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“Ouch!” Ryan stuck his finger in his mouth and let the quilt fall to his lap. He’d stabbed himself hard enough with the needle to bleed. Nothing was working right anymore. Not since he’d stopped seeing Kelly.
But what was he going to do? Follow her to California?
Not possible. He’d tried following a woman once.
Pushing himself to his feet, he lumbered to the bathroom and bandaged his finger. Getting blood on a client project wasn’t allowed.
Nope. He’d get back into the rhythm of his life, box his heart back in, and pray she never came back again.
# # #
KELLY WALKED THE PATH from the driveway to Alex’s front door. The cabin and workshop were tucked into the woods, and the walkway was lined with a whimsy she hadn’t realized Alex possessed, including small statues of gnomes, fairies, butterflies, and birds. In between, small, river rocks curved next to the walkway.
Pretty and low-maintenance.
Alex had somewhat reluctantly agreed to meet her, suggesting she come over and see the workshop, perhaps consider a piece to take home to California.
Kelly’s hand trembled slightly as she rang the bell, an inset surrounded by a copper dragonfly.
“Hi,” Alex said, opening the door and immediately leading her toward the back of the house. “I made coffee. I don’t have anything to go with it.”
“I brought a few muffins,” Kelly said, placing the box on the island in the kitchen.
“Oh, great. I’ve been working so much I haven’t had a chance to even buy supplies.” Alex was in a pair of jean overalls, her hair covered by a calico kerchief. Dust lingered on the denim fabric. “Do you want to see the workshop? The coffee will stay warm.”
“Sure.”
Alex headed out the back door, and Kelly followed her to the workshop, which was filled with the aromas of fresh pine, with spicy and vanilla undertones. “It smells wonderful in here,” Kelly said.
“Yes. Wood is amazing. Look here—see how the grain curls through the piece? It doesn’t always occur in myrtle, but it makes a piece extra special.”
“How do you decide what to make from a piece of wood?”
“I sit with it for a while, let it speak to me. I imagine the different things it could be, how it might be paired with another wood for accent pieces, what it will look like when it’s carved and polished.” She grinned at Kelly. “I know. Very airy-fairy for practical me.”
“Whatever works,” Kelly said. The tension eased between them.
Alex walked to a complicated piece hanging on the wall. “This shows how different woods contrast and work together. It’s a more abstract piece, kind of an experiment. It might look good in your place in California.”
“Could be.”
“Anyway, that’s it,” Alex said.
“It’s wonderful. It must give you a lot of satisfaction.”
“Most days. Some days nothing seems to work, or something breaks in a way that destroys what I had in mind. Those days it’s easier to walk away.”
Kelly nodded. There were days at the piano like that.
They took the stone stairs from the workshop to the house.
“How can I help you?” Alex asked in a professional sales clerk voice as she poured them coffee and set the muffins out on a plate Kelly recognized from ART.
“I wanted to know how the retreat benefited you, if it did at all. Susan took up firefighting, and Ruth has found her tribe of knitters. I know you said you were clearing out your husband’s things, but ...”
“Why do you care?”
Ah. Normal Alex was back.
“Just curious. That’s all. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”
Alex’s face was serious. “Sorry for being sharp. Bad habit. It’s a defense to keep other people away.”
Kelly nodded. She could understand the tactic, even though she’d never employed it herself. She resorted to extra politeness to accomplish the same thing.
Alex got up from her stool and paced the kitchen, stopping to stare out the window before returning to the island. “I guess I need to tell you the whole story for it to make sense for you.”
Again Kelly nodded. Her children had taught her that being quiet was sometimes the best way to get information.
“We were living in Wichita during his last deployment,” Alex began. “There are good people there, and it’s a nice enough place, but it’s so flat. I suppose it isn’t if you live there, but when you’re from mountains, a small rise doesn’t do it.” She tore her muffin into bits.
“After I got the news that he had died, I went through the motions. You know what it’s like—all that ritual. All those tears. It’s worse in the military. The mourners are divided into the public, who let everything hang out, and the service people, who keep a stiff upper lip no matter what happens.”
Kelly’s chest ached for her friend. To be so much in pain yet not be able to express any of it except late at night when she was alone had to be horrifying. No wonder Alex had a thick outer shell. “Did you try therapy?” Friends had urged Kelly to go until she’d finally given in.
“In spades. But I’m not sure that’s what really brought me back to a place where I could go on with my life.” Gathering up a bunch of the small bits of muffin, Alex tossed them into her mouth, followed by a swig of coffee. “So I came home. Mom was having some medical issues, and my grandmother was aging, although you’d never know it unless it was late in the day.” A smile crept over Alex’s face. “She was a pistol, my grandmother.”
“I think I remember her.”
“Hard to forget. She was always the life of the party. Could make any problem easier than it was. Anyway, I got here right before winter set in.” Alex’s fingers tapped on the surface, as if trying to expel extra energy. “The doctors in Kansas had given me some prescription drugs, something to help me sleep. I started relying on them to get me through the day. There was a doctor in Whitefish more than willing to keep them going, along with a few other relaxants. But Grandma cottoned on pretty quickly. She sat me down and told me to get over myself. I still had a life to live, and my husband wouldn’t appreciate it if I threw it away after he’d given everything to protect the country.”
“Sorry I missed more of your granny,” Kelly said.
“And your own. Henrietta is the one who eventually saved my life. She was starting her retreat business and asked me to help. She really involved me, wanted to know my opinion and took my advice. As we worked together, I absorbed a lot of her wisdom, I think. It’s too bad your mother and your own life kept you apart.” Alex cocked her head. “I wonder if your life would have been different with her in it.”
“It’s a bit late now,” Kelly said. Regrets for what might have been didn’t serve anyone well.
“Yeah. Well, anyway, there was a wood artist at that retreat. He turned out the most amazing art: flowers, birds, trees. I guess I kind of crushed on him a bit.” Alex’s cheeks pinked. “But he took me under his wing, and I went to Oregon to apprentice with him for a while.”
How far had apprenticing gone?
“Eventually, I began my own work. I wanted to differentiate from him, so I veered to the more practical. We thought about working together for a while, but ... things ended, and I came home to set up my own shop.”
“I’m glad your story had a happy ending,” Kelly said.
“Well, the work part did. I was still frozen in grief for my husband, even though I didn’t realize how much. Maggie’s been trying to get me to clean out that stuff for years. But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to make an opening, no matter how small, for someone to enter my life.”
Kelly started. Was she so hung up on the past—like Alex was—that she wasn’t allowing room for anything—or anyone—else? What was stopping her from turning her life upside down? Her kids were grown; Peter safely ensconced under his grandparents’ wing, and Lisa was demonstrating quite clearly that she was ready to fly the coup.
“Why not?” she asked Kelly.
“I was afraid. What if it happened again?”
“Oh.”
It was like looking in a mirror.
“In my case,” Alex said, “I had to find out what gave me passion before I could live a full life. Some people, women in particular, are fulfilled by a family. But I wasn’t like that. And I don’t think you are either. And I don’t think being a middle school music teacher is where your heart lies.”
Kelly studied the milky remains of her coffee. “I think it’s a bit late to be a concert pianist.”
“Could be. But there are other ways to share your music.” Alex gave them each a warmup. “One of the things Maggie and I, and a few others, have talked about is how to make our artist community even more inclusive. The website is great for all of us who produce things, but what about performing artists? Wouldn’t it be great to have concerts, plays, even dance?” Alex grew more animated with the idea. “Regular performances would be great draws for the town. And we could keep each other occupied in the dead of winter.” Alex gave a cockeyed grin.
Kelly smiled. “But where would you put something like that on?”
“We’d have to build it, but with some money and free labor, it could be done. It doesn’t have to be huge, just big enough.”
“But how would you get the money?”
Alex looked at her. “You’re the one with the skills.”
Kelly laughed and shook her head. Yes, she could do those things. All she needed to do was stay. But if she stayed, it would mean facing Ryan.
No, correct that. It would mean facing the truth about her marriage, her own part in it, and then sorting through her feelings about Ryan.
But most of all, it meant staying here.
What if she took that momentous step and he didn’t share her feelings? How could she live here, longing for a second chance at love that would never happen?
