Free Baby on Board by Lisa Ruff Page A

child would be a dancer, since she moved to the music so much. The baby fluttered again, a one-two punch against her stomach. Either a dancer or a soccer player.
    When the glass was hot again, she pulled the yoke back and blew a series of staccato puffs into the pipe, watching as the oblong expanded. One hand in a Kevlar mitt cupped the globe to control the shape as she blew and spun. She could just see the pattern of irregular spots where specks of metal were suspended in the walls of the vessel. In the hot, glowing glass, only her imagination could see what the final colors would be: deep red and gold flecked with silver strands. She took off the mitt and put the globe back into the oven until it was a white-hot blaze, then pushed the glass down into a sand mold. The mold formed the bottom of the piece and gave it a sharp, jagged base to contrast against the smooth sides of the bowl. She used a hand-torch to keep the neck hot and blew more air into the pipe, expanding the globe.
    As she worked, Patrick was never very far from her mind. Steve pulled a close second. Though she hadn’t seen either man for two days, she was still angry. And hurt. Kate felt a flush climb her cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature in the studio. How dare Patrick stick his nose in something that wasn’t his business. Why couldn’t he understand that it was over between them?
    When the globe reached the size she wanted, she allowed it to cool slightly, and then used a wooden mallet to break away the mold. With a dollop of hot glass, she attached a punty to the newly exposed base. She scored the neck with a jack and broke the blowpipe free with a tap of a mallet. Deftly, with smooth turns of her wrist, she kept the shape rolling and turning, this time with the punty.
    She wasn’t any happier with Steve. After Patrick’s bombshell, her so-called suitor couldn’t get away fast enough. The whole fiasco with Patrick and Steve had shaken her resolve about finding a father for her child. Maybe she should just raise the baby alone. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the male half of the species at all. Kate’s lips tightened. More heat from the torch kept the glass pliable as she worked to expand the mouth of the globe and used a wood paddle to flatten the rim.
    Her mind still on Patrick, Kate grabbed another small glob of glass, spun it out and traced it around the lip of the opening, creating a smooth bead. She rested the punty on the floor yoke and put the orb back into the oven for more heat. When she judged it hot enough, she pulled it out and twirled it sharply. The bulbous globe abruptly became a bowl. Swinging the punty as she twirled, she added a decorative wave around the lip and finished the piece.
    Molly walked in just as Kate brought the bowl upright. “You’re just in time. Give me a hand for a second, will you?”
    Molly grabbed a set of Kevlar mitts off the rack. When she had the bowl cupped in her hands, Kate tapped it off the punty and opened the annealer. Molly set it inside, where it would cool for a few days, the heat slowly dissipating until the glass hardened. Kate shut the door.
    “That was gorgeous,” Molly said. “I’ve never seen you do anything like that before.”
    “It’s a new process using a sand mold.”
    “I hope there’s more where that came from.”
    “I don’t,” Kate said sharply. “Given who inspired it.”
    “Patrick? Is that why you’re worked up?” Molly asked with a sympathetic smile. She slipped off the gloves and wiped her brow. “Patience, dear. It will all work out.”
    Kate tucked a strand of hair back into her bandanna. “I hope you’re right, but just now I’m losing hope.”
    Her aunt gave her a hug. “You’ll get your family, Kate. You just have to keep working at it.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I’ve got to go get a load of clay,” Molly said. “Do you need me to run any errands for you?”
    “No, but thanks for the pep talk.”
    “That’s my job,” Molly said