But there came no answer.
Chapter Seven
Laterthatnight,Larenrose from sleep and went to tend the glass. She hoped she hadn’t let the melts go too long, but it appeared that they were still viable.
While Alex slept, she took the heated pipe and dipped it downward into the crucible containing the green glass. When she had a ball of molten glass the size of her fist, she began turning the pipe. Over and over, fighting the pull of the earth, she blew a breath of air into the pipe, resting it against her cheek for a moment.
“I thought you were going to sleep,” came her husband’s voice.
Laren moved to the marble surface of the table and rolled the glass against it, shaping it into a cylinder. “I’ll sleep when I’ve finished this piece.”
She returned the glass to an opening in the furnace, resting it against a metal support as she turned it. When it was hot again, she shaped it, adjusting the size and ensuring that the glass was of equal thickness. Then back again to reheat it.
Her hands were shaking against the pipe; she couldn’t stop the voices inside that reminded her of how very little she knew and how many mistakes she’d made in the past. Alex had never seen her work before and his presence made her anxious. She wanted him to see the beauty in it, to understand why she loved it so.
She continued turning the pipe, watching the glass expand and grow. And somehow, within the golden sphere of fire, she found a steadiness. She had blown glass a thousand times, until it was instinctive. This time would be no different.
“Why do you keep putting it back in the fire?’ Alex asked.
“It cools quickly,” she replied. “I have to keep reheating it, or I can’t shape it.”
When she’d blown the glass into the size she wanted, Laren sat at her bench and rested the pipe upon a long table with the glass hanging off the end. She took her iron jacks and used the tongs to gently pinch an indentation into the hot glass, even as she kept it spinning.
“It looks like you’re making a goblet,” Alex said.
“Not quite.” She adjusted the necking and explained, “I can’t take the glass off the pipe without this.”
She eyed him for a moment. “Since I’ve sent Ramsay away, could I ask for your help?”
“I don’t know anything about glass, Laren.”
“No, but you’ve a strong arm. Take that pontil there and dip it into the hot glass,” she said, nodding toward one of the heated pipes. “I need a small amount, about the size of a robin’s egg.”
He reached for the pipe, pulling it from the flames. The tip was red hot, and he lowered it into the crucible of green molten glass.
“Turn the pipe as you dip it,” she instructed, “and bring it over to the marble table. Don’t stop turning the pipe.”
He did as she asked, following every instruction she gave him to adjust the shape of the glass and press his own pipe to the surface of her glowing cylinder. With both pipes on either end, Laren adjusted the necking. With a light tap against the pipe, the piece of glass separated, leaving Alex holding the hot cylinder with the pontil.
She sent him a smile of relief and took it from him, continuing to work with the glass. Perhaps Nairna had been right. It might be that he wouldn’t discourage her glass making. She held on to the intense hope as she finished the glass and placed it within the smaller furnace to anneal.
“Won’t it melt again?” Alex asked.
She shook her head. “This furnace is kept at a lower temperature. It allows the glass to cool slowly and it’s stronger that way. In another day, I’ll make it into a flat pane. Then I can cut it into pieces for my windows.”
She held up a piece of glass the color of the green hills. “It will look like this when it’s finished.”
“Show me some of the other work you’ve completed,” Alex ordered. He stood beside the glass she’d begun cutting. and Laren went to the back of the cave for some of the cloth-wrapped windows she’d made.
Though she supposed the windows were good enough, the old fears crept back to stifle her courage. These pieces were hers. Her vision, her colors that she’d made after Father Nolan had passed away. It was possible Alex wouldn’t like them, and she didn’t want to see the disapproval on his face.
When she unwrapped the first window, she revealed a scene she’d done of a shepherd tending his sheep upon a hillside. She’d struggled to get the right shades of green, and her early attempts at the lead lines weren’t as good as she’d hoped.
She waited for him to speak. To say something about her work.
He examined the glass, touching the lead lines. But he revealed nothing of his thoughts. “Show me the others.”
Laren obeyed, unwrapping one window after the next. With each bit of glass she revealed, it felt as though she were baring herself before Alex. She waited for some comment, some sort of criticism of her work.
