“The head’s probably too heavy for the neck,” I told the boy, striding over to stand beside him. “Try making the neck thicker or make the head smaller. And score the connection points where they join together.”
“Score them?”
“Scratch little crosshatch lines where the pieces connect.” I showed him. “It helps them stick together better.”
The boy nodded and got back to work, and I found myself moving around the barn, answering questions and offering suggestions. Most of it was common sense or things I remembered from watching my artist father work, but the tourists seemed grateful for the help.
Tressa watched me for a bit longer before trotting back over to her bed and lying down. Wolfy intervention, huh? Maybe she ran the show here as much as Hail. A fun thought.
“Why is my bowl so lopsided?” a man asked from my left.
“You’re probably putting more pressure on one side than the other,” I said. “Try to keep your hands even and turn the piece as you work it so you can see if from all angles.”
“Are the walls of this too thin?” a woman asked, holding up what looked like a small vase. “I don’t want it to collapse during firing.”
“If you can see light through it, it’s probably too thin for a beginner piece,” I told her. “You’re right to think it might crack in the kiln. Try building up the walls a little more.”
As I moved around the group, Hail did the same, though he kept glancing at me. When I caught his eye, he gave me a smile that made my spine tingle.
“Everyone’s doing great,” he finally told the group. Not having to help twenty people simultaneously must be a relief. “Remember, these pieces need to dry overnight before we can fire them in the kiln. You can pick them up tomorrow afternoon, and they’ll be ready to take home.”
“What time should we come back?” someone asked.
“Around five o’clock should be perfect,” I said, then caught myself. I had no idea what Hail’s kiln schedule was. “Um, when, Hail?”
“Five works well,” he said, his penetrating eyes on me. “The firing process takes about twelve hours, so they’ll be coo-coo-cool by then.”
For another hour, the session continued with people shaping increasingly ambitious projects. Eventually, that determined little girl did end up making something that could generously be called a unicorn if you squinted. The boy’s dog looked morelike a blob with ears, but he was proud of it. Most of the adults managed decent bowls or mugs.
When everyone was finished and the pieces were carefully arranged on drying shelves, the crowd washed up at the sink, hung up their borrowed aprons, and started to leave. They were profuse in their thanks to both Hail and me, and a few asked about scheduling private lessons since they’d be here in Lonesome Creek for the next week.
“You two make a great team,” an older woman told me with a smile. “Have you been working together long?”
“Nope,” I said, which was technically true. “Hail’s an excellent teacher.”
When the last tourist left, I found myself alone in the barn with Hail and Tressa. The silence felt different than it had yesterday. More comfortable.
“Thank you,” Hail said quietly. “I don’t know what I would have done-done without your help.”
“That was a big group. Much bigger than yesterday.”
“Too big.” He rubbed the back of his neck, raking his tusks across his upper lip. “I should have limited the num-number, but people kept signing up, and I didn’t w-w-want to turn anyone away.”
“You were great with them. Once you had some backup, you could handle the class.”
“I’m better with clay than people,” he said. “Always have been.”
He gathered tools from the various workstations, his large hands moving with surprising gentleness. There was something mesmerizing about the way his strong fingers handled delicate implements. When he reached up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind his ear, I took in the defined muscles in his forearms, dusted with clay that somehow made them more appealing rather than less. It wasn’t just his physical presence that drewmy eye, though that was certainly part of it. It was the contrast between his big size and the tender way he treated everything around him, from the pottery, Tressa, even the space between us.
When he glanced up and caught me watching, a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, making the skin around his eyes crinkle. I had to look away before he noticed the heat I could feel rising into my cheeks.
This was clearly his element, surrounded by the tools and materials he loved.
“You said the things they made will be ready late tomorrow?” I asked.
“The kiln needs to heat up slowly, then cool down at about the same pace. Can’t rush it or everything cr-cracks.” He glanced my way. “Will you… I mean, are you planning to come back tomorrow to help with that?”
There was something hopeful in his voice that made my decision easy.
