“After,” Nan says, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s get these jars sterilized.”
I slice the cucumbers and peel the garlic, but otherwise Nan instructs, and Charlie follows her orders. I’ve brought my Pentax, and I shoot a roll of black and white.
I don’t realize how broadly I’m smiling until Charlie looks at me.
Click.
“Having fun?” he asks.
I am. Shooting has given me control and a sense of mastery, but it’s been a long time since it’s been fun.
There’s one picture, when Nan is watching Charlie fill Mason jars with brine and Charlie glances at her for approval, that breaks my heart as soon as I take it, because it’s late July, and summer is fleeting. I want to press pause on today, on this month, on these two people. Capture it not just on film.
Charlie puts the kettle on once they’ve finished, and we drink our tea on the deck overlooking the lake. The kids from the cottage next door swim over to dive off Charlie’s floating raft. They have an open invitation to use it.
“What a lovely place to grow up,” Nan says.
Charlie looks out at the water. “It really was.”
“Though I imagine the house and the property were a lot for your mother when she was on her own,” she says, and Charlie nods. “She must have been a tremendously hard worker.”
“She was.” He stares at the view for another moment. “I always knew that from the restaurant. But I didn’t fully appreciate all the things she did for us until I moved away for university.Cooking was a big part of that. Big breakfasts. Birthday cakes. Holiday feasts. She loved to feed people.”
“Is that why you’ve been trying her recipes?” Nan asks.
“Maybe.” He smiles. “And I love to eat. I’ve missed those pickles.”
“Not my thing,” I say, flashing him an apologetic grin.
His eyes pop. “What?”
“I don’t like them.”
“Me neither,” Nan says. “I did all my pickling for Alice’s grandfather and the church bazaar.”
“We just made a dozen jars,” Charlie says, glancing between us, mouth hanging open.
“I know,” I say, laughing. “They’ll keep, don’t worry.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s just…” Charlie looks at Nan and then me. He holds my gaze in a way that tells me how much I matter. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I feel Nan watching us, and when I peek at her, she gives me a pointedI told you solook.
Nan and Charlie discuss the ins and outs of pickling and preserving various fruits and vegetables, teacups between them. It’s so outrageously wholesome that I’m laughing when my phone lights with a text.
A lump forms in my throat when I read it.
Heather:I’m so sorry, Ali. I can’t bring Bennett up north. An important case just landed…
“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks.
I give him a lackluster smile. “Heather and Bennett can’t come. My sister has to work.” I look to Nan. Her lips are pinched, the only sign of her disapproval. “She says she’ll find time next month.”
At that, Nan grumbles, “Always on her own schedule. What about yours?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I say, although it does. I’ve bought extra groceries. I’ve made a calendar of activities. The weather is supposed to be stunning. I was going to bring Bennett to the party Charlie is throwing for Sam and Percy.
