Chapter 8 - IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA
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Noah Briggs waited almost a month before contacting Margaret again. His message was
short. I know the original session became something terrible. If Emma ever wants
photographs again, I would like to offer a new session at no charge. No pressure. No
deadline.
Margaret showed the message to Daniel. Daniel stared at it for a long moment. “No.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “That was quick.”
“She doesn’t need to stand in front of another camera after what happened.” “Maybe.”
“What does that mean?” “It means you answered for her.”
Daniel exhaled. He was getting tired of learning the same lesson in different forms.
“Fine.” That evening, he showed Emma the message.
She read it twice. “Do I have to?” “No.” “Does Noah want me to?” “He offered.” Emma
looked at her hair in the reflection of the kitchen window.
The shaved side had grown into soft dark fuzz. The longer side still curved toward her
chin. “Can we wait until it grows back?”
“Absolutely.” She was quiet. Then she asked, “Would waiting mean she wins?” Daniel
frowned. “No.” “What if I don’t want to wait?”
“Then we don’t wait.” Emma leaned over the phone and typed a reply herself. YES. BUT I
PICK THE PICTURE.
Noah responded two minutes later. DEAL. The session was scheduled for the following
Saturday at Margaret’s house. Emma made rules.
No surprise poses. No touching her hair without asking. No hiding behind anything. No
matching clothes unless everyone genuinely liked them.
Margaret objected only to the last rule. “I had already selected matching navy
sweaters.” Emma stared at her. Margaret sighed dramatically.
“My artistic vision is oppressed.” Daniel laughed. The night before the session, Emma
went through Claire’s wooden box. She took out the purple hair clip.
It was too large to sit securely on the short side, so she clipped it into the longer
side near her temple.
Then she carried Claire’s framed photograph downstairs. Daniel saw both and understood
immediately. “You want Mom in the picture?” Emma nodded.
“Is that okay?” Daniel’s throat tightened. “Yes.” Margaret looked at the photograph of
Claire laughing on a beach, her hair blown across her face.
“That woman never could take a serious picture.” Emma smiled. “She looks happy.” “She
was.” On Saturday afternoon, Noah arrived with fewer lights than before.
He deliberately kept the setup simple. One camera. Two softboxes. A small reflector.
And, rolled carefully beneath his arm, a cream-colored backdrop.
Daniel saw it and stiffened. Noah noticed. “I brought two options,” he said. “We don’t
have to use this.” Emma came into the room.
She stopped when she saw the cream fabric. For several seconds, nobody spoke. The
backdrop was not the exact same cloth from the original session; that one belonged to a
rental studio and had already been returned.
But it looked almost identical. Same color. Same smooth texture. Same height when
raised. Emma walked toward it. Daniel moved instinctively.
Margaret touched his elbow. Wait. Emma reached out and touched the fabric. Her fingers
remained there. Noah stayed several feet away.
“We can put it back in the car,” he said. Emma shook her head. “No.” She looked up at
the top edge.
“I want this one.” Daniel swallowed. Noah asked, “Are you sure?” Emma turned toward him.
“Yes.” Then she pointed to a spot directly in front of the backdrop.
“But I stand here.” Noah smiled gently. “Exactly there.” They raised the cloth. Emma
watched every step. When the stand clicked into place, she did not flinch.
Noah positioned a wooden bench in front. Emma moved it aside. “No sitting.” “Standing
portrait,” Noah said. “Good choice.” Margaret wore a soft gray blouse instead of navy.
Daniel wore a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled once. Emma wore the pale-yellow dress
from the first session. That had been her decision too.
Daniel had tried to discourage it without directly saying no. “Maybe something new would
feel better.” Emma had answered, “I still like the dress.”
So the dress returned. This time without fear attached to it. Emma stood in the middle.
Daniel on one side.
Margaret on the other. Claire’s framed photograph rested on a narrow stand beside them,
not held like a prop, but included naturally within the scene.
Noah looked through the camera. “Everyone comfortable?” Emma checked both sides. “Yes.”
“Any last changes?” Margaret raised a finger. “I would like to be made ten years
younger.”
Noah lowered the camera. “That package costs extra.” Emma laughed. The shutter clicked
at the exact moment. Noah looked at the preview.
“I think that might be the one.” Emma came over. The image showed her laughing between
Daniel and Margaret. Her uneven hair was fully visible.
The purple clip caught the light. Claire’s photograph stood beside them. Nobody looked
perfect. Nobody looked arranged into someone else’s idea of family.
Emma stared at the screen. “I like it.” Daniel looked over her shoulder. “So do I.” Noah
took more photographs.
Some serious. Some playful. One of Emma alone. For that portrait, she stood directly in
front of the cream backdrop with both hands at her sides.
No scarf. No hat. No attempt to angle the shaved side away from the camera. Noah waited.
Emma looked straight into the lens.
“Ready?” he asked. She nodded. The shutter clicked. Afterward, Noah lowered the camera.
Emma remained where she was. “Can I see?”
He turned the screen toward her. The photograph was striking. Her face was serious, but
not sad. The asymmetrical hair made her look older somehow, not in years, but in
awareness.
Emma studied it. “What do you think?” Daniel asked. She looked at him. “I look strong.”
Daniel’s chest tightened. “You are strong.”
Emma shook her head. “No.” He looked confused. She turned back to the photograph. “I
look strong. I don’t have to be strong all the time.”
Margaret’s eyes filled. Noah quietly lowered his camera. Daniel nodded. “You’re right.”
Emma smiled faintly. “Sometimes I’m seven.” “That seems appropriate.”
They ordered pizza after the session. Noah stayed for one slice and packed his equipment
while Emma helped roll the cream backdrop.
Before leaving, he handed Daniel a small external drive. “What’s this?” “The original
session footage.” Daniel looked at it. “I already have a copy.”
“This is the full raw file. I won’t keep it longer than necessary.” Daniel nodded.
“Thank you.” Noah hesitated. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in the room when it started.”
Daniel looked at him. “You didn’t do it.” “I know.” The answer sounded familiar. Daniel
thought of his own guilt.
“You preserved what happened,” he said. “That mattered.” Noah nodded once and left. That
night, Emma sat beside Daniel on the porch swing.
The printed preview from the new session was on his phone. She zoomed in on the purple
clip. “Dad?” “Yeah?”
“Did Vanessa say sorry?” Daniel’s body went still. Emma looked at him. “You said she
admitted it was wrong.” “She did.”
“Did she say sorry to me?” Daniel thought about the sealed envelope in the top drawer of
Margaret’s desk. He had put it there and almost forgotten about it.
Almost. “She wrote you a letter.” Emma’s eyes widened. “When?” “A few weeks ago.” “Why
didn’t you give it to me?”
“Because she said you should decide if and when you wanted it.” Emma looked toward the
dark yard. The porch swing creaked once.
“Do you know what it says?” “No.” “You didn’t read it?” “No. Your name is on it.” Emma
thought for a long time.
“Can I have it?” Daniel’s heart began beating faster. “Yes.” He went inside and brought
out the envelope. Emma held it beneath the porch light.
Her name was written across the front in Vanessa’s handwriting. She ran one finger over
the sealed edge. Daniel waited.
After almost a minute, Emma handed it back. “Put it somewhere safe.” “You don’t want to
read it?” “Not today.”
Daniel nodded. He did not ask why. Emma leaned against him. Behind them, through the
living-room window, Margaret had hung the first printed photograph from the new session
on the mantel. In it, Emma stood in front of the cream backdrop. Exactly where she had
May you like
chosen to stand.
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