“This could be it,” Krista said softly.
“Could be,” Joe said. “Let’s see what Isabel says again.”
They settled under the overhang where the rock dipped back, the four of them in a small triangle of shade. Krista unzipped her backpack and pulled the diary out, careful to keep it out of the stray spray.
She flipped to the page she’d marked earlier, brows knitting as her eyes scanned the looping Spanish script.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Here’s the part I was thinking about.”
She read the Spanish aloud first, her voice low and steady. The words echoed faintly off the rock, the waterfall’s rush underneath them.
Then she translated: “The water sings so softly here. Sometimes I think it knows my name. I feel like I belong to this place, not to the world we have to go back to.”
Her gaze roamed the rock, the angle of the ledge, the way the water dropped straight into the pool.
Joe tuned in to the space the way he would for a shot. The rock hung over their heads, yes, but it didn’t curve much beyond that. The sound here was a single sheet of noise, a steady roar instead of the layered echoes Isabel had described.
“Feels a little too open,” he said. “If you shouted right now, it wouldn’t bounce much.”
Zoe tilted her head, testing it. “You want me to shout?”
“Please don’t,” Jackson said, walking toward the water’s edge to get a better view.
Zoe splashed him with a handful of water.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, splashing her back. Frankie, outraged that water play was happening without him, started barking.
Krista looked down, laughing at her friends as Frankie joined in the fun.
But Joe only had eyes for her. Sun dappled her shoulders, catching in the loose curls that had escaped her ponytail. She squinted up at the waterfall, then down at the pool where Zoe and Jackson were still play-fighting.
Joe lifted the camera and clicked. One shot. Then another as her expression shifted—curiosity, concentration, a quick burst of laughter when Frankie finally braved the shallows and then panicked as the cold reachedhis belly.
Joe forgot the waterfall for a minute. The rock, the water, the possible clue. All of it dropped to the background.
It was her he wanted in focus.
Krista glanced back at him. “What are you doing?”
“Remembering you.” He lowered the camera and crossed the space between them, careful on the damp stone. “Come see,” he said, turning the screen toward her.
She stood close enough that he could feel the heat of her arm against his. The photo filled the display. Krista stood in that pool of broken light, the waterfall blurred into a soft streak behind her. Her head was tipped slightly, her mouth caught in the beginning of a smile, eyes bright in a way he hadn’t seen often enough.
She stared at it for a beat. “I look…happy.”
“Reckon you are happy,” he said. “At least sometimes. You’re just too busy to notice.”
Her fingers brushed the edge of the camera, almost absently. “My hair looks ridiculous,” she muttered.
“I don’t know about that. Your hair looks like someone who doesn’t have time to fuss with it because she’s too busy running an entire town.”
“Don’t exaggerate.” She grinned.
He wanted to tell her this was his favorite view so far, how Maple Falls looked good in any light but looked best with her in frame. Instead, he let the moment sit.
“Okay,” Zoe called from the water. “Verdict from the professionals?”
Krista stepped back, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “It’s close,” she said. “It could be their place. But the sound…Isabel talked about echoes, layers. This just sounds like…one big whoosh.”
