Photographs in Time

by Terry Segan

  “Surely, you have more than one friend,” I said with a light laugh, as I led her down the hallway to the kitchen. The aroma of fresh baked banana bread swirled through the air as the loaf sat cooling on a rack beside the stove. Steam spouted from the kettle while it simmered on low.

  “Well, there’s Maggie. She’s my neighbor, but is in her 90’s. Not much of a friend. We have dinner occasionally at her apartment or mine at the complex we live in. Most of my friends disappeared when Gerald left me for that woman.”

  I gestured for her to have a seat at the table. “I’m sorry to hear that. Tell me about Maggie.” Sometimes listening to how a potential Betrothed viewed other people gave me a better sense of what they were like themselves. Obviously, the bitterness of her divorce still ran deep, so it might be too soon for her to venture into a new relationship.

  She took a seat at the table, as I poured the hot water into our two cups. As I sat one in front of Stella, she wrapped her hands around the hot cup. Once again, I noticed the puckered skin across her left hand. She looked down at the tea. “Well, there isn’t much to tell—except she was a young woman in the 1940’s. Such a romantic era, don’t you think?” Stella looked up at me, her eyes now had a little sparkle in them. “With World War II going on, the big band music, soldiers in uniform, how could it not be romantic? Don’t you think so?”

  “Well, it was a bit before my time, dear.”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to say you were that old. Sorry, I didn’t mean…” Stella bit her lip and looked nervously down at her cup again.

  This poor woman had no self-confidence. Doing the best thing to break her out of her shell—I laughed. She looked up and saw I took no offense at all, but found it amusing. She joined in, a little nervously at first, until we were both enjoying the moment.

  “Now, Stella, that’s better. Lighten up. This visit is all about fun. That’s all. Just relax and enjoy it.”

  “Dede told me you were very vibrant. I definitely agree.”

  “Well, thank you. Now tell me what else you like about the 1940’s. You seem very enamored of the era.” What I didn’t say, was one of the remaining Suitors whose portrait hung in the gallery, lived in 1945. Perhaps Stella would be number twenty-nine after all.

  “Well, my neighbor Maggie can’t say enough about the era. She described it as magical! That’s why I’d like to wear an outfit from that period for my photo session.”

  “Magical. What a great word to describe the forties. I guess in a way that’s true. The expectations in life were so different then,” I mused. “Tell me more about why you’re so enthralled with that period.”

  “Family life seemed more important than today. Well, maybe not more important… perhaps genuine. Couples worked things out, rather than cutting and running. They didn’t just file and be done with it.” She hesitated, lost in her own thoughts.

  “Is that what happened to you? With Gerald I mean?” I needed to know more about her history. Stella opened that door.

  After taking a couple sips, she nervously clattered the mug as she sat it back on the table. “Yes. Twelve years erased by simply signing a few papers and paying a fee. He felt we’d grown apart. I wanted to try saving our marriage, but he wasn’t interested. Begging to go to counseling annoyed him. In fact, everything I did annoyed Gerald over the last few years. You see, he’d met Ruth, and they were very much in love.” She stopped and stared into her tea. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, until she managed to gain control of her emotions once again.

  Looking up into my eyes, she said, “I’m sorry, Sami. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

  The heartbreaking pain on the woman's face made me want to help her. I reached out and grasped her hand, once more feeling the nasty scar. “You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”

  She pulled her hand away. “I guess you’re wondering how I got this?” Stella nodded toward her damaged hand.

  “No. You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “There’s not much to say. It was a kitchen accident. Gerald said he was sorry. He didn’t mean to do it.”

  This concerned me, that Gerald might have gotten violent. There may be a lot more healing needed than I first suspected. From the look of the white, furrowed skin, the wound happened at least a few years ago. “Are you sure you’re all right, honey? We don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want to.”

  Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she smiled. “It’s okay. Feels good to talk about it. That is if you don’t mind listening. Maggie is the only one I can talk too, and even she seems tired of hearing my story. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be. So, it sounds like Gerald has moved on to another marriage.”

  “Yes,” she went on more composed, “he felt Ruth was a better fit for him—closer to his own age. Gerald is eighteen years older than me. I never really saw the age difference, but I guess he did. When we first got married, we’d talked about having children. But then he changed and lost interest in being a father. Ruth is past that age with children of her own. I’m 32 and could still have babies, but now I guess I’ve missed my chance.”

  My heart ached for this young woman. A full life of love and family could still be possible. Despite her being a bit raw from the divorce, I believed the sweet, mild-mannered Archie from 1945 would be a good fit. Our conversation needed to steer away from the bitterness.

  “Tell me more about Maggie. You met her when you moved into your apartment?”

  “Huh? Oh, no. Maggie is the reason I found the apartment. You see, she lived next door to Gerald’s mother in San Diego. They had been friends and she watched him grow up. Guess you could say she remained the only friend that stuck with me after the split.”

  “Well, it sounds like she’s been a great influence on you. It’s nice to have steady friends like Maggie.” Another coincidence. Archie lived in San Diego.

  “Yes, I suppose,” she said looking down at the table.

  Making up my mind, I stood and cleared our empty mugs. “Stella,” I said, “would you like to see my studio?”

  Her face brightened. “Oh, yes,” she spouted a little too loudly. Toning down her voice, she said, “I thought you’d decided not to do my session.”

  “Not at all. Why would you think that?”

  “Never mind. It’s silly. Please, let’s go to your studio.”

  Quickly standing as well, she followed me out of the kitchen and down the hall. As Stella stepped in, she immediately caught sight of Dede’s and Milton’s portrait.

  “Wow! Dede looks great! And happy. Who’s the man that posed with her? They look so good together.”

  “Another customer that had the same artistic flair she did. He agreed to pose with her in a couple pictures.”

  “What’s his name? Do you think he would pose with me? I’d love to have a session like that.”

  “Well,” I began cautiously, “I can’t tell you his name. Since he’s a customer, I feel that’s confidential information. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Oh, right. Guess I didn’t think about that.”

  “Besides, it sounds like you’re looking for a different era. Not his style. Perhaps I could convince a past customer to return and pose with you. Like this gentleman over here,” I gestured toward Archie’s portrait. He wore an army uniform that identified him as being in the military during World War II. The pants and shirt were khaki colored, with a brown tie and he wore a cloth garrison cap.

  “Oh, my,” she uttered. After staring at the picture for a long moment, she turned and asked, “Do you think he would agree to sit with me? I mean do a session?”

  “Actually, he asked to do a joint session if ever I found a lady interested. His name I can tell you, since he gave me permission. It’s Archie Blake.”

  “Archie Blake,” Stella repeated the name. “Even his name seems to fit, doesn’t it?” She gave out a slight giggle. I witnessed an amazing transformation in this young woman’s whole deme
anor.

  “There it is!”

  “What?” She had a confused look on her face.

  “That smile you’ll be needing. Can’t do a photo session without it!”

  Her cheeks reddened as she blushed, and her smile grew wider.

  “How does tomorrow sound?”

  “Perfect! I’m actually off work, so will come back whatever time Mr. Blake can make it.”

  “I’m sure he’d prefer you called him Archie.”

  “Archie,” she repeated.

  “Ten o’clock sound good?”

  “I’ll be here. I can’t wait. Thank you, Sami. Thank you so much!”

  “You’re welcome. Come, I’ll show you out.” I indicated the hallway in which we’d entered, then walked with her to the door. “Just bring the outfit you want to wear, and we’ll have some fun. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said as she walked out and across the porch, practically bounding down the one step. I watched as she hurried to the end of the driveway. Stella seemed off in her own world already as she purposefully strode down the sidewalk.

  Chapter 30

  The savory aroma of meatloaf filled the kitchen. We sat at the table eating dinner when Jimmy asked, “So you think Stella would be a good fit for Archie?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” I answered. “From the sounds of her life, the ex-husband treated her like excess baggage. He’s eighteen years older. She desperately wanted to have children, but after they were married, he changed his mind about being a parent. Stella is 32-years old and Archie is 38. Both still young enough to have children.”

  “Sounds like we’ll only be one match away from completing our quota. After that we can be done with the process.”

  “You really think we can finish this, honey?” I asked him, lifting my glass for a sip of wine.

  “We’re so close. Now that we have Carney’s Family Slide, he can’t interfere with our matches.”

  “Providing he doesn’t have more special slides,” I reminded him.

  “Try to stay positive, Sami. We can end this. And send him someplace he’ll no longer be a menace.”

  “I’m trying, honey, I’m really trying. It’s just…”

  “We’ll get him,” he said, placing his hand over mine for a moment. “Keep moving forward. Did you tell Stella how she’ll really meet Archie?”

  “No. I wanted to talk to you about it first. She’s still trying to get over the divorce. I’m not completely sure Stella is ready for another relationship. There might not have been enough healing time.”

  “Look at how everything fits.” Jimmy said, sweeping his hand through the air. “These women come across your path because they’re right for one of our Suitors. Stella is one of them. What are the odds a potential Betrothed, who loves the 40’s, would randomly find her way to your door? With only two men left, that’s hard to come by.”

  “I find it too coincidental, don’t you think? She’s such a perfect match that it almost seems…well…planned.” I put my fork down and looked him in the eye.

  “How could anyone plan this? Least of all Carney? I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Of course, that’s what I’m thinking. You do have a point though. How could he possibly know what Suitors we have left?”

  “See? You’ve squelched your own fears,” said Jimmy, reaching across the dinner table and covering my hand again. The warmth of his touch radiated up my arm.

  “All right,” I managed a smile. “With everything that’s gone on, I’m looking for demons where there aren’t any. Stella would be a great Betrothed for Archie. I’ll present the process to her when she comes tomorrow and hopefully she’ll be willing to take a chance.”

  “That’s my girl,” Jimmy patted my hand then resumed eating. “Sounds like a perfect match to me,” he said in between mouthfuls of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. “Don’t worry, honey, it’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  Picking up my own fork, I scooped up some potatoes. Despite his confidence, it made my mind spin in several directions. It came down to me just wanting to place number twenty-nine. Thirty loomed around the corner.

  The next morning, I still had reservations about sending Stella back. Something seemed off. Not able to pinpoint it, I focused on her journey. Retrieving Archie’s yellow-framed slide from the safe, I placed it into the holder and pressed the activation button.

  At 10:00 on the dot, my doorbell rang. Despite being in the house, Jimmy agreed to make himself scarce. Because Stella had such a skittish personality, I thought a stranger being here might make her nervous.

  When I opened the door, she wore a basic beige dress, matching pumps, and a red pillbox hat with a bit of netting over the front. She personified a woman of the 1940’s.

  “You look perfect,” I exclaimed. “That’s a great outfit. Wherever did you find it?”

  “Do you really like it?” she touched the hat with nervous fingers.

  “Of course, I do! You definitely fit the era.”

  “I have to admit I’ve had the clothes for months. Found the dress and hat in a thrift store. I wanted to wear it last Halloween but didn’t have anywhere to go.” Recovering quickly, she asked, “Is Archie here?” The clothes transformed the young woman, building her confidence.

  “No, he isn’t.”

  Stella looked close to tears. “He wasn’t interested in me, was he?”

  “No, not at all,” I treaded cautiously. “You’re actually going to meet him somewhere else.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I’m confused. Don’t all your sessions take place here?”

  As we spoke, I led her to my studio. Time for the blatant truth. “Stella, I’m going to do more than just take your picture.”

  “Oh?”

  “I want you to keep an open mind.” I gestured to the room around us with a sweep of my arm. “Look around at the portraits in this room.”

  Stella squinted, then looking around, she started to examine the pictures.

  “What do you see in them?”

  “People. People whose pictures you’ve taken, I’d imagine.”

  “That’s a start. Notice anything else?”

  Stella looked back at me, a little perturbed, starting to form the word no with her lips. Then she stopped and took another look.

  “They’re all couples,” she stated. “Except for those two over there.” She pointed at Archie’s picture and the one next to it.

  I nodded. “I introduced all those couples.”

  “When you say couples,” Stella asked, “do you mean two people that ended up together? Like in a relationship…or even…marriage?”

  “Now you’re catching on.” Smiling at Stella, I allowed her a few moments to let my words sink in.

  Just like Dede, she started looking at the portraits in a new light—with renewed hope. I’d planted the seed of potential happiness, and it started blooming.

  “Dede is in one of those portraits. She really didn’t go back to Iowa to take care of a sick aunt.” Finally, she made the connection.

  Time for me to believe in the process and take a risk. “No, she didn’t. You see that man she’s pictured with?”

  “Yes.” Stella said, as she stepped closer to look at Dede’s and Milton’s picture.

  “She’s with him now. In Albuquerque, New Mexico.”

  “Dede moved to New Mexico?” Stella turned to look at me.

  “Yes,” I hesitated. “She went back to be with him in Albuquerque—in the year 1975.”

  “What! Are you nuts?” Stella looked doubtful.

  When I didn’t respond, the puzzled look on her face slid off.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is that possible? How did she go back?”

  I extended my hand and asked, “Are you ready to take a leap of faith?”

  The question hung in the air for a couple moments, like an elephant in the room. It wouldn't be ignored, and it deserved some serious consider
ation. She looked over at Archie’s portrait.

  Turning back my way, she reached out and grasped my hand. “Yes. I want to believe.”

  Feeling the puckered skin of her scar, this time she didn’t pull away. “Do you have any plans for the next 24 hours?”

  “Just work at 10:00 tomorrow.”

  “Can you be a little late?”

  She thought a minute, then slowly nodded.

  “Want to meet Archie? Like your friend, Maggie, he lived in San Diego.”

  “You’re sending me back to the 1940’s, aren’t you?”

  “Nineteen-forty-five to be exact. Wanna go?”

  She nodded once.

  “Okay. Details. You will pose for my camera. When it flashes, you’ll be sent back to 1945 for exactly 24 hours. Archie will be there to greet you. If you two decide this is the life you both want, then you will have one week to wrap up your life in the present. You’ll be photographed one more time and go back permanently. Questions?”

  While talking, I led Stella over to the cushioned bench. She glanced at the bench, the camera, then back at me.

  She bit her lower lip. “I should have many.”

  “But you don’t, do you?”

  Stella shook her head. “No. I want to be happy. I want to be loved.”

  “You just might get your wish.” I raised my brow at her. “Ready to give it a whirl?”

  Again, she nodded once.

  I really expected more resistance. It’s not everyday someone offers you a trip back in time. Yet Stella was ready to trust me and go. She must be a very lonely soul.

  “So, what do I do?” she asked, eyes open wide.

  “Sit there, smile, and I’ll do the rest. Ready?”

  She sat on the bench staring down at the floor for a moment. Finally lifting her chin, she looked me in the eye and in a breathy declaration said, “Yes.”

  Stepping behind her, I pressed the button and the thirty-second countdown began. With my hand on her shoulder, I gave a reassuring squeeze. Keeping up the farce of using my sepia camera, I grabbed the cushioned button.

  A sly smile spread across Stella’s face. It was out of character and confirmed my earlier fears that something wasn’t right. My mind immediately flashed to Carney.