But he stayed where he was, and remained silent, watching Jo set up her shot.
He thought he knew what she was after. The play of light on the water, the shadows of trees on the dark surface, the faint breath of mist just fading. A small, intimate miracle. And the way the river curved, just beyond, Nathan thought. The way it disappeared around that bend where the grass was high and wet and the trees thick made one wonder what could be seen, if you only walked on.
When he saw the doe step out to the left, he stepped forward quietly and crouched behind her. She jolted when he laid a hand on her shoulder, so he squeezed.
“Ssh. To the left,” he murmured near her ear. “Ten o’clock.”
Though her heart had leaped and pounded, Jo shifted the camera. When she focused on the doe, she took a steadying breath and waited.
She caught the doe, head lifted, scenting the air. Then again her shutter clicked as the deer scanned the river and looked across directly at the two humans, crouched and still. Her arms began to ache as seconds passed into minutes. But she didn’t move, unwilling to risk losing a shot. The reward came when the doe picked her way gracefully through the grass and the yearling slipped out of the trees and joined her at the verge to drink.
Light slanted down in dreamy white shafts that slid like liquid through the faint, swimming mist, and the deers’ tongues sent ripples spreading soft and slow over the dark water.
She would underexpose, just a bit, she thought, to accent that otherworldly aura rather than go for the crisp clarity of reality. The prints should look enchanted, with the faintest of fairy-tale blurs.
She didn’t lower her camera until she’d run out of film, and even then she remained silent, watching while the deer meandered downriver and around the bend.
“Thanks. I might have missed them.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
She turned her head, had to will herself not to jerk back. She hadn’t realized he was quite that close, or that his hand still made warm connection with her shoulder. “You move quietly, Nathan. I never heard you.”
“You were pretty absorbed. Did you get the shot you were working on before the deer?”
“We’ll see.”
“I’ve been taking some shots myself. Old hobby.”
“Natural that it would be. It’d be in your blood.”
He didn’t care for the sound of that and shook his head. “No, I don’t have a passion for it. Just an amateur’s interest. And a lot of equipment.”
She never knew whether it was easier to speak of such losses, or say nothing. So she said nothing.
“In any case,” he continued, “I’ve got all the professional equipment now, and a very minor skill.” He smiled at her. “Not like yours.”
“How do you know I have any skill when you haven’t seen my work?”
“Excellent question. I could say the opinion comes from watching you work just now. You have the patience, the silent grace, the stillness. Stillness is an attractive quality.”
“Maybe, but I’ve been still long enough.” She started to rise, but he shifted his hand from her shoulder to her elbow and drew her up with him. “I don’t want to keep you from your walk.”
“Jo Ellen, you keep brushing me off, I’m going to get a complex.” She looked more rested, he thought. There was a little color in her cheeks—but that could have been brought on by annoyance. He smiled and lifted the single-lens reflex camera that hung around her neck. “I’ve got this model.”
“Do you?” Remembering his upbringing, she stopped herself from tugging the camera away from him. “As I said, it would be hard for you not to have some interest in photography. Was your father disappointed that you didn’t follow in his f-steps?”
“No.” Nathan continued to study the Nikon, remembering his father patiently instructing him on aperture, field of vision. “My parents never wanted me to be anything but what I wanted to be. Anyway, Kyle made his living with a camera.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Kyle was dead too, she remembered abruptly and, without thinking, touched a hand to Nathan’s. “Look, if it’s a tender spot, there’s no need to poke at it.”
“You can’t ignore it either.” Nathan shrugged his shoulders. “Kyle based himself in Europe—Milan, Paris, London. He did a lot of fashion photography.”
“It’s an art of its own.”
“Sure. And you take pictures of rivers.”
“Among other things.”
