Norris is in the kitchen when I drop off my mug, scurrying around and preparing for the next grocery run. Down the steps to the basement, I notice the red light is on outside Hana’s darkroom.
It was so odd to find a darkroom in the basement when we arrived. I don’t remember there being one when we were children, but maybe I simply wasn’t interested and didn’t notice.
Arching my eyebrow, I glance overhead and wonder if it’s possible our uncle had it installed just for her. More incentive to keep us here. Shaking my head, I exhale a laugh. That tricky old man.
Tapping lightly on the door, I wait for her to give me the okay before entering. As soon as I step inside, my breath catches at all the oversized prints hanging on lines strung around the open space.
“Hana!” I step closer, amazed at the beauty of her work. Walking down the line, I can’t believe my eyes. They’re all different angles and unique saturations–I’ve never seen anything like it. “These are incredible.”
I stop at a portrait-sized, black-and-white photo of three little outfielders with their gloves up, pretending to catch huge, sprinkled donuts. Their faces are delighted, and in their uniforms and pigtails, she could sell this so easily.
Hanging beside it is a series of images of me and Training Day. The first is black and white, but the white is so strong. The next is more of a halo around my face, cheek to cheek with the horse. It’s like we’re communicating, which I guess we sort of were.
The emotion she captured is palpable. My heart was so heavy that day, and the only thing that gave me comfort was the quiet animal–until Hutch appeared.
“These could easily be in a gallery.” I look over to where her hair is tied up and wrapped in a red handkerchief. “Why haven’t you shown them to anyone?”
She’s in denim overalls and a white tank with yellow rubber gloves that go all the way to her elbows. “I showed some of them to Hutch.”
“You did?”
“Mm-hm.” Her voice is quiet as she moves a sheet of photo paper back and forth in a tray, and she tilts her head like she’s surprised I didn’t know.
I am surprised. “What did he say?”
“He said I have a unique talent and a good eye.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.” I walk over and watch as the print she’s developing slowly grows more distinct.
The image that appears is of Training Day’s large black eyes and my lighter ones gazing out from a field of white. It’s startling and breathtaking and somehow mystical.
“How did you do that?” I speak in a whisper.
Her lips twist as she holds up the dripping page, inspecting it a moment before carrying it to the clothesline. “It’s just different exposure techniques. It’s not hard, but you have to know what you’re doing.”
“Obviously, you know what you’re doing.”
“These are all finished.” She flips on the lights. “I’ll let them dry, and we can box up the ones of the players and give them to Coach Miller.”
“You should keep some to show, I mean if you’d like to do a show.”
Nodding, she starts for the door. “I will, but I always give the team their pictures. I’ll get releases if I decide to do anything more with them.”
I follow her up the stairs and through the kitchen, where she takes a piece of toast off a tray and carries it out to the side porch. The breeze is blowing, and it’s getting warmer every day.
She sits in one of the rocking chairs, looking up at me, and as always, she seems to know what I’m thinking before I say a word.
“I don’t want to go back to New York,” she says before taking a bite of toast. “At least not to live. I could go there to visit or to show my work or something like that, but I never want to live there again.”
Nodding, I lean against the rail across from her. “I talked to Uncle Hugh, and he wants us to stay here with him.”
“How long?”
“Forever if you ask him.” I exhale a little laugh. “He’s bending over backwards to find something to make me happy. I see you’re clearly following your muse.”
“I thought he’d already found something to make you happy. ” She rocks slowly, her dark blue eyes studying my face.
My chin drops, and I’m suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?”
When I look up at her again, heat rises in my cheeks. “Hugh is old, and like most old people he loves playing matchmaker. That doesn’t mean he’s right or the people he’s trying to match up are going to follow his wishes or feel the way he wants them to feel.” I’m saying too much, too fast. “How could he even know what anyone wants?”
My sister stands and puts her hand on my arm. “You’ve always been the smart one, the strong one, while I was the fuck-up. Take it from the fuck-up. He knows.”
She leaves me on the porch with my stomach in knots. I want to scream, I know! I want him to be right! But I don’t.
Pushing off the rail, I decide I’m not acting like myself at all. I am a controlled, strong woman, not a silly girl who obsesses over crushes. I’m going to follow the plan with Uncle Hugh, see what’s out there for me to do in this teeny little town, and live my life.
And I need to start getting ready right now, because if I’m going to look as good as I want to look tonight, I need to shave my legs three times and curl my hair, and I have three different dresses I love–maybe I can get Hana to take pictures and we can vote on which makes me look hottest.
Either way, I have a lot to do and only… four hours to do it.
34
Hutch
“I don’t like this bad habit you’ve started, waking me up at this hour.” My brother is scrounging around in his kitchen, grumpy because it’s noon.
I shake my head. “I take it you pulled another all-nighter. What’s the latest on Ivan X?” He straightens, holding a jar of instant coffee, and I recoil. “You’re not drinking that shit, are you? Get dressed. I’ll drive you to Steamy Beans.”
Dirk sets down the coffee crystals, and he rakes his fingers through his wild brown hair before pulling on a cap. “Where’s my shirt?”
Rush hour has ended for the coffee shop in town, and it’s my brother and me and one other table having cinnamon infused coffee and scones.
“He’s a sneaky bastard.” Dirk takes a big bite of raspberry scone. “He’s covering his tracks way better than he did with that blackmail scheme he pulled on Blake. Either he got wise or he was trying to get caught.”
“Why would he try to get caught?”
“You’re right. He’s an idiot, but he’s learning.” Dirk leans back in his chair watching me. “Speaking of learning, I learned Uncle Hugh is looking for something for Blake to do in Hamiltown. Seems she wants to stick around, but she wants to have a reason.”
My chest tightens, and I sit a little straighter. “What kind of reason?”
“Oh, I don’t know, something that won’t make it seem like she’s waiting for a guy we all know to pop the fucking question. What the hell are you waiting on, man? You two couldn’t be more made for each other.”