Chapter 8

Harper guided her grandfather into The Welcome Center. From the sound of all the laughter and talking spilling into the entryway, there must be a lot of people here tonight.

The Friday dinners were a staple in Sapphire Bay, a time for the community to come together and share good food and lots of stories. Benjamin enjoyed these gatherings, especially the opportunity to catch up with his old friend, Patrick Devlin. Patrick worked on the tiny homes project and had stories to tell that were as vast as the Montana sky.

As they found a spot beside Patrick, Harper glanced over and saw Owen serving meals alongside Steve. Owen's easy smile and the genuine way he interacted with the town's residents reminded her of why she liked him.

She smiled as her grandfather laughed at something Patrick said. Times like this made her realize just how important Sapphire Bay was for her granddad. The community saw him for who he was; a man who'd lived a good life, worked hard, and had contributed to the town he called home. In a bigger city, he'd just be another elderly man in a sea of faces, trying to get by as best he could.

When her granddad finished talking, she touched his arm. "I'll get us something to eat."

Benjamin looked at her and smiled. "I'll have a little of everything, especially the ribs. They look extra good tonight."

Harper joined the line. Her granddad was right. The spicy smell of the ribs was making her tummy rumble. Combined with hot potatoes, cobs of sweet corn, and fresh garden salad, it was a meal everyone would enjoy.

Owen's eyes lit up when they met hers. "Hey, Harper. How was your day?" he asked as he dished out a generous helping of ribs onto her plate.

"It was busy at the clinic," Harper replied, accepting the plate with a smile and handing him another one for her granddad. "How about you?"

"I started some new designs," Owen told her. "And Steve hasn't stopped talking about a new woodworking technique he's trying out."

Steve chuckled. "Owen's thinking about new ways he can display what he makes." He handed Owen a plate. "Why don't you have dinner with Harper? I can serve the ribs."

Owen looked at the almost full room. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. It looks as though most people are already here. I'll join you after we've served the last meal."

Harper waited for Owen to add some ribs and potatoes to his plate before moving to the salad area. "Do you enjoy helping with the Friday night dinners?"

"I do. Usually, I work in the kitchen preparing the vegetables and making sure the dishes are clean, but Mabel was short a server." Owen added some salad to Harper's plates. "It's great seeing your granddad so happy," he remarked, motioning toward Benjamin. He was smiling and nodding at something another person was saying.

"He loves coming to these dinners," Harper said. As they settled down at the table with Benjamin and Patrick, the conversation flowed comfortably, the sense of community soaking into Harper and making her glad she was here.

In between bites of his meal, Benjamin leaned over to her. "I almost forgot to tell you; a letter arrived for you today." Reaching into his pocket, he handed it to her. "I meant to give it to you before we left home."

Harper's heart skipped a beat when she looked at the envelope. The return address was from the hospital she'd worked at in New York City. She hadn't expected to hear from them, and seeing their name brought back a flood of memories.

With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. The letter was from a nurse she'd worked with in the Intensive Care Unit. They'd become friends and called each other every couple of months to see how they were doing.

It was great knowing everything was okay at the hospital, but Harper was surprised Ellie had sent her the letter.

Owen leaned closer. "Are you all right?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked into his worried eyes. "I worked with a nurse named Ellie in the ICU for a few years. A patient I looked after during the COVID-19 pandemic wants to see me."

"Do they know you've moved to Montana?"

Harper shook her head. "Ellie hasn't said anything to him, but Henry was special. We cared for him during the worst days of the pandemic." Henry's struggle had been severe. She told Owen that within a day of contracting COVID-19 he was gasping for air, his body succumbing to the merciless grip of the virus. With no other options left, the doctors placed him on a ventilator. At that stage, nine out of ten patients in the same situation were dying. "He nearly didn't make it," she whispered, the memories becoming too real.

Owen's hand rested on her arm. "It must've felt wonderful when he survived."

Harper nodded. "It was the miracle we all needed. I remember the day he could finally open his eyes and squeeze my fingers. It felt like we'd won the biggest lottery."

"Will you contact him?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Harper was silent for a moment, lost in the past. The idea of reopening that chapter of her life, of revisiting those harrowing days, was daunting. But there was also a pull, a desire to reconnect with someone who'd given her and her colleagues so much hope in a time of despair.

"I don't know," she finally said. "I'd like to know how he's doing, but another part of me wants to leave that part of my life alone."

Her granddad sent her a sad smile. "Things like that will never leave you alone, sweetheart. What you learned about yourself and the people around you will be with you forever. Find the good in what you did and hold on to that."

Harper thought about her granddad's life and the grief that had touched him in ways she could only try to understand. Carefully, she slid the note back into the envelope. If her granddad could find joy after everything that had happened, so could she. And Henry was one of the few bright spots in three years of heartbreaking grief.

"I'll call Ellie tomorrow and get Henry's phone number," she told her granddad and Owen.

Benjamin patted her hand. "That's my girl."

When Harper looked at Owen, he sent her a reassuring smile. "If I was in Henry's shoes, I'd do the same thing. You saved his life and that's something to celebrate."

Benjamin cleared his throat. "And so is Kathleen's huckleberry crumble."

The twinkle in her granddad's eyes centered all the turbulent thoughts racing through Harper's mind. He was distracting her from a meeting that could give her nightmares or heal her damaged heart.

Owen stoodat the center of his studio with Harper beside him. The gentle hum of the furnace filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the long hours he'd been working since they'd last met.

The week had gone by quickly as he'd prepared for the upcoming exhibition. The success at the festival had been a welcome surprise, but it also meant he had a lot of work to do.

Today, he was showing Harper how to make a glass bowl. After he'd taken a gather of molten glass from the furnace, he smiled at her. "This," he said as he rotated the blowpipe, "is where it all begins. The glass needs to be just the right temperature. As it cools, it becomes less workable, which means timing is everything."

Harper watched intently, her curiosity shining in her eyes as she took in every detail. "And rotating the blowpipe keeps the glass evenly heated?"

"That's right. I keep reheating the glass in the glory hole to keep it at the right consistency. Too cool, and it could crack; too hot, and it loses shape. It's a delicate balance."

He led her through the next steps, showing her the workbench where most of the shaping took place. "Once it's the right temperature, I roll the glass along the steel bench to create the shape I want."

As Owen continued to shape the glass, he glanced at Harper. "Did you call the man you looked after in New York?"

Harper took a deep breath, her eyes drifting from the glass to Owen. "I spoke to Henry at the beginning of the week. We're meeting next Friday."

"How do you feel about that?"

"It's... a lot to process."

Owen could hear the mix of emotions in her voice. He placed the pipe in the glory hole to reheat the glass. "Revisiting that part of your life is a big step. But you're not the same person you were then."

Harper's smile was tinged with sadness. "I keep telling myself it's just coffee, just catching up. But it's more than that. It's facing a part of my past that I left behind for a reason."

Owen returned to the workbench and nodded. Carefully, he turned the pipe and gently blew into it. "The past made you who you are. You made a difference then and you're making a difference now."

Harper watched the glass expand and take shape. "I guess you're right. But it's hard to look back and not feel overwhelmed."

Owen picked up another tool. "I could go with you if it would make it easier."

Harper shook her head. "Granddad said the same thing, but I'll be okay."

She watched, fascinated, as he showed her a technique called ‘punting', transferring the piece to a new rod to work on the opening of the bowl. "Doing this allows me to open up the bowl and finish the shape."

Harper leaned against the table. "It must be impossible to make two identical bowls."

Owen kept working. "Even if I tried to make two bowls the same, I couldn't." When he was happy with the shape, he carefully placed the finished piece into the annealing oven to slowly cool it and stop any cracking. Taking off his gloves, he wiped his brow with his forearm. "Meeting Henry is a lot like what we're doing now. You're revisiting a heated moment in your past and letting it reshape into something you can handle now."

Harper smiled. "A philosopher, a police officer, and an artist. Sapphire Bay's lucky to have you living here."

Owen laughed. "You should tell my family that. They can't wait for me to find my own place."

"Have you spoken to Pastor John? He might know if there's something you can rent."

"I spoke to him a few weeks ago. A cottage on Anchor Lane might be available soon." Owen knew he was lucky to even see the cottage. With the lack of affordable rental accommodation in Sapphire Bay, it was difficult to find anywhere to live. "Once the exhibition's over, I'll ask him about it."

"That's a good idea." Harper looked around the studio. "Will you have enough things to display?"

"Ben's happy to lend me some of the items I've sent to the Christmas shop. Between those pieces and what's here, I should be okay. I'm glad you're helping me."

Harper grinned. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Owen returned her smile and gestured toward the furnace. "Are you ready to make a glass bowl?"

"I'll do my best," she told him. "But it won't be half as beautiful as yours."

"I've had a lot more time to practice." As they moved to the furnace, Owen guided her through the steps. A rush of adrenaline went straight to his heart when Harper's bowl took shape. It was a moment of pure creation, a chance to mold something beautiful from the chaos, a lot like she hoped to do with her past.

Whatever happened over the next few days could change her life. For Harper's sake, he hoped it brought her closure and a sense of relief. And if it made her decide to stay in Sapphire Bay, he'd be even happier.