with any professional.
“Why? I’m not trained.”
“So what? You’re good. And if your shots are bad, you can just erase them. That is the beauty of a digital camera. At least it will keep you busy.”
“My camera is at home. I may not be able to find it.”
Jilly gave a guilty laugh. “Walker and I went over this morning. I grabbed some clean clothes for you, the book on your nightstand and your camera bag from the closet. I almost got your knitting bag, but I figured that would be cruel and unusual punishment, seeing as how knitting is off-limits for at least another week.”
“How can I go without knitting?”
“Stay busy. Use your small digital camera. It’s so light you won’t have any problems.” Jilly continued in a rush, “The nurse at the emergency care center is a knitter. She knew exactly how you feel, but she warned me that it would be a bad mistake. Knitting uses small movements, but it involves your whole upper body. Why risk a setback?”
Olivia sighed. “You’re right. Fine, I’ll try some photos. But I make no promises.”
Olivia listened to the sound of Rafe working at the window next door. “Maybe I’ll go sit on the porch.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring you out a cup of tea and some chocolate scones. Maybe Rafe will be done with the window by then,” Jilly murmured.
* * *
W HEN O LIVIA OPENED her case, the camera battery was charged. She was methodical that way. She put things away clean and ready to use.
The little camera felt good in her hands, and if she was careful the movements caused no pain. Still sitting, she took a dozen surreptitious shots of Rafe as he moved up and down the ladder. Then she forced her attention down to the beach, where the storm surge had deposited chunks of driftwood and dead crabs and fallen seabirds.
Her camera wasn’t high-tech. It fit nicely in the palm of her hand, without big lenses, and it was easy to hold.
The German lenses were very good and Olivia captured the cove in sun and in shadow, with seabirds hovering at the end of the pier and a group of seals riding the surf out beyond the harbor. She liked to work like this, sliding into the zone, unaware of anything around her, becoming an extension of the lens. When she recorded the messy, chaotic, beautiful flow of life around her, Olivia felt safe. She wasn’t sure why, but probably it came from the way she had grown up, working hard but never feeling her father loved or even cared much about her. But behind her camera, Olivia was alive. She defined her world and forced it into clarity. At her drafting table, making complex architectural designs, she felt the same way.
Rafe had moved to the far side of the house now, his hammering muted. According to Jilly, they had lost several shutters and a dozen or so roof tiles in the storm. Given the damage farther up the coast, this was nothing. They had been very lucky.
Olivia felt a pang at her shoulder, but she ignored it. Caro would be over in an hour and Olivia was going to help her organize the new knitting patterns in big binders so all the designs were easy to find and beautifully displayed.
Olivia had taken pictures of some beautiful sweaters while she was in Italy. She wondered how they would look blown up and framed. Or maybe even as sketches for the yarn shop walls.
Then she discarded the idea.
She had no training or special skills, after all. Probably the photos would turn out to be ugly.
“Finish your tea and stop frowning.” Jilly stood at the door to the porch, hands on her hips, frowning. “I hate it when you get that look on your face, wistful and worried. You always looked that way after your father yelled at you for doing something wrong. Except you never did anything wrong. He was just blowing off for no reason.” Jilly caught back a breath and shook her head. They had had this argument before. It never solved or changed anything. Jilly hadn’t liked Olivia’s father.
“I’m perfectly happy. The weather is
“Why? I’m not trained.”
“So what? You’re good. And if your shots are bad, you can just erase them. That is the beauty of a digital camera. At least it will keep you busy.”
“My camera is at home. I may not be able to find it.”
Jilly gave a guilty laugh. “Walker and I went over this morning. I grabbed some clean clothes for you, the book on your nightstand and your camera bag from the closet. I almost got your knitting bag, but I figured that would be cruel and unusual punishment, seeing as how knitting is off-limits for at least another week.”
“How can I go without knitting?”
“Stay busy. Use your small digital camera. It’s so light you won’t have any problems.” Jilly continued in a rush, “The nurse at the emergency care center is a knitter. She knew exactly how you feel, but she warned me that it would be a bad mistake. Knitting uses small movements, but it involves your whole upper body. Why risk a setback?”
Olivia sighed. “You’re right. Fine, I’ll try some photos. But I make no promises.”
Olivia listened to the sound of Rafe working at the window next door. “Maybe I’ll go sit on the porch.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring you out a cup of tea and some chocolate scones. Maybe Rafe will be done with the window by then,” Jilly murmured.
* * *
W HEN O LIVIA OPENED her case, the camera battery was charged. She was methodical that way. She put things away clean and ready to use.
The little camera felt good in her hands, and if she was careful the movements caused no pain. Still sitting, she took a dozen surreptitious shots of Rafe as he moved up and down the ladder. Then she forced her attention down to the beach, where the storm surge had deposited chunks of driftwood and dead crabs and fallen seabirds.
Her camera wasn’t high-tech. It fit nicely in the palm of her hand, without big lenses, and it was easy to hold.
The German lenses were very good and Olivia captured the cove in sun and in shadow, with seabirds hovering at the end of the pier and a group of seals riding the surf out beyond the harbor. She liked to work like this, sliding into the zone, unaware of anything around her, becoming an extension of the lens. When she recorded the messy, chaotic, beautiful flow of life around her, Olivia felt safe. She wasn’t sure why, but probably it came from the way she had grown up, working hard but never feeling her father loved or even cared much about her. But behind her camera, Olivia was alive. She defined her world and forced it into clarity. At her drafting table, making complex architectural designs, she felt the same way.
Rafe had moved to the far side of the house now, his hammering muted. According to Jilly, they had lost several shutters and a dozen or so roof tiles in the storm. Given the damage farther up the coast, this was nothing. They had been very lucky.
Olivia felt a pang at her shoulder, but she ignored it. Caro would be over in an hour and Olivia was going to help her organize the new knitting patterns in big binders so all the designs were easy to find and beautifully displayed.
Olivia had taken pictures of some beautiful sweaters while she was in Italy. She wondered how they would look blown up and framed. Or maybe even as sketches for the yarn shop walls.
Then she discarded the idea.
She had no training or special skills, after all. Probably the photos would turn out to be ugly.
“Finish your tea and stop frowning.” Jilly stood at the door to the porch, hands on her hips, frowning. “I hate it when you get that look on your face, wistful and worried. You always looked that way after your father yelled at you for doing something wrong. Except you never did anything wrong. He was just blowing off for no reason.” Jilly caught back a breath and shook her head. They had had this argument before. It never solved or changed anything. Jilly hadn’t liked Olivia’s father.
“I’m perfectly happy. The weather is
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