Nate pulled the door open—and stared.
The man on the other side, likely younger than Nate and wearing a uniform, looked back at him, confused. “Is this the photography studio?” He glanced up at the sign, uncertain.
“Yes.” Nate’s voice came out strangled. He stepped back and opened the door further, gesturing for the man to come inside. “I’ll be— Excuse me a moment.”
And without waiting for an answer, he turned and grabbed his camera to make the man think his sudden disappearance to the darkroom had something to do with his work. Inside the darkroom, he shut the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes against the darkness.
Breathe, Harper. It was easier in here, away from the uniform that Nate himself had worn for so many years. He hadn’t seen it since he’d left the Dakota Territory. And seeing it now . . . the memories had come crashing around him like boulders during an avalanche. He couldn’t control them, couldn’t stop them, couldn’t do anything exceptremember.
His breath shuddered in and out as he opened his eyes and stared into the black of the darkroom. The screams, the roar of gunfire, the blood, all of it slowly fell back to where he’d kept it since returning. Far away from his new life. Far away from Ruthann.
“Mr. Harper, sir?” The younger man’s voice came from outside the door.
Nate swallowed and forced himself to stand up straight. Running a hand across his face, he paused and then opened the door. Everything was all right. This soldier simply wanted his photograph made for his family before he went away to join the Army. “I apologize. I had a plate I needed to remove immediately. Would you like to begin?”
The session moved along quickly, and after the man left, Nate locked the door and sat on the settee. He leaned back, utterly spent, as if he’d just run for miles instead of standing in one room and taking photographs.
And that was where Ruthann found him when she came downstairs.
“Nate? Are you well?” She sat beside him on the settee and tilted her head as she looked at him in concern. She held something clasped in her hands.
He raised his head, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine. I apologize for not coming upstairs sooner. What have you got?” He nodded at her hands.
The corners of her lips raised in a sly smile. “Just a little something I thought you might like. Itisyour birthday, after all.”
Nate blinked. He hadn’t told her. Perhaps she’d spoken with Stuart. Or . . . she’d remembered. It was possible. After all, he knew hers like it was his own.
“I’m sorry, I remembered the day, and I thought you might like a small celebration. Just the two of us,” she added quickly, for which he was thankful. He couldn’t imagine summoning the energy he would need for a larger group of people right now, not after nearly succumbing to the memories less than an hour ago.
“Thank you,” he said, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. “I didn’t expect you to remember.” He glanced at her hands again, curious.
She smiled and opened them to reveal a cornbread muffin. But it wasn’t just any cornbread muffin; it was dotted with flecks of green.
“Peppers,” he said, his stomach rumbling at the very thought.
“I remembered how much you liked that cornbread with the spicy peppers that Mama made sometimes.” She held the muffin out to him.
Nate took it, nearly salivating as he bit into it. He closed his eyes. It was just as good as he remembered, but even better. Whether that was because it had been so long since he’d had one, or because Ruthann had perfected her mother’s recipe, he didn’t know. “I could eat ten more of these.”
She laughed. “Well, there are eleven more upstairs. Along with chicken cooked with lemons, buttered mashed potatoes, and baked apples.”
All of his favorite foods. It was a good thing he’d shoved the rest of the cornbread into his mouth, or his jaw would have been hanging open. He chewed and swallowed. “How did you know?” She couldn’t remember all of that from their childhood.
She laughed, light and airy and leaving no room for the specters that had haunted him earlier. “I have my ways.”
“Mmhmm.” He couldn’t imagine what those were beyond talking with her brother, who Nate could imagine giving her the information with a highly suspicious lift to his eyebrows.
He’d have to tell Stuart, sooner rather than later. They couldn’t go on like this if he wasn’t being honest with his oldest friend.
Ruthann stood and smoothed the pretty yellow skirt she wore before extending a hand to Nate. “Are you certain all is well? You looked absolutely exhausted before.”
He took her hand and stood, relishing the simple feel of her fingers curling around his. She watched him with an open expression. She wanted to know his thoughts.
Nate drew in a breath. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her some of it. In fact, getting it out of his head might help. But only a little. The rest didn’t have a place here.
He shifted his hand so that his fingers encircled hers, reminding him that he was protective and strong. Not weak, not prone to succumbing to fear. And most certainly not a coward. All was well here.
“The last man who came for his photo, Francis Barrett?” He paused as Ruthann nodded in recognition. “He arrived in uniform, wanting a photo he could leave with his family before he left.”
