Summer Wind

Summer Wind

Chapter 16 The Art of Fire


The slushy, sloppy snow of December had turned into a full-blown ice storm in January. Ice coated the tree branches with crystal fingers, and the rock salt was proving ineffective on the frozen sidewalks. Jameson kept the motor running as she waited in front of Warren’s house. Rubbing her hands together, she wished for the tenth time that she had remembered to bring her mittens. Peering impatiently through the foggy side window, Jameson searched the sidewalk for Warren. The best part about having Warren in the car was that it didn’t matter that the heater in the 1966 Mustang never worked.

The two of them had spent a lot of time together over winter break. Warren had seemed at first unwilling to let Jameson out of his sight. He had even started planning small outings for Jameson, Magenta, and Layla. It was slightly disturbing how knowledgeable Warren was of all of the craft shops and boutiques in town.

Since school had started back, it had seemed that Warren was making sure that Jameson didn’t have any free time to squander. Her weeknights were taken up with homework and extra-curricular activities. Her weekends were spent with Warren and his small enclave of friends.

She could have told him that his efforts were really unnecessary. Jameson was determined to make sure that she did not repeat her earlier mistakes. She now realized how many others were affected by her actions and decisions.

Warren rapped on the side window, startling Jamie out of her reverie. She leaned across the seat to unlock the door. Jamie still couldn’t get used to being able to lock the passenger side of the car. Warren had it fixed for her as a Christmas present.

Warren opened the door, but didn’t climb in. Instead, he leaned down, frowning. “There’s a weather advisory out. The news shows are advising against driving today. They’re saying the roads are too icy, and it’s going to start snowing again.”

“I’m betting all of those news broadcasters drove into work today. If they can drive, I’m pretty sure I can drive, too.” Jameson tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. “And, besides, it’s not going to snow again.”

“They’re all more experienced drivers than you are.” Warren made no move towards entering the car. “And, it is going to snow.”

“Warren, I’m not missing this exhibition today. I signed up more than a month ago.” Jameson glared in his direction. “Do you have some sort of inside track to the weather forecast?” Jamie eyed Warren suspiciously.

“It’s called the Weather Channel, and it’s not a good idea to travel today.” Warren still didn’t move.

“We’re losing time here. Either get in the car, or get out of the way,” Jameson huffed.

“It’s a two hour drive in good weather, Jamie. It’ll be even longer today.”

“Which is why we need to leave now,” Jameson explained, less than patiently.

“This isn’t a good idea. The temperature’s supposed to start dropping in the afternoon, and then the snow will start. We shouldn’t be going.” Door still open, Warren waited for her reply.

“Hey, I’ve got a good idea. You go back in the house…” Jamie paused.

“And, what?” Warren prompted.

“That’s it. You go back in the house, and I’ll go to Laytonsville.” Jamie explained.

Warren climbed into the car, slamming the door with slightly more force than necessary.

“No reason to get huffy,” Jameson pulled into traffic, almost clipping the rear edge of a city transit bus in the process.

“I still can’t believe someone was gullible enough to give you a driver’s license.” Warren shook his head, in disbelief.

“Man, I knew there was something that I forgot,” Jamie deadpanned.

“What!” Warren said, startled.

“Just kidding,” Jamie replied, making a silent note to herself to watch her speed once she got on the interstate.

“I should be driving,” Warren tried to get comfortable in the low slung bucket seats.

Jamie leaned over to look at Warren’s side of the car. She scrutinized the dashboard carefully, then peered down at the floorboard underneath his feet.

“What are you doing?” Warren asked, mystified.

“Nope, no steering wheel or brakes on your side of the car. I guess I’ll have to drive.” Jamie watched Warren’s reaction out of the corner of her eye.

“Smart ass,” he retaliated. Arms crossed, he stared out the window sullenly.

“Stop being such a man. My driving is just fine. Pick out some music to put on.” Jameson stretched one arm backwards to snag the pink scaled CD case from the rear floorboards of the car.

“Hey, both hands on the wheel,” Warren directed in a panicked tone. Jamie smiled as she noticed him searching for his seatbelt.

The next few hours flew by quickly, and despite a minor incident involving some downed power lines, and a few loose cattle, Jamie and Warren arrived at their destination unscathed.

The steel and glass structure appeared deserted and dead against the grey January morning. It certainly didn’t fit with the building that Jamie had pictured in her mind when she had heard its name, The Art of Fire Institute. The Hot Shop Amphitheater, a hot glass studio, and cold glass studio were all enclosed in an imposing 90-foot tall cone that towered over Jamie and Warren as they stood in the parking lot. Definitely cold and imposing, but then in this light it would be hard for any building to appear warm and inviting. Jamie scanned the morning skies and hoped that Warren was wrong about the snow. She would never hear the end of it if he was right.

They had arrived just in time. The seminar was just starting. “Glassblowing Through the Ages”. When Jamie had heard about the one day class being offered at the institute, she had decided to sign up for the course. The artistic side of the class really appealed to her. The technical aspects of manipulating melted glass had intrigued Warren and he had agreed to join her.

Warren and Jamie quickly signed in and quietly slid into the back of the group gathered in the huge, high ceilinged studio.

“The first evidence of man-made glass occurs in Mesopotamia in the Late-Third Millennium B.C. It was a time-consuming process in which the glass was hot-formed around rough cores of mud. However, according to the Roman historian Pliny, Phoenician merchants actually discovered glass in the region of Syria around 5000 B.C., when their cooking fires melted blocks of nitrate that mixed with the sands along the shores of the River Belus.” The guide explained as he led the large group through the institute’s display room and back into the hot glass studio.

“Each furnace reaches temperatures of up to 2,400 degrees Fahrenheit,” their leader continued.

Jamie’s attention began to wander as their escort began a technical explanation of the melting process. “Man, I’d hate to see their electrical bill.”

Warren shushed her, and to Jamie’s annoyance, he moved closer to the front of the group.

Her attention was recaptured when later in the tour, their guide directed them into the room containing a collection of free-formed glass displays. Created by lightening strikes on sandy beaches, the shapes were beautiful and slightly surreal. Products of nature, free of human tampering, they were more strikingly impressive than the sampling of artistic glass statues that the group had just viewed in the previous room. “They’re beautiful. To be created by a totally random act of nature makes them even more remarkable.” Jamie stared in awe until Warren interrupted her reverie.

“You know, lightening strikes are not totally random. There’s a set number of variables that must be present for a lightening strike to occur.” He leaned over her, resting his chin against her shoulder.

“Kill joy,” Jamie glanced sideways at him and smiled. “Come on. Let’s hit the gift shop and then it’s time to go.”

When Jamie and Warren finally emerged from the institute, small bags of purchases in their hands, there were a few flakes floating down from the afternoon sky. Jamie studiously ignored them and began walking towards the mustang.

“What’s this? Could this be …, oh, I don’t know…. Snow?!” Jamie heard Warren behind her. She realized he had stopped on the sidewalk and was waiting for her to reply. She closed her eyes and cursed silently.

Refusing to look in his direction, Jamie continued across the parking lot. She finally heard Warren step off of the sidewalk and begin to follow her to the car. When she reached the driver’s side door, she began to dig in her pocket for her keys.

“It’s snowing. You should let me drive.” Warren leaned against the roof of the car and watched her.

Jamie noticed that the snowflakes never touched Warren. Whether on purpose, or unconsciously, he was radiating just enough heat that the flakes were melting before they actually touched him. The tiny drops of water left behind were leaving a fine mist of moisture on his skin. Jamie thought that must be even colder than the snow, but as she watched, the beads of moisture evaporated. The heat from Warren’s skin turned the droplets into steam. Maybe it was cooling. Maybe a day like today was refreshing to Warren, like autumn days were to Jamie.

Jamie shook herself out of her reverie. “This does not count as snow, and there’s no reason for you to drive.” She unlocked the door and climbed in, grimacing. It was going to be a long drive home.

“This is just the beginning. It’s going to get worse. You should put the radio on the weather station and let me drive.” Warren slid into his seat, watching Jamie pointedly.

Jamie pulled out her driver’s license and studied it intently. “Nope, according to this, I wasn’t born yesterday, so you might as well give it up. You’re not driving.”


To Be Continued…