“That would be difficult being a kid.”
“The only real freedom I had was going to the library. I read travel books and dreamed of the places I would go and things I would see. I longed to get out of that town. Away from my parents. Go somewhere where I would be seen.”
“And?” I prompted, knowing there was more to the story.
“My dad had a heart attack when I was fifteen. Dropped dead at the office he worked in. My mom was left floundering. She had built her entire world around him, and she was lost. She had no idea how to do the banking or pay the bills. What had to be done for insurance or to keep the house going. And again, everyone in the town knew. It was embarrassing to hear them talk. Poor Doris. Lost without Ed. What will happen to her?” she mimicked. “No one seemed worried about me.”
I waited.
“My mother sank into a depression. I had no choice but to learn. I figured out the banking. How to pay the bills. Grocery shop. Even cook.”
“And no one helped you? Usually small-town folk gather together,” I questioned.
“That was the thing. My mom and dad were so close, they had very few friends. And they were other couples, and suddenly my mom was left on the fringes. Not that she cared. She refused any help. I struggled to learn everything with no one to ask for help from—no other adults I trusted. The only one who helped me was the librarian. She showed me what things to read so I could learn more. I even took her the bills so she could help me understand them and pay them on time. She helped me fill in the paperwork for the insurance so we got his death benefit.”
“A lot of responsibility for a teenager.”
“It was. I was a kid to everyone, but at home, I was the adult. At school, I was invisible. At home, I was alone. The only thing that saved me was when I used an old camera that belonged to my dad for a school project, and I got hooked on photography. After that, I read photography books and travel books. Dreamed of combining the two. As soon as I graduated, I was out of that town and away from my mother. By then, she’d decided she hated me. I was the cause of all her misfortune. Because of me, my father had to work so hard it ended his life. She was alone with no one.” A glimmer of tears appeared in her eyes, and she wiped at them furiously. “That was what did it. She had never really wanted me. The town didn’t want me. No one did. I left, and I never looked back.”
“Where is your mother now?”
“She died a year after I left. She got sick and refused any sort of treatment. She told me she had nothing to live for.” Kelly drew in a deep breath. “After she died, I went back and cleaned out the house, sold it and everything inside, and walked away.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “The only person who came to see me was Mrs. Cameron, the old librarian. Again, I was invisible. But by then, I no longer cared.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she did care, which was why it hurt so much, but I remained silent.
“How did you end up as Carl’s assistant?”
“I worked a bunch of part-time jobs and lived in that little basement apartment. I studied photography. Volunteered with places just to get experience. I got some paying gigs, but not enough to earn a reputation or open my own place. I heard one photographer I was helping talking about a job he’d heard about for an assistant. He saw me listening and asked if I was interested. He warned me Carl was high-maintenance and traveled a lot. He said I’d have to go somewhere at the drop of a hat.” She shook her head. “I was all in, and he helped me get an interview.” She lifted her hands. “And the rest is history. Carl was as demanding as I had been warned. But I learned a lot, and I felt as if I mattered for the first time, if that makes any sense.”
Listening to her words, I suddenly understood her better. Her refusal to get close to many people. Why she hated to be tied down. Her fear of love. Her acceptance of the way Carl treated her. He saw her, but for all the wrong reasons.
“What happened with Carl?” I asked.
Her shutters came down, and she sat up straighter, scrubbing her face.
“I told you. We had a disagreement.”
“You’ve had them before,” I pointed out.
“Not like this. I’m done being kicked around by him.”