The Mending Summer by Ali Standish

Author:Ali Standish
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Aunt Marigold had been right about the rain after all. When Georgia drew back her curtains the next morning, the world was gray, as if the day had gone old before its time.

“You won’t change the weather by staring at it,” Aunt Marigold said over breakfast when it began to pour in earnest. “Come on. Let’s go to the studio.”

Georgia realized she had been staring, biting her lip as she wondered whether the rain would last all day. She needed to get to the lake, to ask Angela about Cole.

Then it dawned on her what her great-aunt had just said. The studio. “You mean we’re having another lesson?”

Georgia hadn’t been sure, after how the last lesson had ended, that her great-aunt would want to continue.

“Unless you don’t want to,” said Aunt Marigold curtly.

“No, I do.”

She followed Aunt Marigold into the studio eagerly.

Georgia wedged the clay just as she’d done before, pushing and pulling at it until Aunt Marigold said it was ready for the wheel.

Again, when the wheel started spinning, the clay felt like it was trying to slip through her hands. But this time, instead of trying to squeeze it into shape, she pressed back against it gently. To her surprise, it cooperated. It rose into a cone, and when she pressed down to create the bowl’s hollow, it didn’t spin off to the side.

“That’s it,” said Aunt Marigold. “You’re getting it now.”

And Georgia, though she didn’t dare risk looking away from the wheel, thought she heard the telltale crackle of a smile in her aunt’s voice.

Georgia and Aunt Marigold stayed in the studio all morning while the rain thrashed down outside.

By lunchtime, Georgia had produced a line of wobbly, lopsided bowls. At the end of the line was a bowl that was not quite as lopsided as the rest, whose sides were almost perfectly smooth.

“It’ll do,” said Aunt Marigold, examining Georgia’s last attempt with a look of satisfaction. “It’ll do very nicely, I think. You’re a quick learner, Georgia.”

Georgia felt warm in the glow of this unexpected praise. “What do we do next?”

“We fire it in the kiln,” said Aunt Marigold, pulling the brown apron over her head and nodding toward an oven-like contraption in the corner. “Then we’ll put the glaze on tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Georgia said, watching as her aunt fiddled with the kiln, a little disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to finish that afternoon.

The rain showed no sign of letting up, and she knew her aunt would never let her go to the lake in such weather. Her reunion with Angela would have to wait until tomorrow.

Then a thought struck her. “Could we try something else after lunch?”

“Haven’t you had enough for one day?”

Georgia shook her head. “I thought I could make something,” she said, “for Daddy. Mama, too.”

It would be nice to have something to give Daddy with his letter. Something she had made with her own two hands, to let him know that even though he had hurt her, had stolen the happiness from the past year, she still loved him.

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