CHAPTER THIRTEEN G: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PHOTOGRAPH
Nora had expected the photograph to settle the argument about Ruth’s presence in the hall.
Instead, the more witnesses she met, the more complicated the picture became.
Before the ceremony began, Rachel Senn asked whether she could see the original print.
Nora took it from the envelope in her coat.
Rachel held it carefully by the edges.
“My mother described this room,” she said.
“She said there was a painted blue bird above the cabinet.”
Nora looked at the image.
The photograph showed only the lower half of the wall.
“Was that important?”
“Maybe not.”
Rachel pointed to a narrow strip of patterned wallpaper.
“She said the cabinet was moved after the fire.”
Caleb joined them.
“Why would anyone move it?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Nora remembered the building inspector saying the west corridor had been renovated after the rescue.
She also remembered Paul’s warning that changes to a building did not automatically prove anyone was hiding something.
“What else did your mother say?” she asked.
Rachel searched her memory.
“She said the cabinet was used to store paper lanterns.”
“Were the lanterns dangerous?”
“She didn’t know.”
Nora looked at the bright yellow kite in the photograph.
The object had been in Walter’s hands before the fire and in his memory afterward.
Its color seemed almost too cheerful for the story that had grown around it.
“Why was the photograph taken?” Nora asked.
Rachel studied the faces.
“Maybe somebody wanted a picture of the children.”
“Before the presentation?”
“Probably.”
Caleb pointed toward the edge of the image.
“There is somebody standing beside the photographer.”
Nora leaned closer.
Only a dark sleeve and the corner of a program were visible.
She thought of the assistant Beatrice had described wearing a red scarf.
Then she stopped herself.
The photograph did not show a scarf.
It did not show a face.
It did not tell them who had taken the keys.
“Let’s not make this picture say more than it does,” Nora said.
Rachel looked relieved.
“My mother hated it when people finished her sentences.”
Nora smiled.
“So did mine.”
The three stood beside the entrance while rainwater dripped from the tent.
Nora realized that the photograph had done something more useful than provide a perfect answer.
It had brought people who remembered different pieces of the same afternoon into conversation.
She returned it to the envelope.
“Whatever happens today, I’m keeping the original safe,” she said.
Caleb nodded.
“Dad will be glad.”
Rachel looked toward Walter.
“He deserves to hear that some of the children remembered him helping.”
Nora watched the old man adjust his sling.
“Tell him yourself.”
Rachel crossed the gravel toward him.
Nora remained by the entrance long enough to see Walter smile at something she said.
