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A Pale Paradise
Sequel to
An Obscure Haven
Carol Anne Vick
As always, many thanks
to my husband, Ray
A Pale Paradise
Carol Anne Vick
Copyright 2016
The Village of Gerard's Cliff
Copyright 2014
The Summer of Gauguin
Copyright 2014
(sequel to The Village of Gerard's Cliff)
An Obscure Haven
Copyright 2015
A Pale Paradise
'Hazy, shimmering pots
wavering in the inferno,
the molten forms in
bright white, yellow,
orange, hovering
a moment away from
slipping into liquid gold.'
Chapter I
"They're ready, Thad. The last cone just drooped over." Phyl carefully replaced the firebrick wedge into the peep hole, and rubbed her eye, warm from peering for a split-second into the red-hot gas kiln that held forty of her platters, bowls, and tea pots. She looked over at her husband, who was kneeling in the darkness next to the gas connection by the outbuilding, his form illuminated only by the orange-red heat emanating from several crevices in the large, firebrick, updraft kiln. He quickly turned the knobs clock-wise on the valves, and there was a whoosh as the flames sucked back from the portals, and the room was lit now only by the glow from between the fire-bricks. "Perfect." She smiled down at him, watching as he re-checked the valves, and metal connections. She saw him look up at her and smile broadly, his handsome, rugged face lit by the glow from the kiln.
"Well, now we just wait." Thad pulled himself up off the ground and brushed off his jeans. He grabbed her hand, and she walked out of the building, and they closed and latched the slatted door. Phyl rubbed Bear's head as the black and brown short-haired dog jumped up from his resting spot by the door and they headed up the driveway, relishing the cool autumn night air.
"That is always the hardest part," she agreed as they strolled past her pottery studio, crunching on the gravel drive, and up to the front porch of their blue and white lake house, Bear fidgeting as usual beside their booted legs to get inside.
Phyl opened the white front door, and they entered the first floor foyer. She glanced to her right, into the neat and organized office for her businesses - Sycamore Cove Pottery, and Xaria Organic Herbs and Breads. Was it possible that she had been a successful business owner now for well over a year a half? Where had the time gone? They headed up the oak stairs to the main floor, and Bear immediately trotted over to his favorite spot by the massive fireplace. She and Thad shrugged out of their light jackets and hung them on the wall hooks by the stair landing, and she took a deep breath, smoothing her long, dark, chestnut hair back with both hands and tucking stray strands into her pony-tail, watching as Thad headed to the kitchen to wash up.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" He faced her as he stood at the sink, rinsing off his hands.
"Sounds good," she nodded softly, putting her hands on her hips and looking around at their cozy home with a sigh of satisfaction. After their marriage in June of 'eighty-five, their lives had merged seamlessly, almost as if they had always been together. Thad had sold his house, located down the street from his veterinary clinic on the other side of the small town of Wellsley, and they had gone through the legal process of adding his name to the lake house deed. It still amazed her that she had quit her lucrative job in the financial district in Manhattan, left her boyfriend, Jonathan, behind, and moved to Lake Saint Catherine in southern Vermont, north of the Green Mountains, to start her own businesses. She had dreamed of making a new life for herself as a professional potter, and grower of organic herbs in a remote location, and, yet, with all that on her mind, she had met Thad, and married him within seven months. She let her gaze roam around the open living space with its large living room with vaulted pine ceilings, soft sage green walls with dark trim and wainscoting. The huge window facing the lake, with gauzy white drapes, had been the selling point for her, as well as the stone fireplace to its right. The white slip-covered sofa, situated diagonally on the ochre-colored Oriental rug and over-stuffed floral chair were so welcoming. She loved their home on the lake. Sighing contentedly, she headed over to join her husband in the small kitchen, which she had fitted out with a commercial oven and one stainless steel counter for her baking business, seeing that Thad had pulled out two wine glasses from the white upper cabinet and was filling them with the crisp white wine he had grabbed from the fridge
"Twenty-four hours to cool." Phyl lathered her hands in the stainless steel sink. "But, I'll wait an extra day if you can help me unload after work Wednesday." She turned and leaned against the sink, drying her hands on a dish towel as she watched Thad return the bottle to the fridge door.
"You know I will." Thad smiled as she took the glass from his outstretched hand, then pursed his lips. "Unloading the kiln is actually my second favorite part of your pottery, next to watching you throw." He raised his brows at her as he tilted his glass to his lips, and she sipped her wine, looking up into his gorgeous dark eyes that still mesmerized her.
"So, you like to watch me throw?" she teased him, squinting her eyes at him as she reached up and ran her hand through his short, dark brown hair, loving the distinguished tinges of gray. She let her hand slide down his strong jaw, slightly bearded now, remembering the many times he had sat on the high metal stool in front of her pottery wheel, leaning over, his elbow on his knee, observing her as she centered and opened the spinning cone of clay. They'd had some of their most enjoyable conversations while she threw her pots, except, of course, that one argument in January of 'eighty-five, when she had insisted that he ask out Bridget, an old friend of his. He had stormed out of the studio, and it would be several agonizing months before they had gotten back together, and married a few months later. How wrong could she have been about that, she thought. They both had known from the beginning. They'd just had to get past some painful truths in their respective lives. Phyl smiled, her brown eyes soft, as she watched her very serious and handsome husband lower his head and kiss her gently. They were meant to be, that was all there was to it. He put his hand on her waist as they turned toward the living room.
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