What is it? A bug? A spider? It’s not one of those gecko lizards, is it?” Laurie had never done well with creepy, crawling creatures.
“It’s a rainbow,” I said. “You have a rainbow coming out of your eyebrow, and I want to capture it. Hold still.”
“Coming out of my eyebrow? Hope, don’t line up the shot so that it looks freaky.”
“What? You don’t want to look like you’re growing strange, multicolor appendages out of your forehead?”
“Let me think … No!” She grabbed for the camera and turned to face the rainbow. “Oh, that is gorgeous!”
“I told you.”
“It’s gorgeous because it’s right there, hanging in the sky, all by itself, where it’s supposed to be. If it were shooting out of my eyebrow, it would no longer look gorgeous.”
A ringing in my pocket interrupted our banter. I pulled out my cell phone and was surprised to see Darren’s name appear on my caller screen.
“Hi, is everything okay?”
“We’re fine,” he said. “What about you?”
“Great! Laurie and I are having breakfast on the lanai, and one of us—” I gave Laurie a little smirk—“is trying to take pictures of a rainbow.”
“So, you got there okay?” Darren sounded edgy.
“Yes. We both got here with only a few problems, but everything is fine.”
“I hadn’t heard from you, so I didn’t know if everything was okay.”
“Darren, I’m sorry. I should have called when I arrived last night. I figured it would be so late at home that you would be in bed.”
“I probably was still up,” he said quietly. “I’m glad everything is going well.”
“Yes. It’s beautiful here.”
“Okay. Well, the boys are fine, and I’m fine. We’re out of dish soap. Other than that, everything is fine.”
My big, tough husband sounded like a lost puppy. Who would have guessed it? I wondered if I might be appreciated more when I got home. Not a bad thing, with a baby on the way.
“I love you,” I told him.
“I love you, too. Have a good time.”
“We will. Bye.”
“Everything okay?” Laurie asked.
“Oh.” She gave a knowing nod. “That happens sometimes.”
“You better call Gabe before he calls here next.”
“I already did. Called at the airport as soon as the plane landed. Rule number one: Always call home the minute the plane lands.”
“Really. And what’s rule number two?”
“Never laugh about anything when they call. Try to sound a little tired, a little sad.”
“Okay.”
“Rule number three is always: Tell them you miss them and that you love them. You have to say the part about missing them first before they believe you about the loving them.”
“Got it. So, how did you get so wise in matters of the home?”
Laurie leaned back in her chair and gazed toward the ocean with a regal air. “It must be the gift of old age. You’ll find out soon enough, my dear.”
Her stately profile was perfectly lined up so that the lingering rainbow now appeared to come right out of her nose. I grabbed the camera and took the shot.
Rule number one: Never ask Laurie if you can take her picture. Just take it.
She turned to check on the rainbow and then glared at me. “You didn’t make it look like that rainbow was coming out of my eyebrow, did you?”
“No,” I answered. “It wasn’t coming out of your eyebrow.”
That was when I realized why I enjoyed Laurie so much. I was raised with two younger brothers. Or perhaps I should say I helped raise two younger brothers. Now I was raising three boys. Growing up, my dearest, secret wish had been to have a sister. A twin, preferably.
When Laurie and I felt close enough as college roomies to have yelling matches over who was leaving junk on whose side of the room, I realized my wish had come true. Laurie was the closest thing to a real sister I would ever know. I adored her.
“What do you want to do today?” I asked the birthday girl.
She drew in a deep breath. “I think I want to show you something. Wait here.”
I gazed at the ocean while she went into the bedroom. I kept thinking about the rainbow displacement shot and reveled in the delicious anticipation of hearing Laurie squeak when I got the photos developed. I determined I would borrow her camera often in the next few days. That way I’d finish off a roll and suggest we take it to a one-hour photo lab.
I could feel the side of my left leg heating up. Even though the day was still young, the sun’s intensity made me nervous about getting branded with a strange sunburn splotch on my thigh.
“Laurie, could you grab my sunscreen while you’re in there?”
She returned with the lotion and a brown leather portfolio. “This is what I want to show you. Please don’t put on the lotion yet; it might leave marks on these if it’s still on your fingers.”
I turned so the sun wasn’t hitting my leg directly and opened the portfolio. Inside was a stack of enlarged photographs. The first one was in black and white and focused on a fascinating pair of weathered hands tearing off a piece of bread. I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo.
“That’s Gabe’s grandmother. I took it three summers ago. Don’t say anything yet. Just take a look.”
I noted that Laurie had identified the picture as being Gabe’s grandmother. She didn’t say it was his grandmother’s hands, but rather it was his grandmother. Going through the pictures one by one, she continued to label each person with the shot, even though the photo was of only part of that person. The part represented the whole.
My favorite was the one of Gabe with their black Labrador when Trooper was a puppy. The focus was on Gabe’s chin, neck, and part of his shoulder. His head was tilted all the way back, his mouth open in full laughter, and the puppy’s pink tongue was just about to go in for another tickle-lick of Gabe’s neck.
“Laurie, these are absolutely amazing. Incredible! You told me you were taking lots of pictures lately, but I thought you meant a bunch of snapshots for a scrapbook or something. You’re very good at capturing the essence of the person or the moment. I’m blown away at how magnificent these are.”
“Do you really think so, Hope?” Her gaze was critical. A valley had formed between her eyebrows. “You’re not just saying that.”
She bit her thumbnail. “I knew you would be honest with me. Tell me you’re being honest with me.”
“Of course I’m being honest. You know that I am. These are exceptionally wonderful photos, and you should do something with them.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. What does Gabe think?”
Laurie shook her head. The deep crevice remained between her stormy brows.
“What? He doesn’t like them?”
“He hasn’t seen them.”
“Why not?”
Laurie closed up the portfolio, took it away from me, and went into the room.
I followed her. “Why haven’t you shown these to Gabe?”
“I don’t think I could bear it if he said anything negative about them. I show him the other family shots I take. But I always pull out the special few. I’ve been saving them.”
“You’ve been hiding them,” I corrected her.
I could tell Laurie didn’t like what I said, but she took it from me like a champ. “Okay, hiding them. I’ve been hiding the pictures and saving them for just the right moment to show Gabe. I decided to bring them and show you first. I thought you could coach me on how to work up the courage to show Gabe.”
“Why are you so afraid of his criticism? Maybe I don’t understand, but it’s art, right? You’ve told me before that art is subjective. If someone doesn’t like it, that’s his preference.”
“I know, but Gabe is … well, you know, he’s the master painter. The sought-after artist. He’s the creative one in our family. I just make life happen for everyone else. But now I have these photos, and they’re burning a hole in my heart.”
I studied Laurie’s expression. “You have more, don’t you? More than just the dozen you brought to show me.”
Her mouth twitched slightly.
“How many photos do you have?”
“Two hundred and fifty-nine.”
“Laurie!”
“What?”
I went across the room and sat next to her on the edge of her unmade bed. How could I nudge her forward on this? I didn’t understand her timidity.
“Laurie, you realize, don’t you, that what you have here is not a hobby. This is a gift. A calling. I don’t understand why you haven’t pursued getting them displayed or at least framed.”
“I really love these pictures, Hope.”
“I can tell.”
“As long as I keep them tucked away like my own little treasure, then no one can reject them or criticize them. I’ve seen what Gabe has gone through over the years. Everybody has an opinion. Every dealer has a price. I’ve watched him struggle with his work becoming less of an art and more of a commodity. I’m not sure I could bear that kind of pressure.”
“Laurie, you’re projecting way, way out there. It doesn’t have to be overly commercial for you.”
“But my name.”
“What about your name?”
“Giordani. Don’t you think it would catapult me into a big arena, if I showed up with some art with the Giordani name on it?”
“Don’t sign them with Giordani. Sign them ‘photos by Laurie’ or use your given name—Laurinda Sue. You don’t have to ride in Gabe’s wake. Start your own tsunami.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Okay, not a tsunami. Your own little ripple, then. The point is, you know in your gut that you have to do something with this gift. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be burning a hole in you, and you wouldn’t have brought them here to show me.”
“You’re right, Hope.”
“It’s like you’re carrying around this 259-pound baby that you want to protect from the big, bad world. And you know what? You just have to give birth and trust God for what’s going to happen after that.”
“I wasn’t going to show them to you until later in the week,” Laurie said with a sniff.
“I’m glad you brought them out when you did. I love them. You have created amazing works of art. Each one evokes deep emotion. You know what your pictures do? They invite people to worship by focusing on intricate details of God’s creation. You’ve been entrusted with this gift, Laurie. You must be a good steward and do something with it.”
She nodded.
I could tell I was going into challenge overload. I had the tendency to do that after living so long with a coach. Women need a lot less overt pushing than men, but I often forgot that.
“I’m done.” I gave her arm a squeeze. “Let’s go do something fun. We have some birthday celebrating to do.” I reached for one of the brochures. “Outrigger canoeing, anyone?”