Too Close For Comfort. Colleen Collins
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and a large group photo.
The latter, especially, drew his attention. He stepped forward for a better look.
“Is this you?” he asked incredulously, pointing to a young girl with long black hair curled prettily around her shoulders.
“Yes.”
He would have recognized those big chocolate brown eyes anywhere, but not the dress, the long styled hair. Interesting. Whereas he’d gone from street tough to executive, she’d gone from sweet girl to tough independent. They’d both started out one way, and somewhere along the road of life, taken a sharp one-eighty.
He wondered what her one-eighty was…and why they chose almost completely different paths. But even if they’d ended up in such different lifestyles, they shared a fundamental knowledge about survival that one learned only on the streets or in the wilderness.
Maybe the city slicker and the northern rowdy weren’t so different, after all.
“When was this picture taken?” he asked.
“When I was fourteen.”
Jeffrey stared intently at the picture, then back to Cyd. “It’s not in Alaska.”
“Seattle.”
“You look very happy.”
“I was.”
Cyd stared at the picture, remembering how life had been way back when. How her dad loved managing the movie theater, and how her mom laughed a lot, even though she spent most of her time chasing down two toddlers, Cyd’s younger siblings. Cyd, being older and being her daddy’s girl, had spent her free time tagging along with him to the theater, watching him thread the big reels of film or helping out at the ticket booth and snack bar.
She didn’t like the memories that had just been resurrected. Memories of a sweeter life, one where her family had been whole.
She stared at Jeffrey, long and hard, fighting more memories. How her dad changed when he lost his theater to some big-business movie chain. He’d always been such a fun, gregarious guy, but after he’d had to close down the theater, he’d grown tired, sadder. Then one day he moved his family to Alaska, the last “safe place in the world” her dad had claimed.
And then…
She didn’t want to think about that.
“I don’t want your film series to come to Alaska,” she blurted.
The front door creaked open.
A big body, swathed in an even bigger blue coat, clumped into the room. Babette leaped to her feet and started barking energetically, her tail thumping double-time. The person stopped, took one look at Cyd and opened her arms wide. “Sweetie girl!”
With a laugh, Cyd rushed forward into the hug. After some back-thumping and greetings, Cyd turned to Jeffrey. “This is my aunt Geri. Geri, Jeffrey.”
“Jeffrey,” Geri said with a smile, removing her beaver cap. A long silver braid fell over her shoulder. “Nice to meet ya.” She pulled off a red mitten and shook his hand heartily. She gave Babette a rub behind the ear.
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