A Late Hard Frost

by Stephanie Joyce Cole

  “I have some friends in town, Carter and his wife Susanna, and they have a small apartment above their garage. Their tenant just moved out, and left the place a mess. They’re fixing it up so they can rent it again. I can talk with them. It’s tiny, but enough for now, I think, for you and Kevin. And it’s right in town. You can walk everywhere.”

  They were huddled over a table at The Twins, just the two of them. Kevin was across the room, in the kids’ corner, happily occupied with Legos, chatting and giggling with a tiny, dark-haired girl in pink overalls. Nick leaned across the tabletop, trying to catch Cindy’s eye, but she was staring intently at her coffee cup. “What’s wrong, Cindy? We agreed you should stay for a while, you and Kevin, and the cabin’s no good for the three of us. I can’t stay on the boat forever. This seems like a great solution to me.”

  She lifted her head and scowled at him. “I don’t have any money, remember? How am I going to get money for first and last month’s rent, and the stuff we’ll need.” She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling. “I have about twenty bucks in my wallet. That’s it.” Her voice wavered, and the hands she wrapped around her cup were white-knuckled. “This godforsaken place. We’re stuck in this frozen, godforsaken place and we don’t have any money.”

  Nick pushed his chair a few inches away from the table and took a deep breath. Why was she always so damned prickly? He supposed it might be her pride, having to take help from him after all these years, these years of despising him for leaving her. “Cindy, I told you I’ll help you. I don’t have a lot of money, but there’s enough to give you some time to get back on your feet.” He paused and took another breath. “You’ve got to give Homer a chance. You might like it.”

  She started to shred her paper napkin into thin strips. “Okay. And…thank you.” She didn’t sound grateful, but at least she’d said the words.

  He rocked uncomfortably in his chair. He had more to say, and he’d better spit it out. No use putting it off.

  “So, Cindy…” She looked up, sharply alert at the change in his voice.

  “I guess there’s more you need to know, since you’re staying here.” Damn, this was hard.

  “There’s a woman, a good friend of mine, her name is Cassandra. I’ve known her for years and well, she’s going to have a baby. My baby.”

  It had all come out wrong. It sounded stupid. He sounded stupid. She frowned at him and sat absolutely still. She didn’t say a word.

  He stumbled on. “It was unexpected. We haven’t told anyone yet.” He paused, waiting for her to say something, but she just sat there, frozen, staring at him.

  “I guess you should meet her. Well, of course you should meet her, I mean you should meet her soon. She doesn’t live far away.” Great, now he was babbling. “Not right now, of course. But soon.”

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face was etched from stone.

  “You’re having a baby.” Her words were clipped and hard. “Oh, great. So now I have a sister or brother coming along?”

  He was flustered. What could he say? It was true, but it wasn’t the way she was making it sound. Or maybe it was exactly like that.

  “I guess we’re all going to be one big happy family now, hey, Dad?” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  “Enough.” Now he was angry. He was going to help her. He was doing everything he could to help her. Who was she to judge him, when she’d made such a mess of her own life?

  He stood up abruptly, almost knocking the chair to the floor, and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. “Get Kevin. Let’s go home. Meet me in the truck.” He strode to the door, not looking back.

  ~ * ~

  It wasn’t as if he’d expected them to take to each other right away, but jeez, he hadn’t expected this.

  It was the Clash of the Titans.

  That morning, Cindy had scowled when he insisted that she and Kevin come to meet Cass. She thumped around the cabin, pulling on her boots and dragging Kevin’s blue wool cap down over his ears.

  “Where are we going, Mama?” Kevin was bewildered as he stood by the door, an anxious expression on his face, his eyes swinging between Cindy and Nick.

  “Your grandfather wants us to meet someone. That’s all.” Cindy crouched down next to him, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and the lines in her face melted away. “You need a haircut, kiddo. Maybe we’ll do that this afternoon, after we get back.” She stood back up and turned towards Nick, her back rigid, her face stony cold. “I guess we’re ready.”

  Cass had been icy on the phone, the conversation full of long pauses and impatient sighs. In his mind’s eye, Nick could see her clutching the phone, rolling her eyes and biting her lip. “I’m really busy, Nick. I've got a lot of work to do. This might not be a good day.”

  “We won’t stay long, Cass. Just long enough to say hello. But you really do need to meet them.”

  His life was awash with intrigue and drama. He hated it. He wanted his simple life back: working on the boat, having a few beers at Scully’s, joking around with Cass when they got together. Of course, part of that existence had been the hope—no, his expectation—that he and Merry would be making their way in the world together. Well, the bottom had dropped out of all of it. Maybe that old life was never coming back, but damn it, he was going to try to do the right things, to make the best of this lousy hand he’d been dealt. And all this mess was his own making anyhow.

  Cass might not like it, but it looked like Cindy and Kevin were going to be here for a while. They needed to be here, they needed his help, to sort things out. And Cindy could stomp and pout if she wanted, but Cass was carrying his baby, and he had to take care of them too. Somehow, he had to splice these two pieces of his life together, for everyone’s sake.

  When Cass opened the door to the cabin and let them in, Nick made the introductions and they all stood there in silence, Cindy and Cass facing each other, Kevin holding Cindy’s hand and fidgeting, Nick one step away, positioned between them like a referee. The cat that seemed to live there now meowed once and ran out the open door with its tail tall in the air, Kevin’s wide eyes tracking its path. Nick had a fleeting urge to follow it out.

  Cass was the first to speak. Her unsmiling “hello” was frosty and formal. She pulled herself to her full height and became the haughty Snow Queen, her face arranged in the arrogant mask Nick knew she used very effectively to disguise any vulnerability she might be feeling. Cindy nodded in response, keeping a wary eye on Cass while morphing into a goth warrior, her face hard and her body tensed and readied for a street fight. Nick would not have been surprised to see the air between them crackle and spark.

  Kevin broke the impasse. He pulled away from Cindy’s hand and pointed across the room to Cass’s pottery wheel, where a slick, tall, half-formed vessel squatted. “What’s that?”

  Cass’ stony gaze broke as she turned towards her work. “It’s going to be a big pot. It’s not done yet.” Her eyes swept quickly over Kevin’s awkward skinny body, wrapped in his oversize coat. “Go look at it if you like.”

  “But don’t touch anything.” Cindy’s voice snapped as Kevin walked over to the wheel.

  Cass turned back to Cindy, frowning. “It doesn’t matter. He can touch it if he wants. After all, it’s only wet clay.”

  Cindy’s eyes narrowed and flashed as she opened her mouth, but Nick stepped forward before she had a chance to speak. He rubbed his hands together.

  “We can’t stay long. We need to run by the grocery story before dinner.” He wasn’t going to wait to see if Cass would ever get around to asking them to sit down or offer tea. This was enough for one day. “Cass, I can tell you’re busy. I just wanted you all to meet. Cindy, Kevin—let’s go. Cass, I’ll see you soon.” Damn, this was awkward.

  Kevin still hovered next to the wheel, staring in fascination at the wet pot, his hands in his pockets. He pulled one hand free and pointed at the pot. “How…?” Cindy strode over, grabbing his arm and pulli
ng him away. “Kevin, pay attention. We’re leaving now.” She nodded curtly and mumbled goodbye, not meeting Cass’ eyes as she hurried Kevin out the door and over to the truck.

  Nick held his tongue as they rumbled and bumped down the road to the highway. He seethed and his temper was firing up, but knew that he what he was most likely to say shouldn’t be said in front of Kevin, who was half-asleep, swaddled into his coat with his face burrowing under the collar. Cindy’s rigid face stared out at the road ahead.

  “I suppose you’ll be expected to pay for that baby.” Cindy’s shrill voice knifed across the small cab. “I’m guessing she doesn’t earn much making those pots.”

  “What?” Nick tried to keep his eyes on the road. “What are you talking about, Cindy?”

  Cindy's words dripped venom. “I’m talking about money, Dad. Not a lot of money to go around, is there, and now that we’re here she’s probably thinking that there’ll even be less for her, right?”

  Nick swore under his breath. Keep it together, don’t lose it in front of Kevin. He glanced down quickly. Kevin was clearly asleep now, his sweet face blank and tipped back against the seat, his mouth slightly agape.

  “Cindy,” he growled, quiet and low. “I don’t know what happened to you, how you got like this. But dammit…” He paused and shook his head, keeping in mind the boy sleeping peacefully next to him. “Cindy, sometimes…you’re not a very nice person.”

  She snorted and opened her mouth, but he shut her up with a black look and an uplifted palm. They drove on in silence, down the rough road.

  ***

  After they left, Cass stood for several minutes staring at the closed door, wiping her hands over and over on the messy, damp towel, smoothing her apron over her barely curved belly. Their faces flashed in her mind: Nick’s, furrowed and anxious; Cindy’s, bitter and challenging, and the little boy, Kevin’s, open and a bit confused. Somehow, they were all a part of her life now.

  Slowly, she turned back towards the pot on the wheel. She had intended to pull a spout and attach a handle, so she had to be mindful of the clay. Clay was all about timing. Work it too quickly, impatiently, and your work collapsed and you had to start again. Wait too long and the window of opportunity passed, and the form could crack as you tried to alter it. Always, always the work required mindfulness and commitment.

  She dropped the towel on the floor and strode to the wheel. She slammed her fist into the side of the smooth pot, spewing a sludge of clay onto the floor. The ruined form oozed off the wheel in silent rebuke. Cat chirruped from the window where he’d been watching the ravens and hopped down to investigate, advancing on the muck on the floor in a slow-motion crouch, his nose reaching out to hover over the mess.

  Covering her face with her hands, she smelled the reek of clay drying on her fingers. She loved the sharp, earthy scent of the clay, yet now it couldn’t comfort her. The sturdy walls of the cabin, usually offering her sanctuary, now huddled and pressed inward towards her, suffocating her.

  She stifled a sob. The aching hole in her chest told her something was lost. Maybe something she never had.

  She grabbed her coat from the peg and pushed the door open. A bright blue day greeted her, the cool whiff of wind carrying hints of drying mud and new grass, a three-note song from an unseen bird repeating far away in the meadow. It was probably nesting, readying for new life to arrive, now that spring was here. Ravens cawed to one another in the distance. They’d be readying for spring too, hoping to steal the eggs from that bird’s nest for a quick meal.

  She stepped outside and sat on the front steps. She lived in a wild place, animals ate other animals, and she knew that for them was a matter of survival, not cruelty. Yet today it seemed so sad and futile, that bird constructing a nest for a new family that might be torn away and destroyed in a second by a sharp-eyed predator. She rested her head on her folded arms. What was happening to her?

  Cat slinked from behind her and rubbed his head against her elbow. As she stroked him absently, his back arched and his quiet purr trembled against her fingers. Cat spent more time in the cabin these days, but she wondered if he’d revert to his wild outdoor ways now the days were longer and warmer. She scanned the clear sky. No eagles soaring in sight today, but they were notorious for snagging and eating cats. She hadn’t wanted a pet, but Cat had squirmed his way into her life, and he was a part of the pattern now. She sighed. Just one more thing for her to worry about.

  And now Nick had Cindy and Kevin to worry about. That Cindy, she was a piece of work. Nick probably hadn’t noticed, but Cass received Cindy’s message loud and clear: The half-step Cindy took towards Nick when they were introduced, the challenge in Cindy’s raised chin and hard stare. He’s mine, that look said, not yours. Cass shifted uncomfortably on the step. She hadn’t exactly been welcoming, but the last thing she needed in her life right now was more complication, and that’s what these two strangers were going to be. She had to face facts, though. Whatever else Cindy might be, she was Nick’s daughter, and he would stick by her, and he had a grandson too. They had only been in her cabin for what, five minutes? Yet she’d seen, from the way Nick’s eyes focused on the kid as he moved across the room—Nick loved him. Whatever happened next, they were all bundled up together.

  Work was impossible. Her hands wouldn’t produce the steady focused precision essential to the giant pots she was planning to create, and it was useless to try. Even as she stood still, staring into space, she could feel her body trembling. Well, it was time for the weekly damp mop anyway. She was constantly at war with the fine clay dust settling into every nook and cranny of the small cabin. It found its way everywhere, every windowsill, every corner. She even found it on her bedsheets, tracked there by her bare feet. Clay wasn’t toxic, but the dust could settle into lungs and bring on a variety of ailments if it wasn’t controlled. She slopped water into a large bucket and grabbed the damp mop. She despised cleaning, but today, at least, it was something she was able to do in the midst of the mess in her mind.

  The water in the bucket turned a sludgy grayish brown as she slapped the floppy mop over the floorboards. Cat mewed in alarm and dashed away from the flying splashes for safety under the bed, his tail held high.

  Clay dust everywhere…she stopped abruptly and leaned on the mop, her eyes widening. What about when the baby comes? It hadn’t occurred to her before, but could she even have the baby in here, with clay dust everywhere? The baby couldn’t crawl around on a floor carpeted with this fine film. And the dust was one thing, but the jars and buckets of stains and glazes, they were certainly toxic, dense with heavy metals and corrosive substances. She could wear her protective gear, gloves and face mask when she mixed up the glazes, but what could she do about the baby? The baby would be breathing the air too.

  The home that cradled and comforted her flipped into a house of horrors. Tears born of frustration and desperation pricked her eyes. Her work was her life. How was she going to do this? It was impossible. Her entire life was impossible.

  She turned, startled by a gentle rap at the door. She cleared her throat, shaking her head to pull her thoughts back under her control, as the door creaked open and Ryan leaned his blonde head inside. “Cass? Okay if I come in?”

  “Ah…sure.” She plunked the mop back into the murky water and leaned the bucket against the wall. “Be careful, it’s wet in here.”

  As Ryan picked his way carefully across the floor, Cass turned towards the kitchen alcove, biting her lower lip and running her hand hurriedly over her hair, trying to buy a little time to compose herself before she had to face him up close. He followed her into the kitchen and dropped a paper bag on the table with a flourish.

  “Amazing, but today, at Safeway, they had…” He grinned and dumped the bag’s contents on the table. “…perfect, absolutely perfect, bananas. The whole time I’ve been here in Homer, the bananas have all been just rotten, too green or too ripe or battered up, but today, they are yellow perfection. I couldn’t resist s
o I brought you some, and…” He stopped and stared into her face. “Cassandra, what’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t smother the sobs then. He stepped towards her, reaching out for her, and she let him gather her gently into his arms. He didn’t say a thing, he just held her close as she cried, and she could feel his warm breath stirring her hair.

  It was Cat who broke the spell, emerging from under the bed, emitting a series of offended meows.

  “I’m so sorry.” She stuttered the words, ashamed and embarrassed. “I’m just so emotional these days. I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t look him in the face. He steered her into a chair and moved to the sink, where he filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. He sat across from her, his eyes crinkled with concern.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and careful. “Cass, who is taking care of you? Who is helping you?”

  At another time she would have bristled, she would have pulled herself upright and tall and would have said, in no uncertain terms, that she took care of herself, thank you very much, that she didn’t need any help. She would have produced a mask so haughty and cold that no one would dare suggest that she was vulnerable, that she needed anything, anything at all. She was independent and strong and she took care of herself. She was the only person she could rely on.

  But it wasn’t entirely true, and she knew it. She couldn’t figure everything out on her own. Nick loved her, but not in the way she wanted him to, and Nick would always help her, but Nick wasn’t going to give her what she wanted and needed most. When she faced up to her life, she knew she was adrift, and alone, pregnant and utterly confused about the future. She hadn’t made any plans because she’d been waiting for Nick to come to her, and they would work it all out together as a family. But it was becoming clear that was never going to happen.

  She clutched the teacup Ryan gave her with both hands, the warmth of the tea seeping through the fine porcelain into her rigid fingers. She stared at the cup, one of her finest, the thin body, the perfect rim, the graceful swirl of transparent glazes so simple yet the skilled result of so many years of loving work. Her calling, to give life to the clay. Haltingly, in fits and starts, she started to talk.