“It’s just who he was.”
“Who?” Kasey asked as she came back in.
“Dad,” my mom told her.
“The Judge,” Liz said at the same time. Agree to disagree, I suppose.
“We were actually talking about the Woods,” my mom told Kasey now. “Specifically, when the addition was built.”
“I remember that summer,” she said. “All the drywall and sawhorses. It was chaos.”
“But so fun! We slept in that trailer, remember, Cat?” Liz said to my mom, who either didn’t hear or pretended not to. “That was the same summer as Hurricane Margaret. The flooding took out the porch and everything on it.”
I looked out at the lake. “The lake came all the way up here?”
“Yep,” Kasey told me as Ben disappeared back up the stairs. “You used to be able to see the high-water mark in the kitchen, till we painted over it.”
“It was so awful,” Liz added. “Mom cried for days. But the Judge was just like, ‘Well, we were ripping the old porch out anyway. Nature just did it for us.’?”
“He was always practical,” Kasey agreed.
My mom turned, shoving the box of books she’d packed toward the kitchen, where it banged into a cabinet.
“I wonder what’s in here. God only knows the last time it was opened.” Liz walked over to the piano bench, gently lifting the lip. Both Lana and I stepped back, bracing for more vermin. Instead, inside was only a bunch of papers. “Oh wow! Sheet music!”
“Who would have guessed,” my mom muttered.
Ignoring this, Liz pulled out some papers covered with notes: “Happy Birthday”; “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod”; “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Something else fell as well. A picture.
I bent down, grabbing it. It was small, square, with a white border markedJun ’80.Immediately, I recognized the familiar front steps, on which a group of people were gathered. A man with a beard, wearing khakis and a white T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Beside him was a woman in a flowered dress, her hair tied back, a small girl with scabby knees and unfortunate bangs I immediately recognized as Liz beside her. On the man’s right was another girl, a bit older, with hair the same shade of brown. She held a plump baby in overalls on her lap.
“Oh,” Liz said softly. “It’s a porch picture.”
“What?” Kasey moved closer. “I thought they were all in albums.”
“Apparently not.” Liz studied it. “Look at them. They were both so young.”
Anne laughed, gesturing for me to pass it to her. “Look at you, Mom!”
“Those bangs.” Liz sighed. “Cat cut them.”
“What’s a porch picture?” I asked.
“Annual family shot.” She smiled. “We did them each summer. The earliest ones have my grandparents and Aunt Charlotte in them.”
“A lot were lost in the flood,” Kasey murmured, studying it as well. “I’m not sure I’ve seen this one before.”
Liz sniffled. Anne put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t cry! It’s a good thing. Like finding a buried treasure.”
“I know,” Liz said. “It’s just emotional. Another reminder that every part of this house has a story.”
“Remember what Mom said,” Kasey told her. “That’s the best thing about memories. No matter where you go, you carry them always.”
Her sister nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue she’d pulled from somewhere. “I just keep thinking what she and the Judge would think about us selling. They put so much of their lives into this place.”
“And they left a wonderful legacy,” Anne assured her.
Just then, a phone buzzed. I tensed, my hand reaching for my back pocket. Of course, nothing was there.
