Beginnings (3 page)

Bundled, she headed out the door.

***

Andrew removed his goggles and picked up the glass pliers. Pinching the length of blue glass below the score line, he gave a quick downward thrust, and the first side fell away. He turned the square of glass and repeated the process until he held a perfectly shaped wedge of blue flat on the palm of his gloved hand.

Grasping the narrow end of the wedge between his finger and thumb, he held it to the light for a moment. The color changed from the deep hue of a blue jay’s wing to the soft shade of a periwinkle blossom, and he allowed a smile of pleasure to grow on his face. Others might scoff at the joy Andrew found in admiring something as simple as the color variation in a piece of leaded glass held to a fluorescent light, but right now, he was alone. He could enjoy himself.

Humming, he pulled open the small top drawer that housed the carborundum stones and removed one. He carried the glass piece and the stone to a little bench in the corner, sat down, and began to smooth the rough edges of the glass.

Tiny bits of glass sugar, as Beth called it, dusted the tops of his boots and the floor around his feet as he filed. Hunkered forward, he carefully filed just enough to smooth the glass but not grind so much that it changed the size of the piece. There was little margin for error when it came to making the pieces fit together properly. His tongue crept out between his lips as he slid his gloved finger along the edge to search for snags. Finding none, he gave a satisfied nod and turned the glass to file another side.

He was busily filing the fourth and final edge when the back door burst open, allowing in a gust of wind that swept the particles of glass off the toes of his boots. Startled, Andrew leaped to his feet, and the slice of glass fell from his hand. It landed on his boot and then bounced onto the floor, one corner breaking off when it plinked against the concrete.

Lifting his gaze from the ruined glass wedge, he found Beth glowering at him.

“What in the world are you doing in here?” Hands on hips, her nose bright red, she faced off with him in a battle stance that might have intimidated a lesser man. But Andrew had confronted a much tougher adversary—his own father—so he found Beth’s attack more disheartening than frightening.

“I wanted to help you get started on some new pieces for the show in Salina.” He shook his head, looking once more at the piece of blue glass at his feet. “That piece won’t be usable, I’m afraid.” He bent over and picked it up, and as he rose, Beth took two steps toward him.

“Well, it scared me half to death when I saw all the lights on in here. I thought someone had broken in or something.”

That explained the way she had come barreling through the door. Andrew frowned, rubbing his thumb over the length of glass in his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I really just wanted to ... help.”

She plucked the piece of glass from his hand. She examined it, scowling a bit when she encountered the chipped corner. But when she looked at him, he read a hint of remorse in her eyes. “You had this one ready to go, didn’t you? And I scared it right out of your hand.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “I guess we’re even then, huh, for scaring each other.”

Without answering, Beth walked over to the storage cabinet, pulled a ruler from one of the drawers, and measured the piece of glass. “Well, this won’t work for one of the long rays anymore, but you might be able to trim right below the chipped spot and salvage this for a shorter ray. Want to see if it works?”

Nodding, Andrew took the piece and placed it over the paper pattern for one of the suncatchers. To his relief, three of the four sides matched perfectly. A trim on the chipped fourth side would make it usable. He shot Beth a wide grin. “It’ll work.”

She heaved a sigh of relief Andrew fully understood. The sheets of leaded glass were not inexpensive. She salvaged every piece she could to make the twelve-by-twelve-inch sheets stretch as far as possible. He knew she harbored dreams of purchasing a kiln, which would enable her to fire her own glass in all the colors of the rainbow. In the meantime, however, she had to purchase the colored glass from a manufacturer in Canada. Wasting it wasn’t an option.

Beth pointed to the table holding the carbide cutting wheel. “Good! So get to hacking.” Slipping off her coat, she threw it onto the display bench and moved to the box that held sizable glass scraps. She reached into the box.

“Gloves first,” Andrew cautioned.

Glancing over her shoulder, she grimaced. “Bossy.”

“No more than you.”

She grinned.

He grinned.

She headed to the cabinet and retrieved a pair of yellow leather gloves. Waving them at him, she said, “Okay. Now cut, huh? We’ve got work to do.”

For the next two hours, they worked in companionable silence, the
whir
of the carbide wheel and the
snip
of the pliers providing a familiar, soothing lullaby. By the time nine thirty rolled around, they had pieces for four more suncatchers, ready to be filed and fitted together into finished products.

Side by side, they organized the pieces on the worktable in readiness for tomorrow’s work. He left the carborundum stone out, knowing it would be needed. But Beth picked it up and returned it to its drawer. He hid his smile. Meticulous in all areas, she would make an excellent housekeeper.

Swallowing, he focused once more on the pieces of glass laid out neatly across the worktable, shifting them around with his finger. “I’m glad these smaller projects can be done using copper foiling rather than lead caming.”

Beth paused, her hand in the cabinet drawer, and glanced over her shoulder. “They do go together much more quickly, and I know they’re easier to work with. But...” She closed the drawer, turned, and faced him. Her face wore an expression of uncertainty. “You are willing to help with larger pieces, which require the lead came, aren’t you?”

Andrew felt his heart thud beneath his shirt. Her question told him he was needed. Wanted. Maybe even ... desired. Only as an employee, he reminded himself.
For now, but maybe, in time ...
“I’ll help you as long as I can, in any way that you need.” Then he felt obliged to add, “When spring arrives, though, when we need to cut the winter wheat and plant the new crop...”

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip. Her fine brows pinched together. “I know. Your dad will need you.”

Her concern was no doubt directly related to the workload she would face alone, but his was much more personal. Being in the fields with his father could never satisfy him the way working in the studio—with Beth—could. But if Beth made a success of the studio, expanded it the way she hoped, and proved to his father a man could make a decent living at this art business, then perhaps...

“Well, I’ll be taking the cardinal piece to Wichita tomorrow.” She picked up their coats and handed his over. “Which means you’ll probably be filing all alone here tomorrow. By the time I’m back, maybe we’ll be able to start putting the suncatchers together, huh?”

“That’s the goal.” Andrew forced a lighthearted tone as he pushed his hands into the sleeves of his heavy coat. He wished he had picked up the coats first. Then he would have been able to hold hers for her while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Maybe he would have been able to lift that ponytail from beneath the collar and find out if the strands felt as soft and silky as they looked. But she was already buttoning up, with her blond ponytail draped across her shoulder, so all he could do was open the door for her, which he did.

The wind greeted them as they stepped outside, cutting off Andrew’s breath with unexpected force. He lifted his gaze to the sky, observing that the stars had been extinguished. He blew out a breath, which hung on the cold air, and pointed upward. “Uh-oh. Clouds have gathered. And it smells like snow.”

Beth swung her gaze to the sky, too, her eyes wide. “Oh, no. No snow. I have to go to Wichita tomorrow, and I
hate
driving in snow.”

He looked at her. “I could take you if you like.”

But she shook her head. “No. I need you here, finishing those suncatchers.” She sighed, her breath creating a small cloud that a fresh gust of wind quickly whisked away. “I guess I’ll worry about it tomorrow.” Shivering, she hunched into her coat. “But no more talking right now. It’s cold. Let’s get home.”

THREE

The alarm clock blared, jarring Beth from a sound sleep. She slipped one hand from beneath the covers and smacked the SNOOZE button on top of the black plastic case. Silence fell. Shivering, she pulled the covers over her head to enjoy a few more lazy minutes. She’d never been an early riser. Being her own boss meant she could set her own hours. Since she usually worked into the evening, it didn’t bother her to indulge herself with some extra snooze time in the morning.

She lay in her snug nest, ears tuned for the alarm. Her windows were no longer rattling, and the tree limbs weren’t clacking together. Something else occurred to her. It was
cold.
Apparently, the wind she’d heard last night had done more than interrupt her sleep. By the chill in the house, she was certain Andrew’s prediction had come true. There had to be fresh snow on the ground.

Flopping the covers back, she bounced out of bed. Hugging herself, she crossed to the windows and pushed the curtains aside. She groaned. At least two inches of glistening white coated the ground, and flakes continued to fall from the sky. The wind, thankfully, had departed, but ... the snow...

For a moment, Beth stood transfixed by the sight. Big, fluffy puffs drifted down from a bleached sky. The sharp contrast of darks and lights—white sky, whiter snow, stark brown tree limbs, deep green leaves, and bright red berries on a bush outside the window—teased her artist’s eye.

“Wow, God,” she whispered, her fingers pressed to the glass and her breath steaming the pane, “that is absolutely gorgeous....”

Then frustration struck. How she hated driving in snow! Turning from the window, she hurried to the hallway and pushed the little lever on the thermostat up two degrees. The heater kicked on, sending a rush of warm air through the iron grate. She remained beside the scrolled square and enjoyed the warmth for a few minutes before forcing herself to get moving.

Mom and Henry had given her a devotional Bible for Christmas, and she started each day by reading a brief passage of scripture and an object lesson based on it. After reading, she spent time in prayer. There was still an awkwardness to her prayer time. Deep down, she believed God listened and cared. It wasn’t a lack of faith that created the discomfort but more a lack of familiarity. She hadn’t grown up with it. It was all so new. She appreciated being able to talk to God and found herself addressing Him at odd moments during the day, but times of formal prayer still felt stilted to her. She hoped eventually she would find an ease with the practice.

After dressing, she put on her coat and gloves, grabbed her car keys, and headed to her car. She squinted against the glare of white, listening to the squeak of wet snow beneath her feet. Snowflakes dusted her shoulders, and she swept them away with a quick flip of her hand. When she spotted the accumulated snow on her windshield, she wished for a garage where she could keep her car under cover, but fortunately the blanket of white brushed off fairly quickly. Sliding behind the wheel, she turned the ignition and sat, arms crossed, while the engine warmed up. With the defroster on full blast, it didn’t take long for the remaining bits of snow on the windshield to melt into racing droplets.

Watching the droplets zigzag down the glass windshield made Beth dizzy, and she turned on the wipers to whisk the moisture away. “If I get dizzy from the water drops on my own windshield,” she muttered as she put the car into DRIVE, “what will the snowflakes rushing at me do?”

She got the answer to that question as she drove the short distance from her house to the studio on the edge of town. By the time she reached the studio and pulled in next to Andrew’s older-model pickup, she knew she would not be able to drive to Wichita unless the snow stopped.

Disgusted, she hurried through the back door and announced, “It’s all your fault!”

Andrew, bent over the worktable, straightened and sent her a blank look. “Huh?”

“You.” She pointed at him, puckering her lips into a forced pout. “You had to go and say the word
snow
last night, didn’t you?”

His lips quirked. “You’re blaming that on me?”

Beth threw her arms outward. “Who else can I blame it on?”

A chuckle rumbled, and he offered a one-shouldered shrug. “Sorry, but I don’t have that much power.”

“Well...” She removed her coat and threw it on the display bench. Walking over to the cardinal picture, she traced one blossom with her fingertip. “I guess I won’t hold you responsible then.” She turned and caught Andrew staring at her. For some odd reason, heat filled her cheeks. “What?”

He shook his head, and his ears flamed red. He jerked his head in her direction and said, “You’re all dressed up. You won’t want to do any grinding in that gear.”

Beth glanced down. She had chosen a pantsuit and high-heeled boots in lieu of jeans and tennis shoes to make a professional appearance at the gallery in Wichita. She groaned. “I just figured I’d load up and go, but you’re right—if I’m stuck here, I won’t want to work in these clothes.” She heaved a huge sigh and reached for her coat. “I guess I’ll run home and change. If the snow clears off by noon, I can still make it to Wichita with the cardinal picture.”