Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Anna
Anna pushed open the door to the garage to what was once her mother’s pottery studio. It was her special space, and where Anna had spent the most time learning about pottery from her mother.
Lily had such a gift and such a big vision for her pottery, and it wasn’t long until the garage couldn’t handle all the work she was putting out or the classes that she wanted to give.
David was searching high and low for a bigger place for her.
His father had mentioned giving the boathouse to them, but that Henry needed to okay it.
He passed away before that could happen.
“David, do you have a minute?” Anna had heard her Uncle Henry ask after her grandfather’s funeral.
“Of course,” her father had answered. He gestured for his brother to follow him outside to their front porch.
Anna knew she shouldn’t follow, but she couldn’t help it. She’d heard stories of siblings getting into huge fights after the death of a parent. She wanted to have her dad’s back if it came to that. Not like she could do much at the age of fourteen, but she didn’t want to admit that.
Anna had gone to the front window and opened it slowly, careful not to make it noticeable.
“I don’t know what Pop’s will is going to say, but I know that it doesn’t matter to me. I want you to have the boathouse,” Henry said.
David was quiet for a moment. He cleared his throat and then spoke. “Henry, I can buy you out or…I can’t…”
Anna could hear the emotion in her father’s voice.
“No. The boathouse would be perfect for Lily’s studio.
She has a gift that she shares with the Vineyard, and with some love and changes, the boathouse would allow her to do that on a bigger scale.
It would also have ample room for you and your woodworking.
Who knows, maybe you’ll start selling your work, too. ”
“Henry, I can’t…”
“David, it doesn’t matter. I’ve already spoken to the lawyer about it.
I don’t need you to buy me out, and I’m not asking for anything in exchange.
Pop wanted Lily’s studio there and…what am I going to do with a building when me and Claud live in New York?
You and Lil are here, and you can keep our Hartman family legacy alive. ”
Anna felt the tears form in her eyes. It was a beautiful gesture and one she knew her father and mother would appreciate. Her uncle wasn’t much for emotion, wasn’t much of a talker either, but he always made up for that with actions, and this was no different.
Anna left her spot by the window, knowing that she needed to give her dad and uncle some space.
Before they had the boathouse, though, this garage space had been everything for the family.
Anna inhaled slowly, memories of her childhood wrapping around her.
Her sandals crunching on the scattered gravel outside.
The scent of clay, old dust, and faint salt air immediately hit her, a familiar mixture wrapped around her like an old quilt.
She crossed the threshold slowly, her hand brushing the side of the weathered wooden doorframe as if it could talk. Inside, the studio was frozen in time, as if her mother had walked out mid-thought and just never returned.
Glazed pieces lined the back shelves, and the work in the center was cluttered with brushes, half-used glazes, and a drying slab of clay that had long since cracked.
But the box near the window caught Anna’s attention, tucked half under the old wheel, labeled only with her mother’s looping script: Summer Starts.
Kneeling beside it, she gently lifted the lid and sifted through the contents: unfinished bowls, lopsided mugs, a platter with swirling blue underglaze that stopped short of the edge. Pieces that had started with love and intention… then abruptly halted.
She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear landed on the rim of a small, delicate vase. She swiped it away with the heel of her hand just as the floor creaked behind her.
“I used to love making those little bud vases,” Lily’s voice came from the doorway, soft but clear.
Anna turned, startled. “Mom… I didn’t hear you come in.”
Lily stepped fully into the room, tightening her cardigan. Her hair was still damp from a shower, and her face was fresh but pale.
“I…I didn’t think you were here. I certainly didn’t think I’d find you in here anyway,” Lily said softly.
“Oh, you were coming out here on your own?”
Lily nodded as she looked around. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t mean to, just kind of walked out the back door, and my legs carried me here. I haven’t…I haven’t been out here in so long.”
“I didn’t realize there was any pottery left out here and then…”
“Yeah, we couldn’t take it all to the studio, and I always meant to grab the rest and never had time or space for it. Some of this stuff is ancient, like the first things I ever made with the kiln your dad had installed.”
Lily walked around the garage as if she were greeting an old friend.
She hugged herself as she looked around in awe, a soft smile on her lips.
It was the first time Anna had seen any sort of real emotion coming from her mother.
Up until today, she seemed so far away. She seemed lost in her memories now, but it was way different than the sad zombie-like look when Anna and the kids first arrived.
“This was the first thing I ever made,” Lily breathed as she picked up a blue and white vase.
“Successfully anyway. It took a bit to get used to the kiln, and then your dad was so proud of himself for surprising me with it that he wanted to do it all under the radar, so he did it all himself. There are a lot of little quirks because of it.”
“What do you mean by quirks?”
“Well, the controls are installed backwards so on is off, low is high,” Lily replied with a fond smile as she looked at the kiln. She pulled her cardigan even tighter around her. “I didn’t have the heart to tell your dad that he did it backwards. I always would turn the dial and smile.”
Anna grinned, too. It was nice to hear her mother talk about her father, because that was something she hadn’t really done in a while either. It was like she was slowly coming out of her shell.
“Dad was so proud of you, of all of this. Anytime we’d be anywhere, and someone was looking at some sort of pottery, he’d say, ‘You know, my wife makes the most beautiful stuff you’ve ever seen. You should check out her studio, it’ll be life-changing for you.’”
“He was a walking billboard, that’s for sure. He probably got me more customers than anything. I can’t tell you how many people would walk in and say that some man told them to stop by and they had to see what he was raving about. He was my biggest cheerleader.”
“He definitely was,” Anna agreed softly.
“Man, this place used to hum. And the studio. They were always both so alive with love and laughter, and now…”
“It could hum again,” Anna said gently, holding her hand out to her mother.
Lily smiled sadly and didn’t take it. “I don’t know. That part of me…” She paused, her voice catching. “It went quiet the day your dad died. It’s like all of my creativity just dried up.”
Anna moved closer to her mother, setting the vase on the work bench. She took both of Lily’s hands in hers.
“But it’s still here. It’s just sleeping. Like this garage, like your studio in town.”
Lily let out a long sigh, her eyes scanning the space. “Do you remember when you were little, and you made a crooked soap dish? Called it ‘wave art?’”
Anna laughed through her tears. “It looked like a melted cookie. But you displayed it in the front window anyway.”
“Of course I did. You were proud of it. And so was I.”
Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable, just full.
“I found this box,” Anna said quietly. “I remember you making this for Dad, but why is it out here?”
Anna held up a mug her mother had made for her father. He loved coffee and often went through a whole pot in just a few hours, so Lily had made him a giant mug that held as much as a pot would. It was his prized possession.
“I had Cody bring that out here,” Lily replied softly. “There were certain things that I couldn’t bear to look at.”
“Did you mean to come back out for it and just didn’t?”
Lily hesitated. “At first, yes. I told myself I would. But every time I opened that door…” Her voice trailed off again.
“It was like walking into a world that didn’t make sense anymore.
A world where your dad was supposed to be alive.
Helping me fire the kiln. Laughing at how I could never remember which shelf I put things on. ”
Anna nodded. “I get that. I do. But… Mom, we’re all still here. And I think the studio’s waiting on you to remind us all that beauty still belongs in the world.”
Lily’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, blinking rapidly.
“I’m not saying dive in and start taking commissions again,” Anna continued gently. “But what if… just one piece? Just one. For you. No rules. No deadlines. Just to remember what your hands can still do.”
Lily gave her a long look, eyes searching. “And if I can’t?”
“Then we try something else. But if you can?” Anna squeezed her mother’s hand. “Then maybe we do this together. You and me. One last summer. You don’t have to keep the studio open forever. But it’s your place. And it deserves a goodbye, not a disappearance.”
Lily studied her daughter’s face. “And you’d help?”
“Every day,” Anna promised. “Me, the twins… I think they’d love getting their hands messy. And maybe it helps you. Helps them. Helps us all.”
Lily let out a breath that sounded like it had been held for months. “You always did know how to talk me into things.”
Anna smiled, squeezing her hand. “That’s because you and Dad raised me to never give up on the things or the people I love.”
Tears shimmered in Lily’s eyes. “God, I miss your dad.”
“I know,” Anna said, her voice breaking. “I do too.”
They stood there, holding each other for a minute. Lily pulled away and walked over to her wheel. She sat down and stared back at it. Her fingers ran over the dial, smiling at the backwardness of it.
Her fingers hovered over a lump of dry clay, then pulled back.
“I don’t know that I’m ready to do this today.”
“I’m not asking you to be ready immediately, Mom. I just…want you to at least entertain the idea.”
“I can entertain the idea, I guess,” Lily said with a sigh. “What if my creative spark doesn’t come back at all? What if I only had it because of your dad?”
“I think that’s a pretty crazy thought to have. You did pottery before you met Dad.”
“He was a muse in many ways, though,” Lily replied as she bit the inside of her cheek.
“That’s understandable. I think you’re sad and in a funk, of sorts.
I learned in the grief support group that sometimes it’s hard for people to move on because they’re afraid they’ll forget their loved one.
I know that I’ve felt guilty after laughing or smiling or having fun, because I’m scared that I shouldn’t be happy. ”
A tear streamed down Lily’s cheek. “I feel all of those same things. I know that your father would have wanted us to be happy, but…it’s so hard to do so without thinking that I’m forgetting him.”
Anna nodded. “My therapist tells me that my feelings are normal all the time, but they don’t feel that way.”
“I get that,” Lily said with a small, humorless laugh. “They don’t really tell you how you’re supposed to grieve, or even live after losing someone you love.”
“I don’t think anyone does it the same, even if they did. I hope that you’ll try again, Mom. I would love to see you in the studio creating again. I would love for the twins to know that side of you, too.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Lily said softly. “Maybe we start tomorrow.”
Anna nodded. “Tomorrow is perfect.”