“What are you doing? Please, don’t tell me the sheriff is breaking into the high school.”
“It’s not breaking in if you have the key,” he said with a grin.
“Do you have a key to all the buildings in town?”
“No, I got the key and permission from Aunt Hope.”
Jessie had forgotten Robert’s aunt was the high school principal. Even if the principal wasn’t his aunt, Jessie had the feeling he could sweet talk anyone into letting him do just about anything he wanted.
Robert opened the door and turned on the lights, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. “After you.”
Jessie had learned well over the course of the last four weeks that she couldn’t simply expect everything to be like it used to be just because she’d come back. The high school ceramics lab would never be the haven it once was to her.
But what if it could be?
Determined to keep an open mind, she stepped into the room and took a deep breath.
She didn’t expect to feel the peacefulness she’d always felt here as a teenager. But the earthy scent of fresh clay surrounded her, and a lightness filled her. The tension she’d carried for the last month melted away, and she once again felt like she’d come home.
But she didn’t dare get her hopes up that she still had the talent she used to have. Robert meant well, but this felt like a cruel joke.
“What are we doing here?”
Robert tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “Throwing pots, of course.”
Jessie teetered between excitement and anxiety. She stepped toward the door. “No, I can’t. I don’t do that anymore.”
Robert grabbed her hands, preventing her from retreating further. The arc of warm electricity she experienced every time he touched her shot up her arms.
“Come on, you need a break from the ranch. This used to be one of your favorite past times. Your cast is finally off, so why not let yourself have a little fun?”
She gave him a skeptical look. He didn’t expect her to produce a magnificent work of art. He simply wanted her to have fun.
A warm tingling sensation pricked her fingertips. It was the same sensation she used to get every time she got an idea for a new vase design.
She tugged her hands from Robert’s. She hadn’t thrown a pot for over three years. Since before they’d left New York, where she’d paid a monthly fee to show up and throw as many pots as she wanted. The warehouse where the pottery studio was located also housed a small gift shop where, if an artist chose, they could sell their work. Jessie had sold several pieces there.
“Mr. White insisted you help yourself to any supplies you need. School started this week, so if you throw something you want fired, just leave it on the drying shelf with his students’ work and he’ll throw it in the next time he fires up the kiln.”
“Mr. White still teaches here?”
Jessie thought of the tall, slender, gray-haired man who’d taught her to mold her talents in all mediums of art. Mr. White was exceptionally talented, and Jessie had always felt he’d wasted his talents as a high school teacher. She’d even told him so one time, and he’d responded with, “Fostering a love of the arts in youth and helping shape their talents is more rewarding than having hundreds of pretty paintings throughout the world.”
Jessie understood what he meant, but she still thought maybe the man was too afraid of failing to try to succeed as a world-renowned artist.
“Yep. He considered retiring a couple years ago, but his wife still had two years before she could retire from the post office. So, he kept working. Besides, they couldn’t find anyone to replace him. It’s not that easy to find an art teacher who wants to tie themselves to a one-horse town.” His voice held a tinge of sadness, and Jessie wondered if his words held a double meaning for her.
Was he hinting that Jessie didn’t want to stay in this little one-horse town?
As much as she loved it here, she couldn’t help wondering if there was something more for her out there. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to return to the New York; she’d felt so alone there. That’s why she’d welcomed Patrick's attention so easily.
Nothing had changed about this small town, though. Could Jessie find a way to do what she lovedandbe happy here?
Was Robert hinting she take Mr. White’s place?
He examined a small vase he’d picked up off a shelf, his body language relaxed.
It might be dreaming on her part that Robert hoped she’d stay in Providence, so that maybe they could have a second chance at working things out, but she knew he’d never try to change her into something she wasn’t. And she definitely wasn’t a teacher.
