Leaving Tracks (9 page)

“Huh,” he said as he studied
my meticulously detailed sheets. “I know my Lutz is a little rough. But there are technical points removed why?”

“Junior and Senior skaters are required to perform
double or triple Axels. You did neither. I am aware, based on your lake skating, that you probably don’t know it, but if you want to be taken seriously, and judged seriously you need to know that can cost you major points.”

“I see that.”

“I’ve also made notes on my thoughts in the side there,” I pointed to the margin, “for you to read at your leisure and some of it is free suggestion and coaching. As I told you yesterday, I’m going to consider and deliberate for the rest of the day, and I’ll let you know some time tomorrow of my decision.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I stood and North stood with me.

“Thanks,” he said, “for taking the time out to watch and give me this.” He waved the paper. “I appreciate it. Every little bit helps.”

We walked outside together, North turned towards Graton land and I took a few steps towards the house before stopping and backtracking.

“My offer to use the rink is a standing one. If I choose not to coach you, you still have an open invitation to skate here whenever you’d like.”
I told him when I reached him. “I mean, even if I don’t…I’d still like you to use the rink.”

He studied
my face a moment before leaning down and kissing my cheek as softly as he’d kissed my forehead yesterday. “For luck.” He murmured and walked away.

My hand rose of its own volition to touch the place where his lips had been. I watched silently as he walked away.

I
thought about
Hadley as I walked back to my studio to complete the rest of my day. Her eyes sparkled when she was amused. I hadn’t expected that, but I had seen her amusement when she kissed my cheek for luck. The complete loss of focus her amusement had caused was of course, my own fault.

I’d
also seen her sincerity when she spoke of the rink. I wondered what she meant when she had said she’d still like me to use the rink. Since she couldn’t skate any longer, perhaps she just wanted to be close to it. And certainly if she tried that out on the circuit that she once ruled, she’d be pitied or ridiculed for her loss.

Why did I kiss her? I shook my head disgusted. For luck? I laughed at myself. Hardly. Her eyes had been dark and measuring when I had stepped back. And her skin had been soft. I shouldn’t think about it too long or I’d go mad wanting to see if the rest of her was just as soft. 

I dumped my skating gear in an empty box next to the door before getting down to work. I’d take them into the house later, after the morning routine was finished. And the routine would help settle me back into place.

I
booted up the computer and then let it go through its thing while I checked the items I had fired a couple of days ago in the kiln. I actually had three kilns, of varying sizes and type for different projects. The tunnel was for dishware usually, and had to be watched like a convict when it was loaded.

My
favorite to use was the front loading intermittent kiln. I programmed it accordingly and it did what it was supposed to do. I had left it to cool for a while because of the high temperature glazes. There had been times when one day hadn’t been enough and I had the burns on my arms to prove it. I hoped nothing had cracked as it cooled to the sixty-eight degree room temperature.

After wheeling a cart from the packing space and through the swinging airtight
door, I gently pulled the heavy kiln door open and studied my work. Best batch yet, I thought as I began systematically emptying the kiln. I sorted them as I worked separating particular pieces from others. After closing the empty kiln, I wheeled the cart over back to the packing area. After I checked the molds and refilled the oven, I’d photograph and pack all the items, and then shelf them. Wesley would take the picture upload and update the website.

I
emptied the cart onto the staging table then parked it back where it belonged in the corner next to the shelves. I began to hum along to the music the computer began to play as it finished turning on. I had set the media player to start with windows. Against the wall inside the production space, and on either side of the archway, were more carts. I grabbed one then began to systematically inspect and load the cart with items that were deemed ready for firing.

Once the kiln was going again
, I checked my molds. Some of them rested at an angle against the wall and some of them sat completely upright with the pour spout open to a bucket to catch the spill under them. There were some I knew would be very dry by now–my experiment with animal shaped pots–and some that would need turned and left to dry another day–the three foot decorative urns for a custom order.

Once the molds were handled, turned, and what needed extracted done
, I set up my glazing table with my newest experiment. Twenty-one already fired without glaze pots stood waiting for attention.

Before
I started glazing though, I had something I wanted to do. I went over to the computer and did some research. Hadley had asked if I went to college for ceramics. I wanted to see what it would take.

I was
patiently painting glaze into the carved designs of some pots when Wesley came in. I didn’t see him at first as I was completely focused on the icy layers I was carefully spotting onto a pot. There were a dozen already lining the drying shelf and nearly that many still waiting to be glazed.

My
hands were steady and competent. I knew exactly the look I wanted and was patient enough to get it. The mask I wore was a blessing against the fumes of the glaze I used. When I turned to dip my brush again, Wesley stepped into my line of vision. I nodded at him and set both pot and brush aside. Then I stood, stretched, and walked over to my brother.

“What’s up?”
I asked as I removed the mask.

“Just wondering when you were going to come in
and cleanup for dinner?” Wesley stated. “And I set your papers on the desk.”

“Yeah?
What time is it?” I walked through the arch to the desk. I studied the revenue sheets. “Ooh, I made five hundred dollars last month.”

“Well, you did gross a little over fifteen hundred but your expenses are high.” Wesley replied.
“And it’s almost six.”

I
rolled my shoulders again feeling the tightness of the muscles from hunching over the glazes all afternoon. “I want to finish these pots. Can you just make a plate and I’ll heat it up?”

“It’s Sunday.” Wesley reminded.

I sighed. The sacred Sunday dinner must be maintained. “Let me close up my glazes and I’ll be in.”

“Ten minutes. I’m sending Thierry out if you take more than that.” Wesley replied, “And leave the inventory. I’ll deal with it later.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

I
restarted the
free program video again. I had lost count how many times I’d watched it already. That wasn’t the point. Knowing what steps should be taken was. The knock on the doorframe drew my eyes away from the video. Glory smiled and came in to plop in a chair.

“What do you think?”
I asked and turned to shut the video off.

“It’s different than Georgia.” Glory smiled mischievously. She knew what
I was really asking just as she knew I wouldn’t mind the tangent.

“Colder, certainly.”
I replied and leaned back in my seat.

“Hands down. I’m nervous about school tomorrow. Rhett just called over to the house and told me he’d be leaving at quarter til
l eight if I wanted a ride to school.”

“You agreed?”

“With Avala staring at me I didn’t have much of a choice.” Glory shrugged. “Avala insists it’ll be good for me.”

“Well, at least you’ll know a face.”

Glory shrugged again. “I guess. Not that I’ll have any classes with him. He’s a grade up but I’m a grade ahead? The school was weird about my tests. I can’t help that I’m smart and I’m not going to act stupid for anyone.”

“It’s still good you know someone.”
I told her, “And you shouldn’t change who you are for anyone. School included.”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s nice though, being here. Instead of in Georgia. I like the kennels and spending time with Morgaine in the greenhouses as well. I’m learning more here.”

“It’s quieter,” I commented. “Slower paced.”

“I wouldn’t say that, there’s a lot going on.” Glory gestured to
my screens. “You gonna coach him? You watched both programs.”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“They weren’t really clean skates. A little reckless in spots.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Would you coach him?”

Glory pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “You know, I don’t know. I’ve seen you work with some confidence troubled skaters and it looks like miracle work but he’s missing some skills. Even I noticed that.”

“Yes. I’m debating whether that’s worth it or not.”

“Can you debate over dinner?” Glory popped up from her chair, “Avala and Morgaine came back a few hours ago with a nice size chunk of ham. It smells up the house and I think Avala’s going to kill me if I steal another taste.”

“Dinner?”
I frowned and looked at the clock. It ticked merrily and announced with its merry bells even as I looked at it that it was six o’clock. I’d been at the desk all afternoon.

Glory shook her head, “I would worry if I didn’t understand you better.”

“Come on.” I stood. “Let’s go eat.”

I
snuck, as best I could in the creaky house, into Glory’s room. We had a tradition when it came to the first day of school. And like any good big sister, I wasn’t about to ruin good tradition.

Glory wasn’t a morning person and as such
, slept until the last possible minute. In this case, that would have been until seven thirty, even with Rhett coming at quarter till. Would have been if I hadn’t decided to uphold tradition.

“First day of school! First day of school!”
I shouted at the top of my lungs and bounced onto Glory. “First day of school! First day of school!”

“Don’t you grow up?” Glory growled and shoved at
me and tried desperately to cocoon deeper into her quilts.

“Up! Up! Time to get up! It’s the first day of school!”
I let my sister have the blanket and substituted the bouncing with shaking violently. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

“This is not,” Glory began irritated from under the blankets, “the first day of school. If you could read a damn calendar you’d know this was the forty second day of school.”

“First day at this school!” I continued in my best cheerleader voice. I had never been a cheerleader, no time with skating practices, but I had seen enough to complete a decent mocking interpretation. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Or no crepes for you!”

“Crepes?” Glory sat up suddenly knocking
me over and nearly sending me off the other side of the bed. “Who’s making crepes?”

I
smiled smugly at Glory and resisted, barely, the urge to buff my nails on my sweater. “I might have mentioned to Avala that your favorite first day of school meal consisted of crepes with peaches, and vanilla cream. There is of course coffee to go with it. That is if you get down there before I do.” I climbed over Glory and ran for the door.

I
had a head start but Glory was faster. She shoulder bumped me in the doorframe and pushed passed.

“My crepes.”

I laughed the whole way to the kitchen.

After Glory had eaten and ran upstairs to change for school
, I stepped out onto the front porch to watch the slow rising sun. North would be just starting his morning chores. I had to figure out the right words to use when I went to see him.

The truck pulling up the drive drew
my eyes away from the red orb in the sky. It was a fairly new truck and looked safe enough. It was difficult to tell exact year under the mud but I was certain it was fairly new. It didn’t look rusty, and it didn’t squeak or make any noise that would alert to “old” or “broken and patched”. Not that I knew much about trucks or vehicles in general. I could drive, that was about it, but still. I wanted Glory to be safe.

Rhett parked and stepped out nervously. “Ah, morning Ms. Becke.”

I instantly winced. “It’s Hadley. I’m not much older than you, I imagine. Glory was throwing on some clothes when I came out. She’ll be along. You’ll drive respectably? And no recklessness?”

He grinned at
me and winked. “‘Course. And I’ll make sure to get her home in one piece too. No bloodshed whatsoever.”

I couldn’t stop myself from
grinning back. “As long as we understand each other.”

Glory slammed the door behind
me. “See you later.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek much the same way North had. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

I only nodded as the memory of that moment robbed me of my voice. Such a simple thing, a brush of skin against skin, I realized my sisters did it often and yet, somehow when North had done
it; it had felt completely foreign and new.

I
watched Glory trot down the stairs and couldn’t prevent smiling when Rhett opened the passenger door. Glory waved once when they settled into the truck and I watched it drive away. For some reason it made me unbearably sad.

I
heard the boots on the wood and didn’t react when a hand came down on my shoulder.

“She’ll be back in a few hours.” Morgaine said quietly.

“I never really have any time with her.” I murmured. “In the past I’ve always been training or away at events. We didn’t even have the same tutors. Hard to do I suppose with the weirdness of our schedules.”

“I’m sure you’ll find time to spend with her now. You can help her with homework when she gets back.” Morgaine stepped closer to wrap the arm over
my shoulders and rest her cheek against my head. “I could use a hand in the greenhouses doing some pruning if you remember how. It’ll keep your mind busy.”

“Sure, I’d like to take a walk first, and clear my mind.”

“Absolutely. Take fifteen and I’ll see you in the vegetable house.”

“Alright.”

I walked through the house, stopped in the kitchen to mooch some more fruit before stepping into the solarium. Avala liked to sit in here and read, I knew, and it was a peace zone for Morgaine. Often both sisters were present in the room if they couldn’t be found elsewhere.

I
picked up a glass milk jar from a ledge and studied the flowers in it. Morgaine had several of them along the ledge though I never knew how she did it. The jar held four flowers–a single stalk of heather, an aster, an iris, and a single stalk of lilac. Four flowers, one for each sister.

I
carried the jar out the back door before Avala could see me take it. I would catch hell from Morgaine later when the flowers started to die because of the cold exposure. I wanted them though, needed them in the way all living brought flowers to their dead.

Inside the low stonewall of the family cemetery
, graves were arranged with the oldest closest to the entrance and the newer ones closer to the lakes and trees. I read names to myself as I passed familiar ancestors from my mother’s family. They all rested here. It didn’t matter how distant, Knifeblade family was family.

I
stopped in front a particular granite headstone and read the name out loud, “Doris Canna Knifeblade. Hi, Grandmamma.” I crouched and set the flowers down on the lip of the stone. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. Well, I’m sure you know what’s happened. I’m home to stay now. I’ve always loved it here.” I looked up from the stone over to the lake. In the distance, I could see a small person walking this way. Probably North, I thought.

I
turned my attention back to the gravestone. “I’m a little lost for direction. I really didn’t have anything in mind other than skating. There wasn’t really time to think about anything else. I have time now, and it scares me that I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I know if you were here you’d point me in the right direction or at least give me some sage advice that I’d consider and mull over. I really miss you and I’m sorry I wasn’t here in the end. Morgaine’s expecting my help, or I’d stay a little longer. It’s probably too cold for me to stay out here too long anyway. I’ve been in Georgia too long. I’ll come back soon, though.” I bent and picked up the glass of flowers. “I love you.”

As
I straightened, a new stone caught my eye. I cocked my head and frowned at it. It hadn’t been there the last time–right before the event in Boston–I’d been home. Curiosity had me walking over, studying the names of various great aunts, uncles, and cousins as I went. Probably another one of those. I did have some older cousins that were sick and failing. I couldn’t remember if they asked to be buried here though. Avala would know.

When
I reached the stone, some snow from a previous fall was stubbornly clinging to the front of the stone. I shrugged, reached out, and wiped it off. The glass jar of flowers slipped out of suddenly numb fingers and broken against the unforgiving granite it landed on.

I
didn’t notice. The sudden constriction of my chest was so tight I was seeing spots at the edge of my vision. I couldn’t breathe, and the drumming in my ears wiped out all outside sounds.

“M
om?” My voice sounded far away even to myself. My fingers trembled as they traced the dates. I’d been in Boston, three days before the National when my mother died.

Grief struck hard and knocked
the rest of the wind out of me. I dropped to my knees in front of the stone. I fell forward against the stone and rested my head there. And cried.