Sanctuary

the deer scanned the river and looked across directly at the two humans, crouched and still. Her arms began to ache as seconds passed into minutes. But she didn’t move, unwilling to risk losing a shot. The reward came when the doe picked her way gracefully through the grass and the yearling slipped out of the trees and joined her at the verge to drink.
    Light slanted down in dreamy white shafts that slid like liquid through the faint, swimming mist, and the deers’ tongues sent ripples spreading soft and slow over the dark water.
    She would underexpose, just a bit, she thought, to accent that otherworldly aura rather than go for the crisp clarity of reality. The prints should look enchanted, with the faintest of fairy-tale blurs.
    She didn’t lower her camera until she’d run out of film, and even then she remained silent, watching while the deer meandered downriver and around the bend.
    “Thanks. I might have missed them.”
    “No, I don’t think so.”
    She turned her head, had to will herself not to jerk back. She hadn’t realized he was quite that close, or that his hand still made warm connection with her shoulder. “You move quietly, Nathan. I never heard you.”
    “You were pretty absorbed. Did you get the shot you were working on before the deer?”
    “We’ll see.”
    “I’ve been taking some shots myself. Old hobby.”
    “Natural that it would be. It’d be in your blood.”
    He didn’t care for the sound of that and shook his head. “No, I don’t have a passion for it. Just an amateur’s interest. And a lot of equipment.”
    She never knew whether it was easier to speak of such losses, or say nothing. So she said nothing.
    “In any case,” he continued, “I’ve got all the professional equipment now, and a very minor skill.” He smiled at her. “Not like yours.”
    “How do you know I have any skill when you haven’t seen my work?”
    “Excellent question. I could say the opinion comes from watching you work just now. You have the patience, the silent grace, the stillness. Stillness is an attractive quality.”
    “Maybe, but I’ve been still long enough.” She started to rise, but he shifted his hand from her shoulder to her elbow and drew her up with him. “I don’t want to keep you from your walk.”
    “Jo Ellen, you keep brushing me off, I’m going to get a complex.” She looked more rested, he thought. There was a little color in her cheeks—but that could have been brought on by annoyance. He smiled and lifted the single-lens reflex camera that hung around her neck. “I’ve got this model.”
    “Do you?” Remembering his upbringing, she stopped herself from tugging the camera away from him. “As I said, it would be hard for you not to have some interest in photography. Was your father disappointed that you didn’t follow in his f-steps?”
    “No.” Nathan continued to study the Nikon, remembering his father patiently instructing him on aperture, field of vision. “My parents never wanted me to be anything but what I wanted to be. Anyway, Kyle made his living with a camera.”
    “Oh, I didn’t realize.” Kyle was dead too, she remembered abruptly and, without thinking, touched a hand to Nathan’s. “Look, if it’s a tender spot, there’s no need to poke at it.”
    “You can’t ignore it either.” Nathan shrugged his shoulders. “Kyle based himself in Europe—Milan, Paris, London. He did a lot of fashion photography.”
    “It’s an art of its own.”
    “Sure. And you take pictures of rivers.”
    “Among other things.”
    “I’d like to see.”
    “Why?”
    “We’ve just established that it’s an interest of mine.” He released her camera. “I’m going to spend more time on it while I’m here. And I’d like to see your work. Like you said, it’s ... connected to my father.”
    It was the right tack to take. He could almost see her mind change from automatic refusal to agreement. “I brought some with me. You could take a look sometime, I suppose.”
    “Good. How about now? I was heading over to Sanctuary anyway.”
    “All right, but I don’t have a lot of time. I’m still on housekeeping duty.” She started to bend to pick up her camera bag, but he beat her to it.
    “I’ve got it.”
    Jo walked with him, dug her cigarettes out of her jacket pocket. “This isn’t another come-on, is it?”
    “It would be if I’d thought of it. I’ve still got that steak waiting.”
    “It’s going to get freezer burn.” She exhaled,