Chapter 27:

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Kellan cast a wary glance at the young Allison, his thoughts swirling with doubt. Emanuel must’ve been playing a trick on him. “You don’t need to lie to me if I don’t suit you. I’ll be out of your way soon enough.”

Emanuel, who had spent days trying to nudge Kellan out of his orbit, raised an eyebrow. He caught a flicker of hesitation in Kellan’s expression, unexpected even to him. “Already packing up? I figured you’d have more grit than that, wheel guy.”

Kellan’s gaze drifted down to the clay in his hands, its cool, soft texture grounding him in the moment. There was something about working with it that soothed the storm in his mind. In those quiet moments, a girl’s face, serene and smiling, often danced through his thoughts.

She handed him something — what, he couldn’t recall — but she felt tied to the memories he couldn’t access. Snapping back to reality, Kellan said, “That’s why I need your teacher’s guidance before I go.”

Emanuel scoffed, clearly frustrated by Kellan’s skepticism. “You think I’ve got time for games? Ask anyone — you’ll find I don’t bother with lies. Allison, let him spin his wheels for eternity, but don’t teach him a thing!” With that, Emanuel turned toward the kitchen, the fish he’d caught hanging limply in his grip. But between preparing the meal, he kept sneaking glances toward the two, signaling Allison to go ahead and offer some instruction.

Allison only smiled and offered no explanation.

“Your hands are too tense,” she said. She knew Kellan doubted her, but proving herself wasn’t the point. “If you follow the steps too rigidly, the result will be lifeless. You need to feel the clay, not command it. If it’s too soft, it’ll collapse. Too firm, and it’ll crack. You’ve got to find the middle ground — like coaxing it, not wrestling it.” Her words, though simple, carried a strange weight that eased the tension in the air.

Kellan made a face but followed her lead, concentrating on the clay’s shape.

Allison’s guidance, though minimal, came at just the right moments, and slowly, the lump of clay began to resemble a vase.

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He blinked, almost incredulous. “It’s actually coming together!”

Allison gave him a nod. “You’ve got the foundation, but now it needs refinement.”

She could sense where his trouble lay — his mind, always restless, fought against the patience and tranquility pottery demanded.

Yet, she hadn’t expected him to catch on so quickly with just a few tips.

Without a word, Allison picked up a carving tool and, with the grace of someone who’d done this a thousand times before, began etching into the clay. In just a few swift motions, the shape of a phoenix in flight started to emerge. Her focus was unyielding, and her usual distant demeanor seemed to intensify as she worked.

As Kellan watched her, a voice cut through his thoughts—cold, commanding.

“I’ll be in charge!”

The sound of Emanuel rushing in broke Kellan’s reverie. The older man snatched the vase from the table, his eyes widening as he inspected the delicate design.

“A phoenix rising from the ashes… born anew through fire and hardship,” Emanuel breathed. “Now that’s something special!”

Emanuel’s gaze was glued to the vase, especially the phoenix emblazoned on its surface. Every brushstroke seemed to ripple with life, filled with energy and resilience. He couldn’t help but grin like a child with a secret, completely unaware that the fish in his pot had started to burn.

Kellan, meanwhile, surveyed the vase with a look of dawning realization. He had definitely underestimated Allison.

“So, you really are Emanuel’s teacher,” Kellan said, his voice sure.

Allison didn’t confirm, but neither did she deny it. “I’ve never claimed to be.”

But Emanuel? His pride was impossible to hide. “Doesn’t matter! As far as I’m concerned, she’s my teacher!”

It was funny how life worked sometimes. When they first crossed paths, Emanuel had been teetering on the edge of a creative crisis so severe that it was almost eating away at him—literally. His hair was starting to fall out. But after a few well-placed words from Allison, and witnessing her pottery skills up close, he found that everything seemed to click into place. He was so blown away that he practically wanted to call her his teacher on the spot.

Kellan didn’t waste any time. “Would you teach my niece? Name your price. And I can throw in a place to stay. I heard you just finalized your divorce.”

“I’m good, thanks. I’m not about to be sleeping under a bridge anytime soon,” Allison replied, cool as ever.

Kellan shrugged, unbothered. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

He handed her a business card, embossed in gold. Allison glanced at it, unimpressed. Not realizing its value, she casually tucked it into her bag. “Sure, and if I end up broke and homeless, I’ll be sure to look you up.”

Emanuel, still caught up in his own world, suddenly shouted, “Enough chit-chat! Get working on that fishbowl I didn’t finish! And next time you’re here, I’ll serve you fish in it. Oh no, wait — the fish!”

He bolted toward the kitchen, panic written all over his face.

Allison chuckled softly at his frantic exit, and without missing a beat, she pulled out a sketch. She reached for a block of clay, already gauging its firmness with practiced fingers. Kellan instinctively stepped aside, positioning himself where he could watch every move.

Her hands worked the clay with ease, shaping it into a bowl in no time. Kellan found himself trying to help, mimicking the way she balanced the pressure as if it were second nature to her.

Out of the blue, Kellan broke the silence. “You still got that perfume from two years ago?”

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