Snapshots of a Small-Town Life
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. Also, Bridgewater and Greyston County are fictional locations and the original characters that inhabit them are also fictional. Any resemblance they may bear to actual places is purely coincidental.
Rating: K
Chapter 7
"And this is your sister's first Christmas," Sara told Jenny, moving on to another envelope.
"That's when Dad gave you your camera, right?" Jenny asked. "Your real camera," she added, "not the one you use for everyday."
Sara smiled.
"Yeah. That's when your dad gave me the camera I use for my professional shots," she agreed, referring to the hobby that had developed into a second job.
For the last fifteen years her shots of the plants, animals and scenery around Greyston County had been on sale in local tourist shops, and for almost a decade she had taken the yearly photographs at Bridgewater West Elementary. She also did the occasional wedding andthe graduation photos at Bridgewater High, and a few of her shots of local events had made the local paper.
It wasn't exactly a steady job, but it was fun and brought in a little extra money, which was always useful when you were trying to raise four kids on one-and-a-half salaries.
She smiled at the Christmas photo…
The Christmas tree sparkled in the corner of the room. Nick and Sara had been determined to do a proper job of what they regarded as their first real Christmas – their first as a family as well as their first in their new home – and the tree was seven feet tall and beautifully decorated. The mantelpiece was trimmed, a bunch of mistletoe hung in the hall and there was a wreath on the door. There were also presents galore.
Nick was seated in an armchair, holding Rose, while Sara did the honours in the other chair.
"And what's this?" she asked her daughter. "Aww, it's a fluffy wabbit. Wabbit. A wabbit." She waved the toy at her daughter, who cooed in response. Nick chuckled.
"How about a present for Mommy now?" he suggested, nudging a square package towards her with his foot.
"Okay." She read the label. "To my darling Sara. With all my love at Christmas and always, Nick. Awww, honey," she swallowed the lump in her throat.
"C'mon sweetie, open it," Nick urged, and she chuckled. He was like a big kid sometimes, and his enthusiasm was infectious.
She peeled back the wrapping paper, savouring the experience. She had already taken a bunch of photos that morning, determined to record every moment of this day.
"A camera!" she exclaimed in delight.
This wasn't just any camera, this was a professional job complete with extra lenses and a large detachable flash, like the camera she had used to document crime-scenes back in Vegas.
"There's film too," Nick told her. "Go ahead and try it out."
"It must have cost a fortune," she protested.
"It's second-hand," he admitted. "But it still works fine: I checked it out myself."
"But we don't have a darkroom."
"Sure we do," he smiled. "It's down in the basement. I finished it days ago."
"I thought you were building cupboards?"
He chuckled. "And you used to call yourself a CSI." She threw a ball of screwed-up wrapping-paper at him. "Hey! Father with a baby!" he protested.
"Oh, you!"
She stood up and raised the camera. For a moment she experienced an irrational fear that, when she looked through it, she would see her perfect family Christmas turned into a scene of bloody carnage, but she blinked the thought away and put her eye to the viewfinder.
Nick smiled and lifted Rosie to face the camera.
"Wave to Mommy," he told her.
Sara smiled back and took the photo.