Chapter 20

~Edward~

When I was eight years old, my father brought home a mysterious box. Emmett and I gathered around, stepping on his toes and squishing his knees, waiting for him to open it up. I remember the smell of pot roast, and my mother chastising lightly. A "what did you do?" that was more curious than reprimanding as she joined us in watching the contents we couldn't see until they would be revealed.

I imagined that big symphony kind of music starting in expectation as he lifted the flaps, and my stomach rolled in disappointment when he pulled out another box. I looked closer and saw this one had a picture on it, the image of a camera.

"It's a Nikon," he said proudly, like we should know what that meant.

"It's only a camera," Emmett pouted, hoping for the new video game system his best friend had just gotten.

"Only a camera?" My father's beard was starting to get too scraggly, but you could still see his smile behind the fur. "This isn't just any camera; it's a work of art. An F90x." What he said made no sense, but I gasped anyway, caught up in the old man's enthusiasm.

"And just what are you going to do with this thing?" my mother asked, peering inside the second box when he opened it up.

"We're going to the cabin this summer—think of all the great shots I'll get there." His eyes widened as he took the black machine from the styrofoam packing.

"What's wrong with the one we have?"

I remember his face exactly, the way he looked at her, and I mimicked the look right along with him, my eyebrows narrowing and lips pursing. "Esme, no one uses a Rollei anymore."

"Well, excuse me. I'll just go finish dinner while you boys play with your new toy." She swished away, and my dad reached out to hit her on the behind, making her yelp and run off.

Emmett got bored after a few minutes and wandered away, but I watched carefully as he flicked some buttons, cranked a dial, and turned a wheel in front. He pulled out the instruction book and handed it to me to hold open for him. "You get it, Edward. You understand that sometimes a man needs to upgrade." I nodded as he opened the back and took a roll of film out of a black plastic canister. It didn't look like the film cartridge from the instamatic; it looked important.

"We'll learn how to use this together, Edward. Your brother doesn't know how to be careful, but you do. It'll be our thing." He winked at me, and I smiled so big, knowing I'd have a secret from Emmett, a secret from Mom—something that Dad and I could share and have undercover meetings about.

"You ready?" The look on his face when he closed that door with a little click and powered it on, the gears inside whirring and locking in place, was like when you have birthday cake for breakfast or find that elusive baseball card. It was awe, anticipation, and the feeling of just knowing that this moment—this thing—was going to be more exciting than anything else that day or maybe even that century.

It was a feeling I never forgot and watching Bella handle my father's prized possession in my crummy kitchen while corn boiled and strawberries were sliced, I felt it again.

"Turn your aperture down, that dial in front with the numbers, yeah. Put it to 5.6." Bella looked at the front of the camera and moved the dial carefully.

"Why this setting?"

"It's getting darker out, not as much light. You want a wider opening, or aperture. Plus, the deer will be in focus, but the fields behind her will be softly blurred," I explained easily but hoped she understood. I'd never taught anyone to use my camera before, and I wasn't sure how technical to get.

She raised the camera to her eye, and I could see her arms shaking a bit. The fields in front of us swayed with the comfortable early evening breeze, and the deer blinked lazily as it looked ready to lay down for a nap. Strawberries still lined her lips, and every once in awhile, her tongue would remember and peek out to get the last little bit.

"Is it too heavy for you?" I thought of the bruise I left and hoped that wasn't the reason for the shaking. My stomach knotted, the chicken and corn threatening to return.

She pressed the shutter, making it click, and pulled the camera from her eye. "No, I'm just nervous. This camera is important to you. But I want to know more."

"Sit down, then, and brace your elbows on your knees. We'll practice some close-ups of the deer that has yet to be named." We sat in the same place we seemed to be drawn to, between our houses. The place I discovered her, mad and hell-bent to be angry she existed, and now the place where we'd formed some sort of alliance this afternoon.

"You have to change your focus now that you've moved." She nodded, pushing her hair back over her shoulder and out of the way, before moving the camera back to her eye. I watched her take a few shots, adjust the lens, and take a few more.

My mouth was slightly dry, and my head was throbbing a bit. Watching Bella handle my father's Nikon was surreal, and I must've still been high to have brought the thing down in the first place. I rubbed my slightly clammy hands on my jeans and told myself that this wasn't a big deal. I wasn't taking the pictures. I wasn't the one focusing on a subject, making sure the lighting was correct, making sure the ISO and shutter speed were exactly how I wanted them.

I was okay as long as it wasn't me that held it in my hands.

"What's your favorite picture you've ever taken?" Bella's voice pierced through my cobwebs, and I answered quickly, surprising us both.

"My parents' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary."

"Not a landscape?"

"It was an unplanned moment. My parents were dancing, and my father thought he was Fred Astaire. He twirled her around, and I hadn't adjusted the shutter speed. When I got the picture developed, I loved the way her dress blurred, and the lights around them looked like shooting stars."

"Sounds pretty."

I laughed. "It is—it's a perfectly good picture of two people in love. What makes it my favorite is I'd captured my brother behind them, his pants down and mooning the camera, his proud face beaming from over his shoulder. It pretty much sums up my whole life."

"He sounds like a riot."

"He was." It slipped out before I could stop it, the words not as bitter on my tongue as they'd been before. The memory was still a good one, but it's the first time a memory hadn't backfired on me and detonated inside, causing gaping flesh wounds that burned and festered. Bella looked at me but didn't say anything more, turning back to the camera to fiddle with the strap around her neck.

"I want to take a picture of my house."

"You want to get closer?" I began to get up, but she stopped me with a hand on my leg.

"No, from here. It's safer from here." She turned on her butt, so that she faced the decrepit structure, looming high in the sky and painted dusk-gold. "Is it too dark this far away?" She looked scared, nervous, like she was violating someone's privacy. I thought about the one photo I'd seen in her house, of her mother with the baby—that was maybe a doll—and a little Bella, with a nervous smile on her face. I wondered who took that picture and why they didn't notice all the things that were wrong.

With a sudden urge to protect her, I moved so that I sat behind her, my legs on either side cradling her body against me. Her hair smelled like flowery soap, as I rested my chin on her shoulder and pushed my head against hers so that she was looking up. "Where's the light coming from?" I said, my voice throaty, trying to be quiet and gentle.

Her cheek pressed to mine. "From behind us. It's low."

"So it's aimed towards your subject—that's good." My hands felt the chill in her legs, and I placed both palms against her thighs, right under where the hem of her dress fell. "Adjust the aperture again; we want it open as much as possible."

With shaky hands, she fumbled with the dial. "Higher number or lower?"

"To the left, 2.8. Here." My hands came up on either side of her, adjusting the dial to the right setting. She was soft in my arms, and I thought of my bicep pressing into her bruise, but she didn't move away, so neither did I.

She raised the camera to her eye and let out a breath, elbows propped on my arms that were now tightly around her stomach, anchoring her to me and the field. "Now, point and shoot. I won't let it bite you." I felt her nod slightly, and just as her finger began to depress the shutter button, my mouth found her neck and pressed itself against her. I could feel her pulse quicken, so I did it again, her fingers taking picture after picture as my lips tried to calm whatever demons she saw through the lens.

Mad love to LayAtHomeMom, Hadley Hemingway, and CarrieZM for making us pretty.

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HB&PB