Fire and Water Read online

  “I didn’t make the weather,” Sawyer held up his hands defensively, “only your food.”

  “Oh.” Diane sat back down and arched a brow. “So, if my sandwich doesn’t turn out well, I’ll know exactly who to blame.”

  Sawyer chuckled and parked himself across from Diane, removing his black chef beanie and placing it on the table. He leaned closer, his green “Keep Vermont Weird” t-shirt drawing out the earthy hues in his hazel eyes, as they twinkled with amusement. “If it doesn’t taste good, you only have yourself and those hot peppers to blame.”

  “Fair enough,” Diane laughed.

  “Tell me, what do you think of my new set up?” Sawyer asked, leaning back in the chair and drumming a cheerful melody on table with his fingers. “I know I blew up your phone with a million pics, but I don’t think they did the place justice.”

  The restaurant was stellar, more so in person. Sawyer and Diane kept in touch since she’d left for Florida, exchanging texts and pictures a few times a week. Sawyer’s uplifting messages and silly selfies often arrived at stressful moments when Diane needed them the most. Including the one picture Sawyer sent at the end of October, standing in front of his new restaurant his arms around his fiancé and future stepdaughter, everyone’s faces beaming with pride.

  Taking his hand, Diane gave it a squeeze. “It looks amazing, Sawyer,” she said. “I’m so happy for you. Did you sell the truck?”

  “No way,” he said. “Keeping that sexy beast around for the summer. This permanent gig has definitely grown on me, but I started everything with that truck. It’s too sentimental for me to step away from it. Besides, it’s good for traveling to different venues and spreading the goat love, you know?”

  Diane laughed. “Sounds like a good plan you’ve got there,” she said. “It’s nice you’ve got such good family taking care of you.”

  “Yeah.” Sawyer nodded humbly, ruffling his shaggy beard nervously as his eyes glossed with wetness. “I couldn’t believe it when Michelle brought me here. I think my jaw was on the floor.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Sawyer sighed, blinking his watering eyes. “She’s incredible.”

  Diane looked down at her lunch, her appetite lost to a force of nervous energy settling in the pit of her stomach at the mention of her. “That she is.”

  Sawyer paused and narrowed his eyes, studying Diane. “Is Michelle why you’re here? You didn’t tell me in your texts.”

  “Important things should be said in person,” she said, pushing her plate aside. She set her elbows on the table and clasped her fingers together, giving Sawyer a serious expression. “As of today, I’m an official Vermonter.”

  “Are you serious?” Sawyer’s brows shot to his hairline. “You better not be kidding.”

  Diane smiled. “I’m not kidding,” she said. “I bought a one-way ticket.”

  “Woah. That’s fantastic. And you moved up here in this weather?” he laughed. “Wow. You must’ve really wanted to hightail it out of Florida. Wait until mud season, then you’ll have some serious regrets. Hope you packed some Wellies.”

  “No regrets,” Diane said, pushing her shoulders back with confidence. “From here on out, it’s only choices I make and having faith in their outcome.”

  Sawyer smiled. “I like that.”

  Diane smiled in return. “Me too.”

  “But in all seriousness, I’m kind of surprised you wanted to come back,” he said. “After things soured between you and Michelle.”

  Diane’s face fell. “Did she say that?”

  “Not in those words,” he said with a shrug and plucked the untouched pickle off Diane’s plate, crunching into it. “I put two and two together. She’s been…I don’t know, unusually mopey these last few weeks.”

  “She has?”

  Sawyer nodded as he finished off the pickle, speaking with his cheek full, “She gets depressed during the holidays, missing her parents and everything, but this was a different brand of sad. She didn’t even bug me to watch Gremlins with her.”

  Diane laughed softly.

  “If you’re not here for her,” he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “what made you move here? Besides the tropical weather, obviously.”

  “I moved for me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I decided to go all in and try to become a full-time author,” Diane said. “There really isn’t a better place to start, in my opinion.”

  “Good for you,” Sawyer said. “That’s awesome. Never too late to chase a dream.”

  Outside, winter continued its assault on the city. The snow fell, and sparkling tails of white swirled outside the window as the wind blew. Diane didn’t feel any chill; she was comfortable, sitting with Sawyer and catching up, staying warm with her stomach full of her spicy lunch. Diane talked excitedly about her book and her plans for revising it in the next several months. And Sawyer filled Diane in on everything she’d missed, including details of his summer wedding they planned to have in Michelle’s backyard, and how he was trying—unsuccessfully—to hire a Phish cover band for their reception.

  “Autumn doesn’t want our first dance to include ‘farm fresh hipster crap,’” he said. “She actually used those offensive words. Can you believe it?”

  Diane chuckled. “Give her some time. Or maybe find a comparable band you’ll both enjoy?”

  Sawyer sighed. “I know.”

  “Aside from the music, it sounds like you’re making good progress.”

  “We are. And now that you’re here, I fully expect you to attend.”

  Diane smiled. “Absolutely,” she said, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. When’s the big date?”

  “September Fifteenth.”

  “A perfect blend of summer and fall. Can’t wait.”

  Scanning the restaurant, Sawyer eyed the counter as a long line formed and the employees looked flustered at the influx of new customers. He stood and threw on his chef’s cap. “I’ve got to get back there and help the troops out.”

  “Yes, don’t let me keep you any longer,” Diane said. She stood and collected her jacket off the back of the chair and threw it on. “I should get going too. It’ll probably take me the rest of the afternoon to drive up to the islands in this weather.”

  “Drive safely. It was really great seeing you, Diane,” Sawyer said, giving her another affectionate hug. “Just so you know, that wedding invite comes with a plus one, in case you want to bring someone along.”

  Diane nodded. “Good to know.”

  “Or…if you have someone in mind, and they happen to be a part of the wedding party and related to the groom and will be there anyway, that’ll work too.”

  “See you, Sawyer,” Diane laughed and waved as he headed back to work. Wrapping the scarf around her neck and placing the hat on her head, Diane pushed the door open and headed out to face the storm.

  ***

  Escaping the cold, Diane hurried inside the lake house and slammed the door. A fierce shiver ran up her spine, and she caught her breath, dropping her bags to the floor with a relieving crash. It was a long, excruciating, and stressful trip to Grand Isle. One she’d never wanted to endure again. Diane was inexperienced driving in any inclement weather, and with the snow squalls and white-out conditions—as the Nor’easter officially arrived up the coast—the journey was enough to give her nightmares for a week; she’d never been so relieved to get out of a darn car before. But that was over now. Diane could breathe. Kicking off her boots and crossing the room, Diane turned up the thermostat, keeping her hat and jacket on until the room reached a tolerable temperature, and plopped down on the couch. She kicked her feet up and allowed the weight of her travels to melt off her shoulders.

  The house felt completely different this time around. The space was still quiet, but now with a different perspective, the solitude was peaceful. Welcoming. The island felt isolated, yet oddly protective, even while facing the raging wrath of winter. Before, Diane arrived with feelings of self-doubt and
pity and loneliness, running from the hurt and humiliation of her divorce. But now, Diane arrived with confidence and conviction, grounded by surroundings she’d come to love—a place she’d gladly call home.

  After a few minutes of relaxation and reflection and texting Maureen and Kelly Ann, informing them both she’d arrived safely, Diane checked the time. She groaned at the numbers staring back at her. Hopes of having time to settle in and unpack—and perhaps soothe her jittery angst with a hot cup of tea—was lost to traveling cautiously in the storm, and now the glass studio would be closing shortly. The unfortunate weather was the perfect excuse to postpone approaching Michelle, but lasting one more day, with these intense emotions hibernating inside, might actually be the death of Diane. She had to see Michelle. Building up her nerves, Diane threw on her hat and boots and returned to the cold. The warm light from the studio guided her through the snow.

  Despite tramping through the frigid bitterness outside, Diane remained a bundle of hot nervous energy as she opened the door. The parking lot was bare, cloaked in a pristine blanket of snow, and it wasn’t surprising Diane found the shop equally empty when she entered, the glass pieces sparkling silently in their display cases. Walking delicately through the shop, Diane listened to the distant noises and music coming from the studio. She moved towards them. Her heart raced. Breaths shallowed. She gathered her courage as she stepped closer, but everything came to a relieving halt once she’d arrived at the doorway.

  All the uncertainty and anxiety dissipated inside Diane the instant she saw her. Her eyes fell on Michelle at the far end of the studio, manipulating a hot piece of glass. The pair of ripped, dusty jeans and Guns N’ Roses t-shirt—sleeves cuffed and clinging enticingly to her inked arms—was typical studio attire for Michelle, but Diane had never seen her more beautiful. Instead of an overwhelming sense of doubt that she’d planned for, Diane never felt so secure. Being apart for months, seeing Michelle now was like taking in a long, sweet spring breath after a harsh and lonely winter. Diane felt renewed. Her convictions rejuvenated, and she stepped into the studio towards the woman she undoubtedly loved.

  “Knock-knock,” Diane called out. Shedding her layers, she placed her jacket and things on the table, grinning as she was able to slink closer unsuspectedly. “Are you still open?”

  “Hey. Yeah, for a little bit longer. Come on in,” Michelle called over her shoulder, concentrating on the piece she was flashing in the gloryhole. “I’m surprised anyone’s out in this crazy weather. What can I do for—” Michelle pulled the piece out and stopped. “Diane.”

  Diane cringed as her presence startled Michelle, the pipe slipping slightly in her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

  “No, that’s—um,” Michelle shook her head, focusing on her task. She swung the piece back and forth, using gravity to reshape the piece back into form. “I just didn’t expect anyone here today.”

  “Especially me?” Diane asked, adding a playful laugh to lighten the mood.

  Michelle didn’t reply. She kept her head down and eyes on her work.

  Diane smiled nervously. “I apologize. I should have called or texted,” she said, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans. “I realize showing up unexpectedly is rude of me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

  “It’s fine. Stay.” Michelle looked at her. “If you want.”

  Happy to enjoy the heat of the studio, Diane eased down onto one of the workbenches and watched Michelle at work. Angling the piece towards the ground, Michelle twirled the pipe and created wavy edges to the vase, its body taking shape, burning bright orange with heat. Diane smiled, watching Michelle with her intense focus. She’d missed this. The space was warm and cozy, one of Diane’s favorite classic rock songs played in the background. It was impossible to tell there was even a storm outside. She hadn’t felt this pleasantly content in months.

  Finishing the vase, Michelle brought it towards the marver, tapping it gently off the pipe, and rushing it to the kiln. Michelle walked back, wiping loose hairs that’d fallen from her ponytail and the sweat off her brow. Their eyes met briefly, before Michelle averted her gaze.

  “Still coming down out there?” Michelle asked. She grabbed her water bottle and took a hearty sip, keeping her distance a few feet away, leaning against the marver.

  “Yes,” Diane answered with an exasperated sigh. Planning her move, Diane didn’t count on winter being this exhausting, and it was two months until spring. “I’d guess close to a foot now.”

  Michelle nodded, busying herself with her bottle of water.

  An awkward silence came between them, and Diane looked around the space, buying time before the tension broke between them, and she collected the proper words to say. The studio was just as she’d last seen it. The familiar succulent scents of smoke and heat and burnt paper pervaded the air. Diane closed her eyes, indulging in the smells, pulling in a long, gluttonous whiff. It smelled like Michelle. A warm pang tugged at Diane’s core, and she opened her eyes again, finding Michelle’s eyes steadily watching her. Waiting.

  “I resigned.” The words poured from Diane’s lips like a swollen cloud bursting with rain, lessening the storm of emotions surging inside her.

  Michelle closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.

  “It’s still sinking in for me too,” she laughed. “One of these days I won’t wake up and pinch myself as a reminder.”

  “I thought you loved teaching.”

  “I did. I do.” Diane nodded, bracing her elbows on her knees, leaning forward and watching Michelle’s reactions. “After receiving a potential opportunity to take my career in a different direction, I didn’t want to miss the chance.”

  Michelle stood quietly for a moment, contemplating.

  “An opportunity,” Diane continued softly, “to revise my book for an interested agent.”

  Michelle looked at Diane. A genuine smile arrived on her lips, followed by those dimples Diane sorely missed. “Diane, that’s…I’m so happy for you. Congratulations.”

  “No congratulations, just yet,” Diane said. “I have a lot of work to do, and no guarantee this agent will pick me up afterwards,” she said. “But, as I’ve been reminded lately, there’s no guarantee with anything, is there?”

  “No. There’s not.”

  “And I know more than ever now, that when something’s risky, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try,” Diane said. “Take a chance on something that makes me feel authentic and alive and happier than I’ve felt in ages.”

  Diane stood. This was it. The moment Diane had thought about ever since she left Vermont the first time. She had it all planned out; Diane rehearsed it in her mind over and over, what she would say to Michelle if she had another chance. But it all flew out the window, watching Michelle waiting for her to speak, her eyes bright and hopeful. She didn’t want to give her some scripted, well-rehearsed presentation, she wanted to give her what she felt in her heart.

  “That glass piece for the restaurant was unbelievable,” Diane said, stepping closer. “What you were able to capture with your art, the way you made me feel, how it stirred up every emotion inside me. You blew me away.”

  Michelle looked up at the ceiling and laughed.

  Diane frowned. “Why are you laughing?”

  Michelle’s laugh trickled down into a soft giggle. “I thought you hated it,” she said. “I thought I offended you somehow.”

  “What?” Diane was appalled. “How would that be possible?”

  “I don’t know.” Michelle shrugged. “When Shawn came back and he said he talked to you about it, I thought…”

  Diane inched closer. “What?”

  “You might have reached out to me.”

  “I wanted to. I did. To be honest,” Diane said, “I didn’t know if you wanted me to, after how things left off between us. I had no words to possibly give you to express how that piece made me feel.”

  Michelle sighed and she looked down. “I didn
’t mean to hurt you,” she said. “I thought I’d only be hurting myself. I thought that’s what you wanted to hear. What I needed to hear.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I didn’t want to admit to myself how I felt about you,” Michelle said. “I’d let my guard down long enough to know what it was like to want someone, just to see you turn around and leave. I wasn’t strong enough to handle that. It was easier to push you away and believe you didn’t want me in return.”

  “Was it really easy?” Diane asked. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had the best couple of months.”

  “Okay, maybe easy’s not the right word…”

  “I did leave.” Diane stepped into Michelle’s space and took her hands with her own. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere,” she said, falling into Michelle’s eyes.

  Michelle raised a brow. “You’re not?”

  Diane shook her head. “I know how much you love being right, but you were completely wrong about a lot of things.”

  “Oh really?”

  “You are strong.”

  Michelle snickered.

  “You are. But you don’t have to be all the time,” Diane continued, entwining their fingers together. “It’s okay to let someone take the reins and be strong for you, and with that being said, I’m sorry too.”

  Michelle swallowed. “For what?”

  “Not realizing sooner what you needed from me,” she said, looking down at their hands together. “I’m sorry for not having the courage to be truthful about how I feel for you. I know now, you needed to feel safe before letting yourself be completely open and honest. You’ve had to be strong and vulnerable from far too early in your life. You stepped back, but I should have stepped forward, and not have let you walk out the way you did.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now that you realize this,” Michelle replied softly, raising her eyes to Diane’s, “how do you feel?”

  “I love you,” Diane said, her voice steady with conviction. She squeezed Michelle’s hands. “The time we shared wasn’t a one-night stand, or a fun thing to pass the time, or something I wanted because I was lonely. It was me falling completely and immeasurably in love with you. And me, standing here now, is my way of telling you I’m here to stay, because everything I want is right here.”