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puckered lips were kissing Atticus on the cheek. The photo embodied everything Andrea always felt a family should be. In the moment the camera’s iris opened, collected, and recorded the light, it captured an image that Norman Rockwell would have been proud to produce. There was one large discrepancy between Rockwell’s paintings and the photo—the latter pictured reality. A family in love, once hale, but since wrecked by time.
Andrea had never met his wife or daughter, but knowing that everything in this image had been taken from Atticus struck a chord in her heart. To love so deeply and have it taken away in two devastating instants could destroy a man…or woman. She knew that from experience.
Giving little thought to the act, Andrea removed the framed photo from the hallway wall and took it to the kitchen. She opened the frame and removed the four-by-six picture. She flipped it over and read the back.
2001, old orchard beach, Atti, Maria, and Gi Gi .
The handwriting was beautiful and feminine—a reminder of the woman whose loving face graced the front of the picture. She looked at the photo again, and rather than feeling envious or even jealous of the woman whose lips were pressed against the cheek of the man who’d been her first real love, she was filled with a sense of kinship…of responsibility.
She imagined Maria’s voice, urging her, Take care of him . But would she mind? Had he ever told Maria about their young love? About his broken heart…if that was what he’d experienced at all? There was no way to be sure, but the woman in the photo would most certainly appreciate someone looking out for her husband. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Funny,” a friendly yet masculine voice said, “I thought that would be my job.”
Andrea turned quickly to the voice. A man whose eyes were Atticus’s yet whose pudgy body revealed a life more adapted to sitting behind a computer rather than that of a former Navy SEAL, stood in the doorway. His brother, older and rounder perhaps, but she still recognized him.
“Been a long time, Andrea,” he said.
“Hello, Conner.”
He smiled, stepping into the kitchen, and shook her hand. “So, Coast Guard, huh? Isn’t this a little out of your jurisdiction?” He motioned to the empty frame on the table but didn’t let her respond.
“He never did stop pining for you, you know.” He sat down next to her and pointed at the photo still in her hand. “Not until he met her, anyway. And that was after he left the Navy. I always wondered if he’d try to find you again after Maria passed; looks like he did. How long has he been keeping you a secret from us?”
Andrea’s stare was a mix of confusion and guilt.
Conner’s eyebrows rose high. “You’re not together, are you?”
“No,” she replied. “Is he with...someone?”
“No, no. Not that I know of anyway. I thought he might be holding out on me, but if you’re not his girlfriend, then he’s been telling the truth. Not that he doesn’t need one; mind you…the job’s open if you want it.”
Andrea smiled.
Conner’s eyes returned to the photo in her hands. His lips suddenly turned down, his voice grew cold. “I was behind the camera in that picture. I’m no photographer, but that’s the best shot I ever took. I have the same one hanging on my wall at home. There’s just something about it. He had everything, you know?” Conner sighed. “I have a family. I love my wife. My kids are great. But that”—he pointed at the photo—“is something I’ve never experienced.”
Andrea felt a twinge of guilt take root in her gut. She handed the picture to Conner. “I was going to give it to him when I found him.”
In that instant, Conner seemed to forget about the photo. “He’s not here?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
Andrea wasn’t sure how to respond. She had just returned to Atticus’s life and wasn’t even sure if she was welcome. She didn’t know how he’d feel about her
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