Until a flash of sunlight caught something and I slowed down, recognizing Charly’s old bike propped against a tree. And in the distance, I saw her.
Kelly.
Armed with her camera, standing in the middle of a field, taking pictures, her dark hair gleaming in the sun.
The need to be alone vanished. I pulled over, parked the truck, and slid out, heading in Kelly’s direction. She was so absorbed in her endeavors, she didn’t notice me at first. I watched her for a moment, caught in her spell. She was graceful as she moved, catching the light and her subject in the frame of her lens. She bent and swooped. Arched her back to get the right shot. Then, as if satisfied, she lifted her arms and twirled in the light. I was mesmerized, unable to tear my gaze from her. She looked carefree and happy. Surrounded by beauty, she became the focal point of it all to me.
And then she saw me. She stopped, then did something unexpected. Instead of frowning or calling my name and asking what I was doing there, she broke into a run, heading my way. I braced myself, and when she flung herself into my arms, I caught her easily. Laughing, I swung her around, much like she had been doing on her own. I set her on her feet, smiling down at her.
“Hey, Shutterbug. Fancy meeting you here.”
She shocked me when she pulled my head down to hers, kissing me passionately. With a groan, I yanked her close and returned her ardent kiss. I released her as she stepped back.
“Not for nothing, but what did I do to deserve that?” I asked.
“You’re here,” she said. “Oh Brett, I’m so excited.”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t start my assignments with the paper until this week, but last week, I sent them some pictures I’d taken around town and while I was out walking. I called them Forgotten Beauty.” She flipped through her viewfinder, showing me some examples. “That little waterfall on the edge of Lomand. The baseball fields at night as the sun goes down. Look how it turns the metal bleachers into a blaze of color,” she explained. “The lilac tree a few blocks from your house on that empty corner. Nothing around it, but its beauty is vivid.”
“Those are amazing,” I praised. “I take it they liked them?”
“Bob loved them. He wants to add them to the paper. He asked for more.” She gripped my arm. “There is so much beauty here people forget, Brett. I want them to remember what it was they loved about this place. Why they chose to live here. To rediscover this town.”
I had no choice. I dragged her back into my arms and kissed her until she was breathless. The way she saw the world around her, read people, understood them. She was amazing.
She grinned up at me. “Stay?” she asked. “Walk with me and see what I see.” She winked. “You can play my assistant and carry my bag.”
“Absolutely.”
I followed her, stopping to pick up the bag and sling it over my shoulder, unable to halt the thoughts racing through my head.
Could I help her discover enough beauty that she would want to stay?
I was too afraid to hope, yet too overcome not to.
I shadowed her the rest of the afternoon. We didn’t talk much, aside from what lens she wanted or her showing me a picture she was enthralled with. I liked watching her in action—the way she lost herself in capturing just the right angle, trying to see what it was she had discovered that made her stop and lift her camera. What I saw as mundane or inconsequential, she saw as beauty, form, and the need to lift it higher for others to experience. It was a perfect afternoon. I loaded the bike into the back of the truck and drove her wherever she wanted. Once she was done, I headed to Littleburn, pulling up in front of the store. “I think a cold soda is in order.”
“Awesome,” she agreed.
We headed inside, my dad sitting on the stool, pen in hand, doing the crossword puzzle. He looked up as we came in, offering us a smile. “Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes.”
Kelly walked over and kissed his cheek, making him beam in happiness.
“We need cold drinks. Kelly’s been taking pictures for the paper.”
“Can I see?” he asked.
Kelly showed him as I grabbed some cold sodas, taking a long drink of the orange one I favored. The icy liquid felt good on my throat, and I handed a Coke to Kelly and a ginger ale to my dad. We clinked bottles, and Kelly tilted her head back, drinking in long pulls.
“Whew, I needed that,” she said, then burped. Loudly.
For a second, I stared at her, then winked. “Impressive.”