The Photographer, Mary Carter [the best novels to read .TXT] 📗

“The house is warm.” Amelia fanned herself. She made a show of going to the thermostat and turning it down. The house wasn’t actually warm at all. She returned to offer Lucia more fruit and vegetables, which Lucia declined. She offered her pumpkin bread, which Lucia also declined.

Natalie knelt on the floor next to the pumpkin bread and picked up the sharp knife. “My Aunt Marjorie made us the pumpkin bread,” Natalie said as she gestured with the knife in her hand. “Aunt Marjorie’s a stay-at-home mom, so she has time for stuff like that. Mom works really hard. She uses her brain in a lot of different ways. But not for pumpkin bread.” She put half a slice of bread in her mouth.

I could sense Amelia’s dismay, but I doubt that Lucia was able to.

“Lucia, do you like to cook?” Amelia asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I love to cook. It doesn’t come naturally, but I do try. What’s most important to me is the idea of a home. That’s why I wanted to study architecture, because I was drawn to the idea that the design of a home can bring together a family. Fritz and I work on residences.” She turned to Fritz and clasped his hand in hers. He allowed her to take his hand. “We work with families to help create a unifying space. I think that cooking is another way to bring together a family. It’s all part of the same thing, which is how do you use your home, how do you live in your home, how do you bring your family together in your home?”

It was a good save. I was impressed with Amelia’s dexterity.

Lucia uncrossed and crossed her legs again. Give it up, girlfriend, I wanted to tell her.

“Do you have a lot of family nearby?” Lucia addressed Amelia and Fritz.

“We see my sister, Marjorie, almost every weekend,” Amelia said. “My parents retired and they moved to Florida, but they visit several times a year. And same with Fritz’s parents; they’re regular visitors!”

I studied Fritz’s face, then Natalie’s, trying to judge how much of the statement was true, but neither betrayed anything. I had never heard Marjorie’s name mentioned or been aware of any family member visiting the Straubs so far. Amelia was a good liar.

“Who stays with Natalie when you’re both working?” Lucia asked.

“Delta is our wonderful family friend.” Amelia stood and held her hands out in my direction as if presenting me at court. “And she stays with Natalie a lot.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were their babysitter?” Lucia seemed to like me more once she had this piece of information.

“Well, no,” Amelia jumped in. “Delta’s an amazing photographer. She has a son too. Jasper. She just babysits because she loves Natalie. That’s not like … what she does.”

“I used to babysit a lot,” Lucia said. “I still do.”

Amelia beamed. “Babysitting is a great thing to do.”

“How old were the children you babysat for?” Natalie asked.

“Babies mostly. Infants.”

“Maybe you should babysit for your baby,” Natalie said, “after someone adopts her.”

A silence fell over the room. Amelia ate several grapes at once.

“I love spending time with Natalie,” I said.

I saw several ways to slow the progress of the adoption, if not prevent it altogether. However, now the whole idea might self-destruct on its own, in which case, no need to risk a perception of meddling.

“May I use your restroom?” Lucia asked.

I jumped up. “I’ll show you where it is.” I walked ahead of Lucia down the hall. As we had both removed our shoes at the door, our socks slid on the reclaimed elm wood floor. Once out of the Straubs’ earshot, I turned back to her. “I really hope it works out.” I placed my hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly. Across the front of her knit sweater, pale blue and silver reversible sequins spelled out the word WONDER, except the O in WONDER was replaced by a heart. “I think Natalie’s terribly lonely. It would be great for her to have a sister. That way, the two girls would have each other. And then it wouldn’t even matter if their parents weren’t…” I paused and counted to three. “A sisterly bond is so important.”

Lucia studied me as though I were a strange animal she had never seen before.

“I’d love to take your photograph.” I patted the camera around my neck. “The light across your face right now is breathtaking.”

She shrugged and smiled.

I snapped thirty shots of her, which took all of ten seconds on my digital camera. One or two of them would be superb.

“If they turn out well, I’d like to use a photo of you on the maternity section of my website. And in return, I’d give you as many prints as you’d like.”

Lucia nodded, which I took to mean yes. I quickly typed her email address into my phone.

“Pregnancy does something to certain women and, all of a sudden, it’s like everything beautiful in the world is in their eyes and in their body,” I said. “Everything that’s positive and inspiring and lifts us up to God and to the angels. I see all of that in you. It’s the beginning of a life with complete and absolute potential there. And the woman who carries the baby, she’s the creator of that life. She has a little bit of God inside her.” I was doing my best to layer in Madonna and Child subtext, along with the suggestion that motherhood might be Lucia’s calling.

I think I succeeded with my message, because she placed her hand on her midriff, and her expression turned wistful.

“Does he know?” I asked.

“Hmm?” She knew exactly what I was asking.

“The father of the child. Does he know he has a baby?” I asked gently.

Lucia looked out at the backyard, as if something there had distracted her.

I tried to infuse my voice with tenderness. “You should send him one of the photos. It’s the right thing to do.”

As I was reentering the library, I saw