Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,18
the back.” The woman smiled. “Have fun.”
Ashley’s expression suddenly lost her usual I-can-do-anything confidence. “Don’t leave, Aunt Bernie.”
“You’re going to have a great time. Stop worrying.”
She swallowed. “But, I don’t really know these girls. What if they don’t like me?”
I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “How could they not like you?”
She frowned.
“I’ll stay,” I said.
“You’re welcome to try beading a bracelet or necklace.” The young woman sitting at the table barely looked up before her dark gaze dropped back to her handiwork, her focus intent. She tucked her long, smooth mahogany hair behind her ears and a pang of hair envy flickered through me.
I watched for a moment as she wove a fine silver wire into an intricate design. As much as I’d like to fantasize about my ability to do something similar, I had no problem admitting my shortcomings.
“I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”
Then I thought of the cryptograms from Dad. How was I going to reinvent myself if I was afraid to bead jewelry?
“It’s easy.” Ashley gave my elbow a shove. “That way you’ll be right here in case we need to bolt.”
“We’re going to work on that confidence,” I called after her as she sauntered away. She didn’t turn back, already deep into her I’m-too-cool-to-acknowledge-you cover.
“Come on,” the young woman coaxed. “I’ll set you up for a bracelet.”
She placed a tray in front of me then clipped a length of some sort of flexible wire from a spool and handed it to me. I held it as if it might explode. “I meant what I said. I’ve never done a creative thing in my life.”
“Here.” The woman held up a matching wire, threaded on a clasp, then wove one end in and out of some sort of silver bead. “This is the crimp bead. You tighten your wire like so--” she pulled the wire taut, holding it in one hand while she reached for a small tool with the other “--then you use these to squeeze the bead.” She looked up and gave me a dazzling smile. “Like that.”
After five mangled attempts I managed to crimp the bead. The result wasn’t pretty, but the wire held long enough for me to bead the ugliest bracelet ever known to mankind.
In the end, I decided to check jewelry designer off of my list of possible future careers, yet I still managed to spend far too much money on far too many supplies that would, in all likelihood, never witness life outside of a kitchen drawer.
Maybe I’d been caught up in the warmth of Ashley’s thank-you hug at the end of the party, lost in the moment she wrapped her arms around me and smiled. For a fleeting moment, I’d looked from Ashley to my new bracelet and believed I might someday make something beautiful.
I stared at my purchases later that night before I slid the kitchen door closed. Chances were good I’d forget about the beads completely. After all, my brain wasn’t operating at peak efficiency these days.
But who was I to argue with the possibility I might someday open the drawer and surprise myself.
o0o
“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.”
–Elbert Hubbard
FIVE
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I was halfway to the ice-skating rink on Monday afternoon when Diane rang my cell phone.
“Whatcha doin?” Her voice chirped across the line.
“You sound like Mary Poppins on speed.” I groaned inwardly. This was just what my day did not need--a perky pregnant woman.
“It’s the hormones,” she answered. “Up and down like you can’t imagine.”
Silence beat across the line.
“Sorry.” All traces of perk left her tone.
“Knock it off,” I answered as I took a left on Maple.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“Stop it.” Frustration welled inside me. “The statute of limitations is up on avoiding all pregnancy talk. You’re allowed to wallow in glee.” I squeezed my eyes shut at a red light, hoping I sounded sincere. “I want you to wallow.”
“Waddle?”
“Wallow...in glee.”
A noise came across the line that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
But she couldn’t fool me. I’d known her for thirty-five years. I could pick up on a sniffle no matter how much space stretched between us. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
The light turned green and I pressed down on the accelerator--gently--even though I felt like leaving a trail of burnt rubber in my wake.
“Trust me.” I swallowed down a