RuthAnne nodded, and she grinned. “Waiting.”
Lifted by the prospect, Amy retrieved her dishes from the table and gave them a rinse before setting them in the dishwasher. After that, she exited the house through the front door, and when she looked around the porch, found nothing but empty seats and extinguished hurricane lamps on wicker tables. The memory of sharing this space, the flickering candlelight, with Tyler seeped into her soul and left happiness in its wake.
Trotting down the few steps leading to the front yard, she found him, almost hidden from view as he knelt by the flowerbeds, hard at work weeding. For a few unguarded moments, Amy savored the sight. “Well if this doesn’t bring back some memories.”
He looked up, the late-morning sun glimmering in his dark blond hair. His skin was richly tanned, his arms sinewy and strong as he continued to yank away traces of overgrowth. He wore a pair of faded cut-offs and a white t-shirt that did odd, fluttery things to her insides. “So get on down here and help. We always made a great team.”
“Glad I just ate a hearty breakfast.” She shot him a teasing look, and then knelt next to him on the thick pad where he paused for a few seconds. “I loved the note, too. So far, the entire morning has me feeling quite pampered.” She pulled away some scrub grass and weeds. “Well, until now, that is.”
“Mission accomplished then. Until now, that is.”
They worked at weeding for a bit, but then Amy couldn’t wait any longer. Curiosity was eating her alive. “So…how’d it go?”
Tyler shook his head, but didn’t miss a beat in his landscaping detail. “I’m working myself senseless—after a sleepless night, and following a very intense meeting—because it fills me with equal parts fear and thrill to realize I’m just about ready to sign on with him.”
Wow. Amy settled back on her haunches, ignoring the overgrowth for a minute. “Really.”
“Really.”
“So you’re ready to make the decision, but you’re not completely content.”
“Truth to tell, I probably won’t be content until we strike an agreement and start to actually move forward. Part of me is blown away by him; he’s a really impressive guy. And, in basic terms, I trust his intent. But there’s this other part of me that’s scared of the whole rug-being-ripped-out-from-under-me thing.”
She looked into Tyler’s eyes. A world of long-standing friendship and knowing, was revealed in their depths.
“That’s why we pray.” They spoke the words in a perfect unison that left Amy wistful for the ease of their youth.
Tyler touched her cheek with the tip of a clean finger. “God truly knows how much I miss those youth group days when we’d gather in a circle, talk about our troubles just like we are right now, and end on that very claim.”
“I feel the same way. It was so simple then.”
“To a degree.” A pause followed, ripe with an underscore of tender emotion. “Where’s Pyper?”
Amy chuckled. “Still sleeping. Hey, do I have a bruise on my forehead?”
Tyler studied her. “No. Why?”
“Good. I was worried there for a second. She walloped me a good one just before I got out of bed.”
“Restless sleeper?”
“Yeah. Always has been.”
Tyler shook his head and his wry grin had her curious.
“What’s that look all about?”
“You. You’re the opposite of a restless sleeper. I remember the trip home from Pennsylvania. You executed a none-too-subtle seating arrangement that put me between you and Carlie. Remember?”
Amy pulled dandelions and more overgrowth from the soil around the bushes. “She wanted to sit by you. I was being a good and gracious friend.”
“But I was caught in the middle. You fell asleep on my shoulder about a half hour after we started home. My arm went to sleep and my whole right side basically went stiff because I didn’t want to move. You snuggled in like a cat takin’ a nap.”
A delicious sensation of weakness seeped through Amy’s insides. “I don’t even remember that.”
“Well, honey, you were asleep at the time.”
Tyler’s expression made Amy laugh though she felt suddenly shy. Infinitely warm.
“Frankly, I would have taken a lightning bolt before I moved and disturbed you and made you move away. I loved it.”
Amy picked up their refuse piles and stuffed them into a nearby recycle bag. That was the thing about Tyler. He’d never, ever, take a loved one for granted, or fail to see to their comfort. “I swear, Tyler, I didn’t deserve you then, and I question why you think I deserve you now.” Awash in high emotion, in dreams of all that could have been, Amy leaned in and kissed his cheek, wishing for so much more from this man. “I sure am glad to be with you, though. Truly.”
He turned, and his gaze roved over her like a slow-moving caress. “Ditto.”
“Mommy? Wh’re you?”
The summons jarred them apart just when Amy had hoped for a bit more—like that kiss she had been aching for. Through the open front door, she saw Pyper slow-step down the stairway, holding tight to the built-in banister. Pyper rubbed her eyes and yawned big.
“I’m right here, snug-a-bug. C’mon out to the porch.”
“Mm’kay.”
Tyler watched Pyper’s progress and grinned. “She’s got every one of your cutest mannerisms, Amy.”
“Mm-hmm. Including a wicked right hook.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Morning, Pyper,” Tyler called out. “You ready to go for a hike, and see a big, beautiful waterfall?”
“Mm-hmm. Hi, Tyler.” She pushed open the screen door and padded across the porch in her bare feet. A long, cotton nightgown rippled around her ankles in the breeze. Her hair was an adorable, uncombed tangle; her eyes sleep coated, but slowly coming alive.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm. I’m hungry.” Right on cue, probably hearing their voices, out came RuthAnne with the place setting full of food that had been saved for Pyper. A tumbler of milk completed the meal. “Thank you, Ruthie.” Pyper dazzled RuthAnne with a smile, then looked at Amy. “Las’ night, when we said g’night, she said I could call her Ruthie.”
The adults exchanged smiles, and Pyper sat down on one of the big, padded wicker chairs; setting her plate on the table in front of it, she dug in.
“Mommy, can I help with my diggin’ tools Tyler got me?” She asked the question while munching a mouth full of toast and bacon.
“Tell you what. Your mama and I are gonna call it quits on the gardening for now, so we can all go have fun. Wanna give me some help tomorrow morning?”
Pyper downed some milk that left a white mustache on her upper lip. “Mm-hmm. I want to.”
“Great. I appreciate that.” Tyler stretched his back, then stood and trotted up the stairs. “I’m gonna change real quick, then we can head out. I want to show you some of the places I love here in Tennessee.”
Pyper didn’t say anything when he passed, but she watched him with careful intensity. When he was gone, Pyper returned to her breakfast. “He’s bein’ real fun, Mommy. Like when we were at home.”
The words were kind, the tone, though, was just this side of doubtful. Amy figured it out. Pyper was waiting for Tyler to betray that fledgling bit of trust and growing connection. How could that be helped, after all? How could Pyper continue to refuse such a consistent, tenderhearted man?
Again, an answer came to Amy, whispering through her soul like an answer from God. Time. Give it time.
****
“Do you like waterfalls, Pyper?” Tyler asked. They were just over an hour outside of Franklin, the top down on his Mustang, the warm air, blue sky, and sunshine filling Amy’s senses.
“I never saw one up close before.” From her spot in the back seat, Pyper watched the world zip by. Amy noticed the way her daughter took everything in: the hills, the horses, the farms and homes, the cows that made her exclaim and giggle.
Tyler turned off
a hilly, two-lane highway that snaked through an unspoiled, quiet area. He parked in front of a simple metal barricade, next to a hand-lettered sign that read: Rutledge Falls. “Well, let’s take care of that right now. Follow me, ladies.”
The tumble and crash of water echoed around them as they scrabbled down a narrow gravel and grass pathway. They clung to sturdy tree trunks and stepped carefully over the stones and bramble that covered the uneven terrain. After descending as far as they could, Pyper stopped in her tracks and tugged hard on Amy’s hand. “Mommy! Look at it! Look at it!”
Their hike ended at a stunning view of a four-tiered, sixty-foot cascade of mountain water that sang through the air like ancient music. The sparkling flow tumbled and sprayed into a wide pool far below that rippled with life. Tyler held Amy’s other hand; the three-way connection left her elated as they stood on a wide rock ledge, watching the never-ending cascade. “I know! Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“I remember once, a few years ago, they filmed a movie out here,” Tyler informed. “There were film crews swarming this place just like the ants on that ant hill over there.” He pointed at a nearby mound of earth teeming with insects and Pyper propped her hands on her knees, bending promptly to investigate.
Tyler continued. “I remember watching the movie afterwards. The scene they filmed here was all about this group of kids having a fun day in the summertime, diving into that pool of water down there by swinging on ropes, and—”
“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Amy muttered in a teasing way, already knowing what was coming as the result of Tyler’s added detail about Rutledge Falls.
First came a squeal that launched a family of birds from a nearby tree with flapping wing noise and irritated squawks. “I wanna rope swing! I wanna rope swing! Where are they? Can I go? Can I swing? Mommy, did we bring my floaty vest?”
Amy laughed. “Way to step into that one, Tyler.”
Pyper bounced around, searching desperately for a rope swing, and the means by which to get to the base of the waterfall far below. “I had no idea,” he muttered back. Tyler blinked hard, and then addressed Pyper. “There’s no rope to swing on, sugar beet. Sorry. They only did that for the movie, with cranes and hoists and stuff. To be honest, it’s a tough proposition for even trained hikers to get to the bottom.”
Pyper frowned, but wandered to the edge of the outcropping, looking down at the bubbling, gurgling water. Wearing a slight frown, she studied the waterfall, then its emerald colored reservoir, with longing. “What a bummer.”
Tyler gave Amy a sardonic look. “See what Hollywood does? Builds things up and then dashes ’em against stones.”
Amy giggled at that verdict.
He refocused on Pyper. “The next place we’re going to, Fall Creek Falls, has a beautiful waterfall, too, and that one we can actually see from the bottom.”
Appeased, Pyper’s excitement returned. “Cool!”
“Nice save.” Amy whispered the compliment, more than happy to keep her hand snug in his.
“I’m learning on the fly.”
****
Fall Creek Falls was everything Tyler promised: lush, unspoiled and radiant with life. When they reached the base of the falls, Amy edged her rucksack off her shoulder and unzipped it in a hurry, not wanting the inspiration or the play of light and color to escape her. She lifted out her camera and slid the strap into place, beginning to chronicle the nature display. Water burst, tumbled and spilled. The sweet aroma of brightly colored flowers combined pleasingly with the heavier musk of damp earth. Rocks, sun, and field unified into a view that left her breathless. Crouching, she framed a gorgeous shot of Pyper, who stood in ankle-deep grass surrounded by a sea of bell-shaped purple flowers that were nestled into the body of thick, green leaves. Water glistened and flashed, the spray shooting off rainbows as it tumbled over gleaming black ledges of Chattanooga shale.
In sun-drenched profile, Pyper’s hair tossed softly in the wind, her eyes cast upward in wonder as she studied the waterfall. The sky was a perfect, stark blue above her; thick, leaf-laden tree branches textured the shot.
Amy clicked away, losing herself, moving from spot to spot to capture moments, freeze memories and images into a place she could revisit over and over again. Creating shot after shot, she couldn’t stop smiling. Photography was such a joy. Photography filled a calling in her soul and lifted her up.
The meadow was a riot of colorful wildflowers and Pyper set about playing in the middle of it all. Amy crouched low once more, framing. Not satisfied, she laid flat on her stomach, capturing images of her daughter as Pyper stripped off her sandals and dipped her feet in the pool of water that crested nearby. Then, Amy laid on her back and lifted up just a bit, executing a shot of Tyler, who stood not far away, enjoying Pyper’s playful antics as well. His tall, lean frame blocked the sun from invading the picture. The overall effect was like rays of light bursting to life all around his darkened silhouette.
She lowered her camera slowly, consumed by him. Suddenly, all she could think about was capturing him somehow; she wanted to retain the perfect beauty of this time together to help comfort her in the empty days to come. Without him. After all, this idyllic week would have to come to an end…and that thought caused her throat to swell tight with a sharp stab of pain.
Tyler squatted, taking in their surroundings with a contented expression. He brushed his open hand against the carpet of purple flowers. She couldn’t quell her response to the image; she lifted the camera and reeled off a few more pictures. He turned his head, to look at her, and his quirk of a smile left her aching to capture it forever. She fought against being so blatant about photographing him, but in the end, she couldn’t resist. The shots came to life in digital form, touching her heart as surely as the touch of his hand in hers.
Tyler joined her, offering up a trio of the tiny purple flowers she had been admiring. “You seem to be in your element.”
Amy accepted them happily, and tilted her head to look into his eyes. “Thanks for these. And, believe me, I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Good.” The emphasis he placed on that word made heat flow to her cheeks in a subtle reaction of pleasure. His focus remained relentless, intent, and compelling. Amy sniffed at the blooms, enjoying the sweet, delicate perfume. “They’re Virginia bluebells.”
“They’re gorgeous.” In secret, Amy tingled, already planning to add these tiny flowers to the hyacinths he had given her back in Michigan, the ones which were now pressed carefully into the pages of her Pennsylvania mission photo album.
“Now, I want you to do me a favor.”
“OK.”
Tyler slid a fingertip beneath the thick strap of the camera. He lifted it up and over Amy’s head, taking possession. “Look at everything again. Take it in. Only, this time, without the filter, without the buffer of a lens. With nothing but the gratitude and joy I’ve seen in your eyes all morning. Take it in, Amy. It’s God’s gift.”
Dumfounded, she considered his request, and then, she obeyed. Propping back on her hands, she settled comfortably. Utterly at rest, Amy took in the scent of damp earth, the rough texture of twigs contrasted against the softness of the green leaves of ground cover that pressed against her palm. The petals and deep green leaves burst into life all around. Water crashed. Birds cawed. Subtle moisture, an after-spray from the waterfall, touched her cheeks, her neck, and arms left bare by a sleeveless blouse. Still, Amy couldn’t help but think of her surroundings in terms of pictures, framing shot after gorgeous shot in her mind. Memories. Each image was a memory she didn’t want to lose to the elusive, swirling fog of time. And distance.
Nevertheless, a thrill of delight worked through her. Pure happiness took over with as much power as the waterfall that formed a down rush just a few yards away. Tyler was right. This was truly God’s gift.
So, she revealed herself in response to the exercise he imposed. “It’s not that I don’t see my world, or appreciate it when I’m taking pictures.”
&n
bsp; Seated next to her, Tyler pulled up a leg and crooked an arm around it. He nodded in agreement, waiting on more.
“Maybe it’s protective—a bit of a hiding place—but overall, it’s just that pictures are precious to me. They forever capture a moment that can never, ever be replicated. They’re tangible pieces of the lives we’ve lived.”
A life Mark had destroyed with a sledgehammer. Amy refused to dwell on that fact for long, though. After all, she had Pyper. Always, always her beloved daughter.
Amy closed her eyes, face lifted to the sun. “I know it sounds selfish and even a bit simplistic, and maybe it’s not even a good way of coping, but something about my photography helps me grasp anew the fact that I won’t ever be left that desolate again, that abandoned.”
“Perfectly natural, human reaction. Just remember one very vital component to those emotions you’re feeling.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve never, ever been abandoned. Not by God most especially, and not by the friends and family God placed in your pathway—and Pyper’s.”
Amy heard the familiar sound of shutter clicks, and the subtle crunch of Tyler’s feet as he moved quietly around her, taking pictures. Amy’s revelry ended. She looked up at him with a smile not meant for the camera, or pictures, but instead reflecting sheer gratitude for the words he had spoken.
“Hey, Pyper,” Tyler called, “c’mere to your mama.”
Pyper nodded and ran to where Amy sat. Spontaneously she threw her arms around Amy’s neck. Cheek to cheek they looked at Tyler with wide happy smiles as he clicked his own series of shots.
But Amy knew the picture she wanted the most, and she was determined not to let the moment pass without the acknowledgment of something precious and special that she wanted to be able to call upon forevermore. “Wait. I’ve got a timer setting, and a mini tripod. Let’s do a shot of the three of us.”
Amy set up the camera on a nearby tree stump and she blocked out a fun shot of the three of them laying on their stomachs, looking up at the camera. They lined up—Tyler, then Amy, then Pyper with their chins propped on their hands. The timer counted down, and Tyler’s words came back to her, hugely magnified by the wants of her heart:
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