CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jacob and I were up at 8:30, breaking down our tents, when a raucous canine chorus heralded Janey’s arrival. “Hey, Maddy!” I gave the mutt a treat and he bounded away, happy. I had a soft spot for that one. Soon the lab and the shepherd were circling us as well.

Janey picked her way across the field. “Mornin’ Kez. Jacob.”

We said our good mornings, and she said, “Listen. This firing woulda been a complete bust if you hadn’t been here. Both of you,” she stressed, giving Jacob an approving look. “We’d of lost thousands of dollars worth of pots, and god knows how many hours of work. You don’t get nothin’ for all that but thanks, but . . . I do want you to know how much I appreciate it.”

Janey’s not much of a hugger, but I hugged her anyway. “All for one, and one for all, woman!”

She hugged me back, briefly, then stepped back and looked at Jacob. “Trixie – the Trixie I knew, anyways – would be proud of you. Very proud.”

“Thank you.” Jacob’s voice was a bit husky.

Janey cleared her throat, a bit out of her crusty comfort zone. “Alright, then. The gals are all up and dressed. Why don’t each of you go up and grab a shower before you hit the road? There’s coffee, and Tatiana made some muffins.”

I looked at Jacob.

He smiled. “Thanks, Janey. That would be very welcome.”

“Take the first shower,” I told him. “You’re way ahead of me on breaking stuff down.”

Jacob grabbed a change of clothes and headed up to the house. Janey and the dogs kept me company while I packed up. She told me that she’d agreed to go easy on Tawney when she talked to the instructor at NHTI, but she was going to leave nothing out in her report on Brice. Apparently Sergeant Prescott had called her in the afternoon to say that Brice had withdrawn his complaint and left town with his tail between his legs.

Jacob reappeared after about half an hour, looking ridiculously fresh and clean. “All yours,” he told me.

Janey stayed to speak with him and I made my way to the house. As a result of Brice’s antics and my own accidents, waking and sleeping, I was out of fresh clothes. At least we’d be home soon. I snagged a coffee from the kitchen and went upstairs.

Sug was cleaning her room out, and gave me a smile. “How you feeling, Hon?”

“Better, thanks. But I’m looking forward to my own bed!”

“I hear you! Janey’s place is nice – I won’t do tents! – but there’s no place like home.” She gave me a closer appraisal and noticed my hands were empty. “No change of clothes?”

I shrugged, ruefully. “It was a tough couple of days for my wardrobe.”

“You’re coming back next weekend for the kiln opening, right?” When I nodded, she said, “Borrow my sundress. I only wore it that one evening.”

“Thank you,” I said warmly. It was a sweet offer, and the thought of wearing something that wasn’t sooty and grimy – or worse – was sorely tempting. “I would, gladly, but I don’t have anything clean to wear under it. I wouldn’t want to mess it up – it’s so pretty.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” she admonished. “I always have extra underwear.” She pulled a clean white bra and panty set from a drawer and put them on the bed.

I was very touched. “Sug, I couldn’t possibly!”

She gave me a look, then came over and put a hand on my cheek. “You can, and you will. You’re my friend, and you and Jacob saved the whole firing. It’s the least I can do. Besides . . . . I haven’t seen you looking properly cute since that kiln opening party in Franconia. Must have been four years ago.”

I smiled at the memory. It had been a great firing, and a couple of us had organized an impromptu party to celebrate. I’d decided to let my freak flag fly, as it were – they had all been friends, like Sug – and I’d glammed up nicely, if I do say so myself. “Fun times,” I said.

“Good!” she replied, as if my response cleared any objections. “Now get cleaned up. My bathrobe’s on the hook behind the door, so put that on when you’re done and get changed back here. It’s too steamy in the bathroom!”

I did as I was told. I took a bit of time in the shower, scouring the scrapes on my knees and forearms, and washing my grimy hair several times. The bathroom had a good hairdryer and I made use of it, leaving my hair in a dark, wavy cloud around my face. When I was done, I put my filthy clothes into a tight bundle, slipped into Sug’s short robe, and padded back to the bedroom at the top of the stairs.

Sug’s face lit up. “You look a thousand times better! Now . . . underwear, dress, and some flip-flops. How’s that?”

I folded her into a hug. She was about my height, and if anything, thinner than I am. “Bless you! I was really dreading coming out of the shower and getting back into dirty clothes!”

She gave my cheek a peck. “I’ll be downstairs.”

She left me to my business, and I didn’t waste time. The underwear was plain and functional, though the bra, I saw with a grin, was designed to give a girl the illusion of a bit more up top. Sug didn’t have much going that way either, and I was glad for a boost. The sundress definitely looked better with the help.

It was a thin-weave cotton, very light, with a loose tie in the back that hung just above my butt and gave a little definition to my waist. Capped sleeves left the scrapes on my forearms visible – no hope for that – but the calf-length skirt at least covered the abrasions on my legs. And the soft lavender color looked very spring-like.

The dress buoyed my spirits immensely. Sug’s flip-flops were decorative and girly, but sturdy enough that I wasn’t worried about breaking them.

“Into a nearby phone-booth!” Sug said approvingly as I re-entered the kitchen.

“No, silly,” Tatiana argued. “Jacob’s obviously Superman. Kez must be Lois.”

I frowned a bit at that, though it’s hard to be mad at the woman who’d made apple walnut muffins. Especially since I hadn’t snagged one yet. “Married, remember?” I held up my left hand and wiggled my fingers, prominently displaying my wedding band.

Tatiana shook her head. “Sorry, Kez! But in my defense, I’m married too, and I still say he’s pretty damned dreamy!” She handed me a muffin.

I laughed and took a bite. “For one of these, I’ll cut you all the slack in the world!”

The three of us chatted a bit while I finished my muffin and the rest of my coffee, then I got up to go.

“Hold tight,” Tatiana said, rising. “Give me a pucker.” She applied a little color to my lips, then tucked the tube into my roll of clothes. “Better!”

I thanked her. Even though I’m very hard to clock, it’s always smart to look as believable as possible when dressed in public. I gave them both hugs goodbye, then made my way down the hill.

Jacob, Janey and the dogs were in the parking area. Jacob smiled. “I was starting to wonder what was taking you so long, but it all becomes clear now!”

Janey laughed. “Kez, you kill me!”

I found myself blushing. “Sug’s a sweetheart. She saw that I didn’t have anything clean and gave me a loaner.”

“I’ve got everything loaded up,” Jacob told me. “Ready to go when you are.”

I tossed my remaining dirty clothes into the back of the trailer after extracting my keys and my wallet. “Okay, then. Let’s hit the road.”

“Want me to drive for a bit?” Jacob asked.

“I can drive a truck in a dress,” I scolded. Then I gave him a smile. “But sure – if you’re feeling fresh, I won’t object.” I tossed him the keys.

“I’ll see you in a week,” Janey said to me. Turning to Jacob, she said, “I don’t think your Ma’s gonna want to hear from me. But . . . give her a hug’n a squeeze for me, would you? I miss that girl.”

“I’ll do that.” Unexpectedly, he gave Janey a warm embrace. Looking down at the crown of her head, he said softly, “Think of this as a hug from the person she used to be.”

She hugged him back hard then let him go. Her eyes might have been a bit misty, so her parting was gruff. “Go on now, both of you!”

I hopped in the passenger’s side of the cab. Within minutes of our hitting Route 3 I had fallen asleep.

* * * * *

“Hey, Kez.”

Jacob’s soft voice brought me back to consciousness. I noticed we weren’t moving. “Hmmm?”

“I guess I was a bit more tired than I thought,” he allowed. “ I was feeling a bit sleepy, so I pulled off. We’re in Newport.”

I blinked my eyes, feeling a bit disoriented. We were in a parking lot, and Lake Memphremagog stretched before us, clear and blue and full of morning sparkle. “Oh! No trouble,” I assured him, still blinking. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be good to go.”

“I thought it might make sense to stop here and have a bite,” Jacob replied. “Brea and Kara aren’t expecting us for lunch . . . and I’m not sure they’ll be all that eager to have us back early.”

I thought about it and sighed. “There, you have me. You were thinking here?” According to a sign prominently displayed on our right, the parking lot belonged to the Eastside Restaurant and Pub.

“Can’t beat the location, though I obviously can’t vouch for the food.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. We hopped out. I didn’t have a purse, but my wallet is just a fabric pouch, so I carried it.

It was a bit after eleven – a bit late for breakfast; a bit early for lunch. As a result, we had no trouble getting a seat outside, right by the water. It was a beautiful day, with enough big white clouds to give the sky some drama, without it being overcast or gloomy. Being this far north, they did indeed have poutine on the menu, but this time Jacob was wise enough to avoid it. It gave us something to laugh about.

I went with a cod dish that had lemon and capers, while Jacob braved their Cajun chicken and pasta. Our conversation was, as usual, slow and easy, with pauses that should have felt long but didn’t.

“Thank God for good coffee!” I said. “I love my friend Janey, but I don’t know how her stomach survives what she puts in it.”

He smiled. “She’s quite a character . . . I’m glad I got to meet her.”

I gave him a long look while savoring a bit more decent coffee. “Is she right, do you think? That your mom wouldn’t want her to reach out?”

He nodded; I was sad but not surprised to see his smile fade as well. “Yeah, I think so. She – Mom, that is – doesn’t want any reminders of her old life.”

“I hope that doesn’t extend to you!”

He shrugged. “Not that she’d say so. But . . . yeah. It does. To me and Dierdre both. If we don’t make a point of reaching out, we don’t hear from her. Since we were old enough to be out of the house, she’s never even invited us back for holidays. She was barely civil to Brea when I brought her around. Kevin is Mom’s whole world now, and I think she’s terrified to consider anything beyond that.”

“So you lost both your parents,” I said. “Even though both of them are alive. Jacob, I’m so sorry. I just can’t understand what would bring people to do that.”

He sat looking out at the lake, sipping his coffee. Finally, he said, “Love is a powerful thing, isn’t it? I avoided it for years, afraid of what had happened to my parents. There were opportunities . . . but I stayed away. I told myself I didn’t need it. Peace . . . serenity . . . that was all I needed. You know?” He looked at me.

I nodded.

He went back to looking at the water. “And then, Brea came along, and my world got turned upside down. I wanted to be with her, every minute. I was giddy when she called. Joyful when we were together. I started thinking about . . . .” He waved his hands, indicating a vastness of things. “A house and a dog, a white picket fence. Two point three children. Romantic walks in the woods with . . . .” His voice cracked, and he stopped.

I put a hand on his wrist in sympathy, but said nothing. He was fighting to regain control of his emotions.

“It won’t be like that, will it, Kez?” His voice was low, strained.

I thought about that. It didn’t sound like Brea to me, but . . . I only really knew her through Kara’s eyes. “I don’t know. Love does things to people. And . . . people do change.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “Not mostly. It’s – it’s this thing. With Brea and Kara . . . I couldn’t have made it through this week without you, knowing what’s happening. I’d have gone crazy. Maybe even postal.”

I shook my head. “Not postal. That’s not you.”

He thought about it, staring at a boat making its way north toward the border. “No,” he whispered. “But honestly, I don’t know how I can deal with it.” The pain in his voice wrenched my heart, and his handsome face was seared by longing, anguish, and fear.

“Come on, let’s walk,” I urged him. I took some money from my wallet and settled the tab, then led him out of the restaurant. Away from people. There was a lawn area surrounded by trees that faced the lake, and I pulled him after me. When we were far enough away, I said, “You okay?”

He took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly. “Yeah . . . sorry. I just . . . .”

I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve never been in love before?”

“No.”

I kept my hand on his shoulder, and we stared out at the lake as if it had all of life’s answers. Who knows? Maybe it does.

“What makes it worse,” he said after five minutes or so, “is that I seem to have fallen in love twice.”

I looked at him, startled. He can’t mean . . . ?

“Jacob?” My voice sounded shaky.

He turned to face me, and his deep brown eyes seemed to bore into me.

I started to tremble. It’s like a dream . . . like MY dream.

Seeing my distress, he reached out with both hands and drew me to him, unresisting. “I was drowning, and you were there. So calm and kind. Such a beautiful, loving heart, so full of understanding. Like a kindred spirit,” he whispered.

I lowered my head against his chest, avoiding his eyes. Again I felt the beating of his heart . . . and his rising excitement.

This time, I felt my own excitement as well.

His hands began to move over my back, lightly, rough skin playing against the soft fabric of my borrowed sundress, making it whisper and rustle as it slid across the bra’s satin firmness. I was grateful for Sug's generosity; I had never felt so feminine. It felt right to be in his arms, in a pretty dress and lingerie, my hair framing my face. I was, for once, all woman. Just like my dream. I couldn’t stop trembling.

My hands snaked up, almost of their own will, to rest on the strong muscles of his mid-back.

“I can live with it,” he said, his head bent above mine. “I think I can, anyway. If you’re with me. If it’s our week, and not just theirs.”

My arms tightened, and again his erection pressed hot and urgent against my belly. His breath, as he bent in close, was sweet and inviting.

God, I want this!!! I pulled back . . . just a bit.

Just enough.

His lips brushed mine, firm and hungry. They pressed harder, and I found my lips melting . . . parting. My heart was bursting . . . my breath quickening . . . . my fingers dug into his powerful back.

My mind whirled as my senses reeled. Was it possible? Could it be the solution to this impossible situation all of us are in? No need for Kara and Brea to feel guilty any more . . . no need for Jacob to feel rejection . . . and for me . . . . Oh, my God! For me!

I brought my hands up to cup his face, then managed, somehow, to pull back enough to look into the depths of his marvelous, beautiful, expressive eyes. Eyes full of the same desire I felt myself. It can work! It can!

“No, Jacob.”

The words came from a place beyond thought, beyond feeling or desire. From the very core of my being.

His arms loosened and he pulled back too, resting his hands on my shoulders, fingers curling over the capped sleeves of Sug’s sweet dress. “Don’t tell me you don’t want it, too.”

I shook my head, my hands still framing his handsome face. “No. I won’t lie to you. I want it. I want you. I’ve never wanted a man before, and suddenly . . . .”

Echoing my own thoughts, he said, “Kez. Kara is faithful to you fifty-one weeks out of the year. You don’t think less of her for the one week she isn’t, do you?”

“No. Never.”

“Then why . . . .”

I placed a gentle finger on his lips and he stopped talking, letting the silence swallow his question, continuing to hold me lightly. Waiting for me to explain, and trusting that I would.

It hurt to look at him, so strong and patient even in his anguish. To look at him, and still say “no.” I said it was simple, I had told him two nights before. I didn’t say it was easy. Finally, I said, “What Kara does? I can’t do that. I just can’t. I can’t split my heart; it would kill me. I’ve only got room enough for one love. Kara is my beginning and my end.”

His gaze never left my face, and the love in his eyes did not waver. “How can you say that, looking at me the way you are right now?”

“Love isn’t just a feeling, Jacob. It’s a decision. One I made, when Kara and I got married.”

“Does she deserve your devotion? Does she deserve you?”

“Yes. But even if I didn’t think so – know so – it wouldn’t matter. What matters is that I love her. She is my one . . . and my only.”

He thought about that for a good long while, as we stood on the lawn, eyes locked, inches and worlds apart.

I let my hands drop, until they rested lightly on his chest. Giving him time.

A smile touched the corners of his mouth, full of rue and understanding. “That’s what it means, isn’t it? To love like you do.”

I smiled back, and tried to keep my regrets from showing. “Yes. That’s what it means.”

He gave my shoulders a final squeeze and released them, and I brought my hands to my sides.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. His gaze was clear now, and his smile was almost normal. “You are a remarkable person. A beautiful person. I needed to meet you, and I’m very glad I did.”

“Likewise,” I told him. “Though the experience has been more than a little unsettling!”

“Well . . . I can’t hog all the instability. Wouldn’t be fair.”

We smiled at each other, and this time the smiles barely seemed forced at all. “We should go,” I said.

“So we should.”

We walked back to the truck and got back on the road. This time, I drove.

We were close to home when his voice broke in on my thoughts. “I can’t do it,” he said softly.

I kept my eyes on the road. Even without people around, you have to watch for animals. Mostly deer, though hitting a moose ruins everyone’s day. “I know,” I replied.

“I love Brea so much; it makes me want to give her anything. The sun, the moon, the stars! But . . . I can’t even give her a week. I can’t commit to an unequal relationship. It’s got to be all, or . . . or nothing.” His voice cracked again on that last word, as he contemplated losing the woman who had finally brought love into his life.

He might not, of course. Kara certainly thought Brea would likely choose him, if she were forced to choose. It seemed likely to me as well. Even putting aside Jacob’s many fine qualities, would Brea give up the chance to finally have a life partner, just so she could preserve her annual tryst? True, she’d never had trouble finding new – and gorgeous! – partners, and I couldn’t imagine that would change. Brea was Brea. But still, none of us were getting any younger.

None of which would be any comfort to Jacob. He was the one who had to run the risk of a rejection that would tear him apart. Through the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head. “I wish I had your heart, Kez,” he whispered.

I looked over long enough to give him a warm smile. “The heart you have is pure and perfect. You should learn to trust it.”

“You’re an angel,” he said.

“I’m a potter,” I corrected.
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When we drove up, Kara and Brea were standing side-by-side by the chicken coop, shapely arms encircling slender waists. Two damned good looking women. They turned, loosening their holds, until only their hands were touching . . . then their fingertips. Finally they let go, as Kara came to my side of the truck and Brea went to Jacob.

Jacob jumped out, grabbed Brea by the waist and effortlessly raised her up, squealing, to plant a kiss on her lips.

“Look at you!” Kara said, approvingly, as I opened the door. Seeing my sundress, she helped me down from the high cab and gave me a hug and a kiss. “Miss me?” she whispered.

I leaned forward, my forehead touching hers, and closed my eyes. “Always.”

I heard Brea’s voice fading as she and Jacob moved toward the house.

But Kara and I stayed still for a moment, forehead to forehead. With my eyes closed, I extended my other senses. Kara’s back was warm from the sunshine, her sleeveless white cotton top stiff under my fingers. Her scent . . . I could never pin it down. I knew what she wore, of course, but on her, it always smelled different. Unique.

Kara was the smell of life and of love. The smell of sunshine, of waterfalls, and rainbows over the lake after a summer storm.

Kara was the smell of home.

“I like the dress,” she murmured. “But there’s no shopping between here and Pittsburg. Got to be a story.”

I opened my eyes, raised my head and smiled. “Lots. Let’s go share them.”

“Sounds good,” she replied. “I approve, anyhow. Normally I can’t let you into the house after a firing without having you strip!”

We walked back to the house, following Brea and Jacob. “Might have been a bit awkward, with company and all,” I said.

“You’re no fun,” she admonished, though it didn’t feel like her heart was in it. “You know that, right?”

“I do, indeed.”

We went inside and joined Brea and Jacob in the kitchen. “Kara and I were thinking drinks and nibblies out on the patio,” Brea said. “Unless you two are too beat?”

Jacob and I looked at each other. “I’m game,” I said, across the invisible gulf that had opened between us as soon as we had paired off with our partners.

“Absolutely,” he responded with a smile. But his eyes, meeting mine, acknowledged the chasm.

We sat down outside, and a breeze from the lake cooled the afternoon heat. Kara had made a pitcher of margaritas, and there were a couple of cheeses, a sliced baguette, olives, almonds, cherry tomatoes and more fresh strawberries.

Jacob and I told our stories, suitably edited. Of moose and poutine, and dogs and dancing to the music of a backcountry fiddle. Of bad coffee and hard beds and Tatiana’s culinary surprises, of the depth of a star field over a long-abandoned pasture, and the fierce and primal roar of a wood kiln, pulsing with 2,400 degrees of flame and raw power. I told the story of Brice, Tawney and the police, leaving out the insults.

Jacob, understanding, let me get away with the omission.

I described how I came up short in the clothing department, between Brice’s rough handling and my fall from the ladder, and how my friend Sug had bailed me out. I left out how I’d come up short on underwear.

They asked questions, laughed at the appropriate places and were suitably indignant about Brice’s nonsense. But there were undercurrents; I could feel them. I couldn’t pin down what I was sensing. Was the indignation too sharp? Was the laughter too bright? It was like things were subtly off-key. Or else in harmony with music I couldn’t hear, something just beyond the range of my perception.

And, I found myself watching Brea and Jacob. Were they sitting close? Did their hands brush, and would they linger? Weighing what was said . . . and what wasn’t. Measuring the meanings in their glances. Brea seemed . . . distracted.

Would she accept Jacob’s decision?

What am I missing?

Our story wound down. I poured another round of margaritas from the pitcher. Continental Porcelain, the barest touch of turquoise glaze providing some crackle and pop . . . one of the success stories from that wild train kiln firing that Bill will be talking about forever . . . . The work of my hands, transformed by ice and fire. “Okay, so that was our week. Tell us about yours.”

“We chilled,” Kara said. “Though we took a sailing cruise on the lake on Wednesday, and that was great.” There was that something in her voice again, even as she mentioned an apparently pleasant excursion. As if it were tuned to a minor key, or set to music played andante . . . . Maybe only I caught it.

Why are you distressed, love?

Brea leaned forward, the late afternoon sun causing her pale blue top to shimmer like a mirage in an arid desert. “We talked, mostly.” Her eyes met Kara’s, and a look, full of meaning and mystery, passed between them.

Kara nodded, almost imperceptibly, her eyes shadowed.

Brea continued, her usually exuberant voice muted and strained. “We talked a lot. What we’ve had, all these years . . . how it’s never enough, or always too much. . . . Honestly, all of us need to talk. All of us. Right now.”

In her voice I heard it now, knew it, the music beneath their words.

The Ashokan Farewell.

I looked at Kara, but she was looking at her glass, avoiding my eyes, her expression unreadable. Kara!!!

“We can’t do this anymore,” Brea said, her voice stronger, but with no lessening of the strain. “I never really thought about how hard this was, until we were all together last weekend. All four of us.”

I could feel each beat of my heart. Slow. Labored. Keeping time, now, with the fiddle’s high and lonely lament.

Brea looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Kez . . . I’m so sorry. I . . . I just wouldn’t let you be real, all these years. I wouldn’t let myself think about how you must feel, letting Kara go every year. But when I saw the two of you together . . . when I actually let myself see how perfect you were together, I felt so awful!”

Wait . . . what?

“That isn’t even the worst of it. It’s not!” Her distress was palpable. “I felt so jealous! I’d wanted Kara so much, all this time . . . wanted to be the one closest to her heart. And there were times last weekend that I wanted to just scratch your eyes out. Not because you were bad to her, but because you weren’t. Because you were perfect! That’s not how I want to live. That’s not how I want any of us to live!”

Kara broke in before Jacob or I could respond, though her eyes remained fixed on the glass in her hand. “Me too, Dreamboat. There I was, getting jealous of Jacob, who was a perfectly wonderful guy and just what Brea has always needed. Someone who can ground her a bit.”

Despite herself, Brea quirked a smile at that description.

“Me, getting jealous. When I have everything!” Kara was fighting her tears and losing. “You are my whole life, Kez, but that wasn’t enough. And . . . I wouldn’t let myself see how much I was hurting you. But I knew . . . I knew, when I was trying to deal with my own jealousy, that I’d just been lying to myself, the whole time. I was just trying to have it all.”

Brea’s words, and Kara’s, stilled the sudden, paralyzing fear that had almost overwhelmed me, but I couldn’t endure Kara’s distress. “It’s not like that!”

Her tears were bright as she finally turned her haunted eyes on me. “Yes it is, Kez. I am selfish, and I have hurt you, and it stops. Now. Yesterday. It stops.”

She turned to Jacob and said, “I’m sorry. I had no right to feel the way I did about you. It’s no excuse, but please . . . try to understand. When Brea met me, I was . . . angry. I mean, all the time. Enraged. I pushed people away, so I didn’t have to put up with their bullshit. So I didn’t have to put up with all the rejections. All the judgments. I was just a mousy girl who’d always been attracted to other girls.”

Jacob, motionless at Brea’s side, watched Kara with compassionate eyes, but made no move to speak. He understood the importance of silence, and he knew she wasn’t finished.

She wasn’t. Looking at Brea, she said, “And then, you came along. The hottest chick in town, the one that every guy was just dying over . . . and you wanted me. You wouldn’t let me push you away. Wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. You didn’t see me the way I saw me . . . .” Kara’s tears coursed down her cheeks.

Brea was crying too. “Sweetie, I saw who you really were. You were the one who was blind.”

“You see?” Kara said to Jacob. “She believed in me. She made me believe in me. If Breanna Quinn said I was beautiful, then, maybe, just maybe, I was beautiful. Or at least, I could try to be. If she said I was desirable, then maybe I’d been wrong.”

Kara looked at me again. “If you had met me before Brea, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day . . . and you’d have been right.”

I reached out and wrapped my hand around her wrist.

She gave me a ghost of a smile, then turned back to Jacob. “That’s why it hurt so bad, when Brea and I couldn’t make it work. We moved in together, and suddenly everything was a fight. I mean, everything. Money. Housework. Cooking. What we would eat, and when. Where we’d spend time off. Shit, even who got which side of the bed!”

“Left side’s mine,” Brea said, smiling through her tears. “Always.”

“I felt the old me coming back,” Kara said. “The angry me. And I didn’t want that; I’d fought so hard to put all that behind me. We couldn’t live together, but . . . I just couldn’t let her go!”

Brea’s smile was brittle as bisqueware. “We were just two alpha bitches who’d never learned to back down. Never learned to compromise. So young! I’d like to think we’d have done better, later.”

“Maybe,” Kara said. “Maybe. But if I’m better now, I owe it all to Kez. All of it. Kez showed me . . . .” She let out a sob, then choked out, “I’m so sorry. I love you both so much. But all I was doing was hurting you. Both of you!”

“You never hurt me, Kara!” Brea insisted. “Not . . . not since the day you left.”

Kara took a ragged breath to get control of her voice. “Brea, honey, it shouldn’t have taken you eight years to find the right person. I was holding you back. Me. Being selfish. But . . . at least . . . I think you hit a home run.”

Brea clutched Jacob’s hand. “If you’ll still have me,” she whispered.

Finally, Jacob broke his silence. Tears were running down his cheeks too, but they were, at last, tears of unalloyed joy. “Have you? Damn, woman! You’ll never get rid of me!”

There were tears all around, and hugs and forgiveness and assurances . . . it was beautiful and wonderful and frankly exhausting. The music still played, beneath the words and the tears, but now I was attuned to it as well. It wasn’t the farewell I had feared, but it was still farewell – the necessary ending, that allows space for new beginnings.

By mutual agreement, we called it an early night. Kara and I made love, long and sweet and perfect. I have no doubt that the activities in the guest bedroom were no less powerful, no less filled with healing. We had survived the firing and emerged transformed.

And in all my heart, there was no shadow. I could sing for the joy of it.

* * * * *

I woke before sunrise, Kara soft and warm and wonderful at my back, her breathing even and untroubled. I watched the last stars fade and the sky turn light in the east.

After the emotional storms and tumult of the past week, I felt surprisingly rested. I’m a potter, I’d said to Jacob, and it was true. A potter’s wheel can have only one center, and Kara was mine – the fixed point around which everything else moves. My art; even my life.

She murmured something in her sleep, and I smiled. I was home again, where I belonged. At peace.

Centered.

Alert and refreshed, I slipped from under the covers and threw on underwear, leggings and a T-shirt. I tucked the blanket under Kara’s chin, pausing to give her silken hair a feather-light caress. Trying to move as quietly as Jacob, I closed the door behind me and went to feed the chickens.

He found me in the studio twenty minutes later, as I was maneuvering my monster amphorae back into its perpetual waiting place. Masterwork or ruin, I might never know.

As usual, he appeared without a sound. “I think I’ll always remember you in this space. The way you looked when you were lost in your art. ‘Restored to the heart of God.’”

He was little more than a shadow in the doorframe, the morning light a halo around his solid form. “I’ll remember you in the woods,” I said in reply. “In the stillness at the tarn when we saw the moose.”

He watched me put a tie around the piece for stability, his expression lost in the darkness by the door.

“It’s goodbye, isn’t it?”

“I expect so,” I said gently. “Our girls are going to need a long time. They might need forever.”

He nodded, understanding, and we let silence, comfortable and pregnant with meaning, say the rest of what had to be said.

Breakfast was subdued, an anticlimax, and before long Brea and Jacob were packed, loaded, and ready to go. “Let’s get you home,” Jacob said to her.

“You are my home,” she replied, her voice for once devoid of mischief, but rich in love and full of promise.

Kara and I stood together by the chicken coop, arms around slender waists, waving farewell as Jacob maneuvered them back down our road. When the dust of their passage had settled, she whispered, “Can you forgive me?”

My arm tightened on her waist. “There is nothing to forgive, love. You didn’t take your time with Brea away from me . . . I gave it to you, freely. A gift.”

“I don’t deserve you. I never have.”

I shook my head. “You are my sunrise, my sunset, and my Day Star. My always and forever. I will love you, and only you, until the end of my days.”

Tears streamed down her soft cheeks, and her voice was choked with emotion. “Always and forever, Keziah Brown. Always and forever!”

The end.
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Author’s note: I tried a lot of different things in this story. Some of them worked, some didn’t. I am thankful to all of you who stuck it through to the end; I hope you found your patience rewarded. An extra thanks if you left kudos; it’s very useful feedback. To everyone who left comments – Rachel Moore, Catherd, Erisian, Dee Sylvan, Ron Houston, Wendy Jean, DorothyColleen, JoanneBarbarella, AlisonP, Dallas Eden, KayD, Wendy K, Dave (“Outsider”), Ricky, Patricia Marie Allen, Gillian Cairns, Source, Jill Rasch, Gwen Brown, Guest Reader, and Jengrl – know that I love you all to pieces. Your support and encouragement mean so much to me. And finally, I want to give an extra scoop of ice cream to my friend Erisian, the Seraph of Cliffhangers,™ for inspiring the title of this story.

So now Keziah, Kara, Jacob and Breanna join all the other characters who’ve taken up room in my head for a season – Jessica and Janet; Cami and her crew – figments of my imagination who nonetheless felt very real to me when I was writing about them. Another necessary farewell. If you have never heard it, I encourage you to listen to what is, effectively, the soundtrack for Chapter Eighteen, the Ashokan Farewell. An excellent version is available for free on YouTube:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2kZASM8OX7s&pp=ygUQYXNob2thbiB...

With that, let me say once more, good night, and joy be with you all!

Emma Anne Tate, June 5, 2023

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.