Page 67 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
Chapter Sixteen
Megan couldn’t make pieces fast enough as the first weeks of October changed the colors of leaves and wild grasses from vibrant green to the earthy colors of burnt umber and rutile, shades she loved for glazing her pots.
Her hands were dry from their constant contact with clay, but she didn’t care. Every time she put a new ball of clay on the wheel, she could already see what it wanted to be—a bowl, a pitcher, a platter, a mug, a vase. The Irish countryside outside the windows inspired her, with its rolling hills and multicolored skies hosting swashes and puffs of clouds, sometimes white, sometimes pearly, as Kade would say. She wanted her pottery to reflect the shapes and colors around her, here where her heart had found its home.
Her tools were spread out to aid her. For the leather hard pieces, she’d carve in a design for added depth. A Celtic knot called to her one day while another morning she detailed the gentle sway of the grasses in the fields. For the freshly thrown pots, she’d slowly turn the wheel and dip her tool into the turning clay, initiating the swirls of clouds or a wild rainbow.
The magic of pottery was back.Her magic.
It had been gone so long, she sometimes teared up seeing her hands shaping a thing of beauty. She’d made these pieces. Her. The new her. It seemed fitting for her to choose a new signature to fuse into her pottery: a simple but artful letter M. She didn’t want any other names to define her. Only Megan.
Her accomplishments rested on the shelves all around her, some drying, while others had been fired in the bisque kiln, ready to be glazed and fired again at a higher temperature to set the piece.
Her three classes were progressing beautifully. She started each with a demo—on the wheel—and then she’d go around helping or encouraging anyone who needed it. In the Tuesday evening class, Hollie had discovered an interest in the clay, while Sarah had dropped out after Liam paid more attention to his pieces than to her. Keegan and Lisa Ann had taken to sitting next to each other in class and leaving together afterward for a drink. Megan had heard through the grapevine that they were dating, and she’d finally pulled Keegan aside. “I really like some of the words you put on your cattle,” she told him. He’d blushed and taken a moment before saying, “I’ve liked learning about pottery from you, and I plan to come back next term.”
The praise had made her want to twirl in a circle. She was a good teacher. Even Liam’s mastery taking a holiday, as he called it, hadn’t diminished her feeling. He was having trouble finding his center sometimes as his impending move grew closer. Transition and growth were pulling at him, he’d told her, but he’d find a new center. She had no worries there.
Eoghan delighted and inspired her by throwing simple pieces like a mug or a bowl and then contorting or pinching their sides so they looked like gnarled trees along the road. He had an uncanny ability for shapes equaled only by his ability to convince the villagers to donate to their fair.
He’d even squeezed out a donation from Mary Kincaid in the produce section of the grocery store, having shamed her into it by asking in front of several other townspeople. That had briefly cheered up Bets, who was bemoaning the failed installation of Donal’s doorbell.
Then there was Kade. He could center massive pieces of clay with his large, beautiful hands—hands she loved feeling on her body. His work was a study in simplicity, and he threw his pieces with the same gentleness he used with a horse or one of his clients. Her favorite so far was the cocktail pitchers he’d made for himself and his friend Ryan in Dublin. She’d helped him fashion handles that would fit their hands perfectly, and she couldn’t wait to see what glaze he chose after they were run in the bisque kiln.
When Angie stopped by after her painting class, the ever-present smears of paint on her clothes, she grinned despite a sallow completion. Her sister looked tired, but given their détente, she didn’t ask why. They’d agreed to let each other live their lives without any more comments or judgments, and it was working for them. So far neither had mentioned her dating Kade, and she was fine with that.
“You look happy, Megan,” her sister said, “and your work has never been more beautiful.”
Angie’s praise meant a lot. Growing up, Megan hadn’t always felt as capable as her sister, except when it came to fitting in. She’d always known how to stay in line. Now she felt like she was flying, like she did when she and Kade raced horses on the beach and the Irish wind blew back her hair.
“I can’t tell you what it means to have this again,” Megan responded.
Her sister touched her heart. “I know. Ireland looks good on you, Megan.”
“Yes, it does,” she said, smiling as Angie blew her a kiss and left.
A new pattern unfolded. She and Kade and Ollie had dinner together almost every night, either out or at one of their cottages, and she’d show Kade pictures of her daily work on her phone. The habit didn’t form because she wanted or needed praise, but because she wanted to share this piece of herself with him. She’d bask in his interest, his engagement, while drinking one of his splendid cocktails, enjoying his hand settled somewhere on her. Her side. Her back. Her thigh.
Ollie was seeing her in a different way. He kept telling her he wascrazyhappy that she was dating Kade because he was the best guy in the whole world. Like Liam and Carrick and Mr. Fitzgerald and so on. His eyes had grown wide the first time he studied pictures of her work, but then he’d made her laugh by pointing to one of the bowls and saying he wanted it for his porridge every morning. Her son loved talking like the Irish.
The tickets for the St. Stephen’s Day fair went on sale, and more donations poured in for the arts center. Kade did indeed convince a local band to play for free before the horse race, and Megan arranged for one of the rare food trucks in the area that served fish and chips to be at the fair. Eoghan had told her they needed to come up with a few signup sheets for the donation of baked goods for a bake sale, and so they’d hung them up in Lisa Ann’s salon, the Brazen Donkey, and One More Chapter. So far, sixty people had volunteered to contribute something.
Caisleán was behind them in full force.
She had Kade.
And she had her magic back, better than ever before.
All was right in the world in a way it never had been.
When the day came for her to glaze fire her pots, she was a nervous wreck, however. She’d waited until her pots would fill the kiln completely, not wanting to waste electricity.
Barry had always led that effort in her former studio, rendered skillful and fearless by thirty years of experience. Even though she knew kiln disasters weren’t common, they did happen. Glaze applied too thickly to a pot could run onto the shelf and sear the pot to it, making it and the shelf unusable. If there was even the smallest trace of wetness in a bisque pot, it could explode in the kiln, breaking other pots. This was Ireland. Dampness was in the air. Everywhere. She feared that the most.
So she tested the kilns and read the safety manual from front to back. She carefully arranged all of her pots on the shelves, feeling extra joy when she placed her first bowl—her soul bowl—and spaced them appropriately to maintain proper clearance and balance the load. Programming the kiln was still a little intimidating, but she punched the buttons on the panel and selected the correct setting. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
Now all she had to do was sit back and let the kiln do its work. Part of her wanted to watch it like she had Ollie when they’d first come home from the hospital after his birth. She remembered hovering over his bassinet, checking to make sure he was breathing. The smallest sound had sent her heart racing.
She didn’t want to go crazy over the kiln firing, so she left for Kade’s farm.
