Page 62 of The Summer We Mended
They spent the rest of that afternoon walking the space, David pointing out which beams needed replacing, Lily talking excitedly about a kiln in the back corner.They dreamed out loud, tripping over each other’s sentences.The boathouse had been a relic of the past.Together, they would breathe new life into it.Put a new legacy to the Hartman name.
And they had.
Now, every time she crossed the threshold into that studio, she could still feel that moment—the beginning of something made with love, built with hands that knew hers better than anyone else ever would.
Her hands were tucked into the sleeves of her cardigan as she walked the short distance into town, where her studio sat.On spring days, when it was somewhat warm but still nice and cool, it was nice to get out into the fresh air and let her lungs breathe in that salty ocean air.It had been too long since she’d taken this walk, and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed it.
The walk and the studio still felt like hers, but they hadn’t always.For a while after everything happened, just unlocking the door felt like betrayal.Like moving forward meant letting go.But Saturday had been different.Saturday, there had been laughter and clay under her fingernails, and for a few sweet moments, she’d forgotten how much it used to hurt.
Inside, the air was still, slightly warm from the residual heat of the kiln Anna had left running the night before.The red glow behind the small window of the chamber made her smile.She set down her bag and walked over, crouching to peer in.
The kids’ pieces were in there—uneven bowls, chunky cups, a lumpy sort-of-animal someone swore was a dog—but they were perfect.Not in form, but in energy.They were proud of those shapes, their small hands shaping something that existed now because they believed it should.She felt lucky to be part of that.
Lily moved softly around the studio, slipping into the rhythm she had once known like the back of her hand.She turned on the wheel, filling her bucket with water and reaching for a lump of clay she had prepped but forgotten about yesterday.Her foot pressed the pedal, and the wheel began to spin, a low hum filling the room.
The moment her hands touched the clay, something inside her stilled.It didn’t hurt to breathe here.It didn’t feel like pretending.Here, she wasn’t anyone’s widow, anyone’s mother, anyone’s anything.She was just Lily.A woman with her hands on the wheel, shaping something out of nothing.
Hours passed.The light shifted.Birds stirred in the trees outside.She lost herself in the work, letting her fingers guide the clay up into vases, cups, bowls.Letting it collapse when it needed to.Letting herself be imperfect.The silence wasn’t empty here, it was sacred.
By midmorning, the kiln had cooled enough for her to check the bisque firing.She opened it carefully, the metal still warm beneath her gloves, and smiled at the sight inside.Everything had held.The colors weren’t fully revealed yet, but the promise was there.
She set each piece down carefully on the table beside her, spacing them so they wouldn’t knock together.She made mental notes of who had made what: Nora’s little blue bowl with the flower print, Blaze’s attempt at a mug, complete with a crooked handle.Her heart tightened with something warm and unfamiliar.
It felt good.
She cleaned up slowly, washing the slip from her hands, letting the water run over her wrists longer than necessary.Then she turned off the wheel, wiped down the tables, and locked up behind her.
The walk back to the house felt different, much lighter than anything had felt all year.
From a distance, she could hear voices,—laughter, the excited shriek of a child, the unmistakable bark of Max.
As she rounded the final corner, her steps slowed.
The yard was bathed in golden light.Blaze and Nora were in the grass, racing each other around in wide, looping circles, Max bounding after them, tongue lolling out in joy.Anna sat on the porch swing, her legs tucked up, a book forgotten on her lap as she talked to Tom.Margot stood at the railing, leaning forward to call something out to the twins.
It looked like something from someone else’s life.Someone else’s happiness.
But it was hers.
And she was here.She didn’t like that her son-in-law was overseas, in danger, but she loved the fact that for now, the kids and Anna were here with her.Their arrival had helped pull her out of her funk, that’s for sure.
Lily stepped up onto the porch slowly, not wanting to break the spell.Tom turned first, giving her a warm, easy smile that made her stomach flutter in a way she wasn’t ready to examine.
“Hey,” he said.“We were wondering where you ran off to.”
Anna turned too, her face soft.“She went to the studio,” she answered before Lily could.“You put the kids’ stuff in the kiln, didn’t you?”
Lily nodded.“I wanted to get a jump on it.Everything turned out really well.I think they’re going to love how it looks once we glaze.”
Blaze noticed her then and came sprinting over, Max close on his heels.“Did our stuff cook?”he asked breathlessly.“Did it turn into real pottery?”
She laughed and grinned back at him.“It did,” she said.“Everything made it through.Want to see it later?”
He nodded so hard his whole body bounced, then ran back to tell his sister the news.
Tom stood and walked down the steps to join the kids, giving Max a scratch behind the ears and tossing a stick for him to chase.Anna watched him go with a slight tilt of her head, then turned back to Lily.
“He’s good with them,” she said quietly.
