The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series) (17 page)

Abby slipped on a pair of large
green rubber boots that she kept by the back door, grabbed a jacket off a hook,
and tromped out into the wet snow with the jacket over her head.
 
When she got to the studio she stomped
her feet on the concrete floor to get the sticky snow off the boots.
 
Sure enough, she could hear Will in the
big room talking about when his grandfather built the studio.
 
She walked in and smiled, Will and
Nathan were holding paper cups and a bottle of wine sat uncorked on the
worktable.
 
Naturally he would have
wine in the studio, “there had always been drinking hadn’t there?” she asked
herself.
 
“There certainly was when
Michael died,” a voice inside her head echoed that did not seem to be her
own.
 
They were all artists, they
all drank, and she asked herself what made her father any different, what was
different now?

Will stopped talking about the
pedigree, “Hey
there
Abby.
 
Nathan and I were just getting to know
one another.”

 
“You two disappeared on me,” said
Abby.
 
Just getting to know one
another, her father was a very charming man and she was a bit scared for
Nathan.

“Your father was just telling me
all about the studio and how your great-grandfather built it,” said
Nathan.
 
His voice sounded
confident, just as charming she thought.
 
Good, he was not going to let himself be sucked in.

Will tilted his head back and let
his chest pump out, “Did you know Nathan has been to the Bellen installation at
the Fremont museum?
 
They still have
it there.”

Will was quite proud of the museum
installation and the stories about his grandfather.
 
Bellen pottery was renowned in his
grandfather’s own generation making him a local celebrity.

“You don’t still go every year to
check on it?” asked Abby.

“Not like I used too,” said Will.

“I’m glad the two of you are
talking, but dinner is on the table,” said Abby.

“Oh my risotto,” said Will, “don’t
want it to dry out.”

“Might as well bring the wine while
you’re at it,” said Abby.

The three went back into the house
and sat at the table, Will across from Nathan.
 
Abby was quite pleased that Will and
Nathan were getting along, which essentially meant that Will did not hate
Nathan.
 
She watched Will as he
picked up his fork and Nathan bowed his head.
 
“This could be bad,” she thought.

“Do you say grace?” asked Will.

Nathan raised his head, looked
across the table to Will with an impish smile, “Yes Will, I do.
 
I take it you don’t.”

“Not normally.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“Um, sure,” Will bowed his head.
 
Abby also bowed her head, leery of any
outburst that may come from Will concerning grace.

Will was not an atheist, or even
agnostic.
 
He believed in God all
right, he just had some issues with him.
 
Issues in particular concerning the death of his wife and son.

Nathan bowed his head again, closed
his eyes behind his glasses, and spoke slowly and solemnly,

“We thank thee, O Lord, for this
food,

And for the health of those here to
share it today.”

Good thought Abby, brief and to the
point.

Nathan went on,

“May we use it to nourish our
bodies,

And thee, O Lord, to nourish our
souls.”

Abby peeked over at Will, his head
was bowed, a good sign.

“Make us ever more mindful of the
needs of others,

And the needs of
our planet.

For we have the benefits they do
not,

And we have you, O Lord.”

Abby could tell Will was rubbing
his teeth with his tongue by the way his cheeks and lips were being pushed from
his gums.
 
Nathan had more prayer to
share,

“May we be ever
thankful,

And forget not those benefits.

Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.”

“Amen,” said Abby.

“Amen,” said Will in a slightly
enthusiastic voice, “Covered the world on that one too, good job.
 
Now let’s enjoy this dinner,” Will
paused, tilted his head to the side and made an ear to ear grin, “before this
risotto dries out.”

Abby portioned the lasagna and
served Will and Nathan while all three talked about how everything on the table
looked so good.
 
The subject of
grace and God had passed and Abby, relieved at that, decided to move forward
with her task.

“Nathan tell us about what you were
doing in Fremont before moving to the village,” said Abby.

“I was a caregiver,” said Nathan.

“What does that mean –
caregiver?” asked Will.

“Well the shared home where I
worked was the residence of six people ranging from around my age to the
mid-fifties.
 
Two of the residents
were not ambulatory, the other four were, and all had health conditions that
necessitated either twenty-four hour care or basic help.
 
I performed various activities from
mowing the lawn to monitoring people while they slept, which basically meant
just being at the house a couple nights a week in case anyone needed anything.”

“So you were a babysitter?” asked
Will.

“Will, he was not a babysitter,”
said Abby.

“Actually,” said Nathan, “I kinda
was, in a lot of ways.
 
Maybe not a
babysitter exactly, but I was around if anybody needed anything.
 
And stuff needed to get done, the
shopping, the laundry, the cleaning.”

“There ya see,” said Will.

Abby weighed Will’s comment, not
sure whether he was patronizing Nathan.
 
Will had appeared to like Nathan yet maybe that was a ploy.

“I can certainly use some help like
that around here,” said Will.
 
Abby
did not have any words for a moment.

“Abby tells me I can’t seem to keep
up with anything anymore.
 
I guess
she’s right.
 
Besides, I’m back
ordered in the studio and some help would free up my time.”

“This was too easy,” thought Abby,
“
Will could
not be giving in without a fight.”
 
She was certain that Nathan would find
Will capricious by his next actions, yet they did not come.

“Yes,” said Abby, “as we discussed,
there are a lot of things that need to be done around here once I get back to
the city.”

“Great, let’s go over them after
dinner,” said Nathan.
 
“Will, tell
me more about the Bellen studio.”
 
Abby thought this genius of Nathan to change the subject and to one of
Will’s favorites.
 
With pride, Will
continued to discuss the aspects of firing pottery passed down through the
Bellen pedigree in detail.

After Will and Nathan each had two
servings of lasagna, Will excused himself from the table.

“I thought we might go over some of
the tasks that you have in mind for Nathan before he starts,” said Abby.

“You go right ahead,” said Will, “
I’m going into the other room to stoke the fire and rest for a moment.
 
You two should join me when you’re
done.”

Abby let
Will
leave the room without saying another word to him.
 
She had decided that he was going to
accept Nathan coming on board peacefully enough and this was better than she
had hoped for.

“That didn’t go so bad,” Abby said
to Nathan after Will had stepped out of the room.
 
Nathan picked up the near empty bottle
of wine and poured the remainder into Abby’s glass.
 
“That’s because he was drunk.
 
I could have lit the place on fire and
he probably wouldn’t have minded as long as I was polite about it,” said
Nathan.

Abby knew that to be true.
 
Abby had surmised that Will had been
drinking all day out of her sight.

“It’s a start,” said Abby.

“Agreed,” said Nathan.

Abby got up from the table and
began clearing the dinner plates.
 
Nathan stood up and started to help by clearing the serving bowls from
the table and putting them on the counter.
 
Abby took the serving bowls from him before he had a chance to set them
down.

“Go on into the other room, I’ll
get some cake for us,” said Abby.

“What about the roads?
 
Should I be worried about getting out of
here?” asked Nathan.

“Oh, I am pretty sure Will was
right.
 
You’re staying in the guest
room tonight.
 
I already had it
freshly made up, just in case,” said Abby.

“In for a penny, in for a pound,”
said Nathan.

“You’re in for something, that’s
for sure,” said Abby.

* * *
* *

The only vehicle parked outside the
garage was Mitch’s yellow pickup.
 
The other workers were gone for the day and the Johansson house looked
desolate.
 
Maybe because of the size
of the house or because no one had lived there for so long, either reason the
house had always appeared eerily vacant to Abby any time she looked at the
vacuous windows.
 
She parked the
truck and went to the kitchen door where she had entered before.
 
Taped on the kitchen door window was a
note written in black marker that read, ‘GO TO THE FRONT DOOR’, in capital
letters.
 
Assuming work was probably
being done on the floors of the kitchen, or some adjoining area, Abby walked
around the driveway to what Mitch had called the guest entrance.
 
She looked forward to having lunch with
Mitch and then maybe spending the afternoon together if he could get away.

They had not seen each other since
they had kissed a couple of days before.
 
Their eyes had been locked on each other the rest of the evening and
Abby had used all of her strength to not cuddle against him when they went back
into the bar.
 
When the time came
for Brian to drive her home, she could have easily let herself leave with
Mitch.
 
She was glad he had not
offered.
 
She only had three beers
at the bar still Abby felt that she had little control before she ever arrived.
 
The intoxication came from somewhere
else.

Once on the porch Abby saw another
note taped to one of the large oak doors that read, ‘COME IN TO THE
LIBRARY’.
 
Remembering what her
father had said about the urns made her smile as she walked past them.
 
In the foyer, she was hit by the smell
of popcorn.

The house was warm and Abby did not
hesitate to take her jacket off as she entered the library where she found
another note hanging on the curtain entrance to the theater that simply read,
‘IN HERE’.

 
“What is this?” asked Abby.
 
The theater lights were an amber hue,
the aroma of pine and popcorn made a peculiar combination.
 
On a table between two of the cushioned
chairs sat a large bucket of popcorn.

Mitch spoke from behind the back
wall, “What’s it look like?
 
We’re
going to test this baby out.
 
Sit
down and I’ll dim the lights.”

“Ok then,” said Abby.
 
She took her seat and set her jacket
next to her, as she leaned back the chair went into a reclining position and at
the bottom of the seat a footrest quickly shot out.
 
“This is nice.”

Mitch came out from behind the back
wall with a bottle of champagne and two flutes in one hand and a remote control
in the other.

“What’s back there?” asked Abby.

“A kitchenette and a projection
booth.
 
Have some Milk Duds,” said
Mitch.
 
Mitch revealed a box under
the remote control, “and take these if you will,” he handed her the two
champagne flutes.
 
Out of Mitch’s
back pocket, he pulled a towel that he wrapped around the neck of the
champagne.

“The trick is not to spray this all
over the new furniture,” said Mitch.
 
He twisted the top of the towel.
 
‘POP’, the cork released in his hand and he removed the towel to pour
the champagne.

“Well this is class,” said Abby.

“The best way to launch,” said
Mitch.
 
He poured the two flutes
full of champagne and then sat down in the chair opposite the table from
Abby.
 
He lifted the flute to her
and toasted, “It’s magic time.”

They tapped their flutes together
and Mitch hit the play button on the remote.
 
Immediately the lights of the theater
went dark and a projector started behind them.
 
Up in the front of the theater the curtain
slid to the side.
 
The screen lit
silver, then black, then with trumpets playing the old Warner Brothers shield
momentarily filled the screen, backlit in the shades of grey only found in
older films.
 
The shield faded and
was replaced by a large statue of an ominous black bird.

“You have got to be kidding,” said
Abby.
 
The title screen rippled onto
the screen, ‘The Maltese Falcon’.