The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series)

by Smith, Daniel Arthur

  Nathan took the airbrush kit down from the shelf and carried the case over to the table.

  “You know how to set that up?” asked Will.

  “Yea, my friend used to have one of these when I was in school,” said Nathan. “We used to paint t-shirts.”

  “Good. Then you know how to clean it too.”

  Will stood up, walked over toward the window, and grabbed an extension cord. Will plugged the cord into the wall and brought the other end to Nathan, uncoiling the cord as he did. “Use this cord instead of the table socket, you won’t have to have it right on top of you that way.”

  “Thanks,” said Nathan then proceeded to set up the kit. Will walked back to the window and stretched his arms above his head, clasping his hands in the air.

  “Storm’s a comin’,” said Will faintly.

  “What’s that Will?”

  “Nothing, something I heard about the weather. I’ll be back in a minute, I got to stretch my legs.”

  Will grabbed the jacket he kept by the door and stepped out into the light. The glare of the sun caught him off guard and he quickly brought his hand above his eyes to correct his vision. From where he stood the sun was shining through the willow and the branches played games with the light. He shifted his head. In the side yard he heard the loud knock of a woodpecker pounding into a tree and out on the lake the soft buzz of a chainsaw cutting into the ice. He walked the path to the willow and ducked beneath the canopy of branches to stand next to the trunk. Will placed his hand on the willow. He patted the tree twice to test the solidity and peered up at the cables that attached themselves to the tree from the house and the studio. He flattened his hand and gave the willow a solid forward push. The tree did not budge or make a sound within. The branches above did not waiver to surrender any ice or snow and looking back at the cables again, neither seemed anymore aware of him then before. He decided the tree was solid and patted the bark again, this time gently, biting his lower lip as he did.

  The sky was crystal clear and the blue contrasted the snowy earth. Will took the few steps down toward the ice and turned toward the tree. There was no way he could easily see the foundation of the willow in the bank beneath the snow. Slowly he backed away to get the entire tree in scope. His boots crunched on the snow above the ice. He kept walking backwards until he could see the willow, house, and studio all in front of him. Surrounded by leafless trees the Bellen yard appeared tranquil. Will guessed the yard was. He tried to think if there were ever any truly bad times that came to this house and he could not. Even with the loss of family, through generations, the home had been peaceful. He inspected the dock pulled up by the shed, the deck covered with tarp, the wheels peeking out beneath. Will had not put the dock in the lake last year or the year before.

  Will focused on the ground where the willow stood, his eyes gazing into the past. The willow now stood where he and Emily spent many nights on a blanket watching the stars in each others arms as the children slept inside. As a child he had learned to walk on that yard and so had Michael and Abby. There used to be a swing set in front of the studio he remembered now. And by the shed beneath the snow, was the remnant of a sandbox that he had played in as a child.

  With a thousand drooping branches covered in ice and light snow, from where Will stood, the willow was a large crystalline gazebo on the lake edge. Periodically a glimmer appeared that danced back at the sun above. Will thought how Emily would have loved this grand tree in full lacy dress.

  In the studio window Will could see Nathan watching him. Will raised his hand and gave a wave. Nathan waved back and disappeared into the shadows. Will put his hands in his front pockets and turned to the expanse of the lake. He squinted his cool blue eyes out toward the shanties and started to walk. Will did not remember the last time he went for a walk on the lake and decided that today was a good day for one.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 62

  Late afternoon the sky turned overcast and dusk quickly followed. Already house lights began to sparkle through the tree line along the edges of the lake. Nathan had initially peered out the window periodically and then by late afternoon he sat fixated in the direction of the lake. He could barely see Will’s silhouette against the bluing snow as he approached the property, stopping intermittently, then trudging forward again. When Nathan saw Will mount the bank to the yard he got up from the window and slipped his jacket on. He flipped the switch to the outside light and stepped outside the door of the studio as Will moved up the path from the willow. Nathan could see a pleasant look on Will’s face.

  “You warm enough?” asked Nathan.

  “Yes,” said Will stopping next to Nathan. His voice calm, relaxed, “It’s not as cold as you would think out there if you keep moving around.”

  “You’re probably starting to give yourself hypothermia,” said Nathan. “Let’s go into the house and I’ll make dinner.”

  “Ok,” said Will.

  The two went into the house and per Will’s request Nathan boiled some pasta. Will built a fire in the lake room and the two ate their dinners on TV trays while watching the television. The television was issuing warnings about the blizzard moving across the state. When the radar came on Nathan was surprised. The sky was overcast outside still very calm, no wind, no snow. The radar on the television showed half the screen blocked off by a huge dark patch representing the blizzard that was bearing down on Willow Lake.

  “It’s probably best you head home, before the weather sets in, unless of course you want to stay for the night,” said Will.

  “I think I’ll take your advice then I’ll see you in the morning,” said Nathan. He quickly cleaned the kitchen and left for the evening.

  Will had enough of the television and turned the box off. He did not need the weatherman to tell him there was a storm on the way. He felt the weather in his bones. He was ok with the weather.

  Will went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Abby had a sweet tooth and she certainly would have left some ice cream in there. Yes there was some vanilla. Will put some ice cream in a small bowl and placed the container back in the freezer and then went back into the lake room to eat his dessert.

  Will sat on the arm of the sofa and looked out toward the lake. Because of the lamp by the window all he could see was his reflection staring back at him. He did not see a sixty-seven year old man with white hair eating vanilla ice cream. The reflection washed out the lines in his face so he appeared younger and the amber light of the room made his hair shadowed, almost brown. Will thought he looked satisfied and he liked that. Will straightened his back and peered deep into the glass. Yes, Will affirmed, satisfied.

  Will finished his dessert and took the bowl to the kitchen. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He may have appeared youthful in the reflection of a window yet he was tired. Though still early Will decided to take an after dinner nap, after which he would go back out to the studio.

  Will went into his room to rest on his bed, falling asleep in moments. He slept deeply and still, much longer than he had planned, late into the night.

  As the storm moved in Will took no notice. As reported a blizzard of wind and ice bore upon the lake. Will sat up abruptly when something blew down by the shed making a loud crash. Once awake he heard the sounds of howling gales blowing against the house. The gales caused the house to creak when the wind was strongest.

  Will got up from his bed and went to the lake room. The light was still on so he could not see out of the bay window. When he turned off the switch, the bay window illuminated with the outside events of the storm. Will could see the willow swaying in the wind, her large canopy of branches were a shifting dress of snow and ice. Will thought the tree might blow down. He put on his boots and his heavy jacket and opened the door. The wind caught and pulled the door from his fingers slamming the wood back into a snowdrift that was forming by the house. Will grabbed and pulled the door shut. Icy sleet cut into his fingers as he did. The wind was carrying icy rain
and sleet, coating everything. Will threw the hood of the jacket up over his head to keep the ice off his ears and made his way toward the shed. The wind pushed against him and he almost fell over more than once in the deep snow that covered the way to the shed. When Will finally got to the shed he was able to pull the wooden door open enough for him to fit in. Once inside the world quieted, Will did not realize how loud the gale was until he was clear. He went to the corner of the shed to get the coil of thick nautical rope he had bought for the dock a few years back. He got a deal on the hundred-foot coil that now would be put to use. Will figured he could further anchor the tree to the house with the rope, at least through the storm.

  Will reached down to pick up the heavy coil. With both hands, he lifted the coil onto his shoulder and made his way back to the door. When Will slipped back out the door, the wind pushed against him, making the move forward that much harder. Still Will tromped through the snow where there was no path to get directly to the tree. He leaned into each step, sometimes landing on his knee.

  When Will got to the willow an ice laden branch cut his check. The smaller branches were flailing like whips with each gust. Will kept his head low to get close to the trunk. The trunk moved elastically above the snow. Will’s fear was for what was happening to the roots. He dropped the rope to the ground and wrapped one end around the tree several times before tying the rope off. The sleet beat upon him as he worked. When Will felt the rope was secured to the tree he tied the other end to himself. Then Will pulled the rope tight between himself and the tree so he could manage the slack as he moved closer to the house.

  Will eased away from the tree. With each step Will pushed his feet hard into the snow and kept leaning back so the rope would stay taut. The tree swayed with the gales, pulling him forward with each gust. Slowly Will released the slack of the rope until there was not anymore. The house was only a few feet behind him yet could not be reached. He pulled on the rope as hard as he could to get farther back with no success. Will decided that if the house could not be the anchor then he would. He rolled his body into the rope, pulled his hood down over his face, and then slowly anchored himself down in the snow. Each time the trunk of the willow swayed toward him, he would claim the slack. Will believed that the rope around his waist would be enough to hold the willows girth through the last of the storm. Will had prevailed. Then off the lake came a gale so forceful that Will could see the snow push out from underneath. The snow spun with the gust and formed a cyclone. Howling toward him the large funnel pressed upon the shore. The cyclone enveloped the yard, Will was deafened, and all around him shook within the wind and the icy rain. Water came across his face too quickly to bead. His hands squeezed the rope and began to bleed pink with the icy rain. Through squinting eyes Will saw the large anchor cables fly over his head with broad curls and rolling curves. The steel slowly furled with the parts of the house and studio they were fastened to flailing to the end of them. The willow and Will remained yet the ground was no more. Time suspended and the world around Will moved slowly and gracefully. The air was thick with snow from the funnel and Will could only discern the cables and the willow. Large branches were to and fro though the willow for the most part floated intact in the stormy sky. The gale forced the cables out past the willow, taking with them all sound to be heard. Will saw one cable snap free of burden and oh so slowly extend from the snow-hazed darkness to where the sunrise was beginning to peek through a break in the storm. The sunrise had light hues of fuchsia and tangerine. The tension on the rope eased and the cable mesmerized him. Floating above Will’s head the cable appeared to hover, then slowly fell back at him, directly to him, until all went black.

  There was a depth, a sense of warmth.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 63

  Abby lifted the lace curtain of her apartment window to find the red rental car Mitch was driving.

  “I see you,” Abby said into the cell phone. She could see the four door red sedan turning the corner onto her block. “I’m on my way out.”

  Abby hung up and placed the cell phone into her bag. She scanned the apartment then paused. A notion that she was forgetting something, that something was lost, passed over her. Abby went to the door, picked up her suitcase, and headed for the street.

  Mitch was double parked outside of Abby’s building when she came out. He stood next to the car and opened the back door as she approached so that she could deposit her suitcase quickly, which she did. Abby then turned to him and gave him a hug.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” said Abby.

  “It’s the least I could do. I couldn’t see you taking a train and Caroline and Brian have their hands full at the lake,” said Mitch.

  “Of course. That’s still so sweet of you. You must have gotten up so early.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Mitch. Abby walked around the back of the car and got in. Mitch watched her then got into the car as well.

  Mitch had gotten up early. Mitch rented the car from Fremont the night before and left for the city around five in the morning so that he could get in early enough to get Abby out before rush hour began. This was a good plan because the streets were empty as the two drove away from the building.

  Mitch had a tea waiting in the car for which Abby was grateful. All Mitch had smelled all morning was his coffee, until Abby got into the car. Now the car had a sweet feminine smell of cosmetics and shampoo. Even in the midst of a grey morning, Abby appeared radiant. Expressionless, her eyes still sparkled and her cheeks still glowed. Mitch was pleased to see Abby yet he could see the shadow behind the veil.

  There was little traffic as they left the avenues and entered the expressway. Neither said a word as the roadways got bigger and they progressed farther from the city center. Mitch stole glances at Abby and she just stared forward at the road, sometimes veering to the side to something in the distance: a billboard, a building, nothing. Sometimes her gaze just hung in the air. Mitch said nothing. They rode together in silence.

  An hour outside the city Abby reached over, placed her hand on Mitch’s shoulder, and squeezed. Her eyes pleaded for his and her mouth let free a melancholy smile. Mitch smiled back.

  Morning traffic had picked up yet flowed evenly through this scenic stretch. The rest of the drive would be scenic, particularly if one were partial to snowy evergreens. Abby tuned the radio to a station playing classical music. The music went well with the trees passing by her window so she leaned back in her seat and watched as they fell by, one by one.

  “Mitch,” said Abby.

  “Yes, Abby.”

  “Caroline said the house and studio were damaged.”

  “I had the boys patch them up so the weather can’t get in.”

  “Oh… Thank you.”

  “It’s alright,” said Mitch.

  When they got to Willow Lake, Abby started to become noticeably uncomfortable. There were things that needed to be done in Fremont yet that would wait until later. Mitch was taking Abby to her cousin Caroline’s in Willow Lake first. Mitch understood Abby’s uneasiness when he realized she was looking into the cemetery. He had driven past that cemetery countless times and the place meant nothing to him. Mitch realized that to Abby that cemetery had a great meaning, the place held her family, her mother, brother, and soon would hold her father. Mitch reached over and caressed the back of her neck. Abby leaned her head back in his hand and rested there.

  As Mitch drove through the village Abby continued to gaze vacuously out the window with a somber expression. The Stone tavern was still dark at this time of day. People seemed to be walking slowly. The sky was overcast grey, gloomy. Abby did not shift her view over the lake. Her gaze did not fix on any one point or any one thing. At the edge of the village Mitch turned onto Willow Lake road. The next stop would be Caroline’s house. Abby knew that she was getting close so she started to compose herself. She had already talked to Caroline on the phone a couple of times since the storm, since the accident. Caroline had told Abby
what had happened after Nathan found Will. Caroline had begun the arrangements. Abby felt that she was being so unfair to her cousin due to Caroline’s proximity.

  When Mitch and Abby drove into the driveway they could see that all of the lights were on in the house. The atrium lit up amber against the cool colorless woods. Caroline came out of the door and onto the porch and ran down to her cousin. Abby opened the car door and went to her cousin’s embrace. The two held each other tight.

  “Are you alright?” asked Caroline.

  “I don’t know,” said Abby. “How about you?”

  Caroline responded by just shaking her head.

  Neither Caroline nor Abby shed tears. The pain in their hearts poured through their eyes as they met.

  Mitch eased out of the car. He was moved to see these two strong women surrender their emotions to each other. He walked over and put his arms around them, still holding each other tight, and led them back to the house.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 64

  “Brian’s not back yet,” said Caroline as she brought Abby and Mitch into the kitchen. “He took the twins to a friends down the lake.”

  “Are they okay?” asked Abby.

  “They’re not really aware of what’s going on. Hey, I know it’s a little early for lunch but the two of you have been on the road, and we have plenty of food.”

  In disbelief Abby saw that every counter was covered with foil and plastic containers, “Where did all of this come from?”

  “Most from my parents. Tom and Mary sent a delivery boy over from the IGA with enough salads, prepared meats, and cold cuts to insure no one would have to bother cooking.”