I swallow hard. “Well, thank you. For sharing it with me.”

He takes a deep breath. “Ava. I want to photograph you here, in this place, for your family. So they’ll have it once you’re…” His voice chokes and he doesn’t finish the sentence. He takes a deep breath. “And for me. But only if you want me to. Only if you’ll let me.”

I can’t trust myself to speak so I nod, and he exhales a sigh of relief and finally starts to smile.

Chapter Thirty-One

Jacket removed, I am standing on a small outcrop of land that looms out over the small lake. This close, the sound of the water on its journey over rock is loud and almost musical in its rhythm. Heath has departed, with the promise to be back in a few hours. Before he left he unloaded a picnic basket and blanket, which he has left under the shade of a large native tree. James is checking his equipment, which he had set up before I arrived. Apparently mine was not Heath’s first trip out here today.

“Sorry,” James calls. “Won’t be too much longer, I promise. I wanted to have this all ready when you got here but I got caught up exploring the place again.”

“Can’t blame you for that.”

He has more camera equipment this time. A tripod is set up, with his camera perched on top. A small portable table is nearby with an open laptop that has cables connecting it to the camera. He clicks off a few shots and checks them on his screen. “OK, we’re good to go. Wait, can you move to the right a little?”

I peer down. “Not unless you want to photograph me swimming in this dress.”

“As artistic as that sounds, I’m trying to keep you out of the water until after I’ve taken my photos. I know how much you like swimming. Do you think you can wait until I have the perfect shot, at least?”

“I’ll try. Can’t promise, though. I don’t like to make promises I might not be able to keep. And there’s no such thing as perfect.”

He straightens up. “OK. Pretend I’m not here and just move around as much as you can in that spot. Whatever feels natural. Slowly, though—I want to capture as many organic moments as I can.”

I look down at the water. Up close, it is even greener than it looked from the top of the hill. It swirls and eddies languorously, hinting at the hidden depths below. Another moment, another memory. What happens when I am gone? Do my memories cease to exist along with me? If so, does that wipe the moment from the memory of the world? There must be some endless, universal memory bank of moments. There has to be. Otherwise we are all just fleeting blips on a machine, gone in seconds, forgotten, no trace left behind. In a hundred years’ time, who will know I stood here, on this spot? Life is gone all too soon; the years go too fast. We fool ourselves into believing we are important, and we place too much emphasis on the wrong things. But therein lies the cruel irony. It takes learning your time is up to appreciate the things that, or people who, do actually deserve your time.