Free A Weekend Getaway by Karen Lenfestey Page A

if Missy had snapped any candids at home.
    That woman didn’t appreciate how fleeting childhood was.
    The jagged edge of her car keys dug into Beth’s palm. Registering
the pain, she dropped them into her purse, then reached out to embrace Emma.
“Guess what? We’re going to get your picture taken.”
    “Why?”
    Not wanting to block the door for other people picking up
their kids, Beth waved to Amy, the lean brunette who ran the daycare center,
and steered Emma toward the exit. “This way Uncle Drew and I can keep a picture
of you on our desks at work. And we’ll give one to grandma and grandpa so they
can look at it when they miss you.”
    “What about mommy? If you give her one, will she miss me?”
    A tug at her heart. Hoping to offer some comfort, Beth
stroked Emma’s fine hair. “Your mommy misses you all the time, I’m sure.” They
took a few steps without speaking. “Do you want to give your mommy a picture?”
    “Yeah.”
    Beth had an idea. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a
compact mirror and handed it to Emma. “You can practice your smile on the way.”
    Once at the studio, Emma seemed to like all of the props the
photographer had sitting around. She wanted to play with the artificial
Christmas tree in the back corner, but the photographer wasn’t happy. Obviously,
as a photographer that specialized in weddings, he preferred subjects that
stayed in place and didn’t wander off exploring. He handed Emma a plastic
flower and told her to sit on the X taped on the floor.
    Emma smelled the flower and frowned. “This stinks.”
    The photographer rolled his eyes and pushed his
tortoiseshell glasses up his nose. “Just hold it and pretend it smells like a
rose.”
    “But it’s a daisy.”
    Beth smirked. Emma was so sharp.
    The rail-thin man snapped shots from different angles before
pausing to look at Beth. “Do you want any mother-daughter shots?”
    It was like a kick in the gut. She’d never thought about how
their blonde hair and blue eyes made them look alike. And who else would bring
a two-year-old to a photo shoot but a family member? Her voice barely made a
sound. “No.”
    Somewhere there was a little girl that was hers. But she’d given her away, assuming there’d be
plenty of time for babies later. Now she wondered if she’d missed her only
chance.
    Would she ever be a real mother? Would she ever know the
pleasure of seeing her own image reflected in the next generation’s face? Her
newborn had been beautiful--bald with fat cheeks and blue-gray eyes. The doctor
said her eye color could change later. Would she look like Beth now?
    The bright lights in the tiny room caused sweat to form on
her face. She leaned against the back wall and fanned herself.
    The session lasted for an hour and near the end, Emma whined
that she was hungry. She was probably hot, too, Beth figured. “Just a bit more,
Emma. You can do it.”
    Emma toddled back to the Christmas tree and picked up one of
the pretend gifts. “Mine.” She shook the box.
    The photographer let out a loud sigh. Children were
obviously not his forte.
    Beth tried to take the package from Emma. “There’s nothing
in there, honey. Now go back over to the X. One more smile and we can go.”
    Emma refused to let go of the box. Beth shrugged. “Okay. Take
the gift and sit on the X.” She looked at the photographer. “Maybe we can use
these in the Christmas cards.”
    Emma sat down and pulled at the red velvet bow. She giggled
as she tore into the package.
    “No!” Beth said, but it was too late. Flashes kept popping
as the photographer decided this was his last chance. When Emma uncovered the
empty box, she cried.
    The photographer snapped another picture before standing. He
took off his glasses and wiped his brow. “I’ll have these ready for you to
proof in about twenty minutes.”
    There was no way Emma would be content here for another
second—let alone twenty minutes. Beth hugged the disappointed little
girl. “I think