“Be right back,” I yell over my shoulder.
If Gina is about to leave for her job, I’ll have to be quick. I’d never submit it without her consent, and I usually alwaysask before taking the picture itself. Hopefully, she’s okay with my asking permission to use the photoafterit’s been taken this time.
If I can catch her in her natural element, with such a beautiful ranch in the background, I know in my bones that the picture would be incredible. As I approach the truck, I look up toward the sky, studying the overcast lighting. My favorite.
With quick hands, I open the back door and dig through my bags. I search for a minute for my Pentax, finally finding it surrounded by extra padding in the corner of the luggage.
As soon as it’s in my hands, I’m turning it on and walking toward the pasture that we passed on the way in. I’m not sure if it’s the right one, but I take a chance and trudge through the snow.
I stop in my tracks as soon as I hear the pounding of hooves against packed snow. Near the fence line, I spot her. Through my lens, diffused light spills across the field. Her chestnut horse stands out against the white backdrop.
I focus in on the calf that’s lying across her lap near the horn of the saddle. One of her arms holds it steadily in place while the other clutches the reins.
I barely have time to think before instinct takes over. The shutter clicks once, catching them mid-stride. A sun flare flashes in the top of the frame as a cluster of clouds moves across the sky. I snap a few more shots, adjusting my position as they move along toward the barn.
The elegant motion of the horse, Gina’s flowing hair and determined expression, the newborn calf, and the clouds of snow kicked up off the ground around the horse’s hooves. . . it’s magical. Absolutely magical.
An old cow follows behind, finally catching up to them, and I widen the shot to include her. The closer they get to the barn, the fewer trees surround them, so I hurry to take as many as I can.
On their final turn, I race toward the house, leaning against the side to get a three-quarter view. The mountains are on full display now behind them, and with shaky hands, I take a few more shots. When Gina gathers the front of her coat with her hand holding the reins, then leans down to the side to check that the cow is behind them, I know for sure it’s the winner. In quick succession, I capture another five frames.
Chapter Eighteen
Izzy
“I’ll be checking my email!”Gina calls from the driver’s side of her truck as she backs up and pulls away from the house.
I hold my hand over my head in an exaggerated wave as my grip tightens on the camera in my other hand at my side.
“I think you made her day.”
“She seemed excited about it, right?” I turn to Ledger standing beside me on the porch.
“Definitely.”
“Those pictures were amazing, I’m telling you.”
“Can’t wait to see them.”
With a closed-lip smile, I sigh. He looks down at me like he’s proud and wants to hear all about it, and it makes my damn chest ache with an agonizing burn. It’s hard to walk away when someone looks at you like that—like it’s been a pleasure just knowing you, and they can’t stand the idea of forgetting how that feels.
I lower my gaze. It’s better if I stare at the front of his tan canvas coat instead of his face. I’m liable to stay if he keeps looking at me like that.
The silence stretches between us for a few minutes. I know there’s no prize for who can avoid saying goodbye the longest, but right now, it feels like there is.
Goodbye is inevitable today.
But maybe not forever . . .
What would my life look like if this became my soft place to land? I’m numb to the idea, I suppose. Sharing my life with someone instead of taking the bull by the horns and seizing each day on my own.
“Are you guys coming in for a taste test or…?” a tiny voice murmurs from the doorway.
Ledger and I both spin around to face her. She’s holding the door open about two feet and peeking her head through. Her long brown lashes frame a pair of eyes that were most certainly passed down to her from the Cole side of the family. I smile down at her, and she lifts her hands to motion me inside. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s about nine years old.
“Sarabeth, this is Izzy.”
“Hi, Lizzy.”
