Page 90 of Above All Else

When was this?

I flipped the picture around, searching for a date.

That’s Amber’s handwriting.

My heart thudded in my chest as I studied the photo.

She’s so young.

Tears puddled along my lashes as I stared back at her light blue eyes, a stark contrast to Carters. She’d inherited them from her father, a Brit by heritage, American by birth,whose icy gaze could strike a man dead without a single word.

Chilly air prickled against my skin, creeping along my arm as if her ghost reached out and stared back.

This is silly.

I set it aside, rubbed my arms free of gooseflesh, wiped the tears from my eyes, and placed everything back in the box, minus the photograph. My stomach flipped as I set the box inside the dresser, picked up the shattered plexiglass pieces, and put them on top of the dresser. I’d glue it together later, then set the ball beside it.

The sun fixed on the horizon as I broke down the last box, my lower back screaming mixed with sweat, my shoulders tensed, and a crook in my neck kept me from looking to the right.

I could use one of Carter’s famous massages right about now.

Snagging the flattened boxes, I carted them to the trash bin in the backyard and stuffed them down inside, then walked back into the spare room, grabbed the photograph and glass, scuffing my feet against the carpet into the living room.

Dad sat in his chair as though he’d never left, flipping through a magazine, the pages rustling.

“I’m all done.” I settled on the armchair beside him. “Whatchya reading?”

He shrugged and turned the magazine to the front and then went back to his saved page. “Blade.”

“Some thingsdonever change.”

I wiped the perspiration from my brow, my hair sticking to my skull despite the cooling temps.

He huffed and stared at the page, highlighting a Damascus Steel knife.

“Is Mom back from the store yet?”

“No.” He closed the magazine and sighed.

“Okay. I need super glue. Do you know where there might be some? I don’t remember unpacking any.”

He shook his head. “Why?”

I held my hand out with the glass, and his eyes glazed over, staring at the photograph in my hand. “I accidentally broke the case for the baseball and was going to fix it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice trailing. “What’s that?” He raised a brow, his gaze never leaving the photo.

I glanced at it one more time, then handed it to him. “It’s a photo of Amber. I found it in the boxes in the spare room.”

He squinted at it, his brow furrowing as he took it from me. Long shadows drew across his face as he studied the image, his eyes glistening.

“Do you remember me going to this concert?”

“Hmm?“ He looked up and handed the photo back, then opened his magazine again. “Yeah, I think I remember that. You girls were so excited.”

I frowned. “Weird. I don’t remember it at all.”

He shrugged, flipped a page, and crossed his ankles on the coffee table. “Guess it wasn’t as fun as you thought.”