The carton is packed with photos. The top one is of the ocean, yet another view at another time, this one with the golden light of the sun gilding the scalloped waves, or so my mind’s eye sees in this black-and-white shot. There are others of the beach—a spiral whelk, a knot of seaweed, a piece of sea glass. Shots of Jack are tucked in at the side, and while I sift through the others, I leave him be for now.

A camera is the keeper of memories, Mom used to say. And there she is, smiling at me as she flips burgers on the back porch. She loves me there. I know she does. For that alone, my eyes cling to her face. Joy resembles her so much that it’s frightening. No. It’s wondrous. But the issue of resemblance passes quickly, because this is my mother’s face. Sure, I have shots of her taken in the years after we left. I’m a photographer, for goodness sake. But a shot of Mom at Margo’s place in Chicago or mine in New York isn’t the same as one from my growing up years in Bay Bluff. That face is the one I remember. I haven’t seen it in twenty years. Back here now in Bay Bluff for the first time, I miss her more than ever.

I don’t recall the moment when I took that picture, don’t recall whether Dad was around or not. He used to wave my camera away, like it was a beach fly, so I’m guessing he was off somewhere else when this picture was shot.

Mom’s face reflects that. She is relaxed, her green eyes smiling right along with her mouth. Those eyes in that heart-shaped face radiate love. I feel it now in ways I’ve maybe forgotten. She loved me openly. But only when Dad wasn’t around. I’ve imagined every reason why, but only one makes sense. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Only it does not make sense, not based on what I remember.

“Tom,” my mother hisses with hushed urgency. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Treat her that way.”

“I’m fine to her.”

“You’re critical of her. You hold her to a different standard.”

“She’s a middle child. She lets the others go first. She needs to harden up.”

“She needs to be loved.”

“Don’t go there, Ellie. We’ve talked about this. I have three daughters. I love them all.”