Paul quietly made his way to the door and looked in. There she was, bent over his potter's wheel and kicking it's base in a steady rhythm to maintain a good speed on the wheel. Lynnell was throwing a small vase about 10 inches high. She had narrowed the neck and was flaring the mouth. Paul watched in quiet amazement as she brought the slippery wet clay out to the diameter of the vase, picked up a wooden shaper and began to cut away the extra clay around what would become the base of the vase. When she had finished she allowed the wheel to stop and sat back on the stool to examine her creation. Thinking that she was finished, Paul started to open the door only to stop as she reached out to the vase and began to refine the top rim. Using her fingers as guides, she slowly turned the wheel with her foot to complete the fluting of the vases' mouth. This time when she finished, she sat back and giggled. Paul reached out and pushed the door open. She heard him, and to his horror, reached out and smashed the vase down into a lump of wet clay on the wheel. Lynnell spun around, terror in her eyes as she began apologizing for having entered his shop with out permission. "I'm so sorry; I couldn't help it. I woke up early and decided to look around," her words tumbled out in a rush. "I saw the wheel and had to see if I could still throw a pot." Several smears of clay on her clothes and a smudge on her forehead bore silent witness to the effort and the time she had expended.
Paul was aghast. Not by the violation of his space, but at the unwarranted destruction of the vase she had just thrown. Stunned, he could but look back and forth from the lump of clay to the expression on her face. Several seconds passed. A tear rolling down the girl's cheek finally freed his tongue. "My God!" he exclaimed, "Why in the world did you destroy the vase? It was beautiful. A classic vase with simple form and shape." Lynnell sniffed, wiped her eyes and again apologized for being there without permission. "Stop that right now," Paul said with a grin. "I'm not upset about you being in here. You can use anything you want while you're here. I'm serious, young lady. I want you to feel at home here. You don't need permission for anything, understand?"
Lynnell looked at Paul and started to smile. She said in a burst of enthusiasm, "Oh Paul, you're so kind. Thank you for not being angry." Paul took her by the hand and led her into the sunlight saying, "Tell me, Where did you learn to throw pots?" "In school, I learned in a ceramics class last year. The teacher said I had a real talent for it, but with all the trouble at home, I never had a chance to do very much," she explained.
They entered the house and Paul led her into his room. He let go of her hand and going to his dresser, he reached in and pulled out a tee shirt still in the package. Handing it to her he said, "Go put this on and bring me your dirty clothes, I'll throw them in the wash. You really need to have something else to wear." He turned her around and gently pushed her towards the guest room to change. "I'll go start breakfast." He turned and headed for the kitchen. Lynnell entered the kitchen several minutes later carrying her dirty clothes. Paul turned around when he heard her and began to laugh. The tee shirt hung on her like a sack; the sleeves reaching to the middle of her forearms, the bottom brushing her calves. Lynnell giggled and said, "I think it's a little big for me." Paul thought for a moment and said, "The road down should be dry enough this afternoon. What do you say we go into town and get you some more clothes. You really need more than one set. Didn't you think of that when you ran away?" Lynnell frowned and looked at Paul a moment before explaining that her things had been stolen in St. Louis three days before. "Whoever it was, picked up my back pack while I was in the restroom at the bus station. The only thing I had left was what was in my pockets. I had over two hundred dollars in the backpack, I only had thirty dollars in my pocket." A tear coursed down her cheek as she remembered the frustration and anger at her loss. Paul nodded his head in understanding and replied, "We'll get you fixed up this afternoon, OK? But for right now, let's eat."
Lynnell sat at the table and Paul served up breakfast. While they ate they discussed pottery and ceramics, bantering back and forth about techniques, styles, glazes and kiln temperatures. She was pleased that her ideas coincided with his. He was amazed by the knowledge she had acquired in one semester's study. By the time they'd finished breakfast a bond had been created by their love of the clay and the beauty that could be brought forth from it. After eating, they returned to his workshop to talk and show each other what they could do.
The sun had crawled across the top of the sky and was making it's slow dive towards the horizon when Paul, stretching to relieve a kink in his back, noticed the lengthening shadows that were spreading themselves across the pool. "Wow!" he exclaimed, "we've let the whole day slip by." They covered the wet clay with plastic and placed the pieces they had finished on shelves to dry. After washing up at the sink, Paul said, "Let's get changed and head to town. We've got some shopping to do." As they started for the house Lynnell stopped and looked at the pool. Turning to Paul she asked, "Can I take a quick dip first?" "No time right now, but you can when we get back," he said without slowing down. They entered the house and Paul got her clothes from the dryer and handed them to her as they headed for the bedrooms: Paul to change, Lynnell to dress. When he returned to the living room Lynnell was putting on her sandals. They made their way back down the still slippery road and headed for the nearest mall.
Paul parked the car and took out his wallet. Pulling out three one-hundred dollar bills, he told Lynnell to get herself some clothes and that he would meet her in the food court in an hour. Lynnell looked at Paul in wide-eyed wonder and said, "Paul, I can't take this money, it's not right. Why would you give me this much money when you hardly know me?" Paul grinned and closing her hand with his over the bills said, "Take the money and don't argue. You are going to earn every penny of it and more. I'm going to put you to work for me in the ceramics shop. You are, as of right now, my summer employee." still not quite understanding what was going on, she pressed Paul about his intentions. "What do you mean by summer employee?" Paul got out of the car still grinning, mostly at his own cleverness and told her, "Just what I said. For the rest of the summer you will work for me in the ceramics shop. And if you think you will have an easy summer, you're in for a rude surprise" Lynnell blinked her eyes several times trying to comprehend it all and slowly, ever so slowly a smile began to spread across her face. "Are you asking me to stay? You are,, aren't you? Oh Paul; thank you, thank you, thank you! I had nowhere to go and didn't know what to do. This is great!" She got out of the car, ran to Paul and threw her arms around his waist, squeezing him with all her might. "Hey, ease up there, you're not supposed to break the boss's back in the first five minutes of being hired." Paul picked her up and spun around with her several times before setting her back on the ground. "Now, Ms. New Employee," he said, "let's get you some clothes and stuff." He released her, took her by the hand and headed for the mall entrance.
For the next hour and a half, they bounced from store to store; buying jeans here, tops there, shoes in the store beyond that. They hit the lingerie shop for bras and panties. Rather, she did while Paul stayed outside, too embarrassed to accompany her. Each carrying several packages, they wandered along the concourse looking in windows and commenting on the displays.
Paul stopped before an optical shop and asked when she had last had her eyes examined. When her reply didn't suit him he pulled her inside and had them checked. Lynnell was surprised to learn she needed glasses. Paul helped her pick out some frames and they went to the food court to eat dinner while the glasses were being prepared. When they finished eating, Paul looked at his watch, gathered their packages and led the way down the concourse. Lynnell was sent to the drug store with instructions to purchase what she would need. Bag in hand, she returned and they continued on their merry way. Suddenly, Paul stopped and turning to Lynnell exclaimed, "We forgot something." Quizzically, she replied,, "I can't imagine what,, Paul; you've practically bought me the mall. All that's left is to pick up the glasses." Paul, struggling to maintain as innocent a face as possible said, "Gee, I thought you wanted to take a dip in the pool." He fought hard to suppress a grin and wasn't entirely successful. Lynnell, taken by surprise once again, laughed and nodded her head and said, "I guess I need a swimsuit, don't I?" As they headed for a sportswear shop, Paul took her share of the packages and said that he would pick up her glasses while she got a suit. "You'd better hurry," he added, "The mall will be closing soon. I'll meet you by the exit in twenty minutes." They arrived at the exit at the same time and returned to the car loaded with packages. After putting them in the back seat they headed back to the house, arriving just before eleven.
"It's getting pretty chilly Lynnell," Paul observed as they carried packages into the house and towards her room. "Are you sure you want to get in the pool?" From behind him, Lynnell's voice took on a verbal pout. "Paaauul, you said I could." And added in an exaggerated, little girl gush, "Besides, I wanna show you my new swimsuit." Paul fought to keep from laughing but it was a losing battle. He dropped the packages on her bed and feeling just as playful as she, said, "Suit yourself, m'lady, I shall await you in my office." He turned and had taken three steps out the door before he heard her groan as she caught the pun. "Punny Paul, very punny." Her words floated after him as he turned the corner. Following his usual routine he was surprised to find an E-mail from his lawyer, Mike James. It's three words, 'CALL ME ASAP." Sent his hand to the phone. Mike answered on the third ring. "Mike, it's Paul. I got the message. What's up?" "Glad you finally decided to call. I've got a preliminary report back from the detective. It seems that you've got a near genius on your hands." Too shocked to respond, Paul sat silently waiting for Mike to continue. "There was no missing-persons report filed until three days ago and it was filed by a teacher at the girl's high school. Paul, the school is for gifted students. Very gifted students. As far as the girl's mother is concerned, she never filed a report of the girl being gone. The mother has spent the last day at police headquarters answering questions. It looks to me like they suspect she had something to do with the girl's disappearance." Paul let out a low whistle and said,, "It looks like I've got myself in the middle of it, Mike. I told the girl she could stay here and work for me in the shop for the summer." Paul was about to continue when he heard Lynnell approaching the room saying, "Ready or not, here I come." Paul quickly said, "I'll call you back." And hung up the phone. His mind raced with the implications.
"Ready or not, here I come," Lynnell called out again as she entered the room. She lifted her chin, assumed the haughty, bored demeanor of a fashion model and strutted towards Paul. Crossing her feet over each other as she had seen models do at fashion shows, she approached Paul and stopped, placed one hand on a hip, shifted her weight to one leg and turned around. She held that position for a few seconds then shifted her weight to the other leg and turn back around. Thunderstruck by what he had just learned, and the complications he foresaw, Paul hardly noticed her entrance. When she asked "What do you think?" He mumbled, "That's nice." And continued to dwell on the future. Lynnell was devastated. She had picked out the most revealing bikini the store had only to have it go unnoticed by the one person she had wanted to impress. Feeling herself on the verge of tears she turned away, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the blow to her ego as she trudged out of the room. Paul, barely aware of her departure, never heard the kitchen door close as she went outside.
Paul was in a quandary. He knew he had to tell Lynnell about her mother's predicament, yet he didn't know what her reaction would be. From what she had told him it was likely that she would do nothing to help her mother, nothing that would endanger her own situation, and nothing that would force her to return home. As he was trying to figure out some way to help, a distant scream brought him to his feet and sent him running for the kitchen door. The situation was all too apparent when he looked through the window. A mountain lion was pacing back and forth on the far side of the pool, it's eyes never leaving Lynnell treading water in the center. "Paul, Help me! Please, dear God, help me!" She screamed, unaware that Paul had heard her and was near at hand. Paul ran into the laundry and ripped open a cabinet. He took out a large-barreled pistol that looked like something from a science fiction movie; a large cylinder stuck out its side and a strange pipe pointed upwards. The weapon appeared both bizarre and deadly.
Paul came out the door with a roar, trying to get the cat's attention. The cat turned its' head towards him, laid its ears flat and screamed in rage at the man's intrusion on its' hoped-for midnight snack. Paul approached the pool at a trot. As he neared its concrete apron he raised the weapon and fired. Phutt! The pistol belched a gassy hiss and a bright green blotch appeared on the cat's tender flank. The cougar literally bounced into the air screaming in pain and confusion at the attack. It landed facing Paul and turned its head to sniff and lick at the source of it's discomfort. Phutt! Phutt! The pistol gasped twice more, green blotches appearing on the animal's neck and side. The big cat screamed again, spun completely around and bounded away into the forest to find a meal that was not so reluctant to being eaten.
"You can get out now," Paul told Lynnell when the cat was out of sight. It was only then that he noticed several long, bloody lines down the center of her back as she looked toward the woods where the beast had disappeared. Lynnell turned at the sound of his voice and struggled to make her way to the edge of the pool, trails of red staining the water in her wake. Paul set the gun on a chair and picked up the towel the girl had left there before walking to the edge of the pool to help her out. With the tattered remains of her bikini top dangling between her breasts, Lynnell raised her hands to Paul. Taking her hands in his, he lifted her upwards and swung her to the edge. Lynnell gasped in pain as he took the towel from his shoulder and wrapped it around her. In utter disregard for her state of undress, she threw her arms around Paul's waist and began sobbing. Careful to avoid the level of the marks on her back, Paul held her around the shoulders with one arm and stroked her hair with the other hand while he whispered words of reassurance and sympathy into her ear. After several minutes, Paul eased her arms from around his waist and asked "Can you walk? We need to get inside so I can see what the cat did to your back." She looked up at Paul and nodded yes. Paul pulled the corners of the towel together in front of her and put them in her hand while leading her to the door, never once removing his arm from her shoulder.
Paul turned on the bright fluorescent kitchen lights as they entered, pushed the door closed with his foot and told her to climb onto the kitchen table and lay face down. When she was settled he gently removed the towel to reveal four bloody parallel lines stretching from between her shoulders to just above her hips. As gently as possible, Paul checked the depth of the scratches and found that they had barely broken the skin. "I'll be right back," he told her while heading to the bathroom for his first aid kit. When he returned, Lynnell was half twisted around, looking over her shoulder in an attempt to see her wounds. "Lay down and keep still," he ordered as he set several items down next to her on the table. She turned back around, laid her head on her hands and asked, "Hey, why didn't the lion die when you shot it? I never saw green blood before." "This house is on National Park land and it's against the law to kill the animals that live here," he explained. "The only defensive weapon the forest rangers will let me have is that paint ball gun. It's in the agreement I signed when I offered to refurbish and maintain the old logging camp that was once here. The cat wasn't harmed by the paint ball strikes, and the paint will wash off in the next rain. I'll have to call the rangers in the morning and let them know about the cat. They'll try to capture it and move it deeper into the mountains." He leaned over and placed a rolled-up washcloth in front of her face. "Put this between your teeth while I clean up these scratches. I'll be as gentle as I can, but it's going to hurt." She took the wash cloth and bit down on it. Paul proceeded to clean her wounds with peroxide and gauze, then squeezed an antibacterial ointment into each scratch and taped telfa pads over them. After pronouncing the operation successful Paul helped Lynnell off the table and draped the towel around her neck so that her breasts were covered by its ends. He then lead her into the living room, poured her a small sherry and handing it to her said, "Drink up, honey; it will help you sleep." Lynnell's head jerked sharply around towards him at the word 'honey' but she said nothing, realizing it was just a figure of speech. She took the glass and drained it, her head giving an involuntary shake as she swallowed it in one gulp. Handing the glass back to Paul, she stepped close to him, put her arms around his waist and raising herself onto her toes, gently kissed him on the chin. She looked into his eyes and with a voice filled with emotion said, "Oh Paul, you've saved my life for a second time in two days. How can I ever thank you enough?" Paul looked deeply into the violet wells of her eyes, kissed her forehead and said, "I could do no less." He kissed her on top of her head and too filled with emotion to trust eye contact, whispered, "Go to bed now and get some sleep." He gently turned her towards the hall and prodded her onward for a well-earned rest.