“I want to watch.”

She liked working with him. She liked being near him. She liked him. It was exciting to develop the film and study the digitized results, and the edge of intensity she felt only made the work more interesting. Jace had never taken much interest in her work, yet Finn seemed to share her passion and curiosity. The pictures that emerged from the distant past showed her a portrait of courage—a wounded soldier and the woman who took care of him. It made Camille’s fear seem petty by comparison.

There was a photo of a tall, dark-haired man with a bandaged leg. They thought it could be the American soldier who had left the parachute pack behind. There were several portraits of him. They were thoughtful, tender studies, beautifully composed, taking advantage of natural light. “More of Lisette’s work,” said Camille. She studied the face for a long time. “The soldier was someone important to her. How can we find out who he was?”

“How do you find out who anyone is?” asked Finn, bending close so she could feel the brush of his breath on her cheek. “You figure out what drives him, what he loves. And what he doesn’t even realize he wants.”

The darkroom revealed more about Finn than he realized. She watched him in the red glow of a safelight as he studied a candid shot of a group of children on the beach. “What are you seeing?” she asked him. It was a lovely composition—balanced, and clearly framed by someone with a practiced eye. She was sure Lisette had taken the photo. It had what Camille had come to recognize as her trademark timing, and an understanding of the subject.

“Something about this picture makes me think of my family,” he said. “Between my mom and Rudy, and all the aunts and uncles and cousins, we’re a loud, friendly, demanding clan.”

Working together, they began cleaning up the darkroom. “Sounds fun.”

“It is. I always thought I’d have something like that,” he admitted. “A big family, I mean. Or even a small one.”

“Small works for Julie and me.”

“Camille, are you saying you want—”

“No,” was her swift, fearful reply. “That came out wrong.”

He studied her intently, then held the door for her to step out ahead of him. He was always doing things like holding doors, chairs, waiting his turn, listening with full attention. She loved his manners, the unstudied, thoughtful gestures that were second nature to him. “You’re lucky to have her. She seems great.”

“If you’d seen her a month ago, you might not say that. It’s so hard to see your kid going through a tough time.”

“I bet she’d say the same about you.”

“She was my lifeline after her dad died.” Camille shuddered as a shadow of the past flickered like a faulty lamp. “I remember thinking that after Jace, I would never know happiness again. And then, just a couple of months after he was gone, Julie crawled into my lap and smiled at me. Watching my daughter smile was better for me than months of grief counseling.”