“How did it go today?” he asked. “Anything good?”
I told him about my People Before the Storm idea and added, “I’m hoping that you or your mom will be able to develop them soon.”
“I’m sure my mom will be happy to. The darkroom is the happiest place in the house for her, the only place she can really be by herself. I can’t wait to see them.”
Behind him, at the truck, I saw his father unloading the ladder from the bed. “How was it on your end?”
“Nonstop, and we still have a few more places to go. We’re heading to your aunt’s shop next.”
Up close, I noted the smudges of dirt on his shirt, which didn’t detract from the way he looked in the slightest. “Aren’t you cold? You probably need a jacket.”
“I haven’t had time to think about it,” he said. Then, surprising me, “I missed you today.”
Bryce glanced at the ground, then met my eyes again, his gaze holding steady, and for a split second I had the distinct sense that he wanted to kiss me. The feeling caught me off guard and I think he must have realized it, too, because he suddenly hooked a thumb over his shoulder, quickly becoming the Bryce I knew once more. “I should probably get going so we can finish before dark.”
My throat felt dry. “Don’t let me hold you up.”
I stepped back, wondering if I’d been imagining things, as Bryce turned away. He fell in beside his father as they approached the storage area beneath the house.
Meanwhile, Richard and Robert lugged the ladder toward the porch. On instinct, I moved away from the house, unconsciously trying to figure out how best to frame a final shot with the single exposure I had left. Stopping when the angle seemed right, I adjusted the aperture and checked the light meter, making sure everything was ready to go.
Bryce and his father had vanished inside the storage room, but after a few seconds, I watched Bryce emerge with a piece of plywood. He leaned it against the wall, then returned for another; within minutes, there was a stack of them. Bryce and one of the twins carried one sheet to the front door, while Porter and the other twin did the same. They disappeared inside, my aunt holding the door open for them, only to reappear on the porch a few seconds later. I lifted the lens as they began putting up the plywood over the sliding glass door, but the shot wasn’t worth taking because all of them had their backs to me. Bryce sank the first screw, the rest following in rapid succession. Up went the second piece of plywood with equal speed, and the four of them descended the ladder. Both times, I lowered the camera.
Two more pieces of plywood went over the front window just as quickly, and again I had a bad angle. I didn’t get the shot I wanted until the ladder was moved to my aunt’s bedroom.
Bryce went up the ladder first; the twins handed a smaller sheet of plywood to their father, who then passed it farther up to Bryce. I zeroed in on the focus and suddenly Bryce had to twist in my direction; as he gripped the plywood with both hands, I automatically pressed the shutter. Just as quickly, he twisted back, in position to secure the plywood, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d missed it.
And just like that, the window was covered, making it obvious this wasn’t their first rodeo. The twins carried the ladder back to the truck while Bryce and his father returned to the storage area. They emerged carrying something heavy that resembled a small engine. They set it next to the storage area, in a spot that would be sheltered from the wind and rain. With a pull of the cord, they started it, the sound akin to a lawn mower.
“Generator,” Bryce called out, knowing I had no idea what I was seeing. “It’s pretty much guaranteed the power will go out.”
After shutting it off, they filled the tank from a large can of gasoline that had been in the bed of the truck, and Bryce ran a long power cord into the house. I absently began to rewind the film, hoping that I’d miraculously gotten the shot of Bryce that I’d wanted.
When the film clicked, I turned toward the water, which had already become a sea of whitecaps. Had he really wanted to kiss me? I continued to wonder as I saw him skip back down the steps. The others were already at the truck and after another exchange of waves, I watched him drive away.
Lost in my own thoughts, I debated heading inside before impulsively hopping on my bicycle again. I sped to Bryce’s house, knowing they wouldn’t be there yet, relieved when his mom opened the door.
“Maggie?” She stared at me, curious. “If you’re here to see Bryce, he’s working with his dad today.”