After the Rain

by Karen White

  His heart beat heavily as he watched her walk away. He wanted to call out to her, to make her come back, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure what he would say.

  She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I’ll stay to finish Maddie’s scrapbook. But then I’m leaving, so you won’t have to worry about this happening again.” She continued walking, faster this time, and he watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the house.

  His world darkened for a moment, and he looked up at the sky to see a thick cloud hovering in front of the moon. The stars had disappeared, and even the crickets had silenced, as if they had sensed the change in the weather while Joe remained oblivious.

  He gathered up the monitor, bait bag, and fishing rods, then walked quickly back to the house before the first raindrops began to fall.

  CHAPTER 11

  Maddie fumbled around in the darkroom, attempting to load the roll of film onto the metal film reel. Her fingers felt as nimble as rubber cucumbers, and she couldn’t manage getting the slippery film into the slot on the danged developing tank. Suzanne had made her practice outside in broad daylight, which was difficult enough, but now she was required to do it in the dark. Maddie couldn’t see her, but she envisioned Suzanne on the other side of the door, chewing on her lip and counting to ten, clenching her hands behind her back to prevent them from reaching out to do it herself.

  “Dangnabit!” Maddie’s voice was high-pitched and irritated.

  “Is that a curse word, Maddie?”

  Maddie heard the smile in Suzanne’s voice through the door and stopped her fumbling for a moment. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be.” She sighed loudly. “The stupid film won’t stay in the slot on the reel. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t have anywhere I need to be, so we’ll just wait until you get the hang of it.” Her voice sounded controlled, as if she were practicing patience. Maddie pictured Suzanne with her arms across her chest, clutching her elbows tightly.

  “Digital photos are so much easier. You just have to upload them on your computer.”

  Suzanne didn’t say anything from the other side of the door, but Maddie pictured her frowning at Maddie’s words of sacrilege.

  Maddie felt for the slot on the reel and tried one more time to slide the edge of the film into it. When she felt it go in, she almost dropped it in her excitement. “I did it! It’s on. I can hardly believe it.”

  Suzanne didn’t completely hide her sigh of relief. “Great. Now put it into the film tank like I showed you and cover it so you can come out.”

  Maddie fumbled in the dark some more to get the lid on the small metal tank, then opened the door of the small closet before stepping out into the darkroom. Suzanne stood bathed in red from the safe light hanging overhead, and it was like looking at her through a film negative.

  Suzanne indicated the dark bottles of chemicals on a shelf in the far corner. “Do you remember what each one of these is?”

  Maddie ran through the list in her head from her tutoring sessions with Suzanne and pointed to the first one, containing developer. “This one’s the soup.” Moving her finger from bottle to bottle, she said, “That’s the stop bath, fixer with hardener, and the hypo eliminator bath.” She grinned up at Suzanne. “Did I get it right?”

  Suzanne smiled back. “Yeah. You’re on your way. Now, do you remember what to do next?”

  “Um, yeah. We’ve gone over it a couple of times in photography club, but I’ve never actually done it. Would you like to take over now?” She held her breath, afraid that Suzanne would say yes.

  Suzanne shook her head but kept her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Nope, the only way to learn how is to do it. I won’t let you make a mistake—promise. Then, after you’ve learned how to do it the right way, I’ll show you how to do it the wrong way to make some pretty neat effects.”

  “Cool.” With studied concentration, Maddie began to move through the complicated developing process, alternating chemicals and water through the pour spout of the sealed film tank. She grinned to herself. Nobody in the photography club at school had been allowed into the darkroom yet. But, because she was the teacher’s favorite, he had let her come in today with an experienced photographer. She’d try real hard not to let the dim-witted Miss Perfect, Lucy Spafford, feel bad about being left in her dust.

  After she’d put in the fixer for the required ten minutes, Maddie finally found the courage to ask Suzanne what she’d been trying to ask for over a week. Being in a dimly lit room while focusing on something else helped her talk. She’d learned that method from her dad. “Have you ever heard of Lifetime magazine?”

  “Of course I have. It’s a big-time photography mag. It’s also a personal favorite of mine.”

  Maddie kept her gaze fixed on the small metal canister. “Well, they’re holding a photography contest for students. The winner’s photo will be on the cover, and they’ll get a scholarship to an art school in San Francisco.” She tilted the canister from side to side, studying it closely. “Mr. Tener says I should enter.” There. She’d said it. Now all she had to do was wait and see if Suzanne laughed.

  Instead, she said, “Of course you should. You definitely have talent, Maddie, and this could give you a head start that most photographers only dream of. I mean, most photographers would kill for a Lifetime cover. I know I would.”

  Relief, mixed with doubt and anxiety, flooded through Maddie. She leaned against the wide metal sink and sighed. “But it’s California. I guess that’s pretty far from Walton.”

  Suzanne looked at her with those eyes that always seemed to calm her, and alerted Maddie that she was about to get right to the point. “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

  Maddie shook her head, her ponytail shaking as if in agreement. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  Suzanne looked embarrassed and turned away to start putting the lids on the chemical bottles they had already used. “Why? What do you think he’ll say?”

  Maddie puckered her brows. “He sort of expects me to go to Georgia. I was even planning on applying for early admission.” She looked up at Suzanne. “I don’t think he could stand for me to be so far away.” She shrugged slightly, trying to shake off the heavy feelings that had been following her around all week. “He needs me. And I can’t stand to think of him so lonely.”

  Suzanne came to stand in front of her, to look her right in the eye. “But what is it that you want?”

  Half of her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile as she slowly rolled the metal tank in her hands. She could tell Suzanne what she’d never been able to tell her dad. “I’d like to travel—to live someplace else besides here. I even ran away once, to New York. I didn’t get past the entrance ramp to the interstate, but I had every intention of living in New York with my aunt Cassie. I just don’t think I could live here forever like my mom and dad. There’s more to life than that.” Her grin faltered, and she felt as if she’d just denounced her own parents.

  Suzanne moved out of the way so Maddie could use the sink to wash away the fixer. “Well, it sounds to me as if you’re borrowing a whole passel of worry.”

  Maddie paused and looked over her shoulder. “You sound just like Miss Lena. She always says that.”

  Something like confusion passed over Suzanne’s face, and she frowned. “Really? My mother used to say that, too.”

  Maddie turned back to the sink and began to run water through the tank as Suzanne spoke again. “You have to tell your dad, but I think you should enter the contest. Then, if you win, you can jump that hurdle. I’m sure your dad will back anything you decide to do, once he comes around to it.” She paused for a moment and then said, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different.”

  Maddie concentrated while she poured in the hypo eliminator and began agitating the tank. After two minutes, she began the final wash in the sink. “You don’t think he’ll be mad?”

  “He might be hurt at first, but not mad. When the time comes,
the two of you can discuss what’s best for you and come to a decision. But he’ll come around. He’s a pretty reasonable guy.”

  Maddie slanted a glance over at Suzanne, remembering seeing her in the light of the porch, coming from the creek the night before with grass in her hair and skirt. Maddie had been about to call out to her from the porch when she’d spotted her dad and instead had slipped silently into the house. She hid her grin and said only, “Yeah.”

  Suzanne cleared her throat and reached for the tank. “I’ll take the film out while you go get some photographic paper. Then, while the film’s drying, we can go get something to eat at the Dixie Diner.”

  Glancing at her watch, Maddie shook her head. “I have to be somewhere at six. All I have to do is slide the dry film into a sleeve, right? I can do that on Monday.”

  A look, similar to the one she’d seen the night before, flashed over Suzanne’s delicate features. It reminded Maddie of Harry when she told him there weren’t any more Cheerios. “Or maybe you can do it, if you want. You might even find a picture you think is good enough for the contest.”

  Suzanne brightened a little. “I might. I’ll let you know.”

  She looked so lonely, standing there with her hands behind her back. Maddie almost invited her along with her friends for the evening, and then remembered her dad and what she and her friends were planning on doing. Definitely the wrong move. “Well, I’ve got to go. Thanks for all your help.”

  Impulsively she hugged Suzanne. At first the older woman stiffened, and then relaxed enough to squeeze back and pat Maddie’s shoulder. “I didn’t do anything but stand around and watch. If that helped, then you’re very welcome.”

  Maddie pulled back, glancing at her watch again. “I’ve really got to go. If you’re going to stay, make sure you lock up or Mr. Tener will never let me in here after hours again.”

  “I will.” Suzanne held out her hand in a little wave as she turned to leave, and a part of Maddie wanted to stay. Then she remembered Rob and her other friends who were waiting for her, and hurried to the door, ignoring the nagging pull of guilt that seemed to grab her like a fish on a hook.

  She pulled open the door of the darkroom and stopped, remembering one more thing. “Charlie Harden might show up to pick up his assignment for the photography club from Mr. Tener. If he comes in here, don’t let him look at my pictures.”

  “Is Charlie any relation to Stinky Harden?”

  “His obnoxious son. Looks like a miniature version of his daddy.”

  Suzanne rolled her eyes. “That’s a scary thought. But I didn’t think Stinky was married.”

  Maddie stuck her fingers in her back pocket, trying not to show her impatience to leave. “He’s divorced—three times, I think. He’s got two other kids. Charlie’s his only son, though. Thank God.”

  As if reading her mind, Suzanne grabbed the door and held it open for Maddie. “Don’t let me keep you. You run on. I’ll take care of the negatives.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Ignoring the guilt feelings pinching at her chest, she closed the door of the darkroom and jogged the rest of the way home.

  Suzanne took another sip from the Coke she’d brought back to the darkroom from her dinner at the Dixie Diner, before sliding the long strip of negatives through the enlarger and examining each print on the eight-by-ten easel below. She leaned closer, studying the shots she had taken in the cemetery. The pictures were good, if not her best, until she got to the ones taken around Harriet’s grave and she found herself holding her breath. Although she was viewing the images reversed in negative form, they seemed to have a soft glow to them, as if already airbrushed by an unseen hand. There was an ethereal beauty to them, as if she had captured on film a place on earth never seen before. She went back to the first pictures on the roll to see if the flaw appeared on those, too, but they were clear.

  She slid the next negative into the enlarger and turned the knob to focus it more clearly. These were the pictures Maddie had taken at the surprise birthday party. Centering the easel below the enlarger, she prepared to study them without bias to better critique Maddie’s work. But she couldn’t. They were wonderful.

  Leaning forward, Suzanne studied a picture of Cassie and Sarah Frances, which must have been taken after the girl had stormed up to her room. Her head rested on Cassie’s shoulder, her eyes open and staring past the photographer. Only Cassie’s hand was visible as it cradled the back of Sarah Frances’s head, cupped in a C that symmetrically matched the curve of the girl’s head. The hand was that of a mother comforting a child, and knowing the relationship of the two people in the picture didn’t alter Suzanne’s first impression. There was a slight shady glow in this picture, too, and she made a mental note to make a print of it to show Maddie. This one would definitely be a contender in any photography contest.

  She continued to study the photos from the party, marveling at how Maddie could capture the essence of a person, the nature of the inner soul, within the frame of a camera lens. The pictures of the children leaping on the lawn in pursuit of fireflies made Suzanne smile. She was still smiling when she slid the last negative on the strip into the enlarger. Then her smile froze.

  The odd glow was back in this picture, holding the same otherworldly quality as the ones in the cemetery. The frame was of her and Joe, illuminated by the radiance of the moonflowers behind them. The shot was a close-up of her face, her lips separated from Joe’s by only a breath. His mouth, in an upturned smile, was the only part of him not in shadow, but her whole face, which seemed to shimmer and glow with an unspoken joy, claimed the focus of the shot. Suzanne flushed, not recognizing herself and embarrassed that Maddie had seen her this way. She felt naked staring at the woman in the frame, feeling as if she were looking at a stranger.

  Her heartbeat seemed to slow to a sluggish beat as she continued to stare at the picture. Oh God. She let herself sag against the counter, trying to coax her thoughts in the right direction. There was no doubt in her mind that this picture could win a contest. She let her fingertip touch the cold smoothness of the easel, casting the image onto her fingers, and closed her eyes. There was no way she could ever allow her face to be plastered on the cover of a national magazine. She might as well turn herself in now.

  Oh God, she thought again as she realized what was upsetting her the most. The thought of duping Maddie nearly choked the breath out of her. But the thought of the people of Walton finding out who she really was made a little piece of her die. Even if she were long gone from this place, to have them know would be more than she could bear.

  She looked back up at the image and wanted to weep. When had her controlled, orderly life given way to this confusion? She used to know what she wanted. But it had changed when she wasn’t looking, and she was afraid to stare at it head-on. She’d been down this road of futile hopes before, and it was littered with the carcasses of her bitter disappointments.

  Change was inevitable. But she wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. She had the album to do for Maddie. And for Harriet. Then it would be time. Reaching up for the switch on the enlarger, she turned off the light.

  Without hesitation she threaded the negative through the enlarger, then fumbled in the drawer beneath the enlarger and picked up the scissors. Quietly she said, “I’m sorry, Maddie,” then clipped the film, watching the single frame float to the floor like a lost memory.

  She stared at it for a long time without picking it up, remembering the moment in which it had been taken. She could almost smell the aroma of the moonflowers and taste Joe’s lips and recall the way he made her feel. Dropping the scissors on the counter with a clatter, she crouched and retrieved the negative. If she could make just one print—one thing to pull out, later, when she was a long way from here, and remember again . . . Switching the light on the enlarger back on, she threaded the single negative into the machine, struggling to get it to stay in place. Fumbling in the drawer again for the pack of photographic paper she’d spotted, she pulled it o
ut. After turning off the light on the enlarger again, she slid a page from the pack. It had been such a long time since she’d used anything except fiber paper in her photo development that she wasn’t even sure which side to turn up on the easel. Remembering an old trick she’d learned years before, she licked a corner of the paper on each side, determining which one made her tongue drag.

  After making her test strip to experiment with exposure times, she put a fresh paper on the taped-down easel and flipped on the enlarger for eight seconds.

  Turning around behind her, she found the trays of chemicals she needed and slowly dropped the paper into the first tray of developer.

  Stirring constantly, she watched the murky image appear through the chemical, the muted faces dreamlike but no less stunning in their intensity. It was an exquisite picture of innocent joy, the glowing whites and dusty grays contrasting nicely against the sparkle in her eyes. This picture would win any contest it was entered in. It was simply brilliant.

  The recollection of a story she’d heard in a photography class years before, about how some native tribes never allowed their photographs to be taken because it captured the soul, hit her suddenly. It was only now that she knew it to be true.

  Using tongs to retrieve the print from the first tray, she then carefully dropped it into the stop and fix, and finally into water to rinse off all the chemicals. Finding a roll of paper towels near the sink, she laid out a couple and placed her picture on it to dry.

  As soon as she was done, she replicated the process, but this time she used the picture of Cassie and Sarah Frances. When it was done, she placed it on a paper towel next to the first one and sat down to watch it dry, placing her hands on her folded arms and closing her eyes.

  She must have dozed, because the next thing she was aware of, another person was in the room with her, standing between her and the counter where the pictures lay.