Page 29 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
“Oh,” he said, turning around in circles like the sheep did, something he loved copying these days. “Like when Dad came home from one of his tours and you didn’t know what to say to him. Man, that was so weird.”
Her mouth parted in shock, as did Angie’s.
“Okay, Ollie,” Angie said, coming closer. “We’re going to get out of your mom’s way since her class will be starting soon.”
“You’re so lucky Kade and Liam are in your class, Mom. I wish I could be.”
“Maybe she can teach a children’s class next term,” Angie said with another encouraging smile.
She heard her sister’s message. The center would stay open. And she, Megan Bennet, would find her center again. She wanted to believe that.
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said, hugging her sister without touching her with clay hands and then plunking a kiss on her son’s head. “Ollie, you go to sleep on time for Aunt Angie. It’s not summer hours anymore.”
“Yes, Mom! Come on, Aunt Angie.”
“Good luck, Megan. See you later.”
She eyed the clock as they left. Twenty minutes. She had twenty minutes to find her center again. She cleaned her mess off the pottery wheel and grabbed another ball of wedged clay. She’d lined them up like baseballs waiting to be thrown. She plopped it in the center and hand formed it into a disc.
Wetting her hands in her water bucket, she cupped the clay and pressed the foot pedal to increase the wheel’s speed. “Come on,” she told it, feeling it buckle in her hands.
She pressed harder.
The disc shifted to the left, the lump resembling the state of Massachusetts. Terrific.
“Oh, this is impossible!” she said, hunching over the wheel on her stool.
“Nothing’s impossible,” she heard a familiar voice say.
“That’s right,” another dear friend’s voice said. “You’re saying it wrong, Megan. It’sI’m possible.”
She looked up at two of her favorite people.
Liam shot her a cheeky wink. Kade’s brown eyes were steady as he met her gaze, a warm smile transforming his strong jawline. He still had on his farm clothes of a thick cotton navy shirt, jeans, and boots, all a little dirt smudged. Man, did he look good. She felt her cheeks warm before she shook herself.
She had class. In twenty minutes.
She was lucky they were here—only she wasn’t sure their moral support was going to change what she had going on inside. No one could give her back her center.
“I’m possible,” she repeated and winced. “Even I don’t believe in myself. Oh, what am I going to do? The other students are going to be here any moment, and I can’t keep my clay centered. I’m going to have to teach pinch pots.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad way to go,” Liam said, shrugging out of his worn jean jacket and hanging it on the coatrack beside the door. “I like hand building myself.”
When he turned around, she read his black T-shirt.Eat, Clay, Love.
“Liam, where in the world did you get that shirt?”
Kade turned and eyed their friend.
Grinning, Liam said, “Bali. There was this gorgeous potter there who taught classes. It was hot. What can I say? We hooked up while I was there. We made some love and some pots, like in that movieGhostwith Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore. And both were grand, let me tell you. She gave me this shirt to remember her by, and it seemed only right to make it my class shirt.”
Laughter bubbled up inside her and spilled out. “Bali! Oh, Liam. That story is so you.”
“It really is,” Kade said, pulling a stool over to her wheel where she sat. “Now, let’s talk about you, Megan. You’ll have a lot to cover for the first class, won’t you? Tools and process and the like? Start there and see where you are a bit later. You have it back, Megan. Trust in that.”
She wanted to touch him, she realized with a shock, so she awkwardly touched his leg. “Thank you for the reassurance.”
“The problems with the arts center aren’t helping,” Liam said. He knew everything, of course.
