Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Anna
An hour later, she was in the kitchen, humming quietly as she cracked eggs into a bowl.
They’d only been here a few days, but she’d gotten into a rhythm of making breakfast after she came back in from the beach.
Usually, the kids got up on their own, meandering to the living room and watching a little television before getting started on their schoolwork, but it was the weekend.
Anna kept glancing toward the hallway, half expecting her mom to come out, say she’d changed her mind. Would her mom follow through with opening the studio today? Would she get out of bed before noon and interact with the kids?
The kids were in the living room, talking quietly among each other; it was a lazy Saturday morning for them. No schoolwork, just cartoons and hushed conversation about the adventures they hoped to have that day.
Anna heard a noise behind her. She turned around and looked back to see her mother emerging from her bedroom, already dressed, hair pulled back in a neat, low bun, her hands rubbing together in that familiar, anxious way.
“You said we start today?” she asked.
Anna smiled, surprised and relieved. “I did. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
Lily nodded slowly. “No. But I want to be.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Anna grinned back at her mother. “Why don’t you sit down and eat breakfast with me and the kids, and then we’ll get started.”
“I’d like that,” she answered.
Lily sat at the table, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands, as she looked around awkwardly. The dark circles under her eyes remained, but there was a little more light behind them this morning. It was subtle, but Anna saw it.
“Breakfast is ready,” Anna announced to the twins.
Blaze and Nora raced into the kitchen, still barefoot, their hair sticking up wildly in every direction. They both wore matching pajama sets covered in cartoon whales, and the sight made Lily chuckle softly.
“Good morning, you little sea monsters,” Lily said, lifting her mug in greeting.
“We’re not sea monsters,” Nora protested with a giggle as she climbed into a chair. “We’re marine biologists in training.”
“Yeah! Are we going to the pottery studio today?” Blaze added, bouncing in his seat.
Anna placed the pancakes, eggs, and bacon on the table, then turned to pour coffee into her own mug. “One step at a time, buddy. Let’s get some food in your bellies first.”
“Can we really go, Grandma?” Nora asked, her wide eyes settling on Lily. “Can we make mugs and bowls and weird wobbly shapes again?”
Lily hesitated, the smile flickering at the edges of her lips. “Well, it’s been a while since I opened the studio. It might be a little dusty.”
“That’s okay,” Blaze said through a mouthful of pancake. “We can clean it! I like cleaning. It’s like archeology. You never know what you’re going to find.”
Anna stifled a laugh, exchanging a glance with her mother, who shook her head with amusement.
“We could help set everything up,” Nora said. “You always let us pick our colors and use the spinny thing…what’s it called again?”
“The pottery wheel,” Lily replied softly, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Yeah! That! I want to make a bowl for Mr. Snuffles. He needs a new food dish.”
“Is that your imaginary cat?” Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” Nora said with a perfectly serious face. “He’s a hamster. Obviously.”
Blaze jumped in again. “And I want to make a turtle. A real one. Out of clay. Like, with a shell and eyes and everything. Can I, Grandma? Can I make a turtle?”
Lily looked over at Anna with a small smile. Then she looked back at the twins. Blaze and Nora were grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating off the chairs with excitement and energy.
“I suppose…” she started, her voice low. “If the studio isn’t too much of a mess… we could take a look this afternoon.”
Nora gasped. “Yes!”
Blaze pumped both fists in the air. “YES! We’re going to the studio!”
“Eat your breakfast first,” Anna said with a smile, sliding into the chair beside her mother. She kept her voice light, but she didn’t miss the way her mom kept watching the kids, the way her lips twitched every time they spoke.
“Remember that one time Nora made a bowl and it came out looking like a volcano?” Blaze asked, laughing.
“It was supposed to be a volcano!” Nora said indignantly.
“And you painted it red and orange and it dripped everywhere,” Lily added, the first real smile fully breaking across her face.
Anna saw it. The light. Not just in Lily’s face, but in her posture, the way she leaned forward slightly now, elbows on the table, coffee forgotten.
“You said it was a masterpiece,” Nora said proudly.
“It was,” Lily said, her voice softer now. “Messy, loud, slightly unpredictable. Just like you.”
Blaze giggled. “What about the time I made a cup and the handle fell off in the fireplace?”
“You mean the kiln? We glued it back on and told everyone it was decorative,” Lily said, chuckling.
The conversation continued, filled with laughter and stories. Anna watched her mother slowly thaw in a way, watched the light and the love slowly come back to her eyes.
She reached out and gently placed a hand over Lily’s. “They’ve missed you. So have I.”
Lily looked down at their hands. Her fingers twitched under Anna’s touch but didn’t pull away. “I was so engulfed in my grief that I didn’t realize how much I missed you or them,” she said honestly. “The two of them, they know how to make anyone smile.”
“They sure do,” Anna grinned back at her.
“I didn’t think I could… I thought if I stepped in there, all I would see was what I lost. But now, now it doesn’t seem as scary because of those two.”
Anna gave her hand a small squeeze. “It’s normal to see what you lost, but even better when you realize what you still have.”
Lily’s eyes glistened, and she quickly blinked them dry. “You always did know how to throw my own words back at me.”
“You taught me well.”
Syrup smearing their cheeks, the twins had moved on to their second helpings, and they began planning their masterpieces.
“I’m going to make a whole zoo,” Blaze declared. “With turtles and whales and maybe a jellyfish.”
“I’m going to make a whole tea set,” Nora said, stacking strawberry slices on top of her pancakes. “With plates and cups and a tiny sugar bowl.”
“Grandma, can we make those today?” Blaze asked again, his voice hopeful.
Lily laughed, and Anna saw the weight on her shoulders shift.
“Let’s start with something simple,” Lily said. “We’ll go take a look at the studio this afternoon. Maybe clean up a bit. See if the kiln still works.”
The twins cheered again, and Anna smiled behind her coffee mug, watching her mother with quiet pride. Grief was a strange, shapeless thing, but sometimes joy was the only thing sharp enough to cut through it.
And today, joy came in the form of two syrup-covered kids and a few lopsided clay animals waiting to be made.
An hour later, they walked to the studio together, Anna carrying a thermos of coffee and Lily holding a folded apron in one hand. The key turned stiffly in the lock, but the moment the door opened, the scent of clay and salt returned like a tide. The kids raced inside.
“This place is so cool, I forgot!” Blaze shouted, twirling around with his arms out.
Lily watched them, her eyes soft. “Your dad loved seeing them in here.”
“He did,” Anna agreed with a smile.
“I forgot how nice it is to hear their laughter and excitement. My favorite part about this studio has always been the kids’ classes.”
“Maybe that’s where we start first,” Anna replied with a roll of her shoulders. “No use in doing this if you’re not loving it.”
“It’s a little overwhelming right now,” Lily answered softly. “I haven’t been open a lot and not really…not really taking care of the space like I should have been.”
Anna reached out and squeezed her mom’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. The kids and I will help with all of that, and it’ll be good as new.”
Lily nodded and let out a long sigh. Together, they all got to work clearing the space.
Anna swept out the corners while the kids dusted off low shelves.
Lily stayed quiet, wiping down her workbench with care.
When Anna turned, she saw her mother standing over the wheel, one hand on the pedal, the other resting on the top.
“Want me to help you wedge some clay?” Anna asked.
Lily blinked like she’d been somewhere else. Then she nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
Anna pulled a canvas bag from under the worktable. The clay was cold and heavy in her hands, grounding. She passed a chunk to her mother and watched as Lily’s hands moved in the familiar rhythm. Knead. Press. Turn.
They didn’t speak for a while. The sounds of the wheel, the scrape of brushes, and the occasional squeal from the twins filled the space. Lily eventually sat at the wheel, shaping a soft, small bowl.
“Just one piece,” she murmured.
Anna smiled. “One is all we need.”
“Can we do some, too?” Nora asked excitedly.
“Of course,” Lily replied.
She got up from her wheel and led the kids to the other wheels she used for teaching.
She got them both set up, gently instructing them on what to do and when.
Anna watched but also busied herself with cleaning.
She knew that this needed to be her mother’s time and that she didn’t want to intrude or force anything.
She just wanted to watch her mother in her natural habitat so she could remember how much she loved creating and teaching.
Her heart was light as she watched silently.
She smiled to herself as she watched her mother’s and the kids’ eyes light up.
When the kids brought over their own attempts, a lumpy mushroom, a dish shaped like a fish, and something Blaze insisted was a spaceship, Lily praised each with the same warmth she used to show in her classes.
“You’ve still got it, Mom,” Anna said quietly.
Lily looked at her. Her smile was watery but real. “Maybe I do. Maybe it’s just buried a bit.”
Later, they broke for lunch, sitting on the porch steps and sharing sandwiches and lemonade. Lily was quiet, watching the kids play in the yard.
“If we open the studio,” she said slowly, “we keep it small. Just weekends. Maybe some walk-ins. No big summer rush. I want to focus on the kids, I think.”
Anna grinned. “Whatever feels right. We’ll keep it manageable.”
Lily reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you. For not giving up on me.”
“You’ve never given up on anyone, Mom, especially not me,” Anna said. “This is just me returning the favor.”
It had been a long time since Anna had seen the light in her mom’s eyes and the excitement she used to get over her studio, but it was finally back, and Anna couldn’t be happier.