Shooting Into the Sun

Shooting Into the Sun

~

Linda Rettstatt

Shooting Into the Sun

Second Edition

© 2016, Linda Rettstatt

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311117205

3rd Act Books

Cover design: http://www.selfpubbookcovers.com/mad-moth

All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

~

For my sister, Peggy Kautz

~

~ * ~

When people know they’re about to do the wrong thing, they don’t look you in the eye.

~ * ~

Prologue

Never shoot into the sun. Her father repositioned himself to pose for the photograph.

Why not? Rylee Morgan lowered the camera and squinted at him.

Because it’s a rule. If you follow the rules, you’ll avoid trouble, and you’ll create beautiful pictures. He stood in the back yard, the white aluminum siding of their house providing a backdrop.

Rylee focused the camera on his smile that didn’t look quite right. She wanted to believe him. She snapped the photograph, capturing his image.

He motioned to the camera bag he’d set on the ground beside her. You remember how to switch the lenses?

She nodded.

How about one more picture of us? He pulled the camera from her hand, attached it to the tripod, checked the height, set the timer and then joined her. At twelve years of age, she was nearly his height.

After the camera clicked, he hugged her against him. I love you, angel. Don’t ever forget that.

She choked on her words. You don’t have to leave, Daddy.

Yes, honey, I do. I’ll talk to you soon, though. He handed her the camera. You take care of this.

Take me with you. She knotted her fingers in his sleeve.

A muscle twitched along his jaw. I can’t. He held her for another moment, and then pried her hands free. Bolting to the car without a backward glance, he pulled from the drive.

Daddy! Rylee chased after him. At the curb, she raised the camera and clicked the shutter frantically until she heard the whirr of rewinding film. Tears blurred her last glimpse. His car turned and disappeared from her view.

She hugged the Nikon against her chest and cried.

Chapter One

Never shoot into the sun—the voice played in her head. The rules she had learned early in her career never failed to produce flawless photographs. The rules she had developed for life had not served her as well. In the sixteen years since her father’s departure, Rylee had kept herself busy, focused on her career, and safe inside her well-constructed boundaries.

Rylee resituated the tripod and checked the sun’s position. She stepped behind the camera, looked once again through the lens and waited, watching the slight movement of the leaves. Water bubbled over rocks. Slowing the shutter speed, she could create a smooth cascade effect. Blue sky and white clouds reflected on the stream’s surface. This stretch of the rapids where the Youghiogheny River ran through Ohiopyle State Park in Pennsylvania was her favorite spot for shooting.

Her thumb rested on the shutter release, prepared for just the right moment. The breeze subsided and the shadows shifted. Then, just as she pressed the button, some jerk decided to walk on water.

Rylee lifted her head and stared. A hiker made his way across the exposed rocks and into the middle of the narrow river—directly into the center of her view. She walked to the water’s edge and, with hands on hips, shouted, Excuse me! You’re ruining my shot.

He raised his arms and stretched, his face turned toward the sun. His shirt pulled up to expose a narrow waist and flat stomach.

Rylee dragged her eyes away from his body, cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted again, Hey! You’re in the way.

The hiker turned and shielded his eyes with his hand. What?

You. Are. Ruining. My. Shot.

He motioned to his ear and shook his head. Taking long strides, he jumped from rock to rock, until he stood balanced on a rock a few feet from her. What did you say?

I said you’re in my shot. I’ve been waiting for half an hour for just the right lighting, and now…. She looked up at the sun. Oh, never mind. It’s too late, anyway. She turned on her heel and climbed back up to where her tripod stood.

He followed. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. So, you’re a photographer?

Duh. Yes. She began to detach the camera from the tripod.

This is a beautiful place. First time I’ve been here. I hitched a ride from Baltimore, on my way through to the turnpike. The trucker stopped out on the highway to eat, so I decided to take a detour.

Uh-huh. She continued to break down her equipment.

Do you know of any campgrounds in the area where I can crash for the night?

Nope. Sorry.

Okay. I won’t bother you any further. I am sorry I ruined your picture. I’m Josh, by the way.

She folded up the tripod, glancing at him. Rylee. There’s a motel out on the highway, about a mile or so west.

He grinned. Thanks. I don’t suppose you’re going that way.

His tousled hair and dark eyes gave him a bad boy look, but he otherwise seemed harmless. Still, she wasn’t about to offer him a ride. Sorry, no hitchhikers. She thought of the pepper spray vial that hung from her belt loop. She carried it with her when she hiked alone, which was most of the time. She inched her hand to her hip, feeling the plastic container beneath her fingers.

He didn’t appear to notice. I don’t blame you. Well, Rylee, it was nice meeting you. Again, I’m sorry I interrupted your work. Have a good afternoon.

She tucked the folded tripod under her arm and placed the lens cap on the camera. You, too. She headed for her car without glancing back, though she was tempted.

Once inside her vehicle, she tucked the old Nikon into the worn leather camera bag. Her hand rested on the camera for a moment as she remembered the day her father had given it to her. She brushed her fingers across the slightly blurred photograph taped into the top flap of the camera bag—a tall, dark haired man with his arm around a gangly young girl. The girl’s eyes reflected sadness; the man’s smile looked forced. Happy birthday, Dad.

The hitchhiker cast a shadow as he walked past, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled and waved, then headed out of the parking lot.

His worn jeans hugged his legs and rear perfectly. And he did have a cute smile. Extracting a bottle of water from the small cooler on the passenger seat, Rylee twisted the cap and gulped. The travel magazine lay beneath the cooler. She tugged at it and opened to the dog-eared page. A half-page color ad read: When visiting the Sonoma Valley, tour the Morgan-Hilliard Winery. You can browse our shop and sample our premium wines.

Her eyes fixed on the print beneath the picture of a field stone and cedar log building. Owners: Ryan Morgan and Debra Hilliard. Rylee ran her fingers over the print as if expecting to feel her father’s spirit there. She closed the magazine and set her water bottle in the console cup-holder.

The late spring afternoon air had turned cool and a breeze swept through the open windows, ruffling her short-cropped dark hair. Ready for a shower and a good meal, she shifted the SUV into reverse. The heavy metal ring tone from her cell phone announced a call from her sister, Lexie. She eased the gearshift back into park and rummaged through her bag to retrieve the phone.

Hi, Lex. What’s up?

Jimmy—Jimmy—Oh, God. He—he…

Whoa, slow down. What happened to Jimmy?

Lexie let out a shuddering breath. I got home from work and saw Danielle’s car parked next to Jimmy’s truck. When I reached the apartment, no one was in the living room, so I called for Jimmy. I guess he couldn’t hear me over that slut Danielle’s moans and groans. I walked back to the bedroom. And I saw… Her tone changed from panic to seething anger. I saw Jimmy’s bare ass in the air with Danielle, slithering beneath him like…like a damned boa constrictor. In my bed! She’s supposed to be my best friend.

That bastard. The heat of anger flooded Rylee’s chest. She drew in a deep breath, then asked calmly, Where are you?

Um, I…I’m in the parking lot at the mall. I ran out of the apartment and started driving. I didn’t know where to go and…and I can’t go back there.

Lex, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you spend the night at my place? I should be home in about an hour. We’ll talk.

Thanks, Ry. I hoped you’d ask. I don’t want to go to Mom’s.

No. No, don’t go to Mom’s. Are you okay to drive? I can come to you.

I’m okay. I stopped shaking.

I’ll see you at my place.

~ * ~

Josh removed his jacket and forced it inside the already over-stuffed duffel bag. He stole a glance back to where Rylee sat in her car talking on a cell phone. I wonder if she really would have used that pepper spray. He shook his head and adjusted the strap of the duffel on his right shoulder.

Before he’d been interrupted by Rylee’s command to get out of the frame of her photograph, he’d been having a stern conversation with himself in the middle of the river. During the past two days, he had found himself conflicted about whether to continue his trip or turn for home. When he had shoved clothing into a bag and hastily set out on foot from Boston, he was sure of his mission. Now, weeks later, after following a circuitous route that brought him into these mountains, he second-guessed his wandering. What did he really hope to accomplish? He could make his way to Mackinac Island—hell—he could hitch all the way to the west coast. He wasn’t going to forget Sarah just because he was out of Boston.

Still, as he had stood on the rock in the middle of the river, the rushing water blotting out everything except his memories, he’d come so close to letting go, saying goodbye. Then that woman jerked him back to reality.

It’s a public park, he muttered as he positioned himself at the side of the road. I can stand in the middle of the damn river if I want to.

A car exited the parking lot behind him. He stuck out his thumb, but lowered it again. You have a nice day, too, he called after the photographer. What was her name? Rylee. Have a very nice day, Rylee, he shouted as the SUV sped up the hill and out of view.

Two teenaged boys in an older model green and rust-colored pickup truck stopped. The passenger stuck his head out the window and shouted, Hey, dude. Hop in the back.

Josh tossed his duffel into the bed of the pickup, then climbed in. The truck jerked and roared up the hill, picking up remarkable speed. Josh was tossed against the tailgate and, when they crested the hill, righted himself. The driver blew his horn and shouted something unintelligible before changing lanes. As the truck shifted back in the right lane, Josh looked down into the angry face of the woman photographer. She glowered at him and mouth words he’d only previously heard in a locker room. He smiled and waved, then fell back into the truck bed when the driver slowed abruptly and made a sharp right turn.

~ * ~

Jerk! Rylee shouted as she jammed her foot on the brakes and swerved to avoid a collision with the pickup. Then she recognized the guy smiling and waving in the back of the truck. Dammit, what is it with you? Is it your day to get in my way?

The truck made a fast right and the hitchhiker in the back rolled out of her view. Despite her annoyance, she laughed. Serves you right. She sped up, heading for the main highway.

Fueled by anger and concern, Rylee made the fifty-minute drive in thirty-five. She’d never liked her sister’s fiancé, but dislike and mistrust curdled to hatred by the time she reached her condo.

The message light on the answering machine blinked rapidly. She pressed the play button and listened. Eleven messages. The first was from one of her fellow teachers at the Institute, asking about a class schedule change. She made a note to call her back and then hit delete.

Message two: Hey, Rylee. It’s Mike. I’m going to the Maryland shore for a few days. Call if you want to tag along and do some shooting. Mike had graduated from the Art Institute with Rylee, and they occasionally spent a day together photographing. Lately he gave off a different vibe, like he wanted more than friendship. She pressed delete.

The third call was a hang-up. The next eight were from Jimmy, Lexie’s now-former fiancé. "She’s not here, asshole." Rylee glared at the machine and jabbed the erase button, eliminating all of the messages.

She removed the menu for Salvatore’s from the fridge and ordered a large pizza for delivery. Setting twenty dollars and a note for Lexie on the kitchen counter, she headed for the shower.

Hot water pounded her scalp and massaged her shoulders. She rolled her neck, letting the tension release. The scent of lavender wafted in steamy clouds around her and soothed her spirit. The image of the hitchhiker as he stretched in the middle of the river, sun glistening off his sweat-dampened hair, floated behind her closed eyes. She sighed, shut off the water, and wrapped herself in a plush bath sheet.

Lexie called up the stairs, Pizza’s here.

Fluffing her fingers through her short hair, Rylee pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a clean tee shirt and went downstairs. Lexie stood at the sink, an open beer in her hand.

Rylee pulled her into a tight hug. Hey, Lex, I’m so sorry. You okay? What the hell was Jimmy thinking?

Lexie clung to her. "It wasn’t what he was thinking, but what he was thinking with. And, believe me, that doesn’t take much thought. Anyway, Danielle can have him. I’m finished with both of them. I know you never liked him and, well, I guess you were right, as usual."

Rylee looked at her sister, eight years younger than herself. She could see Lexie at age five, after her puppy had been hit by a car. She now bore the same look of hurt and sadness in her eyes. Rylee shook her head. I’m not going to say ‘I told you so.’ You’re too good for him.

Mom thinks Jimmy can do no wrong, that he’s such a great catch. Jeez, you’d think he’s her son and I’m the stranger. I haven’t told her yet. She’ll probably just find some way to put it all back on me, tell me it’s my fault.

Rylee tossed a salad. You know, Jimmy left eight messages on my machine. If he hasn’t already, he’ll try to reach Mom. You might want to head him off and tell her yourself.

On cue, the phone rang. Rylee’s eyes followed Lexie’s and both waited for the machine to identify the caller. Rylee, it’s your mother. If you’re at home, pick up. It’s important. I’ll try your cell.

Rylee grabbed the phone. Hi, Mom. What’s up?

It’s your sister. Is Alexa there?

She…just got here.

Has she told you she left Jimmy? I swear the girl will never settle down. We’ve already started to plan the wedding, and she…

Mom, do you know what happened? Lexie walked in on Jimmy and Danielle. They were in bed together. How can you possibly think this is her fault?

Oh, God. He said they’d had a misunderstanding. But you don’t know the whole story, either. Ask her about where she goes after work. She doesn’t go straight home every night. Jimmy’s called here more than once to see if she stopped by. I tried to ask her about it, but she’s so secretive.

Rylee glanced at her sister. We haven’t had a chance to talk yet.

Well, tell her Jimmy called for her, and he’s worried sick. Tell her to at least call and let him know she’s okay.

Mom… Okay, Mom. I’ll tell her. Lexie’s going to stay with me for a few days. I’ll talk to you later. She set the phone in the cradle and looked at her sister. Mom says there’s more to this that I don’t know. Is there anything else you need to tell me?

Lexie’s forehead wrinkled. What did she say?

That I should ask you where you go after work. Rylee opened the pizza box.

Lexie tucked her free hand into the back pocket of her jeans and looked at her feet. Color rose in her face and she murmured, I’m taking a class.

In what?

Italian cooking. I didn’t tell Jimmy because I wanted to surprise him. I didn’t tell Mom because she’d just make fun of me.

Oh. I’m sorry. You have to admit there have been times when you haven’t exactly been forthcoming. Mom wants you to call Jimmy and let him know you’re okay. He didn’t tell her what happened, just said you two had a misunderstanding. What do you want to do?

I want to surgically remove his genitals and serve them to Danielle on a platter! Lexie slammed a long knife across the round pizza and sliced it in half.

Oooo-kay. So, I guess that’s a ‘no’ to the phone call. Come on, grab a couple of slices and salad.

They carried their plates of pizza and salad and their beers to the living room and settled on the sofa. Lexie took one bite and put the pizza back on the plate. Her eyes filled, her face crumpled. I love him, Ry, and I thought he loved me. I know he said things to me sometimes that upset you, but he was just teasing. That’s the way Jimmy is. I never thought he’d do anything like this—and with Danielle. That backstabbing little bitch. I sure didn’t see this coming. I’m so stupid.

Rylee went to the powder room, returned with a box of tissues and passed a handful to Lexie. "You are not stupid. Can you take a few days off work, stay here and think things through?"

I suppose so. Jimmy would just show up at work and probably get me fired. I might as well quit and find something else. Maybe I can find work around here?

Lexie’s real question hung between them: ‘Can I stay with you for a while?’

You know you can stay here as long as you want. I’ll be leaving next week for a photo project I’m working on, off to capture America. I’ll be gone for a month or more, so the house will be all yours. Just, no parties like the last time, okay?

Lexie wiped her eyes. Her smile wobbled as she picked up the pizza again. Thanks, Ry. I know I can count on you. You always did look out for me. And, no parties. Jeez, will you ever get over it?

Jimmy and Lexie had stayed at Rylee’s condo for a long weekend once while she attended a conference in New York. I know the party was Jimmy’s idea, but the place was trashed. And going door to door, apologizing to my neighbors is not my idea of a good time.

I know. I said I’m sorry. Besides, Jimmy won’t be here, and I’m not in a party mood. Lexie tossed the napkin onto her plate and chugged the last of her beer, then burped.

I’ll clean up here. You go on upstairs and make the bed in the guest room, Rylee said, stacking their plates.

Rylee cleaned up, torn between her cross-country trip and the pull to stay and comfort her sister. With the kitchen in order, she turned out the light and went upstairs.

The spare bedroom doubled as her studio. Lexie looked over the photos Rylee had printed and hung on a line stretched along one wall. These are great. Where did you take them?

Lake Erie. I drove up there a few weeks ago. They’re not my best. That sun spot shouldn’t be there, she said, pointing to the photo Lexie held before her.

Where? Oh, that? You can hardly see it. I think it gives the picture a little more—edge.

Yeah, well, it’s glare, an imperfection. You can have it, if you like. Just don’t advertise I shot it. I have a reputation to protect.

Lexie released the photo from the clip holding it on the line. Thanks. I don’t care what you say, I like it. Her sister bore the same grin that would overtake her face when she was little and, having found some relatively worthless treasure on her big sister’s dressing table, was told she could have it.

Rylee adored her younger sister. When Lexie was a kindergartener and Rylee a teenager, she often allowed Lexie to tag along with her to the mall or to meet friends. Their parents divorced a year after their father had taken off for California sixteen years ago. Though he’d promised to have the girls visit, they’d never heard from him again.

Their mother had gone to work to support them. And she’d embraced her available divorcee status with enthusiasm. Rylee had been old enough to fend for herself, but Lexie had still needed mothering. When their mother wasn’t available—which was often—Lexie would turn to Rylee. They had their share of sibling rivalry, but had grown close out of necessity. They always had each other.

You know where everything is, Lex, so make yourself at home.

Lexie tucked the sheet corner, then plopped down on the edge of the bed. "What am I going to do, Rylee? I thought Jimmy and I would be, you know, forever. I don’t know what to do." Two huge tears slid down her cheeks.

Rylee sat beside Lexie and put an arm across her shoulders. You need to get some rest. You can think about what to do next in the morning, when your mind is clear. Are you gonna be okay in here, or do you want to stay in my room?

Shaking her head, Lexie leaned on Rylee’s shoulder. I’ll be all right. I’m probably not going to sleep, and I don’t want to keep you awake.

Come and get me if you need me. She kissed her on the forehead. Try to sleep.

Rylee closed her bedroom door and exhaled. That son-of-a-bitch. Her anger toward Jimmy flared once again. In her bedroom, she tossed the decorative pillows from her bed onto the rocker in the corner, undressed and pulled on a nightshirt. Flipping through the TV channels, she found nothing to take her mind off her dilemma. She gave in to exhaustion after only a few minutes, clicked off the TV and rolled over.

A hand shaking her shoulder dragged her from sleep. Rylee opened her eyes and sat up with a start. What’s the matter? What time is it?

It’s five-thirty. Somebody’s pounding on the door. It might be Jimmy. What are we going to do?

Thunderous thumping, followed by shouting, forced her up. She stepped into slippers and snatched her robe. A wave of hot anger surged through her. You stay here. I’ll handle this. She stormed out of the room and down the stairs.

Ensuring the security chain was in place, Rylee opened the door a few inches. Jimmy, shut up and stop the racket. The neighbors will call the police. And if they don’t, I will.

Jimmy stepped back, swaying. An ‘I heart Pittsburgh’ tee shirt hugged his thick middle. His dark hair stood up in spikes, and alcohol reddened his round face. He blinked. I know Lexie’s here. I have to talk to her.

She doesn’t want to talk with you, and I can’t say I blame her. Just…go home. Or should I say, go to Danielle?

I screwed up. I know. Please, Rylee, you’ve gotta help me. She’ll listen to you. Tell her to come and talk to me.

"Oh, you screwed up, all right. I will not tell Lexie what to do. I promise you one thing—if you’re not out of here in two seconds, I’m calling 9-1-1."

But, Rylee…

No. You need to leave before you wake the whole neighborhood. I’m closing the door now, and I expect to see you drive away when I look out the window.

She slammed the door. Lexie sat on the steps, hugging her knees against her chest. Rylee walked to the window in time to see Jimmy’s truck screech away from the curb.

Thanks, Ry. I couldn’t have handled him that well. Lexie walked down the stairs and sat on the sofa.

Lex, you know you’ll to have to call him later or he’s just going to come back. You need closure, to end it with him once and for all.