The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series) (30 page)

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.

* * *
* *

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.

* * *
* *

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.