Page 288 of Taken Away

Harold and Mabel at a harvest festival, younger than Aubrey had ever seen them.

Mabel laughing beside a Christmas tree.

Harold standing in a field with one hand on Red Stephens’s shoulder.

A photograph of Anne and Mabel as young women, arms around each other, both of them beautiful in different ways.

Mabel, warm and radiant.

Anne, dazzling and sharp as sunlight.

Aubrey reached toward it, then stopped before touching the frame.

“They loved each other,” she whispered.

Bennett stood behind her.

“Yes.”

Aubrey’s gaze moved to another photograph.

Her breath caught.

She leaned closer.

A little girl stood beside Mabel near the gazebo, one hand gripping the railing, dark curls wild around her face. She could not have been more than six. Mabel was crouched beside her, smiling at her as if trying to coax a laugh.

Aubrey stared.

“I don’t remember this.”

“I don’t think you were meant to.”

Her eyes filled again, but no tears fell.

Not yet.

“She was there,” Aubrey said.

“Yes.”

“All those years, she was there.”

Bennett’s voice was gentle.

“In every way she could be.”

Aubrey turned from the photographs.

“What did you want to show me?”

Bennett went to Harold’s desk.

The Bible rested there.

Old black leather. Worn soft at the edges.

Not displayed.