Behind His Lens(91)

“I got most of my identity from him. You hear about children getting their features from one parent and their personality from the other, but not me. I’m the spitting image of my father in every way.”

We sit at that cemetery the entire day. There must have been other visitors, but we didn’t see or hear them. We stayed in the private shade of that Oak tree as I listened to Charley talk about her father. Her words were like the trickling of a faucet, slow and steady. She had so many memories to unravel and her eyes lit up each time she remembered another happy time.

“The Country Club had a father-daughter dance each year.” Her mouth curls into a sly smile as the memory overtakes her. “My mother insisted we attend, and every year my father and I would dress up in obnoxious matching outfits, take pictures at home… and then skip the whole thing entirely. We’d go see a movie or just sit in his car and share hamburgers and a milkshake. I don’t know which one of us wanted to avoid the dance more, but it was clear that we were in it together.” She fiddles with the stem of a rose, twisting it between her fingers and then placing it down in front of his grave once again.

“Did your mother every find out?” I ask with a crooked smile, wishing I had been fortunate enough to meet her father— to shake his hand and thank him for being the love of his daughter’s life when she needed him the most.

“The fifth year we skipped, one of her friends finally mentioned that she didn’t see us ‘in attendance’. My mother was livid and wouldn’t stop huffing around the house for weeks. We tried to take it seriously, we didn’t want to make her more upset, but we just couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing. You know when your whole body turns into a tight coil of laughs and the moment you glance at your accomplice, you laugh even more? That’s how it was for weeks. God, we made her so mad.”

Charley

The day turns to night and we finally pull ourselves up from that dry cemetery grass. It’s strange that the world continued to pass around us, that dusk still fell even though we stood still in that moment of profound relief.

By the time we reached the cemetery’s gates, we still hadn’t called a cab.

“Can we just walk?” I ask, glancing up with a newfound contentment behind my gaze.

Jude’s bright blue eyes flicker down to me. “We can, but it’s a little over four miles. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” I sigh, and reach to lace my fingers with his.

We don’t say a single word during that walk home. After speaking for so many hours, my thoughts are finally calm and silent. Cold wind whips my hair and rich autumn smells fill the air as we pass the coffee shop he took me on our first date. His hand squeezes mine in silent recognition, and I tilt my body against him as we keep walking, wrapped around one another.

The farther we walk from the cemetery, the livelier the city blocks become—bright lights flicker through windows, groups of teenagers huddle in front of stoops, their voices clamoring over one another to be heard. Each step away from his grave offers one more bit of peace, like I’m a snake shedding the skin that had weighed me down since his death. I’ll never agree with my father’s decision, but I can’t wrestle with the past forever. My pace picks up as my lungs fill with deep, hopeful breaths. I can’t go back now, and that knowledge spurs me forward, away from my darkest days.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Four Months Later

Charley

I haven’t had a low day since we went to the cemetery. My life won’t consist of cupcakes and sunshine, but the gray fog tinting my life with its murky haze has finally lifted. For the first time in four years, I don’t feel like I’m breathing through corrupted lungs.

Revealing the truth was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But when I started, the words slipped out with an easy cadence, as if each syllable carried my broken heart away with them.

Jude and I have been inseparable ever since. The bond we forged that day in the cemetery can’t be broken, and I’ll be eternally grateful that he pushed me to take the next step. I have no doubt I would have eventually found my way to the light, but when I’m around Jude, my life glows brighter, and he led me there much quicker than if I had tried to find it on my own.

We’re walking to meet Bennett and Naomi for brunch like we do on most Sunday mornings. The air still holds a bit of a chill even though spring is starting to invade the city. I’ve never been a “spring” kind of girl, but this year, for once, my life seems to parallel the changing seasons. Jude’s hand wraps around mine in a secure grip and I slide my gaze over to take him in. He’s dressed down in worn jeans, and a long sleeved tee-shirt, rolled up to his forearms. That short, sexy stubble is ever present, toughening his already gorgeous appearance. His soft blue eyes catch me staring and I smile wide, proud of being caught ogling the man that I get to call mine.