One Tiny Lie

Furrowing my brow, I gingerly open it and slip a picture out. It’s clearly an old photo, by the quality of the developing. A young couple leans against a tree, the guy’s arm slung over the girl’s shoulder. She’s resting her raven-haired head against his chest as they both smile into the camera.

My breath catches.

It’s my parents.

I can’t speak for a moment, as my free hand flies to my mouth, as I stare down at the two faces that I remember and yet are so new to me. “Where did you—” My voice breaks off.

“I have boxes upon boxes of old school pictures sitting in my attic. I’ve been meaning to go through them for years. ”

I can’t speak.

“I thought I might have an old picture of your parents in there but I wasn’t sure. It took a good week, sorting through.”

“You did this?” I look up at Reagan’s dad. “I mean . . .” Tears don’t even threaten. They just start spilling out. “Thank you. I don’t have any pictures of them in college.”

He opens his mouth. I catch the momentary hesitation. “I know, Livie.”

My frown lasts only a second before it clicks.

Only one person knew that.

Ashton told him.

“And it wasn’t me going through the boxes.” His voice is even, his brow arched in a knowing look.

I take a ragged breath. “Ashton?”

After a moment, Robert nods. “He knew it was them right away. It’s impossible to miss the resemblance between you and your mother.” I look down at it again. It could be me sitting there. Ashton did this? Ashton spent a week going through someone’s dusty pictures, looking for this, not even knowing if it existed. For me?

“I don’t know a lot about that boy, even after three years. He’s not big on talking. But something tells me that nothing is quite as it seems with him.” His mouth presses into a firm line. “What I do know is what I can see. That he cares greatly about his teammates, he pushes them to excel, and he’ll do anything for them. They all know it and they respect him for it. He’s a born leader when he’s out on that water. That’s why he’s captain. I think he could make a fine coach one day. If that’s what he wanted to do.” A thoughtful look glazes over his eyes. “It’s like he . . . lets go of whatever is holding him back on land. Anyhow,” Robert says as his eyes fall on me again, “he asked me not to tell you about this. Told me to make up some cockamamie story about stumbling across it.” He gives me a wistful smile. “But I thought it was important that you know.”

My hands roughly wipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks before one falls and stains the photo. I whisper, “Thank you.”

Robert winks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my wayward daughter and get some photos taken.” He ambles away, the crowd parting for him.

The river, the crowds, everything around me has vanished as I stare at the four-by-six in my hands, as I run my fingers along the edges, touching the people within. I’m so lost within the picture that I barely notice Co

“You okay?” I have to pry my eyes away from their faces to look up and see that Co

“Yeah, I’m just . . .” I take a deep breath, trying to process the intensity of this emotion flooding my heart. What am I?

“Are those your parents?” He leans in to get a look at the photo in my hand. “Wow, look at your mom! Where’d you get this?”

I clear my voice. “Reagan’s dad.”

“Wow, that’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, nice,” I parrot. No, not nice, Co