The Lake of Dreams - Kim Edwards [73]
I smiled, pleased at the compliment. “I’m sure there are local hydrologists who know the land better.”
“Well, maybe. I think you’d have a lot to offer, though. Want to see the whole thing, see what you think?” Keegan asked. “I was planning to take Max for a boat ride; his mother’s still sick and his babysitter can’t get here until noon.”
He smiled then, invitingly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and I was taken back to that long ago spring when we’d spent so many nights on his motorcycle, in a boat, the wind in our faces. Except it didn’t feel so long ago now that I was back in town, finding reasons to drop by and say hello. Stop, I cautioned myself. Because I had this other life in another country, and where could anything with Keegan ever lead but heart-ache? Just stop.
“Sure,” I said.
“Great,” he said. “Let me get my keys.”
Downstairs, Courtney, the assistant, was carrying the green glass vase to the annealer. She lifted her protective glasses and called out to Keegan as we passed. Her eyes were pretty, dark and large, and her features were prominent, widely spaced; she was sturdy and strong, as well as striking. Keegan paused, talking with her for a minute, while Max and I lingered at the edge of the conversation. Then Courtney came over to stand with Max, and Keegan took my hand. “Want to try?” he shouted over the roar of the fire, and I nodded.
Keegan went through all the motions of the dance, gathering the molten glass, turning it against the metal table to start its shape. He placed his lips against the pipe, and the glass began to swell. “Your turn,” he shouted, then handed me the pipe. I put my lips where his had been, the metal warm against them. Keegan leaned close to help me turn the pipe, and I blew lightly, the glass growing larger. Back and forth we went, his lips on the metal, mine, our breath mingling, swelling the glass. Finally he tapped off the beautiful piece we’d created, the shape of a raindrop, and carried it to the annealer in heat-resistant gloves. I was trembling—from the weight of the pipe, from the heat, from the press of Keegan’s arms against mine. I thought of my dream, the spheres that had turned liquid in my hands. Keegan’s sure and steady touch with something so fragile was breathtaking. He came back with Max, and we stepped outside into the fresh, rainy air.
“That was just amazing.”
He smiled. “You did a great job. No two pieces are ever exactly alike—that’s the part that really appeals to me. It’s a pretty nice way to make a living.”
“When will it be done?”
“A couple of days. How about I come up and drop it off?”
“Good,” I said. “That would be good.”
Max was running on the grass, making wide circles.
“So,” Keegan said. “I have this supplier coming. Courtney reminded me. He just called from downtown, and he’ll be here any minute. It shouldn’t take long, but I have to see him. Would you mind taking Max for a walk, say, just down along the outlet? I’ll catch up in a minute, and then we can take a ride.”
“No problem,” I said. Though I’d spent very little time with small children, Keegan was a good father so effortlessly that I figured it would be a piece of cake. “I love that walk and I haven’t done it in years.”
“Great.” He turned back, disappearing into the glassworks, and I went down the sidewalk to catch up with Max, the warm pressure of the pipe still tingling on my lips.
“Where’s my dad?” Max asked.
“He’s got to do some work. He said we should take a walk and he’ll catch up.”
“I want to wait for my dad.”
“I was a friend of your dad’s, you know. A long time ago.”
“My dad knows everyone in town.”
“I’m not surprised. Shall we go?”
“No.”
We stood there for a moment in the misty air. Finally, I said, “You know, Max, your dad tells me you’re very smart. He said you know where the trail is. But I didn’t believe him.”
It was too easy, so easy I almost felt bad for having done it. Max stamped one foot on the sidewalk and said, “It is so true,” and then