Northern Lights

I know thinking about being without you's breaking my heart."
    "That's the first time in more than sixteen years you've ever come in this room and talked to me. Said anything real to me. It's a long time to wait."
    "Too long? Tell me it's not too long."
    He crossed to her, put his arms around her, his cheek to the top of her head. "I don't know. I don't think either one of us knows. So, I guess we'll have to wait and see."
     
     
    NATE PINNED HIS BADGE on a khaki shirt that carried the Lunacy PD symbol on the sleeve. He'd been informed by her honor the mayor that May Day required a more official look.
    When he strapped on his gun, Meg made a long mmmmm. "Cops are so sexy. Why don't you come back to bed?"
    "I've got to go in early. Should already be there. Including the participants, we're expecting close to two thousand in town today. Hopp and Charlene did some major PR."
    "Who doesn't love a parade? All right, since you're being so official, give me ten and I'll fly you in."
    "It'll take longer for you to do your system's checks and fly there than it will for me to drive it. Besides, you can't get ready in ten."
    "Can too, especially if somebody goes down and makes the coffee."
    Even as he looked at his watch and sighed, she dashed into the bathroom.
    When he came back with two mugs, she was pulling her red shirt over a white scoop-necked tee. "Consider me amazed."
    "I know how to budget time, cutie. This way we can have some wedding talk on the way in. I managed to pull the plug on Charlene's notion of renting a pergola and covering it with pink roses."
    "What's a pergola?"
    "Beats me, but we're not having it. She's majorly bummed because she claims it's not only romantic, but essential for the wedding photos."
    "It's nice that the two of you are getting along."
    "It won't last, but it makes life marginally easier for the time being." She gulped down coffee. "Two minutes for the face," she said and scooted back into the bathroom.
    "She and Big Mike have their heads together on this behemoth wedding cake. I'm giving her her head there. I like cake. We're tangling about the flowers. I'm not being buried in pink roses, but we've agreed on a few things. Like getting a professional photographer. Snapshots are great, but this is a monumental deal, so we go with a pro. Oh, and she says you have to get a new suit."
    "I already have a suit."
    "She says you have to have a new one, and it has to be gray. Steel gray, not dove gray. Or maybe it was dove gray and not steel gray. I don't know, and I'm tossing you to the wolves on that one, Burke. You argue with her."
    "I can buy a suit," he muttered. "I can buy a gray suit. Do I get to pick out my own underwear?"
    "Ask Charlene. There, done. Let's go, aren't you ready yet? You're holding up the parade."
    She laughed when he made a grab for her and let him chase her down the stairs.
    They were at the door when he stopped, when it clicked into place for him, when that jolt of memory became knowledge. "Snapshot. God damn."
    "What?" Meg pushed at her hair as he charged back upstairs. "You want a camera? Men. Jesus. And they're always harping about women not being on time."
    She trudged back upstairs, then stared in astonishment while he dragged her albums and boxes of photos from the closet to dump them on the bed.
    "What are you doing?"
    "It's in here. I remember. I'm sure of it."
    "What's in there? What are you doing with my pictures?"
    "It's in here. Summer picnic? No, no . . . campfire shot. Or . . . damn it."
    "Just a minute here. How do you know there's a campfire shot in there or summer picnics or anything else?"
    "I snooped. Scold me later."
    "You can count on it."
    "The earring, Meg. I saw it when I was looking through here. I know I saw it."
    She shoved him aside so she could grab a stack. "Who was wearing it? Who did you see?" She scanned pictures, tossed them out like toy airplanes.
    "Group shot," he murmured, straining to bring it into focus. "Party shot. Holiday . . . Christmas."
    He grabbed the album she reached for and flipped through to the end. "There. Bull's-eye."
    "New Year's Eve. They let me stay up. I took that picture myself. I took it."
    Her hand trembled as she peeled back the plastic, pulled the photo graph free. The edge of the tree was in the corner, the colored lights and balls blurry. She'd gone in close, so it was just the faces, nearly only the faces, though she remembered now that her father had his guitar on his lap.
    He'd been laughing, with