Time's Daughter (24 page)

“
Yes,” I said.

“
And are we still on for apple
picking Sunday?”

I shifted enough to look at his face. “Sunday? I
don’t know. I never asked my mom because I… Well, I wasn’t sure…” I
glanced at the camera nervously. “If you were going to be well
enough to go.”

I stealthily wiped the tear that had threatened to
drop from my eye. Now that he was here, it was easier to admit to
myself that I’d thought I might never see him again and that it had
scared me nearly to death.

He pressed a soft kiss to my left temple. “Ask her.
We’ll understand if she’s busy.”

“
Okay.”

“
Do you
really
have to work
tonight?”

I sounded rather like he did when I replied.
“Unfortunately.”

Alex leaned in, whispering directly into my ear.
“Meet me tonight.” He masked it with a kiss then pulled back to
help me onto my feet. “Your stomach is growling like crazy. Let’s
get something to eat.”

We grabbed sandwiches from the lunch line on our way
to the photography studio. Alex had some last minute work to do
before the first quarter project critique. I had no idea how he
would pull off finishing it in time after missing most of the
quarter.

I nibbled on my sandwich crusts while watching him
work near the matte cutter. He wouldn’t let me peek at his work. I
could wait to see it.

Something told me Alex would have something amazing
to show us.

* * * *

My stomach was upset for a different reason when
Mrs. Lozano called attention five minutes after the bell rang.
Critique always twisted up my insides. I was working on not taking
constructive criticism of my artwork personally but it was still
hard.

Mrs. Lozano took volunteers to show their work
first. Several projects were displayed, critiqued and met with
varied reactions. Most students had yet to master anything but
point and shoot. The myriad of photos of flowers, trees and
buildings were far from interesting but everyone was kind. I forced
myself to give a comment about each project, even if it was only to
say that I’d enjoyed the contrast on images that had been
unintentionally underexposed.

“
Aeon? Would you like to show your
work now?”

I nodded reluctantly for Mrs. Lozano then pulled the
four photographs I’d decided on out of my backpack. Three days
without Alex had given me plenty of time to mount them on gray
matte board. None of the others except Alex had bothered to do
so.

I spoke with feigned confidence. “I chose to focus
on three D’s for my project: dilapidated, derelict, decrepit. But I
didn’t want to just show what the eye saw. I wanted to do something
more like macro-photography. So here is what I came up with.” I
stepped aside, dropped my eyes nervously and let them take aim with
words.

No one said anything. I hadn’t realized my photos
were quite
that
bad.

Had I made a poor choice? Should I have printed
photos of entire buildings in disrepair instead of focusing on
specific elements?

“
They’re beautiful, Aeon,” Mrs.
Lozano said at last. “There’s a kind of visual poetry to each one.
Even without the big picture, the message comes across.”

Alex’s deep voiced soon joined in the discussion.
“And though you originally focused on your three D’s, each
photograph fuses the feeling of neglect with one of hope. Here you
show crumbling stone with the contrast of a newly budding
flower.”

“
Excellent observation, Alex,” Mrs.
Lozano said. “Anyone else?”

“
They’re interesting,” one of the
twins replied flatly.

“
I like the frames around them. They
make the pictures stand out,” another classmate added.

Mrs. Lozano nodded. “Yes, matting wasn’t a
requirement but it certainly does improve the photo.” She paused
for more comments then nodded at me politely when no one spoke.
“Thank you, Aeon. Alex, would you go next?”

I took my photos with me to my chair and turned back
anxiously to see what it was Alex had finished. He too had four
matted photographs. One by one he placed them above thumbtacks for
all to see.

The first was little more than a silhouette with
eyes amidst a room that was alternately dark and light because of
the windows behind the subject. The subject’s eyes were the only
items in the composition that held any importance. They were so
sorrowful that my heart went out to the model.

Two grizzled figures warming their hands over a
flaming oil drum were the subjects of the next photograph. I knew
Alex had shot it within the old mill because he’d described it to
me afterward. But the crevices of their faces were so intricately
displayed in shadow that he hadn’t done it justice in his
description.

Alex’s third photograph was startling because I
recognized the subjects. His uncle Antonio stood at the head of the
dock behind his house gazing across the wood to the figure seated
at the water’s edge. The figure’s smaller size and hunched back
made me think it was probably his aunt Alicia but I couldn’t be
sure because she was looking away from the camera. The set of
Antonio’s shoulders and the expression his profile held could only
be described as longing.

So far the pieces he was displaying were amazing.
The fact that he’d shot, developed and printed them in two and a
half weeks time while everyone else had four weeks was even more
mind-boggling. Alex was a talented artist, of that there was no
question.

All eyes turned to me when he flipped over the
fourth photograph. I blushed hot at the sight of my own figure on
his photo paper. At some point last Thursday, Alex had caught me
staring into the sunset and snapped a picture without me realizing
it.

My pensive expression must have interested him
enough to capture it. But I didn’t understand why it had the
captivation needed to be one of the four photos he’d picked from
two rolls of film.

“
Originally I’d decided to work on
capturing photos of ‘despair’ but I decided to contrast the despair
with photographs of ‘hope’.” Alex’s voice oozed confidence. “The
first two photographs are of homeless in town. The last two are of
family and friends that will no doubt kill me for snapping these
photos without permission.”

I frowned at him but said nothing. And no one else
in the class was brave enough to critique his beautiful
photographs.

Then a single female voice spoke up. “Is that
Aeon?”

Alex’s dark head bobbed. “Yes.”

“
It barely looks like her but I
thought so.”

“
It looks
exactly
like her.”
His eyes went a little fierce, emphasizing exactly how much he
meant the woods.

I had to admit my classmate was correct. Something
was strange about the photograph. It was almost as if he’d used a
different lens. I didn’t look quite like myself in it. Perhaps it
was because the black and white coloring gave me a Film Noir
heroine look.

Since he’d critiqued mine, I returned the favor.
“The setting, light choice and exposure time on your first
photograph were expertly chosen to create a stunning focal point.
Those eyes tell the complete story without the need to see anything
else.

“
The depth of field in photo number
two brings the focus where it should be, on the faces that have a
line for each sorrow they’ve experienced. I could sit here all
afternoon tracing the patterns of those lines imagining what each
one signifies.

“
Photographs three and four are
similarly brilliantly executed but I disagree on their theme. The
third one, to me, illustrates longing, not hope. The gentleman near
the dock is obviously longing to speak to the female but something
is holding him back.

“
And as far as the photograph of me,
because I know my own thoughts, I know when I’m staring into the
sun like that, I’m not being hopeful at all. I too am
longing.”

The look in his eyes after I’d finished speaking
startled me. There was intent in their gleam I knew meant he
wouldn’t be quite so still and silent if we’d not been in a
classroom full of people. My gaze dropped my fidgeting hands while
I contemplated what that intent was.

Was he upset I’d disagreed about the images showing
“hope”?

Mrs. Lozano spoke up. “I couldn’t have critiqued the
first photographs any better if I’d tried. But I can see how the
second two photographs could be viewed as ‘hope’. It’s all in the
perception of the viewer. Of course, you as the subject know that
you weren’t in a particularly hopeful mood when that was shot. But
a person gazing into the sunset could be construed as being hopeful
that the next day will be better or enjoying the beauty of the
landscape. And the shot of the man behind the woman could have been
the moment right before she turned to him at long last. Anyone
else?”

“
I like the frames on these too,”
our classmate declared.

Mrs. Lozano cleared her throat then nodded to Alex.
“Thank you, Alex. Very strong work. Who is next?”

One by one Alex took down his photographs. I kept my
eyes lowered to avoid the odd expression on his face. He took his
seat behind me but didn’t try to speak to me.

We were treated to one more presentation. The
subject of this one was “muscle cars”. It interested me little.
Neither Alex nor I added anything to the discussion of how “cool”
the cars looked at the angles he’d picked, which consisted of right
and left views as well as front and back.

“
Monday we start on project number
two so come ready for lecture,” the teacher said as we wrote our
names on the back of our photos and handed them in.

I pulled my backpack strap up over my shoulder and
started for the door. I’d moved a few bare steps before a grip on
my wrist tugged me aside and into the darkroom door.

Alex soon tugged me directly into the wall of his
chest. His hands slipped into my hair, holding my head firmly in
place for his urgent kiss. Any thought in my head fled in an
instant. I reveled in the feel of his lips against mine, the warmth
that spread across my skin.

The bell rang ruining the moment. Alex pulled back
with a grumble. Reluctantly he slid his fingers out of my hair. A
slight shiver shot through me.

“
I don’t know what’s gotten into
me,” he said with what looked to be flushed cheeks but it was hard
to tell in the red light. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene but I
couldn’t wait. What you said…about my photos, it was so nice that I
had to thank you somehow.”

“
But I disagreed with
you.”

He took my hands for a squeeze. “The fact that you
were willing to disagree with me made it all the better. It means
you really meant what you said about the others. I know I can count
on you to give me your real opinion, not just what you think I want
to hear.”

My head cocked to the left as I stared at him in
confusion.

“
I want a girlfriend, Aeon. Not a
sycophant.”

“
Wow.” I laughed nervously on my way
toward the door. “There had to have been someone who was willing to
give you her opinion—”

“
It doesn’t matter now. There’s only
you.”

I avoided commenting on that by returning into the
lit classroom. Thankfully everyone was gone already including Mrs.
Lozano. We snuck out of the room but paused in front of the drawing
room door.

“
You’re going to be late,” I said as
if he needed the reminder.

“
I know.”

“
We’ll see each other
later.”

“
Promise?”

“
Yes.” With a light push to his arm
and a laugh I sent him on his way.

I watched his figure disappear down the hall and
couldn’t help but smile to myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Stan waited at my desk with yet another CD. My
smile didn’t wane. I snatched it from his hand and eagerly read the
label.

“
You’re dating Alex
Chattan?”

I lifted my eyes from the plastic in front of me
slowly because I’d been reading a long title. Stan’s steady
expression gave me no indication of how he felt about his
question.

“
Yes, is that bad?”

“
Nah. He’s just crazy smart. He’s in
my math class.” Stan snickered and grinned. “Pissing me off
actually. He’s screwing up the bell curve.”

I beamed. “I guess he wasn’t fibbing when he told me
he was good at math.”

Stan leaned against my drawing desk. “You’re friends
with that redhead, aren’t you?”

“
Um, maybe?”

“
Ashley?” Stan prompted. “She’s been
flirting with him like a desperate girl at prom, or at least
trying.” Stan’s eyes slid shut as he gave a disappointed shake of
his head. “Might want to watch your back with that
girl.”

I inhaled a long, irritated breath of air. “I’ve
never really considered her my friend anyway but thanks for the
heads up.”

“
No prob,” Stan drawled then slowly
made his way to his own table.

It was easy not to be upset about his revelation.
Alex had made his interest known to anyone who was willing to look
at us. And even though I’d only known him a very short time, I
trusted that he wouldn’t give Ash the time of day.

Rain and chilly temperatures meant we’d be holding
P.E. class inside the gym today. I discovered Tyler already tossing
around a basketball when I emerged from the locker room. A grumble
escaped me because I was tired of basketball.

Alex shot from the locker room and raced across the
glossy gymnasium floor until he was inches in front of me. His
fingers slipped around my sides so he could lift me off my feet.
Alex swung me as he hugged me and kissed my cheek. He set me down
on my feet where I wavered slightly from rubbery knees.