Page 65 of Beauty and the Beard

He hands me a small package, the size of a paperback. It’s wrapped in a brown shopping bag and scrawled on the front of it, simplyFor Leaf.

“He didn’t tell me what it was, but he was very insistent that I deliver it as soon as I got back.”

Turning it over in my hands, I’m filled with a longing to have the time roll back. To have Sasha on the boat or see him laughingat chipmunks. To feel the weight of him next to me while we lay in bed.

“Hey, you call me if you need me.” Pete says in a soft voice. “I’ll let you open that in private.”

Startled at the wetness in my eyes, I nod.

“Thanks, Pete. I will.”

He lets himself out and leaves me to my thoughts. Sitting on the loveseat, I take a breath before sliding the paper off the package. It’s a photo album. One made to fit 4x6 photos, and a laugh bubbles out at the title he’s scrawled across the front.

In my lumberjack era.

Flipping through the pages, he’s made me a scrapbook of his time here. There are photos of our time on the boat, me chopping wood, and photos around the lodge. He’s written little notes along the few lines at the side of each picture of his memories. Some are little poems, other are little doodles with hearts and smiley faces.

But it’s the final photo that stops me in my tracks.

A selfie taken together along the beach one evening. The sun is just setting, and it’s a gorgeous red-orange glow. Our cheeks were supposed to be pressed together, but a loon called and Sasha turned his head to look for it. It’s there in the background as he looks out after it. But my expression in the photo is what I’m focused on.

Running my fingers across the photo, I almost don’t recognize the joy, but it’s right there.

His note says,Find yourself a lumberjack who looks at you like this.

And the hesitation I’ve felt since Connor died melts a little more.

There’s something I need to do.

Before I can talk myself out of it or overthink it, I quickly change and rush out to my truck.

Chapter 19

Leaf

Sitting on the same park bench I shared with Sasha a short time ago, I bounce the tiny photo album on my lap. People walk by like any other weekday. Joggers run through Connor’s park, their conversations barely breathless as they run by.

And I tune it all out. I’m here with Connor.

While I avoided coming here for years since they dedicated it to him, I prefer it over visiting his headstone. This is Connor. The green space. The people and birds. All the things he loved and lived for. And if I expect him to talk to me, it will probably happen here.

“I think you know how much I miss you, Con.” I whisper to the water in the small creek that runs through the park. He always wanted the town to have a skating pond on it, but the current was always strong enough that the ice was never safe for use. The creek often had open water through the winter, so it wasn’t possible.

“I know you can’t come back to me. I stopped wishing for that a long time ago. But I never want to forget you. And it took meseven long years, but I finally realized I can still have you and let someone else in.”

Flipping open the album Sasha left, I turn to one of my favourites. It’s on the boat and Sasha took my photo while I was laughing at something. It'd been years since I smiled and laughed so much, but his caption stuck with me.

The joy in your smile has a story, and I felt it.

And of course, that final photo with the damn loon in the background. I can’t stop looking at it and wondering…

“Con, was that you? Do you know? I know you loved watching the loons and I remember that one night on the lake. Remember? You had that wildlife seminar and you went on and on with your loon facts.” I stop to laugh and wipe away a tear. I can still hear his voice from that night.

“Leaf, did you know when a loon’s eyes are red it’s a sign they’re still in mating season?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re always red, baby.”

“No, look at that one!”

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