The Camera Never Lies

by David Rawlings

  The lid on her emotions bubbled as more tears welled.

  With a deep sigh, Kelly pasted a smile on her face as she strode toward the clinic, the doors gliding open as she ran through the script in her head. The script that would promise a wonder drug for grateful parents losing the battle against a tiny screen for their child’s hands.

  A script that was getting harder to deliver and impossible to believe in.

  Three

  The woman shook her frazzled brunette locks in disbelief as she clung to one end of the couch in Daniel’s office. Crammed into the other end—across pristine leather in the middle section on which no one ever sat—was a balding, broad-shouldered man bursting out of a tight polo shirt, wringing rough hands, and staring at the carpet.

  Two sofa chairs sat unoccupied, and Daniel smiled. Mark and Laurie Wood might be far apart, but they were still together. A good sign. Couples who chose the single chairs came to him far too late.

  Mark gave his halting take on a stalled marriage to the carpet. “To answer your question, things have changed.”

  Daniel made another note, although he might as well have ticked a box. He heard that every day. The spark that brought this couple together had faded like their framed wedding photograph after years in the afternoon sun. He looked at the frames on his desk, captured moments of family happiness, his credibility to new couples. Gramps’s camera sat waiting for the last few minutes of this final appointment of the day to tick over.

  Mark’s hesitant words tripped over one another on their way out, his uneasy confidence rising. “We do whatever’s next on the calendar. It’s not that we’ve moved on to someone else—at least I haven’t.” Then a quick sideways glance to catch a reaction confirming long-held suspicions.

  The brunette locks shook again.

  A thought tapped in a quiet corner of Daniel’s mind. A familiarity. A feeling too close for comfort.

  The skin on Mark’s rough, red hands was now striped with white. “I’m not sure how to say it—” Mark’s forty-five-minute silence cracked as his words tumbled out. Laurie squirmed on the sofa, keen to contribute, to clarify and correct. Mark looked up, sheepish embarrassment on his face. “What’s that saying? Like ships passing in the night? That’s us.”

  The thought tapped again. Daniel’s jeans rustled as he shifted his weight to usher it to one side. “Thank you for your openness and honesty, Mark.” He sat with fingers steepled under his nose. “May I give you my take on where you are?”

  Laurie leaned forward with an expectant nod, no doubt hopeful of an immediate solution to the pain of their marital struggle. “Please.”

  “I don’t think it’s ships passing in the night. You’re sailing alone and don’t even know another ship is sailing alongside you.”

  Laurie reached for the tissue box on the coffee table.

  The familiarity tapped again.

  “You need to bring some things out into the open. You each hold a part of the solution.” Daniel spread his hands at the expected response.

  Two sets of defenses shot up with a clunk. Mark resumed the hand-wringing, and Laurie leaned deeper into the couch.

  “I won’t tell you to share everything this minute, but the first step is a willingness to consider it.”

  He reached to the neat stack of white-spined books on his desk and handed one to each of them. “You might have seen my book.”

  Laurie snatched it and resumed her nodding—they were in his office because she’d seen Daniel on TV promoting No Secrets. All the new couples said that. His book wasn’t just a bestseller; it had lifted the practice out of near bankruptcy after Howard, his mentor and boss who had established Crossroads Counseling, passed away.

  Mark studied the book’s spine, inspecting its construction.

  Laurie pored over the opening pages. “All my girlfriends have said it’s as if you’ve put a lifetime’s worth of knowledge into it.”

  Mark continued to study the book, its cover closed.

  Daniel leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve also got an audiobook version if you’re not much into reading.”

  Mark smiled in relief as the men in Daniel’s office often did when given the chance to not read something.

  Laurie’s eyes seemed to devour page after page, searching for the solution to her broken marriage.

  Daniel studied the couple. Mark’s distance from the solution to their problem. Laurie’s overeager expectation of a quick fix. “I’m not giving this to you because it’s my book. I’m giving it to you because I believe this is what you need. No secrets. Honesty is the key to your marriage recovering and then thriving.”

  His desk phone buzzed. “Let’s leave it there today. Please read the book, and for our next session, we’ll work toward taking that first step in your being honest with each other.”

  Mark and Laurie stood as one. Another good sign.

  “Monique will look after your next appointment.” Daniel ushered them from his office and then flopped back into his chair. The Woods were another couple who had buried their differences deep enough to be out of reach but shallow enough so they both knew they were there. He heard the same thing every day from couples who poured through his office door as if the community were a clown car of unhappy relationships.

  Daniel picked up Gramps’s camera. His professional day over, the moment had arrived. He lifted the gift to his eye, and when he spun his chair, luscious blond tresses filled his vision, along with a ruby-red smile. His welcome to work every morning for the past month.

  Monique gave a playful rap on the door. “May I speak to you for a moment, Daniel?”

  With a broad smile, Daniel put down the camera. “Of course.”

  She bounced into his office, a heady mix of youthful energy and perfume. She perched on the edge of the couch, her long legs crossed as she held out a small gift box tied with an extravagant red ribbon. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Daniel was touched. She was sweet, and everyone loved her youthful enthusiasm. “Thanks, Monique. That’s special.”

  He tugged on the ribbon, and a flash caught his eye as he lifted the lid of the box. Gold. Two cuff links nestled in pristine white silk. Two engraved letters on each. His initials.

  Daniel stopped, unsure how to address a gift so over-the-top. She couldn’t afford to give it, and he couldn’t afford to receive it.

  Monique caught his hesitation, and her smile dimmed. “You looked so sad when you told me how much your Gramps meant to you.”

  He evaluated his options like a world-class Rubik’s Cube champion, flicking through responses to find the right ones. The wrong choice could crush her. Or him. “Monique . . . uh . . . this gift is . . .”

  Her voice quickened. “You mentioned on my third day here that cuff links are smart.”

  The box held only two small pins. Where was the harm in that?

  Monique beamed as he pulled back his suit jacket and put them on, and then she pointed to the photograph on his desk. “Is that Gramps?”

  Daniel reached past the smiling family photo to grab the frame that held his younger self with the older man, hair graying around his temples and flowing behind him. A hippie stuck in time.

  “No, that was old Howard Jones. He started this practice and brought me in fresh from earning my master’s. He gave me a gift I’ve shared with many people since. He’s been gone three years.”

  Monique’s eyes sparkled, almost reflecting the sheen on her lips. “I’m so glad I’m now part of your team. We help a lot of people.”

  “It’s great to have you on board, Monique. You’re a terrific addition to the Crossroads family.” Daniel settled into the conversation. It was nice to talk without scanning for an agenda behind any given sentence.

  Monique reached across for another photo frame, showing Daniel in the middle of a group of schoolchildren. A waft of perfume followed her. “Is this the school counseling program?”

  The photo represented Daniel
’s contribution to Milly’s school, to assuage the guilt from not having time for hockey practice or mind-numbing school board meetings. Free counseling for at-risk youth.

  Her blond tresses bounced inches from Daniel’s nose as she ran a finger across the photograph. “You give so much of yourself.” Her milk-chocolate eyes connected with him over the top of the frame. “Considering that, who looks after you?”

  The base of Daniel’s spine tingled, a long-lost memory of teenage days and the thrill of the chase.

  From the corridor a phone rang, and Monique touched her Bluetooth headset. “Welcome to Crossroads Counseling!”

  A polite knock at the door was followed by a brunette head with a burgundy streak in defiance of early gray.

  Monique’s fingers twinkled as she sashayed out the door. “There’s a waiting list to see Mr. Whiteley, but . . .”

  The owner of the burgundy streak took a seat and studied him. Anna Potts—Howard’s second recruit. “How are you after the funeral, Boss?”

  “Good. I held it together during my eulogy—just. And we’ve talked about this Boss label.”

  Anna grinned. “I’m sure it will be no surprise when I tell you it’s okay to let out your feelings.” She eyed the empty gift box and then the flash of gold on his sleeve. She raised an eyebrow. “Nice cuff links.”

  There was no point defending the gift. A towering intellect packed into a slight frame, Anna had only to hoist an eyebrow and you crumbled.

  “You know how we talked about having each other’s back at the office?”

  It was clear what was coming.

  “You should be careful with Monique’s attention.”

  Daniel fought the urge to squirm in his seat, a reversal of the usual dynamic in this office. “Look, it’s innocent, and she’s naive. There’s nothing to it.”

  The eyebrow stayed up. “Would you mention that gift to Kelly?”

  Daniel exhaled through clenched teeth. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

  Anna offered him a warm smile. Her natural smile, not the one a counselor saves for clients in the middle of a “don’t blame me” story. “I’m not saying it will go well, but you are the No Secrets guy, right?”

  She was right. As always. “You know me better than anyone, don’t you?”

  “We’ve worked together for years, Daniel. And at Milly’s birthday party, I saw Kelly corner you in the kitchen about talking to that gorgeous woman in the red dress. We all did.”

  Daniel shook the memory from his head—the pleasant chat with another parent from school until Kelly had hovered like a government drone checking the perimeter.

  “And if my husband came home with new jewelry without an explanation, my senses would be on high alert. Anyway, I didn’t come in here for a counseling session. I’ve had an idea. We’ve had our thousandth client case since you took over from Howard, so we should celebrate. And it would be nice for you to focus on something positive after you’ve lost Gramps.”

  Celebrating was a good idea—one Daniel had often suggested but not considered for himself. It was nice for someone to notice. That was the problem when you resolved other people’s issues twenty-four hours a day. Other people didn’t realize you had them too.

  “Daniel, you’ve done amazing things since Howard passed the baton.”

  “We have, and maybe we could hold this celebration at our home. Kelly would love to cater, I’m sure.”

  Anna smirked. “You think she’ll be okay with us in her home?”

  “She’s got nothing to be jealous about.”

  “We both know that, but she doesn’t seem to. She hasn’t been subtle in the past.”

  Another knock at the door. “I hear the funeral went well.”

  Daniel gestured in a tall man who could have stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine—sharp lines over casual blue. Peter Gardner was a great counselor and an asset to Daniel in so many ways.

  “It did. Thanks, Peter. End of an era, glad to have closure.”

  Peter looked first over one shoulder, then over the other, and then back at Daniel. “Are you talking to me? I’m a friend and a counselor. You don’t need to put that on.”

  Monique leaned into the room, took one look at the flash of gold on Daniel’s cuffs, and beamed. “Anna, your four o’clock is here.”

  Anna made her way to the door, jerking her head in the direction of Monique’s grin. See? Daniel nodded in return.

  Peter pointed to the camera on his desk and whistled. “That’s a beautiful thing.”

  Daniel handed it over. “I thought you’d like to see it. It belonged to Gramps, and he left it to me.”

  Peter held it up to his eye. “Great camera—I’ve had two Olympus myself.” He inspected the badge on the front. “The Infinity model. Can’t say I’ve heard of that one before, and I know everything about the Olympus range.” He read the inscription aloud. “‘The camera never lies’—well, that’s true.”

  “I can’t wait to use it. I haven’t yet had a chance to even look at it.”

  Peter flipped the camera around and checked the tiny window on the back. “Someone has. There aren’t any shots left on this film.”

  Four

  The scrape of forks on dinner plates echoed through a dining area that could fit ten but felt too small for the three of them. The grandfather clock counted out steady measures of silence, marking the groaning distance between each snatch of conversation.

  Kelly chewed on a hunk of steak as she studied Milly, who parted the curtains of her hair with mouthfuls of food. Kelly hoped Gramps’s passing would bridge the gap between them for a moment, so they could go back to that time when Milly came running from anywhere in the house when she heard Daniel’s key in the front door. So would she.

  “I thought today was a lovely farewell to Gramps.” Kelly laid the first plank in that bridge.

  Milly gave the smallest nod and shared a sad smile from below her fringe. “He would have liked seeing people come to say good-bye.” She resumed pushing vegetables around her plate, and the room again filled with ticking.

  Daniel brushed his mouth with a napkin. “How are you after saying good-bye to him today, Mill?”

  “I said good-bye before he died.” She lowered sad eyes again.

  Kelly’s heart burst with the sputtering connection, but at least it was better than no conversation at all. “Your poem was truly beautiful.” She left a gap in the conversation for Milly to fill.

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  Instead, Daniel kept the conversational ball in the air with a goofy smile. The one she fell in love with. “I was so proud of you.”

  Forks resumed their scraping. Kelly threw a glance at Daniel, who was now studying his daughter, eyes narrowed, brow knotted. Her husband’s professional hat was on.

  “Perhaps we should remember happier times. Did you have fun at your birthday party, Mill?”

  Milly’s fork halted, and the sad smile on her lips hardened.

  Kelly frowned at Daniel. What are you talking about?

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  Daniel shook his head at Milly’s silence and turned back to Kelly. “How was the appointment with the clinic?”

  Kelly filled her glass. “Another day, another promise that Rubicon Pharma has the drugs to fix anything.”

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  “So you’re losing faith in the healing powers of Mendacium?”

  Kelly sawed at her steak, the tension from Daniel’s usual quip about quick-fix medication driving her hand like a piston. “It’s great to see families helped. That’s one reason I liked this job in the first place. It just seems that the focus is more on the fix, not the family.”

  Daniel chuckled. “That sounds like any first appointment with a couple.”

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  The silence descended again, and Daniel resumed his study of Milly.

  Kelly watched the two most important people in her life in a silen
t marionette display. Her heart sank, along with the hope they could shake off this heavy tension. Placing her cell phone on the table, she raised a white flag to the hope of a deeper conversation and headed to familiar ground. “We should organize the rest of the week now that the funeral is out of the way.” The tension eased as they coordinated appointments, school, and work like air traffic controllers juggling a fleet of aircraft.

  Kelly kept Milly in the corner of her eye. Her brows loosened as the conversation moved to the logistics of dance lessons and Homework Club. She even contributed a full sentence. Sometimes two.

  Daniel placed his cutlery on his now-empty plate. “Hey, Mill, did any of your friends ever mention the great time they had at your birthday party?”

  Kelly almost dropped her glass. Why was he pressing on this?

  Milly’s mask was back, fixed in place by her knotted brow. “Why?”

  Kelly tensed as Daniel leaned forward on his elbows. He had done everything but ask his daughter to lie down on a couch in his office. “We haven’t talked about it—with Gramps and everything—so I wanted to check in with you.”

  The soft chime of the half hour floated out from the grandfather clock before it resumed its tutting.

  “Because it’s hard to know if people have had a good time when you’re busy catering to everyone else—”

  With a heavy sigh, Milly pushed away her plate and left the table, dragging her feet up the stairs.

  Kelly’s grief bubbled to the surface in a wash with every other emotion she’d held back all afternoon. “What on earth was all that about?”

  Daniel turned to her. “I thought I’d try another angle to work out what’s wrong with her.”

  “Work out what’s wrong with her? We just buried Gramps! Why do you have to be a professional all the time? She doesn’t need you to be a counselor. She needs you to be her father.”

  Daniel moved to answer, but stopped, catching his words before they came out.