Page 311 of Mangled Memory
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“You tell me. He’s yours, Ayla.”
I look from my husband to my brother to Ellie. “I don’t know, but you have to be strong enough to keep up with Eleanor, so I’m going with Franklin. Not Frank, maybe Frankie, but I like Franklin.”
“Franklin it is,” Christian puts in.
“Only you,” Cian offers. “Do you know anything about the Roosevelts?
“Not a thing. But it’s a good name, a strong name, and ithonors my girl.” I extend a hand to Ellie. Leaving Franklin in my lap, I reach for her and coo, “Who’s the bestest good girl in the whole world?” I stroke her and kiss her forehead. She responds with a kiss to my chin that Franklin promptly tries to imitate, but instead uses his teeth. “Ellie wouldn’t bite me. Would you?”
“That’s because Eleanor is trained.” That’s Cian being practical.
“Franklin will be, too.” Christian offers. “You can count on it.”
“How long have you known?” I stare at my brother.
“Not as long as your husband. I’d forgotten puppy stage exhaustion. Ellie and I will sleep well tonight.”
“You planned this?” Still sitting on the floor, I look to my husband before dropping my gaze to the pup who snuggles in and rolls to his back, exposing his belly and throat to me. “You’re going to make me fall in love with you, aren’t you, little dude?”
Eleanor bumps her head under my hand and stares. I give her pets and hold her gaze. “You’ll always be my number one, sweet girl. Your dad is just annoyed about the bears and helping Christian make a point. That’s all. It’s still me and you against the world.”
She sets her head on my leg as I rub her flank. That picture, me with a sleeping pup in one arm, my brother’s girl snuggled in on my other side, never makes it to Picstagram. But it is does become my phone’s home screen. Perfection in one photo.
43
anticlimactic
Ayla
Early Tuesday morning, Cian, Ren, Javier, Ashlyn, and I, along with Eleanor and Franklin, head to Beaver Brook to the ridge where old Ayla was left for dead and new Ayla rose from the ashes. It’s bittersweet.
I’m not alone, as I’m told I was, and it’s not quiet by any stretch, which I can only assume was the case that morning.
Javier and Ashlyn pack in their equipment, while I bring only my phone. We discuss angles and why one location for each tripod will have different light and different shadows, where each wants to focus and why. We set cameras for different apertures so we have a controlled experiment, and we set the remotes to capture the images. No need to risk pushing the shutter button when the long exposure shots would be ruined by the slightest motion.
That reminds me. I need to get with Fitz on my cameras. It may have been a rebirth moment out here, and I may have nothing to show for it, but I like using remote settings, so could I have gotten shots of that day? I wonder what the view was. Fall in the mountains has a beauty that’s ethereal, and if anything can be salvaged from my fall, I’ll take it.
We sit around and wait as the sun allows a ray here and there to peek through the shadows. Franklin is on his side in thedirt, sacked out from the hike. Eleanor is sitting pretty, knowing her close-up isn’t far away.
“Ci,” I say quietly, trying not to interrupt the moment. “Get with your girl.”
“So now she’smygirl?” He fakes irritation when I know he’s anything but. Nevertheless, he moves to her side to sit, and she adjusts her posture to erect and proud, next to her dad.
I click off a few shots, but my favorite, and the one that becomes his contact photo, is him looking at her like he couldn’t love anything on the planet more and her looking back with the same expression.
By seven in the morning, the sun is high and full. The shots that make the money are already in the bag—or in this case, on the SD card.
“Are you guys staying around to get more shots?” I ask Ashlyn and Javier.
Javier nods. “I am.”
“Me too,” Ashlyn adds.
“Be safe. And sorry for sounding mom-like, but…” I point to my temple. “It’s important.”
“We will.”
