Page 17 of Key West Promises

"Just pretend I'm not here," she called out, though she knew it was impossible. The camera changed things, made people conscious of themselves in ways they usually weren't. She'd learned that during her influencer days, when every moment had to be perfectly staged.

Elena appeared at her elbow, clipboard in hand. "How's it going?"

"Good. I've got some nice candid shots for the website. Shows the real Paradise Harbor House, you know?"

"And Carla?"

Kaitlyn lowered her camera. "Still won't agree to be photographed. Says she doesn't want to risk him finding them through social media." She didn't need to specify which 'him' she meant. "I get it. Some people shouldn't be able to find you."

“That’s not unusual. Besides, I’m only interested in exterior shots at this point. We have to protect the people who stay here.”

Kaitlyn nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—another call from her mother. She ignored it, just like she'd been ignoring the social media notification that had popped up earlier:Sarah Miller just posted a new photo album: Family Beach Day!

She hadn't looked, but she didn't need to. Moments like these made her regret creating her fake social media accounts.

Through her lens, she watched Carla move through the common room, efficient and wary. Christina followed close behind, carrying Jack while Dominic clutched a toy truck to his chest. They moved like a single unit, each attuned to the others' needs.

"Maybe we could just photograph the back of their heads?" Elena suggested. "Or focus on their hands doing activities? Something that shows their story without showing their faces?"

Before Kaitlyn could respond, Carla approached, her posture rigid. "I've been thinking about your website project."

"Oh?" Kaitlyn lowered her camera again, careful to point it away.

"Christina wants to draw pictures of Paradise Harbor House instead. She thought maybe you could use those. Show the place through a child's eyes."

Something in Kaitlyn's chest tightened. Here was Carla, trying to protect her children while still letting them be seen. Still letting them exist in the world on their own terms.

"That's…that's actually perfect," Kaitlyn said, her voice thick. "Way better than my photos."

Christina beamed, already reaching for her crayons. Dominic perked up too, truck forgotten as he scrambled for paper.

"Mama, can I draw our tree?" he asked, referring to the one visible through the window. It had become their special spot, where Carla would read to them in the evenings.

"Of course, baby." Carla's voice softened the way it only did with her children. "Draw whatever makes you happy."

Kaitlyn watched through her camera as the children settled at the craft table, their faces intent with concentration.

She caught the moment Dominic stuck his tongue out while coloring, the way Christina helped him pick just the right shade of green. Even Jack contributed, adding enthusiastic scribbles to his siblings' works.

These were the moments that mattered. Not the posed shots, not the carefully curated glimpses of perfect lives. Just real people finding their way together, one crayon stroke at a time.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, she turned it off completely.

Later that afternoon, Kaitlyn sat cross-legged on the floor beside Christina, watching the girl add careful details to her drawing. The paper was filled with colorful figures—residents, volunteers, even the little kitten bouncing across the page in vibrant crayon strokes.

"That's Miss Elena," Christina explained, pointing to a figure with a clipboard. "And that's Dominic and Jack, and Mama." She hesitated, then added in a smaller voice, "I didn't draw my dad. Mama says we don't have to think about him if we don't want to."

Kaitlyn's hand stilled on her camera. "Sometimes that's easier, isn't it? Not thinking about people who aren't here anymore?"

"Do you have someone you don't think about too?"

The question, innocent as it was, hit like a physical blow. Before Kaitlyn could respond, Carla appeared with Jack on her hip.

"Time for lunch, sweetheart," she said, but her eyes lingered on Kaitlyn's face. "You've been drawing for hours."

"Can I finish?" Christina held up her picture. "I want to add the flowers by the porch. The yellow ones that smell nice."

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