Out came another packet. The snapshots were taken during the halcyon year before the White Hurricane schooled him in heartbreak.
His niece set her album aside. “Uncle Griffin, isn’t this Lark’s mom? What’s she doing with Grandpa’s rifle?”
The warmth of fond memories took Griffin unwillingly. The image was one of his favorites, of Rae sitting in a field of tall grass. The original nature girl with sunlight pooling around her knees. The heavy ropes of her unkempt hair danced in the breeze like golden-tipped streams of fire. The snapshot was taken during their junior year. Griffin recalled the weather had been brisk; his father’s plaid hunting jacket hung from Rae’s shoulders.
In her lap: Everett’s Weatherby bolt-action rifle. A powerful weapon, and not one for amateurs.
“Grandpa used to take us hunting,” he told his niece.
Jackie frowned. “You don’t like to hunt.”
Rae hadn’t either, and neither Griffin’s mother nor his sister would go anywhere near a firearm.
Even today, Everett’s fascination with blood sports made Griffin queasy. Back then, he’d tagged along for the sheer joy of watching Rae hone the skill of marksmanship. Her prowess made her a favored pet of Griffin’s father. She’d refused to kill wildlife. But she’d been a natural, with stunning, pinpoint accuracy.
From thirty paces off, she could nail a yellowing leaf on a maple tree. Rocks, tin cans, stuffed animals Griffin stole from Sally’s closet and jokingly strung from trees—Rae never missed the mark.
Winnie studied the image. “Jackie, your grandfather taught Rae to shoot. He’d boast to everyone about her nonexistent learning curve. She had an amazing talent right from the start. Grandpa adored her. Rae was such a bright, fearless girl. Nothing at all like your mother at that age, or Uncle Griffin. They were both more . . . introspective.”
“We were wimps,” Griffin added dryly.
A grin flickered on Jackie’s mouth. “You were not!” A positive display of emotion, her first in months.
The change wasn’t lost on his mother. Beneath her encouraging glance, he found another photo of Rae.
“Wondering how I came by my friendship with Lark’s mom?” He slid the photo before her. “When your mom and I were growing up, Grandpa made some good investments. He did so well, he became a serious player in Geauga County. He amassed more wealth than Midas, but he refused to put us in private school. There was a private academy in Chagrin Falls—I’m not sure how she managed it, but Sally got all the information. She even got her hands on the application forms.”
“Who cares about private school? Sounds boring.”
“Your mother thought otherwise. Sally begged to go. She was two grades ahead of me, and I always followed her lead. Private school sounded like a good deal.”
“Why?”
“When Grandpa bought up the land to build the car dealership, he put a small factory out of business. A couple of retail establishments too.” His father’s tactics had been nothing short of ruthless. “Unfortunately, we went through the grades with lots of kids whose parents lost those jobs. We were picked on a lot.” On several depressing occasions, Griffin was beaten up by older boys. A detail too humiliating to share.
“I go to public school,” Jackie countered. “No one picks on me.”
“It’s different now, kiddo. Those jobs disappeared. Then Grandpa opened the dealership and created new jobs. No one remembers the factory now, or those other businesses.”
“When kids gave you a hard time . . . Rae stuck up for you?”
“And she stuck up for your mother. I first met Rae with her dukes up, in the middle of the playground. Two girls were hassling Sally, and she intervened. Told them they’d both get a fat lip if they didn’t back off.” Despite his discomfiture with the conversation’s turn, Griffin caught himself smiling. “After that, I sat beside Rae in every class. From second grade all the way through high school.”
“In high school, Rae was your girlfriend. Right?”
Discussing their earlier camaraderie was simpler. “We were friends, mostly. We’d been friends for a long time by then.” The passion that flared between them near the end of their junior year had been a mistake.
Jackie’s gaze was a searchlight trained on his face. “But Rae became your girlfriend,” she persisted. “Until you went to college. Wasn’t she?”
He nodded.
It was a reprieve when his curious niece switched topics. “When you were a kid, before you were friends with Rae, why did she stick up for Mom? Kids don’t usually defend someone they don’t know.”