The Girl Made of Clay

by Nicole Meier

  “Thank you.” Her lips curled up cautiously, and his heart skipped. He noticed she had on her good dress underneath her cooking apron. The one with the green collar that highlighted her delicate neck. Her dark hair was down and wild, and a bit of black mascara had been smudged at her temple, perhaps from chopping an onion or even a recent crying jag. But she looked beautiful. And she’d made an effort. TR took this as a good sign.

  Bo fidgeted beside his mother, the hem of his sawdust-flecked jeans skimming just above the floor. TR caught the slightest movement of Marie’s hand against her son’s side, as if to tell him to behave. This is going to be tough, TR thought.

  “Hi, Bo. You’re looking well,” TR said, making sure to deepen his smile. He wished for a clean slate, a chance to start over, and prayed his countenance might convey that to his son.

  “Hey, TR,” Bo replied. It wasn’t as warm as his mother’s greeting, but he’d take it. TR wondered if his son had been pressured into being there against his will. Was he even open to hearing his old man out? TR didn’t blame him if he wasn’t. He’d been a lousy father over the past four years, more so if you counted Sara. Hell, who was he kidding? His whole life.

  “Smells great in here.” He inhaled and patted his stomach in approval. His eyes drifted over to the single-burner stove that was simmering in the kitchenette. Thick drips of marinara sauce trickled out and over the sides of a pot. A cutting board with sprigs of freshly cut basil lay nearby. TR felt his knees go weak. He was a sucker for Marie’s cuisine.

  Marie noticed him ogling and lifted her chin as if to indicate she wasn’t going to forgive and forget all his many transgressions over a mere compliment. With a guarded gesture, she indicated they all sit down. Bo and Marie lowered, simultaneously, onto the edge of a twin bed. TR glanced around and chose to sit across from them, on one of the room’s two stick chairs. With an abrupt motion, he scooted closer to them, positioning his boots on either side of Marie’s crossed legs. He watched to see if she’d lean away from the sudden closeness. She didn’t—a good sign.

  “Before either of you say anything—because I’m sure you have plenty to say—I’d like to go first. That is, if you don’t mind.” He waited and cleared his throat, summoning the courage his daughter had given him.

  “All right,” Marie said. “Go on.”

  TR looked to Bo to make sure there’d be no objections. His son’s focus remained steady. After a beat, he continued. “I’ve come to ask for your forgiveness. The fire was my fault, and I put you both in harm’s way. Please believe me when I tell you it wasn’t intentional. But I caused it. And I am so very sorry.”

  Marie sucked in her breath, and Bo blinked hard. TR realized he’d never really said sorry to them before. Ever. They must have been in shock.

  “I’ve made mistakes. A lot of them, in fact. And I’m not proud of the kind of person I’ve become. I’ve turned rigid and reckless, and it’s caused a great splintering in our family. I suppose that getting to be an old man has frightened me in some regard. If I can’t accomplish the things I want, pass down my legacy, and be of some kind of inspiration, then what am I anymore? To myself or anyone else, for that matter. That fear has caused me to become ugly and angry at the world. I can’t imagine the toll that’s taken on both of you, the ones who have remained here despite it all. Despite my foolish stubbornness and careless ways. It’s a miracle, actually, that you’re both hearing me out now, as you are.” He tried to swallow past the choked-up feeling that kept rising.

  Marie didn’t move. Her mouth was pursed in indignation, but her eyes were softening. TR believed her anger was subsiding slightly.

  Fighting back tears, he rotated to face Bo. “Son, you are important to me. I am ashamed of how I’ve treated you, how I’ve tried to push you in a direction you weren’t interested in going. I’ve had time to reflect. Time to realize how much I missed out on your growing up, and that saddens me. I’m terribly afraid now that my actions have driven you away, and I’ll miss out on even more of your life because of it. Please know that I love you no matter what. You are an amazing young man. You will be whether I’m in your life or not. I hope you can accept my apology.” TR had never been sincerer. He was proud of this kid and wanted so much for him.

  “Thanks, TR,” Bo said quietly.

  Without thinking, TR reached over to where his hunched-over son was sitting and brushed a swoop of hair away from his brow. “Bo? Can you ever forgive me?” TR asked, peering down.

  Bo raised his elbows from his knees and sat up. His eyes were wet. And while he appeared too emotional to speak, he pumped his head in agreement.

  “That’s a yes?” TR asked.

  Bo dragged a sleeve under his dampened nose and sniffed. “Yes.”

  TR inched forward to grip Bo’s leg and squeezed. He’d try for a hug later, but right now he needed his son to know he was grateful.

  “And Marie,” he began.

  “You almost burned us to the ground!” she snapped, apparently having held her tongue long enough.

  “Yes.”

  “And you took off for weeks with not so much as a word! Who does that?”

  “Well, I—”

  “I’m not finished!” she said. “You put our son’s life at risk. My life at risk. What would you have done if something had happened to one of us? Forget us forever? Move back with your daughter and pretend we didn’t exist? You know we had to be the ones who broke the news to her? Sara said she didn’t even know we were out here! TR! How could you?”

  TR fell to his knees on the cottage floor. “Marie!” Shame overwhelmed him. “I was an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. You are my family, mio amore, the mother of my child. Please forgive me. If you leave me, I’ll understand, but if you stay, please know that I want to make things different. Life is too short to ignore the beautiful gift of family. You and Bo and Sara and her son are my family. I love you.”

  Marie didn’t say anything. She let TR stay slumped that way, sniffling into the folds of her skirt for what felt like an eternity. All the shame he’d felt for so long over Joanne and Sara, Marie and Bo, all came cascading out into a big release. Saying he was sorry was the best thing he could have ever done. TR knew he didn’t deserve love, but he had to try. If reconnecting with Sara had taught him anything, it was that family was the most important thing. And second chances were possible if you tried.

  Suddenly Marie was crouching down beside him, slipping a gentle arm around his shaking shoulders. “Il mio amore,” she murmured. “My love. You are right. You are a fool. But you’re my fool. I love you too.”

  They sat that way for a long time—TR and Marie huddled on the ground, Bo hovering just above them—until the tears slowly receded. After a time, Marie encouraged them to get up. She scooped bowlfuls of pasta for each of them, and they sat on the twin beds, eating and talking of the fire and the damage and the repair work that needed to be made.

  When the meal was done, TR paused and looked around. The windows were fogged from the room’s warmth, dirty spoons lay idly alongside empty dishes, and contented faces leaned back onto pillowed beds. This was TR’s home, his family, and he had never been more grateful for their existence. From time to time, he’d cock his head and tried to detect what his daughter and grandson might be doing in the next building over. He hoped it was something fun.

  “Well,” he said, breaking the dreamy post-meal trance at last. “What do you both say we go out and find Sara and Sam? I’d sure love you to say hello and meet my grandson. I have a feeling he and his mother will be spending more time here, if that’s okay with everyone.”

  “Sounds good.” Bo smiled.

  “I see you’ve bonded with your daughter at long last,” Marie said.

  “I have. She’s a great kid. And she’s helped me see the error of my ways, among other things.”

  “I like her then.” Marie laughed. And together, the three of them went in search of the others.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


  SARA

  Later that night, Sara tipped back on a patio chair and gazed up at the stars. The dense gray clouds had parted, taking the rains with them. What was now revealed was a deep, navy sky, dotted with fine specks of faraway light. Tugging at the edges of a wool blanket, Sara smiled. It had been a good day.

  Witnessing her father, a sixty-nine-year-old man with a lifetime of regret and fractured family ties, interact with Bo and Marie earlier that afternoon made Sara appreciate something she hadn’t before: despite the fights and the hurt feelings and bitter blame, family members could still find a way to come back together in a way that was surprising and extraordinary.

  TR had spent a long time inside the tight quarters of his guesthouse that day, confronting Marie and Bo. Sara didn’t know all that was said, but she had an idea. TR wanted to come clean, to confess he was the one who started the fire. His anger and his irresponsible intoxication had sent them all into ruin. He was sorry. Sara knew this to be true.

  Throughout their afternoon at the coast, Sara and Sam could hear outbursts travel across the property. It was usually snippets of a high-pitched lecture from Marie. They couldn’t make out the exact words, but the sentiment was clear: TR was getting a tongue-lashing. Marie was no doubt upset about her boyfriend putting all their lives in danger and then taking off without warning. As odd as their makeup was, they were a family. And maybe for the first time, Sara was happy her father was there for them.

  After she and Sam had entertained themselves in TR’s studio for hours, sufficiently tuckered out from fits of endless laughter and messy attempts at the wheel, they’d gone to find the others. Coming to the front of the guesthouse, Sara found them all outside.

  She wondered about the exchange between Bo and TR. She hoped they could somehow find common ground. The long, engrossing hug the two men held one another in at the end of the day told her they’d chosen forgiveness. Sara let go of a long breath. She was happy for the two of them.

  Standing on the sidelines, dumbfounded by the exchange of emotion, Sam looked on silently. Sara put her arm around him as they watched Marie pat both men on the shoulders and murmur something in their ears. TR’s lined face grew serenely smooth, his drawn-down mouth releasing. Sara saw that he’d found a sense of calm somewhere in their conversation. She recognized this relief as a sign of forgiveness of himself.

  Afterward, TR called them over, introducing his grandson with a clap on the back. Everyone gathered in a kind of jovial crowd, and handshakes were exchanged. TR stood over them all, beaming.

  Sara smiled back and made her way around the circle, connecting with each set of eyes. Even Marie made an effort and reached across the group to squeeze Sara’s hand. The proud woman didn’t say much, but Sara took it as a peace offering anyway. Marie then hiked up the hem of her skirt and bent down. A slew of Italian came out in a singsongy voice as she pinched Sam’s cheek. Sam raised a curious eyebrow, and they all laughed. If there was any ice left among them, it had now been broken.

  That’s when it hit Sara. The ties of family were a profound phenomenon.

  “What did you say back there?” Sara had asked TR after they’d driven away. Her father sat beside her on the passenger seat, wearing a buoyant smile.

  “I told them I was sorry, for one thing. And I told them I wouldn’t be there if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “Me?” Sara turned to face him. “Why me?” All she’d done was drive him there. TR’s willingness to face Bo and Marie was all his doing.

  “Don’t you know by now that this old man of yours would still be shuffling around in some hospital facility if it weren’t for you? You saved my life, kid.”

  Sara swallowed and turned back to the road. “That’s not true. You saved your own life by running down to that cove. I wasn’t even there the night of the fire.”

  A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder. Sara fought the urge to close her eyes.

  “Ah, sweetheart,” her father replied. “I was dying when you found me. That damn fire had nothing to do with it. You and this beautiful boy of yours came back and saved me from myself. I was rotting from the inside out in that hospital bed. And that was something that started long ago. You arrived like an angel in the darkness. You brought me back into the light. I was so low about all the ruin I’d caused—to you, Bo, and Marie. But you helped me see that wasn’t the end, that forgiveness was still possible. And now I have a second chance. You’d better believe I’m going to take it.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. She’d waited so long to find a way toward forgiveness. She felt it then, there inside the front seat of her car. The last brick in the wall that had been built up between them came tumbling down. An overwhelming wave of relief washed over her.

  “Thanks, Dad. I do forgive you. I really do.” Sara’s mouth ran dry as a sob gathered at the back of her throat.

  Her father emitted a tiny gasp.

  Sara realized why: she’d called him TR for so long, but somehow that no longer felt right. She didn’t dare utter another word. Anything more would send her to the side of the road in a soggy mess. She felt his hand clasp down and then let go. The rest would remain unspoken for now, but understood all the same.

  Glancing once in the rearview mirror, she caught Sam hovering in attentive observation. Sara was grateful her son had finally gotten to know his grandpa. It was something she’d never fathomed, but it happened anyway. Getting him in touch with his father would be the next thing. Sam deserved that too.

  When they arrived home, TR announced he was headed off to bed. But before he said good night, he told Sara he hoped she and Charlie could find a way to work things out. “I know I’m not the shining example of commitment. And getting advice on your love life isn’t something a daughter necessarily wants to hear from her old man. But honey, I know one thing. Life is fleeting. You’ve got to snatch up as much of the goodness as you can while there’s still time. Charlie may have his faults; heck, we all do. But if you believe that he’s worth fighting for, then I wouldn’t hesitate. That little boy of yours needs two happy parents. If that happiness can happen with you two still together, that’s a good thing.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She dipped her chin. TR planted a peck on her forehead before wandering away. She hugged her middle and tried to hold on to all the things he’d said.

  If TR’s family could find a way back to one another after so much drama, then maybe she and Charlie had a fighting chance. Of course, Charlie had to want this too. Sara was only one side of the equation. She couldn’t keep them together all on her own. But they’d been happy once before; why couldn’t it happen again? She knew she had to try.

  Now, with her dad and Sam asleep, she huddled in her backyard and drew up her knees. Her right hand slipped down to her side. The hard surface under her fingertips confirmed her cell phone was still tucked safely inside her pocket. Before stepping outside, she’d checked it and rechecked it to make sure it was fully charged. The call she was expecting was too important to miss. Especially tonight.

  Sara took in the cold night air as she waited. It must have been somewhere north of ten o’clock, and the temperature was dropping quickly. Faint light from the crescent moon overhead was the only thing illuminating her blackened yard. The bushy silhouette of a maple tree could be seen, as well as the long, jagged line of a wooden fence. Acer had also wandered outside. And while Sara couldn’t make out his wiry body in the dark, she heard him rustling through the grass, sniffing out any creatures that might still be awake.

  Turning, she looked in the direction of Birdie’s house. A single table lamp glowed in a living room window. Her friend was likely still at the restaurant. Eileen was in the habit of leaving a light on until her partner crept home in the wee hours of the work night. Sara made a mental note to call Birdie in the morning. Maybe they could have coffee together. It had been too long.

  Slipping into a dreamy state, she reclined and allowed her thoughts to drift over the sequence of the day. There were so many things s
he wanted to share with Charlie. Although she was still upset and hurt by his recent actions, Sara yearned to hear his voice. He was the person she used to talk to at the end of the day. She realized she wanted that back.

  Charlie would call soon. Sara had texted him earlier, asking if they could speak. Within only a matter of minutes, he’d messaged back. He’d be glad to talk.

  Sara pictured her husband at his generic hotel, cashing in his travel points for a bed that wasn’t his. He was likely unable to get comfortable in the foreign surroundings of a room that was just miles from their house. Sara guessed her husband had probably eaten dinner alone, channel surfed for a while on the room’s television, and then decided that a workout might take his mind off his mounting restlessness. Charlie was used to the fast pace of travel, but Sara knew he was not accustomed to moving forward without a plan.

  Charlie had acted rashly and taken off unfairly, without giving Sara a chance to explain. But she’d had time to reflect. The distance, the stress, the unannounced plans had all contributed to their troubles. If she was honest with herself, Sara must admit she also had a part to play in the untethering of their marriage. She’d been strict and unbending about raising their son, and not easy at times when it came to Charlie’s work schedule. Adding TR and her obsession with him into the mix had only exacerbated things. She owned that. Neither of them was perfect. There were things that needed to be said.

  A vibrating buzz ran up along her side now. Sara eagerly pressed the button on her phone. She didn’t bothering reading the screen. “Charlie?”

  “Hey.” His voice was cautious but tender. A beat of hope struck her heart.

  “Hi. I’m glad you called.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He was trying to remain neutral, but Sara could tell by his softened tone he’d shed a bit of anger since their last argument.

  “Charlie . . .” She hesitated. Where should she begin?

  “How was the coast?”

  “Good. Really good. My dad is moving back there.”