By the time Kenzie brought their check, he was ready to get out of there. They’d killed the vibe by turning the conversation from sitcoms to their families and businesses, and heading back to the campground would be a good reset. Maybe he’d spend some time outdoors, splitting wood or trimming weeds or anything that required physical effort.
Then, as she put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, she said the words that reeled him right back in.
“I want to see your photography portfolio.”
“You just click through, like this...” Hannah smiled to herself, but leaned sideways so Rob could reach around her and show her how to click through the slideshow of photos as if she was new to computers.
They were in the store now, since he did actually have to open it, so she was in one of the chairs with his laptop on her lap. She’d been amused when he went through and tweaked his notification and do not disturb settings before handing it to her, though. She’d spent enough time around the family to suspect he was afraid embarrassing messages from his family would pop up.
Hannah looked at the first photo in the slideshow, which was an action shot of Stella in the air, her body twisting to catch a stick. In the background, slightly out of focus, was Brian, his hands on his hips as he watched his dog.
“It’s not a portfolio, exactly,” Rob said, and she realized he was still standing over her. “Like, not a professional one. It’s just some of my favorite photographs and the ones I think are the best.”
“So it’s a portfolio.” She smiled at him. “Don’t minimize your work, Rob. And stop hovering. Either pull up a chair and look at them with me, or go find something to do.”
Rob hesitated, running his palms over his hips, and she realized he was actually nervous about her looking at the photographs. He cared what she thought of them, enough to doubt whether he wanted to be next to her while she clicked through them. But she also knew if he went and tried to find busywork to do, he’d still be focused on her reaction.
Finally, he dragged the other chair over so he could sit next to her. It was a lot better than having him staring at her face, trying to judge whether she liked each picture or not, and she clicked through to the next shot.
It was a close-up shot of an older woman’s hand clutching an obviously well-loved wooden spoon, folding eggs into flour in a blue mixing bowl. The color adjustments were amazing, with the yellow yolks and the blue bowl popping against the glimpse of a battered butcher-block counter.
“That’s Gram,” he said simply.
He didn’t have to say more. She recognized the photo for what it was—a simple moment in time that captured the essence of his grandmother so simply that hopefully many, many years in the future, when she was gone, the photo would evoke such strong memories of her, he’d almost be able to feel her presence.
She clicked again and there was a photo of a wooden covered bridge. It was artfully framed and the next two—different angles of the same bridge—were the same.
“New England Photography 101,” he joked. “Covered bridges are mandatory. And loons.”
“There’s going to be a red barn and a moose in here, too, right?”
He chuckled. “Of course. Still chasing the elusive moose-standing-next-to-a-red-barn shot, though.”
With each photograph that passed, Hannah grew more impressed by his talent. He not only had an eye for composition—which was vital, of course—but for capturing the feeling, and she was no photographer, but she assumed that was the hard part. He had an obvious gift and she was glad expanding his potential was a priority for him.
It also seemed very like him to not have them sorted into categorized folders. Whether family members or cool trees or animals or artsy takes, they were all mixed together and she never knew what was going to come up next.
Then she got to the photograph she hadn’t even realized she’d been waiting for until it filled the screen. The foundation of the Elizabeth Whaley house, taken from the low vantage point with the gnarled trees in the background.
“Wow,” she said. “I watched you take this one, and it was definitely worth lying on the ground for. It came out amazing.”
“I’m pretty proud of that one, I have to admit.”
“Because of the angle, the trees and the stones really frame the void where the house should be.” She leaned closer to the screen. “I mean, that might not be what you were going for and I might lean that way because Elizabeth disappearing is the reason I was out there in the first place, but it really captures the feeling of lost history.”
“Hold on to the laptop for a sec because I’m going to kiss you and I don’t want it to fall on the floor.”
She laughed, but then he did lean over and capture her mouth with his. Clutching the edges of the computer, she held on to it throughout the kiss, and maybe for a few seconds longer.
“Okay,” he said. “You can keep going now.”
There were several other photos of the foundation, and then she clicked through again and her hand froze over the touch pad.
It was a photo of her. This picture of the foundation was taken from a farther distance than the others, from the back, and she was the focal point. She was standing inside the rectangle of stones, taking note of the pile of smaller stones that were almost buried by earth and moss in the center. It was probably the fireplace and she’d imagined Elizabeth Whaley standing in that very spot, stirring a pot of stew or heating a pot of water to wash with.
And then the woman had simply vanished from history, without so much as a notation as to what happened to her.
Rob had captured that moment somehow. Hannah could see the awe and reverence she’d felt in that moment on her face, and yet her hands were balled into fists at her side by the frustration that across the years, women were so easily erased from history and forgotten.
