When Poppy’s breathing had evened out once again, I sat down on the side of her bed and ran my hand down her face. Leaning forward, I kissed her soft cheek and whispered, “I love you,Poppymin. Forever always.”
Rising from the bed, I froze when I caught sight of Mr. Litchfield in the doorway, watching … listening.
My jaw clenched as he stared me down. Inhaling a calming breath through my nose, I walked silently past him, down the hallway and back out to the car to get my camera.
I returned to the house to leave the car keys on the table in the hallway. As I entered, Mr. Litchfield walked from the living room. I stopped, rocking awkwardly until he reached out his hand for the keys.
I dropped them in his hand and went to turn to walk away. Before I could, he asked, “Did y’all have a good time?”
My shoulders tensed. Forcing myself to respond, I met his eyes and nodded. Throwing a wave to Mrs. Litchfield, Ida and Savannah, I walked out the door and down the steps. As I reached the bottom step, I heard, “She loves you too, you know.”
Mr. Litchfield’s voice brought my feet to a stop, and without looking back, I replied, “I know.”
I crossed the grass to my house. I went straight to my room and tossed the camera onto the bed. I intended to wait out the next few hours before I went to Poppy. But the more I stared at the camera bag, the more I wanted to see how the photos had turned out.
The pictures of Poppy dancing in the sea.
Without giving myself the chance to walk away, I grabbed the camera and sneaked down to the darkroom in the basement. As I reached the door and turned the knob, I flicked on the light. I sighed, a strange feeling settling within me.
Because Poppy had been right. My pappa had prepared this room for me. My equipment was exactly where it would have been two years ago. The lines and pegs were ready and waiting.
The process of developing the pictures felt as if I’d never been away. I enjoyed the familiarity of each step. Nothing was forgotten, like I had been born with the ability to do this.
Like I had been given this gift. Poppy recognized that I had needed this in my life, when I was too blinded by the past to see it.
The smell of the chemicals hit my nose. An hour passed, and I eventually stood back, the pictures on their pegs forming into shapes, second by second revealing the moment caught on film.
The red light didn’t stop me from seeing the wonders that I’d captured. As I walked along the lines of hanging images, of life in its glory, I couldn’t stave off the excitement burning in my chest. I couldn’t stop the smile—for this work—playing on my lips.
Then I stopped.
I stopped at a picture that held me captive. Poppy, holding on to the hem of her dress, dancing in the shallow water. Poppy, with a carefree smile and windblown hair, laughing wholeheartedly. Her eyes bright and her skin flushed as she looked over her shoulder, right at me. The sun lighting her face in an angle so pure and beautiful it was as if it was a spotlight on her happiness, attracted by her magnetic joy.
I lifted my hand, keeping it a centimeter away from the picture, and traced my finger over her beaming face, over her soft lips and rosy cheeks. And I felt it. Felt the overwhelming passion for this craft burst back to life inside me. This picture. This one picture cemented what I had secretly known all along.
I was meant to do this with my life.
It made sense that this picture brought this message home—it was of the girl thatwasmy home. A knock sounded at the door, and without taking my gaze from the picture, I answered, “Ja?”
The door opened slowly. I felt who it was before I looked. My pappa entered the darkroom, by only a few steps. I looked at him, but I had to turn away again at the expression on his face, as he drank in all the pictures hanging from the pegs across the room.
I didn’t want to confront what that feeling in my stomach meant. Not yet.
Minutes passed by in silence, before my pappa said softly, “She’s absolutely beautiful, son.” My chest constricted when I saw his eyes on the photo that I was still standing before.
I didn’t respond. My pappa stood awkwardly in the doorway, saying nothing else. Finally, he moved to leave. As he went to shut the door, I forced myself to say a sharp, “Thank you … for the camera.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw my pappa pause. I heard a slow, ragged intake of breath, then he replied, “You have nothing to thank me for, son. Nothing at all.”
With that he left me in my darkroom.
I stayed longer than I intended, replaying my pappa’s response in my mind.
Clutching two photographs in my hands, I climbed the steps of the basement and headed for my room. As I passed the open door of Alton’s bedroom, I saw him sitting on his bed, watching TV.
He hadn’t seen me, standing there in his doorway, and I carried on to my room. But as I heard him laugh at whatever he was watching, my feet stuck to the floor, and I made myself turn back.
As I entered his room, Alton turned to me, and in a move that made me feel a crack in my chest, the biggest smile spread on his cute face.