That Dark Place

by W. Franklin Lattimore

Click!

  He looked at the photo on the screen. Heck, it looks like I’m better at this than I’d imagined!

  “Want to see?” he asked as he stepped toward her.

  “Of course!”

  Drew knelt in front of Elizabeth and angled the LCD display of the camera toward her.

  “Oh my goodness!”

  “What do you think? Think you might have some talent for this?”

  “Do you think I do?”

  Drew laughed. “Too early to tell, but this is a good beginning. Now, let’s press on. We’ve got a lot to do in a short time.”

  IT WAS 3:07 P.M., and Elizabeth was tired. Time had gone by so fast, and they had accomplished so much! They had gone from Tanner’s Creek Park to an area along the creek where there stood an old train trestle that bridged the water. They wrapped up the shoot at an abandoned warehouse, featuring broken windows and a set of rusted metal stairs on the outside leading to a second story.

  Mark had told her that the contrast between “new beauty” and the “old and no longer used” would make for some great shots. She hoped he was right. But then, he was a professional, wasn’t he?

  It had all been fun work. But unfortunately, the fairy tale was over.

  Elizabeth stood next to Mark’s BMW as he loaded the last of his equipment into the trunk. After closing it, he turned to her.

  “Well, that’s it. Time for me to hit the road. I’ll pull out some of the best shots, edit them, and put together a small portfolio for you. I’ll also give you some of the shots on a thumb drive.”

  She smiled, but Mark must have seen some of the internal sadness reach her eyes.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  She felt her smile fade a little bit. “Yeah. I guess it’s back to reality. The dream’s come to an end.”

  Mark’s face became serious, and he looked her dead in the eyes. “Don’t let it, Elizabeth. Modeling might not be your life, but you’ve got so much going for you. You are talented. You’re also smart, hard-working, and beautiful. Find something and be great at it. And whatever you do, don’t let life pass you by.” There was a slight pause. “Otherwise, one day you’ll find yourself middle-aged and sitting in front of your computer all day, wishing you’d done something that actually had meaning.”

  She could hardly help what happened next. She impulsively ran up to Mark and wrapped her arms around him. For a brief moment, she laid her head on his shoulder and said, “Thank you for this. Thank you for your words.” She lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek.

  Letting go of him, she stepped back. A little bit of her online boldness rose up inside her. “If we were a little closer in age.…” She dropped her eyes and giggled.

  He, too, lowered his eyes and laughed. “Yeah, if only.” He shook his head and looked at her. “Umm.… Yeah. Well.” He awkwardly lifted his right hand and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb toward the car. “I, uhh … guess I should get going.”

  She saw the color rise on his face. He’s blushing!

  “Oh! Wait. Here.”

  She pulled a small piece of paper out of her back pocket and extended it to Mark. He took it.

  “It’s the address of the restaurant. You can send the portfolio there. I’m not really wanting that to end up at my front door for the family to see.”

  He accepted the paper and glanced at it. “Got it. Good call.”

  Quickly, he turned and walked to the driver’s side. Opening the door, he said, “Maybe I’ll see you again someday.”

  “That’d be great! Hopefully not waitressing at a restaurant, though.” She grinned.

  “Hey, there’s something to be said about a waitress uniform.”

  And with that last statement and a parting smile, he got into his car, started his engine, and pulled out of her life.

  As she watched him drive away, she thought again, If I were just a little older.

  Chapter 35

  D

  rew was trembling. Elizabeth’s parting words had rocked him. “If we were a little closer in age….”

  Desire.

  Why’d she have to go there? Was it a tease? Was she hinting at something? Did he really notice flirtation in her eyes and smile?

  He tried to replay every glance she’d given him, tried to interpret every expression he’d seen as he touched her to reposition her or adjust her clothing. Was there something—a hint—that she was wanting him to pick up on?

  I’ve got to be reading too much into this. She’s only sixteen, for Pete’s sake.

  Drew knew that he, being more than double her age, couldn’t really be attractive in her eyes. It was just his hormonal desires rising again. He’d done a really good job of keeping them in check throughout the day. That was surprising to him.

  Sure, there were a few times that she’d bent over or sat a particular way and he’d stolen a glance or two. He couldn’t help himself. And then there were those times he’d had to move her hair. Her long, dark, soft hair. Those instances had messed with his senses a bit. And, yes, there was that one time that he boldly hiked her dress up to mid-thigh in order to make a certain shot “look right.” But that was the extent of it. Nothing more. He’d otherwise been the perfect gentleman.

  Okay. Maybe not exactly perfect.

  But had Elizabeth presented even the slightest hint of protest? Had she seemed uncomfortable, even a little? No! She had not. Not one tiny bit.

  As Drew continued his drive back to Akron, he continued the mental debate. Had she been hinting or was he just wishing?

  WHEN ELIZABETH ARRIVED home, she saw all the family cars: Brent’s SUV and patrol car, Tara’s minivan, and Jenna’s Corolla.

  Shoot. Everyone’s home. Guess I’ll have to smuggle everything in some other time.

  She parked her car along the curb. Getting her little one out of the child seat, she realized her disappointment that she couldn’t talk about her day.

  One of my best days ever, and I can’t tell anyone about it! Ugh.

  Maybe once she got the portfolio, it’d be okay to let everyone know what she’d done.

  She sighed. Which would mean that I’ll have to admit that I lied to Tara … to Mom. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  “Let’s get you inside, Kyla girl. Time for both of us to finally get something to eat!”

  Once inside, she was able to put on a quick and casual-sounding Hello-yes, Kyla’s-play-date-was-fun, thank-you conversational performance for Tara. Then she proceeded to make Kyla and her something to eat.

  It was when she got Kyla upstairs to take a nap that she noticed the wrist band that her little girl was wearing. The small FreeTime band had both Kyla’s and her names on it, along with her cell number.

  Oops. Need to cut that off. Can’t have anyone asking about that.

  She went to her table/desk, grabbed a pair of scissors, and snipped it off before she laid Kyla in her crib.

  Kyla yawned right away.

  Elizabeth smiled. “I know. Just lie down for a couple of minutes. Good. Now, close your eyes.”

  Almost as quickly as she did so, Kyla rolled onto her side away from her mom and assumed her favorite sleeping position.

  Elizabeth stood over her and began to softly hum a lullaby. In under a minute, or so it seemed, Kyla had fallen fast asleep.

  Elizabeth caressed her daughter’s cheek. You are so precious.

  After forcing herself away from the crib, she walked over to the left side of her own bed. She looked down at the laptop propped up against her nightstand. Her initial motivation—almost reflexive—was to grab the device to do a little playing around online, but something inside gave her pause.

  No. Not today. I’m just going to enjoy this wonderful feeling inside.

  She saw no reason to stir into her thoughts any dirtiness. She now had an alternative to that: lots of clean memories to reflect upon from her photo shoot.

  That
’s all I need right now. After all, it was a perfect afternoon.

  LESS THAN A half hour later, Elizabeth was asking herself why she hadn’t thought to do it before leaving the house that morning. It should have been the very first thing she’d done after meeting Mark at the restaurant.

  She went back upstairs, sat on her bed, and grabbed her laptop. Nervous now, she searched for Mark on the Internet. In quotes, she typed Mark Johnson into the Bing search engine and hit Enter. Far too many results to sift through. She added photographer. Still way too many. This time she added models to the search request and still found that there were nearly thirty-six thousand results. Apparently, independent photographers named Mark Johnson, who also worked with models, were nearly a dime a dozen. After clicking on several of the links, she found that many of the sites didn’t show an actual picture of their Mark Johnsons, though a couple of them did include short biographies.

  How was it that she’d never really delved into his history, asked where he was from, how he got his start? Because I was so fixated on myself, that’s why.

  Elizabeth sighed. Oh well. If he’d been an axe murderer, I probably wouldn’t have survived the photo shoot.

  She closed the laptop, set it back aside, and checked on her sleeping daughter in the crib.

  After a quick check of her watch, she whispered, “I’ll see you again in thirty more minutes.”

  Chapter 36

  T

  ara walked from the kitchen into the mud room and opened the door to the garage where Brent was tinkering. For the past couple of hours, he’d been changing the brakes on both the SUV and the minivan. She smiled as she saw the top of his head bobbing up and down at the far side of the Jeep as he grunted and tried to … well, tried to accomplish his task.

  “How’s it coming?” she called from the doorway.

  “Oh, it’s coming. If I can just.…” A snapping sound. “Ha! Got it! And … I’m done!”

  “That’s my man,” she said, stifling a laugh.

  “Yep. Just gotta put this wheel back on and we’ll be safe on the roads again.”

  “Wait. Are you saying we weren’t?”

  He chuckled. “Is anyone really safe?”

  Now she did laugh.

  Tara walked down the two steps and then continued around to watch Brent. He grabbed the tire, placed it on the lugs, and secured it with the lug wrench.

  “There. Now you can drive with four wheels instead of three.”

  “Your value just continues to increase.” She mussed his hair. At least as much as short hair can be mussed.

  “Come here. Let me give you a kiss.” He reached two incredibly dirty hands toward her face.

  “Brent!” Tara scampered back a couple of feet. “Don’t even!”

  “Oh sure. Lift me up, then smack me down with rejection, why don’t ya?”

  “Oh, I’ll smack ya, all right.”

  “So, what’s up?” Brent walked over to his work bench, situated along the back wall of the garage, grabbed a roll of shop rags, and tore one off to wipe his hands.

  “Well, a little while ago, Elizabeth and Kyla came home.” She deliberately waited for Brent to respond before continuing. It was her way of making sure that he was paying attention.

  “Okay. And.…”

  “Remember where they were supposed to be going this morning?”

  He shrugged, his eyes revealing an attempt to remember. “A play date?”

  “Yes. A play date.”

  He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, indicating that she was supposed to continue the process of making things clear.

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry. Am I missing something here? So, she didn’t go to a play date. Am I supposed to know where this conversation is headed?”

  Tara hated when Brent didn’t play by her conversational rules. Not that she’d ever really laid them out, but certainly, after all the years they’d been together.…

  She let out a small huff. “She was supposed to. But she didn’t. In fact, after she got home, she still told me that she had.”

  “…that she had gone to this play date?”

  “Yes.”

  Brent stared at her, waiting.

  She didn’t say another word.

  “Good grief, Tara! Can you just fill me in?”

  For a moment, she pinched her lips together.

  “Brent, she lied to me.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  Finally! she thought. “Because Kyla had on a wristband from that hourly babysitting place on Narrow Road.”

  Brent threw the dirtied shop towel into the trash and inspected his still-dirty hands. Then, looking at Tara, he said, “And you’re suspecting what, exactly?”

  “Well, I don’t know. But she had to have been up to something.”

  “Okay. So, how did she appear when she came home?”

  Tara thought for a moment. “I guess … no different than when she’d left this morning.”

  “And her mood?”

  “Happy, but a bit rushed to get some food prepared for her and Kyla.”

  “So, evidence-wise, there’s nothing to actually suspect, but you’re suspicious because she decided to use the baby-watching service for a little while.”

  Tara could tell that it wasn’t really a question. It was his way of confirming that he’d caught on to what she knew she had perfectly communicated.

  “If she’d needed a baby-watching service, shouldn’t that service have been us?”

  Brent paused in thought for a moment, then he shrugged again.

  “Sweetheart, maybe she wanted to go to shopping by herself for an hour and didn’t want the hassle of driving home first.”

  Tara hadn’t considered this idea.

  “Maybe.”

  “And maybe she just didn’t want to trouble you. Maybe it was just convenient. And maybe … just maybe … it’s none of our business.”

  Tara gave Brent a mean squint and said, “You sure know how to annoy me.”

  “Comes from years of perfecting the skill,” he said with a smirk.

  She gave him a hard stare, turned around, and walked back into the house. Tara closed the door behind her, maybe, just maybe, a little harder and louder than usual.

  DREW INSERTED THE memory card into his laptop, opened File Explorer, and clicked View Large Icons to display the photos he’d taken of Elizabeth. One hundred and fifty-three in total.

  He was curious as to how they’d turned out, but more so, now that he was able to look at her without her seeing him look at her. His heart rate began to pick up.

  He right-clicked the first image, and on the pop-up menu, he selected Open with > Windows Photo Viewer. The first test shot displayed on his screen.

  That bench was a good idea. He zoomed in on her face. The high-resolution photo showed barely any pixelation as her image became life-sized.

  Those eyes. Man, oh man.

  The test photo had turned out to be amazing, yet it was the first of the posed shots that caused his thoughts to springboard into emotional thirst.

  That almost-smile. He sighed and dropped his hands from the laptop. He leaned back in his office chair and just stared.

  There were a hundred and fifty-one photos left to look at, but this one wouldn’t let go. All he could do was look—look at her lips, her hair, her eyes, and that perfect nose.

  I want to know … what do your lips feel like, Elizabeth? Would you let me find out?

  His thoughts became a whisper. “Would you?”

  Drew closed his eyes. “Would you? If I leaned in toward your mouth, would you draw back or would you let my lips meet yours?”

  He thought back again to their parting conversation. Did you mean it, Elizabeth? Did you mean it when you said that you wished we were closer in age?

  Drew opened
his eyes. He felt longing mixed with sorrow.

  No. Who was he trying to kid? It was longing mixed with guilt. Any sorrow he might have felt was only the regret of not getting to fulfill his original fantasy. The guilt he was tasting meant that he still regarded her as a person rather than a plaything.

  That’s good. Right? A good thing?

  So, I need to force some detachment into my heart and mind. I need to, again, become the professional photographer who was just doing another photo shoot with another model.

  Drew wondered if professional photographers, whose livings were predicated on taking thousands upon thousands of photographs of beautiful women, became “clinical” in their views toward the models. Was each model truly “just another pretty face”—another nice body? Or did many of the photographers go through and view their photos with cravings much like his own?

  A thought struck him: professional photographer.

  Could he? Could he become a professional photographer? For a minute or two, he pondered the pros and cons of such an idea.

  Then another thought: professional detachment.

  Could a guy like him, who, during his secluded times, did little more than just lust after women’s and girls’ bodies, actually be professional toward them?

  He doubted it. And now, he felt the sorrow.

  I don’t think I can be as strong as I want to be. Not when I can’t give up on the idea of being with Elizabeth.

  Drew, amid his emotional chaos, wanted to shout to the sky for help. A stupid urge, he knew, because the sky had no ears.

  Is it possible to hate God for not existing?

  A paradox. He shook his head.

  “Okay, Drew. Stop. Just pick out the best shots, do some edits, and get a portfolio together. No reason to drag this out. Be the professional for a few more hours.”

  At least you had one day in which you had a decent purpose.

  He sighed again.

  Yeah, before diving back into lonely, undisciplined shame.

  SUNDAY, AUGUST 10

  Chapter 37