I swallow and pull myself back into the loft. For the millionth time in my life, I feel a little crazy at all the things I can’t do for my sister. I try—try to do something that will help—and half the time I just make things worse. As I watch her, I burst with the desire to pull down the sun and warm her feet. Or do anything. But I also know that sometimes just seeing the sun, or my face, makes her shadow darker. And so I sit, Buddha-like, while my stomach and heart do cartwheels around each other.

A Treasure Hunt that’s both old and new will show her all the things I want her to see. That’s something I can do.

That’s what I love so much about a good photograph.

Ellie heard Ruth’s frustration and is watching her over her shoulder. After a moment, Ellie unclicks her seat belt and walks casually back to the mini-fridge by the couch. She pulls out two thermoses of water and two plums. She sets one of the waters at Ruth’s feet and holds out a plum.

“I’m fine,” Ruth says, looking at her music.

“Eat,” Ellie says softly.

Without really looking, Ruth takes the plum and bites into it. Ellie leans back onto the couch and eats too. They don’t talk, only eat while Ruth flips to the next song. As she gets some food in her, I can see Ruth’s shoulders relax a bit.

Ellie is good at this. Natural, like she knows what to do without really having to try.

When Ruth’s done eating, she holds her pit out and Ellie takes it and throws the pair of pits into the trash under the sink.

And like that, everything seems a bit more calm.

I watch my sister.

Something New. Something Old. Something Magic.

And at the end, Something Gold.

CHAPTER THREE

Pictures in or from a moving RV are a real challenge, even if you’re trying to get a blurry motion shot. I want all kinds of pictures, blurry and otherwise, so for sure this is going to require some creativity and resourcefulness. I take a few test shots with my camera to make sure I know these settings like Ruth knows Billy Joel lyrics. I’m not going to get the most absolutely perfect shots, or even Instagram-worthy shots, if I can’t maneuver across settings backward and forward without thinking. I need to know how F-stops connect to apertures and how pictures come out if the F-stop’s set larger or smaller and what works best when it’s lighter or darker and all of those professional photography things. It’s got to be second nature.

“Why are you taking pictures of telephone poles?”

I turn around. Ruth has been watching me. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come. I shrug.