Free A Flickering Light by Jane Kirkpatrick Page B

hear of it.”
    “Thrice told? I imagine you’ve told the story to your lodge men. You certainly don’t need to lower yourself to repeat it to your ignorant wife.”
    “Ignorant?” She’d never referred to herself that way before. “Nonsense. Join me in the kitchen, and I’ll tell you about the girls you had me interview. We have eggs in the house, yes? I’ll fix us some scrambled if you’ve not had any dinner.”
    “I’m very tired, Mr. Bauer. Now that you’ve lowered yourself by coming home, I believe I’ll go to bed. And, yes. There are eggs. It’s good you know how to scramble them.”
    “Why do you do this, Jessie?” He corrected himself when she cleared her throat. “Mrs. Bauer. You’re far from ignorant. I’d be pleased to share my day with you. And I don’t think of coming home as something I don’t want to do.”
    “Yet you’re never here in a timely manner.”
    “One time this month have I stopped at the lodge. One time, confound it! I never know what sort of reception I’ll receive when I do come home. I’m always welcome there,” he said, immediately wishing he hadn’t.
    “That’s it, isn’t it? I make your life miserable. I never do it right. How can you even bear to look at me?”
    Her voice rose in that strident way it had, like a wave at sea growing and growing. If he didn’t interrupt it, she’d escalate and go on for hours. She had in the past and he didn’t want that, not now. He was tired too.
    “You’re right, Mrs. Bauer. You’re absolutely correct.” He folded his hands as though in prayer. Maybe he did pray. “I should have come immediately home. I worked late, but that’s no excuse, leaving you here with the children. I’ll fix tea for you if you’d like.”
    “I’ve had enough tea to float the Boston flotilla. Yes. I do know a little history,” she said. “I know our history good and well. Shall I repeat it to you? What you did?”
    There’d be nothing he could do now. Every flutter of an eyelash, every lift of his eyebrow, even a tug on his mustache would carry with it messages he hadn’t put there. He made his face like stone.
    She rose from the chair. He waited for her to come closer to assault him with her words. He’d stand his ground. He had to. But instead she slipped like a shadow through the door, leaving him and the room as dry as a photographic plate.

Candlelight Eyes
    T HERE IS SATISFACTION IN REACHING for what one wants, even if attainment escapes one’s grasp. It was the thought on Jessie’s mind when she woke from a sound sleep the first morning of her new job. She washed in the cool water in the bowl, dressed, and found Roy waiting for her in the kitchen. He was her champion, the one who saluted her adventures.
    She pressed against his cowlick and said, “I’ll take word pictures over the next few months since I won’t have my camera.”
    Roy rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Wh-wh-what h-h-happened to your c-c-camera?”
    “Mr. Bauer is keeping it until I learn new habits,” she said. “I’ll get it back, and when I do, the next pictures I take will be more professional. You wait and see. I never did like to do the practice exercises that Kodak recommended. I just liked to shoot and see what I got. Now that’s probably all I’ll be doing, practicing.” Still, each day she’d learn something new; each encounter at the studio would be one she’d try to remember and “picture” in her eye to share with Roy even if she didn’t have the camera to assist her.
    “Wh-wh-what’s p-p-professional?”
    She thought, then said, “Someone with a certificate saying they are, I guess. That they’re authorized to do a thing. That they both have the skill and then take the risk of using it. You have to do both to be authorized and professional.”
    “Y-y-you don’t need a c-c-certifi-tifi-cate.”
    Jessie brushed the blunt cut of his hair back from his eyes. “Thanks for that,” she told him. She’d sacrifice for Roy. That thought