The Nearness of You

by Dorothy Garlock

  What an absolutely perfect way to spend a day…

  After she and Boone had gathered his camera and said their good-byes to Clive, they’d walked to the festival and gotten to work. Lily had done her best, trying to think of out-of-the-way places she knew of only because she’d grown up in Hooper’s Crossing. So she had taken him to second-floor windows of the department store, with their incredible view on the park below. She’d shown Boone the soda counter at Mott’s Drug Store, sunlight glinting off the chrome fixtures and stools. Lily had introduced him to dozens of people around town: Sally Lange, who ran the bakery along with her husband, and who claimed to sell the sweetest cinnamon rolls in the whole state; Will Burton, who handed out lollipops to everyone who entered his barbershop, man or woman, seven years young or ninety years old; and Sylvester Cushing, whose bushy, snow-white beard had earned him the job of playing Santa Claus during Christmas festivities for two decades running.

  “Use my picture in the magazine and I promise you’ll have something nice in your stocking this year,” Sylvester had said with a cackle.

  Roll after roll of film had been used, so many pictures that Lily had lost count of all the times Boone had raised his camera to his eye and clicked the shutter open. But what interested her wasn’t just the shots he took, but those he didn’t. Boone didn’t go along with all of her suggestions, taking photographs to make her happy. Instead, he looked at each shot with a critical eye, changing an angle to improve the light, waiting for someone to leave the shot, or occasionally rejecting it; when Lily proposed a picture of the festival snapped from the far end of a long alley, Boone had turned it down, explaining that the trash cans would distract the viewer. It made Lily see what he did in a new light. Taking pictures was hard work.

  Eventually, they had decided to break for lunch. Boone bought a couple of sandwiches and two bottles of Coke from a vendor and they’d stretched out in the park, watching all the people and enjoying each other’s company.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Lily asked.

  “Shoot,” Boone answered, taking a long pull of his soda pop.

  “Why do you take pictures?”

  “Because Life magazine pays me,” he said, then chuckled.

  Lily frowned playfully. “I’m serious.”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I do.”

  Boone thought about his answer for a bit before replying. “I take pictures because they’re magic.”

  “Magic? Like a man pulling a rabbit from a hat?” she teased.

  “In a way, yeah,” he said. “Whenever I use my camera, I can make time stand still. For that one moment, everything quits moving. Look around,” Boone told her, waving a hand toward the crowded festival. “Everyone is in motion. People throwing back their heads to laugh, slipping their hands in their pocket for some change, or waving to a neighbor. Watching it with your eyes, you miss details, but when you look at a picture, there they are. That’s when you really see the design on a woman’s blouse, the chipped paint on the side of a delivery truck, or how the sun shines off the clock above the post office.” He paused, finishing off the last of his drink. “Like I said, magic.”

  Lily believed him. Listening to Boone’s answer, his words about magic, she felt he was casting a spell on her. He spoke about his work as if he was a sculptor or painter. She thought of all the famous paintings she’d seen in books, how she had marveled at their colors and shapes, at the small flourishes meant to capture the eye. A photograph was much the same. She felt as if he was opening a door deep inside of him, allowing her to see him for who he really was.

  “You make it look so easy,” she said. “I could never do that.”

  “Sure you could,” he disagreed. “You already did.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There were plenty of times today where you saw something I didn’t,” Boone explained. “I loved the shot you suggested in the department store. All of the shadows, looking down on the crowd. You found that, not me.”

  “What about the lemon in the alley?” Lily asked with a frown.

  “So what? Do you think I’m perfect?” He picked up his camera. “There will be plenty of mistakes in the pictures I took today. Maybe I misjudged the light or how far I was from the subject. Maybe I took it too soon or too late. For whatever reason, the shot won’t come out the way I wanted.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “From time to time,” Boone replied. “I just hope that when I develop pictures there’s more good than bad. With my talent and camera, that’s usually a foregone conclusion,” he added with a wink.

  Lily smiled. In the short time they’d spent together, one of the things about him that stood out was his confidence. Some people might have called Boone cocky, but not her. In fact, Lily found his belief in himself attractive.

  “Speaking of seeing how these pictures turn out,” he continued. “How would you like to help me develop the shots we took today?”

  “Is it hard?” she asked.

  “Nope. It’s a piece of cake. I just thought you might have fun seeing how it all works. It’s magic, remember?”

  “I’d love to,” Lily readily agreed. If it meant that she could be by his side for a little while longer, then she was all for it.

  They were enjoying the last of their lunch when Boone asked, “What’s all that for?” and pointed to the far end of the park.

  Lily looked over to find workers hanging bunting along the edges of the bandstand, positioning sections of flooring, checking and rechecking strings of lights.

  “There’s going to be a dance tomorrow night,” she explained. “It’s the biggest event of the festival other than Halloween night.”

  “A dance?”

  “With music and everything.”

  “Is it just for locals?”

  She shook her head. “It’s for everybody attending the festival. Out-of-towners included.”

  Boone had been reclining on his elbows, but now he sat up and turned to face her. “Let me take you. I promise I won’t step on your toes.”

  Even though Lily’s first instinct was to accept, she hesitated. While she had spent the day walking the festival with Boone, talking with dozens of people, she knew that going to the dance with him would bring a different kind of scrutiny. There they would be, beneath the strings of lights and the stars and moon above, moving in their own sort of orbit, holding each other tight for everyone to see. More than likely, her father would be there, too. What would people think? Would it be obvious how she felt about Boone? Would they know she was falling in love?

  It didn’t take long for Lily to shoo her worries and questions away. Though she’d been too frightened to leave town with Jane, she now found Boone’s confidence infectious. It emboldened her to make her own choices.

  “That sounds like fun,” she said with a nod.

  “Great,” Boone replied, then stood and began to gather their things. He held out his hand to her. “Ready?”

  “For what?” Lily asked, even as her fingers found his.

  “To get back to work. These pictures aren’t going to take themselves, especially if I don’t have my guide to lead me. In a big city like this, a fella could get lost in a hurry and never be heard from again,” he teased.

  Lily smiled. She most certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.

  Lily stood beside Boone in his makeshift darkroom and watched as he developed the pictures he’d taken. It was a more complicated process than she had expected it to be, full of terms like stop bath, fixer, and wetting agent; Lily didn’t understand half of the words Boone used but she nodded along as he talked. The chemicals he used had a sharp, unusual smell to them, but Lily didn’t mind. She was just happy to be with him, to watch him work at his craft.

  While they waited for the film to soak, they reminisced about the rest of their day. They’d moved through the crowded festival, taking more pictures. Boone was excited about one shot in particular. He ha
d photographed a young boy blowing a humongous bubble of chewing gum, his eyes wide as saucers as he watched a performer juggle bowling pins; he wondered whether the image might even be good enough to make the cover of Life. Lily offered a favorite moment of her own, but it was just one among many. What she would truly treasure about the day was that she’d spent it with Boone, watching the autumn sunlight shine in his hair, hearing his warm laugh, and occasionally feeling his touch as he steered her through the throngs of festivalgoers. Even now, looking at him in the strange red glow of the darkroom, she was struck by how handsome he was, by how close their bodies were in the cramped space.

  “I had a nice time today,” Lily said after Boone had finished rinsing the film in the sink and then hung the long strips up to dry.

  “I’m glad. I had a good time, too.”

  “Until today, I had no idea that work could be so much fun. Maybe I should’ve become a photographer. It sure beats being a librarian when it comes to excitement.”

  “It usually isn’t,” Boone replied. “Fun is usually the farthest thing from your mind when it’s cold enough to no longer feel your fingers, when there are so many mosquitoes that you can’t see a few inches in front of your face, or when you’re standing around for hours on end waiting for those five seconds when a Hollywood starlet races out of her dressing room.” He chuckled. “Days like today are worth their weight in gold. This one was particularly memorable.”

  “Why is that?” Lily asked, hoping that she was the reason for his answer.

  “Because of who I spent it with,” he answered, making her heart skip a beat. “With you by my side, I don’t think I’d mind the cold, a few thousand bugs, or even a little waiting.” Boone stepped closer, smiling as he stared into her eyes. “You’re more fun to have around than Clive, that’s for sure.”

  “I wonder what he’s up to tonight.”

  “Beats me,” he said with a shrug. “Probably stuffing his face with hot dogs and popcorn, then washing it down with some cotton candy. With as much as I’ve seen him eat, he should be a blimp instead of a string bean.”

  By the time Lily and Boone had finished taking pictures, the sky was quickly turning dark. When they got back to the room, all of the lights were off and the door was locked. Inside, Clive had left them a short note explaining that he was returning to the festival for some fun and a bite to eat. With Daisy still staying with Marjorie, that meant they were alone.

  “I don’t know why you’re so hard on Clive,” Lily remarked. “I like him.”

  “Actually, he’s not half bad,” Boone admitted. “When we first left the city, I didn’t think I’d survive ten minutes in the car with him, what with all the talking and sneezing, but I’m man enough to admit that I was wrong. Clive takes the job seriously and wants to do well, even if it wouldn’t hurt him to ask a well-thought-out question from time to time. But enough about him,” Boone said as he came closer, placing his hand on her arm. “I’d much rather talk about us.”

  Even though she agreed, Lily’s heart began to beat a little faster. “In that case, I’m all ears,” she replied as confidently as she could.

  “Sorry about that,” he facetiously apologized. “I misspoke. What I really want is a kiss.”

  Lily smiled. “But you already had one this afternoon.”

  And he had, just not from her.

  Moving through the crowded festival, Lily had introduced Boone to Cissy Hermann, a flamboyant figure around Hooper’s Crossing. Cissy dressed in the most garish of colors, almost always with matching accessories, including purse and hat. Overweight, she had a boisterous laugh that set her ample midsection to jiggling. So when Lily mentioned that Boone was a Life magazine photographer from New York City, Cissy had promptly walked over and planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a distinctive lipstick smear.

  “That’s a memento so you won’t forget your visit,” Cissy had said before cackling, making her fire-engine-red outfit shake every which way.

  “You’re right,” Boone told Lily with playful grin. “That was pretty exciting. Makes me wonder what the heck I’m doing here with you?” he teased. “You don’t happen to have that lady’s address, do you? I think I’ll go over and surprise her right—”

  “Hush,” Lily interrupted, quieting him.

  With her hand on his elbow, she gently pulled him closer, rising on her tiptoes to place her lips against his. This time, their kiss felt stronger, more intense, as if now that they’d acknowledged their feelings for each other, the trickle of passion had become a steady stream, well on its way to a flood. When they had finished, Lily leaned back, her eyes remaining shut for a few seconds as she savored the kiss, then asked, “Is it just me or are we getting better at this?”

  “And here I thought I was already pretty good when we started.”

  Lily smiled. “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “While I’d love to give you another example to compare, we still have some work to do,” Boone said before going to check the strips of film.

  He took down the negatives and got busy turning them into actual pictures. Once again, Lily felt out of her element as Boone talked about the “enlarger” and the “emulsion side of the negative paper.” She watched as he positioned a shot here and turned a knob there, moving as confidently as would be expected of a man who’d likely done this thousands of times before. When he put the print in one tray after another, moving it from developer to water to another chemical and more, Lily couldn’t help but smile when the first image appeared, materializing as if out of thin air. It was magic, just like Boone had said.

  Shot after shot was developed and then hung on a line of string to dry. The photographs were like a puzzle that revealed their afternoon together: the view from the upper floor of Dunaway’s Department Store; Cissy Hermann just before she kissed Boone; a row of people lined up to buy caramel apples; and many more. Boone’s picture of the boy and the juggler turned out to be every bit as spectacular as he’d hoped, the bubble of gum frozen forever, never to burst.

  “One more to go,” Boone said. “And this is one I can’t do without.”

  Lily recognized the image the moment it began to appear; it was the photograph Boone had taken of her the day they’d met. Everything was just as she remembered, her mouth open slightly, wisps of hair hanging in air, her expression a bit surprised as she looked at the camera. But strangely, there was something she didn’t recall. There was someone just to the side of her shoulder, a face that had yet to come into clear-enough focus for her to make out any features.

  “Who is that?” Lily asked.

  “Beats me,” Boone answered with a shrug.

  “Why is this picture different from the one I saw before?”

  “That’s because I trimmed the first one,” he explained. “The only face I have any interest in looking at is yours.”

  As Lily watched, the image grew clearer. First, she recognized that it was a man standing beside her. He was staring at the camera, his expression as baffled as hers. But then came an unexpected surprise.

  “I…I know that face…” she said.

  Boone looked over her shoulder. “Yeah? Who is it?”

  It was the man from out in front of the bank. Lily remembered their meeting. It had only lasted for a couple of minutes, but he had made her uncomfortable with the slick, practiced way he’d talked, as if he had been propositioning her. Though he was handsome in his own way, seeing him again made Lily’s skin crawl. She felt as if the man’s name was right there on the tip of her tongue, but try as she might, she couldn’t retrieve it.

  “I bumped into him the other day,” Lily explained.

  “Have a habit of that, do you?” Boone asked with a laugh.

  She shook her head, sweeping away all memory of the other man, choosing to focus on the person she’d been happy to run into. “How do you think we small-town girls entertain ourselves?” she teased. “That’s how we land you big-city boys.”

  “Like a fis
h on a line? Just snag one on the hook and reel him in?”

  “With one practiced flick of my wrist.”

  He stepped closer, pulling Lily into his arms. “Well, then I promise I won’t struggle to get away,” he said. “Fry me up in a pan or mount me on the wall, but whatever you do, don’t throw me back in the water. I’m all yours.”

  Boone’s words were like magic to Lily’s ears. That a man as handsome, as worldly as him would have fallen for a woman like her, well, it was like something out of a fairy tale. It was just what she wanted.

  When Boone bent toward her, Lily rose to meet him. This time, their kiss felt different, even more passionate. It was there in the deep, almost-guttural sound rumbling from his throat, the way his hand slid to her hip, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pulled their bodies closer together. Lily surrendered to her desires, matching his fervor, a part of her already wondering where the night might end. After all, they were alone. Unlike before, kissing in front of the bakery and down the street from her house, they didn’t have to worry about being seen. This time, there was no one to interrupt.

  Boone must have understood the same things.

  “Come with me,” he said once he’d broken their kiss. Now that the photographs had been developed, it was safe to open the door. He took Lily’s hand and led her into the larger room. Outside, the sun had long since set, blanketing everything in darkness; though it was hard to see, Boone navigated the room safely, stopping at the foot of his bed.

  But then his boldness ebbed. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t, Lily,” he said cautiously. “If you’d rather wait, we can always—”

  “Shhh,” she quieted him. “I’m not making any promises, but why don’t we see where things take us.”

  The fact was that Lily didn’t have a whole lot of experience when it came to men. There had been plenty of kisses and a handful of times when a hand had roamed somewhere that would have made her father furious, but that was as far as she’d gone. But right then, Lily knew that it didn’t matter if she was a virgin or not. She wanted more of what Boone could give her, and she wanted it now.