The Glassblower Page 5

  The idea returned a song to her lips. Before any notes spilled out, however, Sarah’s warning cut through her joy. He was one of her father’s workers. Father might not—probably wouldn’t—approve of her befriending Colin Grassick. And she was supposed to marry another man.

  “I don’t see the harm in being friendly, kitten.” Meg’s spirit rebelled. “Father sent him here to get my approval for the goblets.”

  Her actions thus justified, she tucked the kitten into the basket and returned to the kitchen with her now meowing burden.

  “She isn’t happy about being confined.” Meg set the basket on the floor beside Colin’s chair. “Perhaps she’s lonely.” He lifted the lid and poked a finger inside.

  The mews ceased.

  “Ach, she’s a funny one.” Ilse chuckled. “Would you like me to finish with the bread rolls, Miss Meg? They’re ready for the oven.”

  “So they are.” Meg glanced at the buns rising near the stove. “I forgot about them. If you stay a few minutes, Mr. Grassick, I’ll send a few home with you.”

  “Nay, I have enough to carry with the wee beastie and the glass.” He lifted his teacup. The delicate china looked like a toy in his hand, yet he held it with care. “But I thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

  “Leave the glass here.” Meg slid the trays of rolls into the baking oven. “Unless you need them for matching the others.”

  “Nay, I have my drawings. And perhaps these would be safer here.”

  “Ya, I can tuck them on the top shelf of the pantry.” Ilse snatched up the crate of glasses and carried it into the storage room off the kitchen.

  Meg drew out a chair and joined Colin at the table. “I didn’t notice you at church on Sunday.” She tilted her head to one side. “Dare I ask if you go?”

  “Aye, I go.” He gave her a half smile. “I saw you in the front row. I was in the back.”

  She was in the family’s private box pew with Father and Joseph, perched on cushions to keep them comfortable in the event the sermon lasted a long time. Colin had just reminded her that he had perched on a narrow bench with the other workers, uncomfortable with the shortest of talks.

  It wasn’t right. The Jordan pew was half empty most of the time.

  “Did you enjoy the service anyway?” she ventured.

  “He is a fine preacher.” Colin set down his cup and pushed it a little away from him. “I missed worshipping at the kirk while aboard ship.”

  “Have you always gone to church?” Meg grasped the edge of the table. “That’s what a kirk is, isn’t it, a church?”

  “Aye, that it is.” He rose. “I went with my family every Sunday until I ran away from home when I was twelve.”

  Meg stared at him. “You ran away from home?”

  “I did.” He inclined his head, sending a wave of sunset red hair sliding across his brow.

  “Why? I mean—” Meg’s face heated. “Never you mind. It’s none of my concern.”

  “I think it is.” His voice held a roughness she hadn’t noticed before now. “You and your father deserve to know the character of the man you employ. I ran off because I wanted to be a Lowland glassmaker instead of a Highland fisherman like my father. The next time I attended the kirk was two years ago when I went to the funeral of my father.”

  Raw pain clouded his brilliant eyes.

  “I’m so sorry.” Despite knowing how useless the words were, Meg didn’t know what else to say.

  She rose and looked into the oven to see if the rolls were browning too quickly or remaining too doughy. She kept her back to him, waiting for him to compose himself, have a moment to say whatever he chose. She wanted to know how his father died, but she had already probed for more than was appropriate.

  “He drowned somewhere near the Hebrides.” Colin’s voice was soft once again, calm, as though he had spoken these words many times. “The water was rough, and he shouldn’t have gone out alone, but his wife and bairns needed to eat, and he didn’t have his one son along who was old enough to be of use. If I hadn’t been wasting my silver—” He broke off on a sigh. “Thank you for the tea and the wee beastie. I must be on my way.”

  Before Meg could get the oven door closed, he was halfway outside.

  But he hesitated on the threshold. “Your windows should be in your school by now, Miss Jordan. I was forgetting to tell you.”

  “That’s wonderful.” She straightened from the stove, allowing the door to shut with a metallic clang. “If you wait another two minutes, the rolls will be ready.”

  “Thank you, but I must be on my way.”

  “Yes, Grassick, you should be,” Father said from behind them.

  Meg counted the kittens lounging about in the feeble rays of the late autumn sun. Four. The adult cats rambled elsewhere, hunting or sleeping or keeping the horses company, but the kittens tended to remain near the door except for the one who had taken a fancy to Colin and now one more.

  “Where did your brother or sister go?” she asked the felines as though they could answer. They didn’t even look at her.

  “Yes, I know you had quite a mole feast this morning, but where is your brother? Or maybe sister?”

  A foot scraped on the beaten earth of the stable yard, and a husky laugh rang out. “I think you need to ask in their language,” Sarah said. “A specific series of meows.”

  She proceeded to meow in several different tones.

  The kittens rose, stretched, and wandered into the stable.

  “Maybe it’s your accent,” Meg suggested through her giggles.

  “I’m afraid I said something rude.” Sarah grinned after the departing felines. “Have you lost one?”

  “I have. He was around this morning, but now he seems to have gone off somewhere, and I’m worried he’s lost.”

  “Cats are quite resourceful, you know.” Sarah linked her arm with Meg’s. “But let’s go hunt him down. He shouldn’t be out after dark. Foxes can be a menace.”

  “And the owls. The kittens are so tiny still.” Meg adjusted her hat brim so she could look up at her slightly taller friend. “But you came to visit for something more than a kitten hunt.”

  “I did. I want to go see the new windows in the school before this fine weather ends. Have you seen them yet?”

  “I have. They’re perfect.”

  After Father sent Colin back to the glassworks with enough ice in his voice to fill Delaware Bay, Meg had retreated to the school to nurse her humiliated spirit. The windows were far better than Meg suggested, nearly perfectly clear panes set into frames of four squares a window. Light spilled across the hard-packed earth floor, now clear of soot, thanks to Joseph’s workers.

  “Now all we need is a stove or grate so we don’t all freeze, and something on which the students can sit.”

  “If we have a brazier,” Sarah mused aloud, “the children can make do with blankets and slates on their laps.”

  “I’d rather they were comfortable.”

  Sarah patted her arm. “You want everyone more comfortable. But you know, the Lord didn’t promise us that we wouldn’t have to suffer a bit from time to time.”

  “No.”

  Meg thought about the suffering in Colin’s voice, in his eyes when he talked of abandoning his family. If she possessed the power to do so, she would have removed that pain from his spirit. She could only pray for him, even if praying for him made her feel guilty for thinking of him at all. She should be thinking of Joseph and a future with him because her father wanted that life for her. She should be thinking about the children and helping them have better lives.

  “I’m afraid they won’t come if they’re uncomfortable.” Meg kicked a stick off the drive and scanned the area for signs of a black-and-white feline. “We don’t need tables and chairs or desks. Simple benches would do.”

  “Maybe the church has some extra benches.” Sarah wrinkled her nose as they turned onto the road, and the wind, tunneling through the lining trees, struck them in the face with the odors
of the glassworks. “How do you bear it?”

  “I don’t notice it most of the time.”

  Or she tried not to notice, to think of what Colin would look like, blowpipe to his lips, the other end of the tube glowing with molten glass. Purple glass. Would he think of her as he created the twenty-six goblets for her betrothal party?

  “You should see the wedding gift Father is giving me.” This was a way she could talk about Colin and not give away her attraction to a man besides the one she was to marry. “Co—Mr. Grassick brought them by yesterday for my approval. He stayed a bit because one of the kittens took a liking to him, and I fixed up a basket so he could take it home. Then he told me a little bit more about his family, about his father dying and the children—” Her footfalls sped up. “But I was telling you about the goblets. They’re magnificent. When I looked at one with the sun shining through it, I would have thought it was made of an amethyst, the color was so pure and clear. And the workmanship—what’s wrong?”

  Sarah had stopped and turned to face Meg. Concern radiated from Sarah’s hazel eyes. “Did you like the glasses because of the artist, or did you like the artist because of the work?”

  Meg blinked. “Did I—what do you mean? I’m talking about the fine workmanship. Mr. Grassick is a talented artisan.”

  “That’s what everyone is saying.” Sarah nodded, but her face was tight. “And now he’s told you about being all alone here in America and having family back in Scotland.”

  “Yes, it’s rather sad. He ran away from home when he was twelve—”

  “Shh.” Sarah pressed a gloved forefinger to Meg’s lips. “I’m sure it is very sad. But, Meg, he’s not a lost kitten you can pack up in your pocket and carry home to feed.”

  “No, but I can be kind to him.”

  “While betrothed to another man?”

  “It’s not official yet.”

  “It’s what your father wants for you.”

  “But not what I want.” Meg heaved a sigh. “Let’s go look at the school and try to find the kitten.”

  “Yes, I’m forgetting how short the daylight is now.” Sarah resumed walking.

  At intervals one or the other of them called to the kitten, though Meg expected it would be in a field or the woods, hunting or trying to, rather than along the road. When they passed the glassworks, she didn’t so much as glance in that direction. She wouldn’t see him anyway. Father had told her Colin worked longer hours than any of the men. He also helped out the others and never complained.

  “If he works out, he’ll be worth every penny it cost me to get him here.” Father had laughed at that, his annoyance at finding her chatting cozily with the glassblower diminishing. “I wish it was pennies it cost me instead of a whole lot of dollars.”

  She mustn’t interfere with her father’s making a profit from his business. She must be a good daughter. She’d promised to be a good daughter before Momma died. Promised in letters. To be a good daughter, she must do what she was told.

  “You’re frowning,” Sarah said.

  “I’m worrying about the kitten. He’s so small.”

  They left the cover of trees and entered the broad intersection of road, charcoal burners lane, and creek. Meg’s gaze strayed to the lightning-struck tree, and she caught a flash of movement in the branches.

  “That little imp.” Picking up her skirt, she raced for the tree. She wasn’t mistaken. Twenty feet above the rushing waters of the stream perched a black-and-white kitten.

  “I thought the one he took home was the one he rescued, but who can tell them apart?” She began to kilt up her skirt.

  “Meg!” Sarah gasped. “Your ankles are showing.”

  Meg stared down at her stockings, visible above the ribbons tying her blue kid slippers around her ankles. “I forgot. I was wearing boots last time.”

  “Last time?” Sarah poked Meg in the ribs. “What are you forgetting to tell me?”

  “I climbed the tree to rescue a kitten. In the end, he got himself down.”

  “And probably will this time, too. Now tell me what you meant about the last time you climbed the tree.”

  As they continued their walk to the school, Meg confessed the entire scene to her friend.

  “I can’t believe you kept that to yourself.” Sarah laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. “It was too bad of you to climb a tree with your skirt pulled up, even with boots on, but to end up hanging there like an apple—oh my, the picture.”

  “It was more embarrassing to have a stranger see me like that.”

  They rounded the curve in the road that led straight to the school building. Meg stopped talking to smile, anticipating Sarah’s exclamation of delight when she saw the slanting afternoon sunlight glinting off the panes of glass in the new windows.

  Both of them exclaimed, but it wasn’t in pleasure. Sunlight glinted off glass, lots of glass. What looked like acres of glass strewed around the little building.

  Every windowpane had been smashed.

  six

  Meg started to cry. She’d waited for months to get glass in the frames for her school, and now they lay in fragments on the ground. Gazing at the glittering shards, she felt as though her heart lay mixed in the shining horde.

  “Who would do this?” Sarah slipped her arms around Meg and hugged her tightly. “It’s simply terrible. Who wouldn’t want a school?”

  “I thought the soot was bad.” Meg sniffled against Sarah’s cloak. “But that wasn’t expensive to clean up. This”—she straightened and waved her arm in the air—”will take forever to replace, if Father will replace it. Do you have a handkerchief?”

  “Of course.” Sarah produced a square of linen with a tatted edge.

  Meg took it and wiped her eyes—and kept wiping. The tears wouldn’t stop.

  “How will I ever be able to open a school if it doesn’t have windows?” She burst out sobbing again. “It’s not as though I’m doing this for myself. I want to serve the Lord through helping the children around here learn to read and write and some history and … how can this happen?”

  “Meg. Meg, calm yourself.” Sarah patted Meg’s back then wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “We’ll work out something. I mean, if your father was willing to put windows in once, surely he will be willing again.”

  “It took months to get these.”

  “Yes, but now he has a new glassblower. You got them within two weeks of Mr. Grassick arriving.”

  “I know. It’s just that he’s already doing work for me, making these—goblets—” Meg’s voice caught in her throat.

  Meg felt sick. Without another word, she turned on her heel and began trudging back toward home. She’d found a way to put off her wedding by convincing Father that she needed glasses enough for a betrothal party. He’d agreed, realizing it would be an opportunity to show off Colin’s skill to the county and get orders for their own sets of glassware. Although she intended to use the glasses for such a party, and although they would be fine advertisement for Colin’s skill, Meg knew they were an excuse to put off the announcement of the marriage. She wasn’t being truly deceitful—or didn’t think of it as such at the time. Now, however, she worried that her action was wrong and she was being punished for not being honest with her father.

  “What should I do?” Meg spoke to the Lord, but said it aloud.

  “Ask your father for more windows. Surely he won’t blame you for this.”

  “No, he won’t blame me. It’s simply that—” Meg paused in the center of the road and stared at the clear blue sky. “We need to stop at the glassworks on our way back.”

  “You want to walk up to the gate and ring for admission?” Sarah sounded shocked and justifiably so. Although Meg had visited the glassworks many times to take Father dinner, she had never invited Sarah to go inside the stockade around the factory.

  “Yes, we must go now.” Meg set out at a trot.

  Sarah skipped to catch up with Meg. “Can’t this wait?”

&nbs
p; “No, I have to talk to Father before—before any more work is done on the goblets.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—” Meg looked down. A tiny creature whizzed past her.

  “The kitten.” She dove after it, catching it before it disappeared beneath a clump of shrubbery.

  “Wanderer.” She tucked him—or her—under her chin.

  A purr twice the size of the cat rumbled from beneath a coating of thick fur.

  “He’s lovely.” Sarah stroked the small head between the pointed black ears. “And he likes you.”

  “One of the cats took a liking to Mr. Grassick. Just wouldn’t let him leave.”

  “Maybe Peter will let me have a cat. They’re so useful in the kitchen and pantry.”

  “Father won’t let me have one in the house, but they’re happy in the stable. Except this one. He seems to like to wander off and get himself into trouble.”

  “Looking for you?” Sarah smiled. “And he’s making you look happier, too.”

  “He makes me feel better.”

  But the sight of the glassworks gates brought the nausea clutching at her middle again. No help for it though. If she wanted to make up for her trick in postponing the official announcement of her betrothal, she must face up to what she’d done, sacrifice what she wanted with the delayed wedding plans for the sake of providing windows for her school. Telling Father in front of his workers would be far easier than telling him in private.

  “It’s rather smelly in there,” Meg pointed out. “If you’d rather go home, I understand.”

  “I’ll come with you. I admit I’m curious.”

  “They may not let us in.” Meg tugged on the bell rope.

  A clang rang across the yard. Mr. Weber, wearing a leather apron over his clothes, poked his head out of the factory door. Meg waved to him. Even from the distance to the gate, Meg saw his eyes widen. He nodded and vanished back inside the building.

  A moment later Father strode into the yard. “Is something wrong, Margaret?”