Mitch.
“Have you talked to Abby?”
“Yes.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Do, what do you mean? She left for the city. There is no ‘do’ to be done.”
Mitch sounded rather matter of fact when he said this yet Caroline was not buying. She had asked what Mitch’s intentions were though what she really wanted to know is what they had been from the beginning.
Caroline let her eyes meld into Mitch’s. Her face lost expression, her mouth opened to speak then abruptly Caroline shifted her gaze back toward the window in hesitation.
“What is it?” asked Mitch.
“How could you let this happen?”
“Let happen, she decided to go back to the city.”
“That’s not what I mean,” said Caroline. “I mean you and Abby, what were you thinking?”
Mitch raised himself off the floor and started to walk to the next room. “We aren’t going to get into this.”
“Get into it?” Caroline dropped her arms to her side, “She is my cousin.”
Mitch kept walking toward the kitchen and Caroline followed him. “So what if she is, what’s your point?”
“My point is that she is my cousin and it matters to me how you feel about her.”
Mitch opened the refrigerator door when he reached the kitchen and took out a bottle of water.
“Abby is nice,” said Mitch.
“You know if she is that important to you, you should go to her,” said Caroline.
“I don’t think she wants to see me,” said Mitch. Mitch had considered that he had put off Abby.
“Don’t be silly,” said Caroline, walking passed Mitch. She leaned over to him, “Who wouldn’t want a cute fella like you?” said Caroline. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
Caroline walked back toward the front of the house, speaking loudly as she went about the project and what was looking well. Mitch welcomed the change in topic yet did not follow Caroline, he was happy to let their conversation echo through the house.
* * * * *
Chapter 47
The movie was not so bad. The hero somehow reminded Abby of Mitch, as did the villain because of his eyes. The theater conjured up a sense memory of Mitch’s embrace, though she liked that. When the movie ended, she sat in her seat until the credits had rolled and the lights had come up. Then with her empty soda cup in hand Abby exited to the aisle and slowly strode up to the waiting daylight.
Abby’s plan had been to walk out of the theater refreshed with some new insight. This of course was not the case. The pit of her stomach felt bitter. Abby turned on her cell phone anticipating a list of messages, any message, any distraction. There were none.
Abby started to walk, again away from her apartment. The people on the street were now wisps in the corner of her eye.
Abby’s thoughts circled back to Mitch and the call from the night before. The more she thought about the night the more she ached. Abby realized she had not really eaten anything and decided she better get something in her stomach. Surely some food would settle her emotional state.
Abby stopped for a slice at a pizza joint. Through the window a young Latino man spun a disc of dough between his hands with his fingers spread open, his hands coming together and then going apart, again, and again in a fluid motion. The whole time he spun the dough he chatted and laughed with a younger squat teen behind the register. In mid-conversation and without warning the pizza maker did a twirl with his hands and the dough disc spun high in the air floating above him only to come down where he caught the dough again and continued spinning the disc. Abby smiled and paused to watch him do this three more times before going in. He never blinked or stopped his conversation with his young friend. The dough was merely an extension of the young man and his actions were automatic, requiring no thought. If she were to try that, Abby thought, there would be dough spread across the kitchen. The key was that the young man was not trying so hard. He was just doing. There was no focus, just action and if she didn’t over think things, life would still ebb and flow. Abby knew what she needed to do if she wanted some normalcy back as soon as possible. She needed to get back to work.
* * * * *
Chapter 48
Will had opened every drawer in the studio searching for the small clay item. He was certain he had seen what he was trying to find behind or under something in the back or on the side. There were so many small clay items around the shop that his mind easily played tricks on him when he saw glimpses of objects close in size. Will needed to find this one piece though, because this one was going to be the model for a new line. When he found the little piece of clay, the object appeared a little marred yet was recognizable. He took the item from the drawer and years of stasis then held small piece tight in his hand close to his lips. The tiny piece was something Michael had created as a boy. More than that, something the family worked on together.
When Michael was a small boy Will wanted to teach him how creating something could be magical. Michael’s father did this with a simple method just as his father taught him. Will set up a play area in a well-lit corner of the studio, not far from the wheel where he himself often worked, and filled the area with clay.
Michael’s mornings and afternoons were spent playing with the clay. Music played through the studio and Michael was comfortable in his own little area. Michael built castles out of pinecones, thistle, grasses, and twine. Army columns were created from sticks and clay. He would lump in sand, gravel, and dirt into the clay for color and texture on the sides of the castle walls during battles. Nothing was disallowed. In doing this, Michael had an easier and easier time making the shapes that had at first challenged him. The clay mixed with filler began to be cumbersome and slow compared to the clay alone. Before too long Michael would reach for the pile of clay to shape what was needed. As his father watched, over the course of days, the odds and ends worked their way out of the clay and to the side of the play area. Michael had learned to do everything he needed to with the clay alone.
Michael’s most successful pieces were his clay soldiers. The soldiers were very detailed with rifles and helmets. Michael’s favorite, the General, even had a handgun.
One day before Michael went to dinner Will asked him to gather up all of his favorite soldiers. Michael gathered up the horses and the carts, the rifleman and the grenadiers and lined them all up on the worktable on a big sheet of white paper his father had laid out for him. From the days of work there were now over two hundred figures. Standing in front of all of the men and horses was the General.
Will told Michael that the soldiers were magnificent and that he should leave them there and go off to dinner.
The next morning after breakfast, Michael was ready to go right back out to the studio again. “You need to help me shop in the village this morning,” Emily told Michael. The little boy’s shoulders shrugged in defeat, he so wanted to be out in the studio with his Father. Michael felt that was where his place was to be, so much so that he shared the sentiment with his mother.
“I’m supposed to be in the studio Mommy,” said Michael.
“Well, that may be the case most days,” said Emily. “But, today you’re supposed to be at the supermarket.”
Without any further fuss, Michael and Emily were off to the market while Abby stayed behind with Will.
Mother and son shopped at the IGA where Michael was allowed to push the cart and reach for groceries as Emily called them off the list. Then at the check out Michael helped put the groceries on the electric belt and with the bagging.
Emily and Michael returned home early afternoon. Michael helped his mother bring in the groceries. He wanted to start to put them away as he often
did. This time his mother suggested they go out to the studio and bring Will and Abby some sodas because the day was so hot. Emily opened two bottles of soda and handed them to Michael and off he ran for the screen door with Emily after him to slow down.
When Michael entered the studio he yelled, “Surprise!” Abby yelled back at her brother, “No, you Surprise!”
This confused Michael. He examined Abby in her paint smock covered in splotches of green and black paint then over her shoulder to the worktable. On the table, lined up in formation, were all of Michaels soldiers, the General standing in front of them. The General’s hand, gun, and boots were black and his uniform was blue, even his little face was painted peach. All of the little figures were painted, even the horses.
“So what do you think?” asked Will.
“They’re incredible, can I touch them?” asked Michael.
“Sure they’re yours, you made them,” said Emily.
“We just helped with the finishing touches,” said Will. “They had to be fired to be made hard. Pick one up, you’ll see.”
Michael picked up the General turned the tiny soldier in his hands, across the shoulder was painted a gold braid, and on his chest was a tiny red ribbon. The arm that reached out and above him now appeared properly commanding with his sword painted silver.
Michael then picked up a horse and marveled at that as well. After setting the horse down, he picked up a soldier. The soldier was in a green uniform like all of the others. All the while he held onto the General.
As Will remembered, Michael held onto the General most of that summer and into the winter.
This taught Michael the magic of creating, and Michael worked in the studio ever since, learning everything to learn about the studio.
Now Will held the General in his hand. He inspected the little commander closely. The General did not have a face or fingers, however the little body was proportionately close for a figurine. The sword had broken off long ago still the General’s arm was still raised in the air to lead his troops.
Will took the General over to the table and set him down next to some tools and clay he already put out. Then Will slipped on his glasses and went to work. “Well, Sir. We’re going to build you some friends,” said Will and started forming figurines.
* * * * *
Chapter 49
When Nathan arrived at the Bellen’s after lunch and walked into the studio he did not know what to say to Will. Every light in the studio was on and the music was blaring. The temperature was high because Will had kilns firing away. Urns were set up on the worktable near the kiln room ready to be fired and at the table in front of the big bay window with his back to the lake was Will, serene in the midst of a storm.
“Hi there Will,” Nathan yelled. Will did not hear him. Nathan leaned forward so that Will could see him and yelled again, “Hey there!” This time Will peered up over his glasses and yelled toward Nathan, “Can you turn the music down?! I can’t hear you!”
Nathan went to the stereo and turned the volume down to a tolerable level. “There,” said Will, “Now I can hear you. What were you yellen’ about any way.”
“No wonder you didn’t answer the phone,” said Nathan.
“Phone? Couldn’t have heard it, the music was on.”
Will tilted his head back down and continued working on the soldiers.
“I just was calling to check in on you and to let you know that I was doing the shopping,” said Nathan. He now noticed that Will was working on figurines, he also noticed a lot had been done since he had left the night before. “So, you’ve been up all night.”
“Yep.”
“I didn’t know you did that kind of work,” said Nathan, curiously leaning into the table and slipping his hands into his pockets.
“I didn’t,” said Will, then he shifted his cool blue eyes at Nathan and grinned, “but I do now.” Will then bent his head back down. “Have a seat, you make me uncomfortable when you hover.”
“No, I have to put away the groceries.”
“Ok, then.” Will continued with his work with out shifting his focus.
“Ok, then,” said Nathan. He started walking to the door.
“Nathan,” said Will with a pitch in his voice. Nathan turned initially not sure what Will wanted. Will gestured to the stereo. “Oh right,” said Nathan as he walked over to the stereo and turned the volume back up.
* * * * *
Chapter 50
Abby reached into her pocket for the two crumpled dollar bills put aside for the coffee and poppy seed muffin. The two young women waiting in line behind her were talking rapidly about a date one had gone on the night before while they simultaneously texted on their phones, the conversation was the same Abby had heard herself have many times before. The fella seemed nice enough still all in all the date was a dud. She did not have to listen hard for the details because dates like these were universal. Thoughts of work had filled her mind since she awoke this morning, by the time she reached the coffee window she was thinking of Mitch again. The reprieve had been short and her stomach quickly sank.
The morning commute was going to consist of a detour through the park then Abby decided to take the avenue. At a crosswalk she watched a street vendor set up his table for the day. His wares were sunglasses and as he pulled out each pair to place on the table, he polished each lens. She had seen him do this often and was impressed with the special care that he took wiping each lens, then holding the frame to the light, the pride that he had for his product. Each morning on the short walk to work there were always familiar faces and so many more she had never seen before. Abby could easily pass a hundred people she had never seen in her life, all of them on there way somewhere.
When Abby rounded the corner to the museum, she was pleased to see the majestic steps of the façade. Some people she knew that worked at other landmarks in the city told her that going to work was just like any other job. Abby however did not know anybody at the museum that did not feel some form of reverence for the grandeur of the place. Employees of the museum may have found their day-to-day duties mundane, yet if asked they would tell you that they felt privileged to perform those duties there.
When Abby entered the side entrance Louis, the security officer, welcomed her back. They exchanged greetings as he passed her bag through the metal detector and she walked through one herself. The detectors for employees were a necessary insurance formality that was mirrored by a quick bag check at the end of the day.
Abby made her way in to the recesses of the building toward the unadorned offices and let herself become consumed with thoughts of the responsibilities that would once again be hers. She opened the main office door and made her way to her work area, an unkempt desk under a corner window with a flat panel monitor resting on an old stained blotter. Stacks of oddly shaped envelopes, brochures, and trade magazines over-flowed her corner inbox. Abby sank into her comfortable and familiar chair and set her coffee and muffin on the desk. She contemplated whether to go through the pile of papers in her inbox or to turn on her computer, and then decided how nice to clean a little before the occupants of the other two desks, Olivia and Jules, arrived and took her day for a turn.
Abby reached for several of the envelopes at once. She grabbed too many and some slipped out of her hands spilling coffee on the edge of her desk and across the cover of a book on renaissance period artists. She quickly opened her bottom drawer to find the paper towel roll she kept there and soaked up the small spill. No damage done though as she finished mopping up the mess she saw a note that she had scribbled on her desktop shortly before leaving for the lake. The note read ‘patch all things up with Dad—you love him’. Abby held the wet paper in her hand while she read the note and thought about her state of mind when the letter had been written. The note was written not that long after speaking with Caroline. Caroline had her half convinced that Will had one foot in the grave. That may or not have been true, yet the essence of the note was that she really want
ed to remedy whatever rift was between them.
Abby’s hand made a final pass over the desk and she tossed the paper towel into the basket at the side. Abby had thought about Will on the train ride back to the city and had been consumed with distracting herself since. Had she remedied whatever rift was between them? Hardly, still Abby thought she had finally identified what the rift was. Abby decided she would give Nathan a call later and check in and then speak to Will himself. Maybe she would call Mitch too. Abby caught herself sorting through the mail now and not even seeing what was in front of her. Hours away by train, Willow Lake once again was with her.
* * * * *
Chapter 51
“I figured it wouldn’t be long until you showed up,” said Will. Will peeked over his glasses at Caroline approaching the worktable. “What’s the weather like sunshine?”
“Partly cloudy, storm’s a comin’,” said Caroline, taking a seat across from him.
Will continued painting the little soldier he had in his hand with the focus of a master. The painting of his soldiers, like the ornamentations on the urns, was intricate, the tools and brushes he used were fine and commanded a high degree of attention. Yet, from years of using these tools, he easily split focus to his niece, “Like a tag team, the two of you,” said Will.
“You love the attention uncle Will.”
“Never said I didn’t.”
“Where’s Nathan, you didn’t scare him off already did you?”
“Oh no, he was complaining I wasn’t eating enough so I sent him to the diner to get some meatloaf.”
“I thought you hated meatloaf?”
“I don’t like him nagging neither.”
“I see,” Caroline nodded her head. She knew better than to goad her uncle any further, particularly if she wanted to get him to discuss what she came to discuss, her absent cousin Abby.
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