“Sure, Parker. Sell that somewhere else. I know the truth.”
“What’s that?”
She finished loading the film, then shut the back of the case. “You’re just a softy at heart.”
“Tell that to my competition.”
“Maybe I will. They’re trying to pry industrial secrets out of me. We chat nightly.”
When she smiled, both her dimples appeared. He decided he liked looking at her. She wasn’t conventionally beautiful. Some men might not think she was even pretty, but he disagreed. She had an honest and open face. He knew he could trust her. And she had a warm and giving heart. That was more important than model-perfect beauty any day.
“Look what I found,” Christie said, racing toward them. She held a shell in her hand. It was small and circular, pale cream on the outside and the softest pink within.
“I wonder how it survived the storm,” Erin murmured as she raised the camera to her left eye. “Honey, hold your hand up by your chin, but flat. That’s right. Don’t you think I’m being silly?”
“Yes,” Christie said as she did what her mother asked. “Very silly.”
“I want you to make a face and show me how silly.”
Christie wrinkled her nose, then grinned. “You’re funny, too, Mommy.”
“I know.” The camera clicked several times, then Erin lowered it to her lap. “Do you want me to keep your shell for you?”
“You’re busy,” Christie said. “Here, Daddy. You keep it.” She carefully handed him her treasure, then returned to search the shoreline for more.”
Along with shells and battered pieces of wood there were bottles, a couple of cans, bits of clothing and twisted chunks of metal and plastic that could have come from anywhere. The tide would take most of it back tonight and in a few days the sand would be clean again.
“A dinghy washed up here once,” he said.
“Had it come loose from a larger boat?” Erin asked as she stood up.
“Probably. It wasn’t marked, though, so I had no way to find the owners. I ended up donating it to a kids’ club in town.”
“I’m sure they appreciated that.”
He shrugged.
“Why do you do these nice things, then act all weird when I mention them?” she asked.
“I don’t do them to get noticed. It’s just right.”
Hazel eyes studied him. Her mouth pulled into a straight line. “Sometimes you’re a confusing man, Parker Hamilton.”
She was close enough to touch, close enough for him to feel her heat and want to pull her into his arms. “Is that good or bad?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, then started toward Christie.
Christie had found a small plastic bucket, no doubt left over from a child’s afternoon at the beach. She filled it with sand and water. “In case I catch a crab,” she said. “I can take it home.”
“Fortunately the crabs are faster than you,” Erin said, then kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “You’re a wild one.”
As Christie raced around, finding treasures and chasing sand crabs, Erin took her picture. A couple of times she took him, although he wasn’t sure why she would want to.
At one point she had him put Christie on his shoulders, then seated them on the large piece of wood. She took her pictures slowly, thinking out what she wanted rather than just snapping randomly. He liked watching her try different angles and turn them so the sun hit just right.
“You take your photography seriously,” he said when he set Christie on the sand.
Erin shrugged. “I’ve always liked it. There was a time when I’d hoped to become a professional photographer.”
“What got in the way?”
“Life in the form of an unexpected child.”
He glanced at Christie. Her pigtails bounced in time with her skipping steps. She swung her bucket back and forth as she danced to the far end of the cove.
“I’m not saying she wasn’t worth it,” Erin added quickly as she followed his gaze. “I love her more than I ever thought it possible to love anyone. And I wouldn’t give her up for the world. But she wasn’t part of the original plan.”
“What was the plan?” he asked.
Erin opened the back of the camera and pulled out the full roll of film. She stuffed it into her front right pocket. She transferred the camera to her opposite hand, then removed a new roll of film from her front left pocket.
“I was going to study photojournalism in college.”
“But you went to college.”
“I was going to study it in grad school. For my bachelor’s, I got my degree in English, with an emphasis on history. I wanted something to fall back on. I thought if I couldn’t make a living as a photographer, I would be able to get my teaching credentials.”
“Which you did because of Christie.”
“Right.” She dropped the film into the back of the camera and set it in place. She clicked the cover closed and advanced the roll. “I guess I lost my turn.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just something Stacey and I used to talk about. Usually there wasn’t enough money for both of us to do something, so we took turns. She was more intense than I was, so she usually went first. I’ve gotten very good at waiting my turn.”
He thought about her plans. “But this time Fate intervened.”
“Something like that.”
He stared out at the ocean. Despite the growing strength of the sun, the water remained a cold muddy gray. The storm had churned up the bottom and it would take a few days for everything to settle back down and for the water to turn blue again.
Like the ocean, Erin’s world had been turned upside down, but she hadn’t had a chance to return to what she used to be. She wouldn’t get her turn because of him. Yet another of his sins. All because of a single night. If only he’d refused what Stacey had offered. If only he hadn’t felt so damn empty inside.
“I wish things could have been different for you,” he said.
Her gaze darkened. “Parker, it just happened. You didn’t plan on-” She paused and blushed. “On doing that with Stacey, and you certainly didn’t know that she was going to get pregnant.”
“And why aren’t you taking pictures instead of teaching school?”
“Because it’s not my turn yet,” she said. “I don’t mind waiting.”
She’d waited her whole life, he thought. He wondered if she ever wanted to just seize her turn and be done with it.
“You don’t need a degree to take pictures,” he told her. “You’re doing it now.”
“I know.” She glanced at the camera. “I like to take the odd photo or two. Most of Christie. But it’s not the same. I have a good eye, but I need some training in composition, light, that kind of thing.”
“You sure that’s not an excuse to let fear get in the way of what you want to do?” he asked without thinking.
“An interesting question from a man who lives like a hermit,” she said, then turned away and started toward Christie.
He felt her anger and the faint whisper of hurt. “Erin, I didn’t mean anything by that.” He hurried to catch up with her. “Erin?”
She stopped and looked at him. “I know. I guess you touched a nerve.” Her gaze intensified. “Maybe I did, too. It’s okay that you live like a hermit.”
He touched her cheek. She didn’t pull away. “It’s okay that you’re scared to take pictures,” he said.
Once again he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her until they both forgot their pain and their pasts. But they weren’t alone. This was neither the time nor the place. If he were very
