Dragonfly

Chapter 18

Nancy was in the back room of the archives digging in a huge box of pictures when I arrived at the newspaper office.

"We really should start scanning these," she muttered. "Anna, is your mom still at the association office or is she working on the fundraiser?"

She handed me a picture of some young people at what looked like Scoops twenty years ago. The trees were thinner, and I loved the vintage outfits they were wearing.

"I don't know, what's this?" I asked.

"I found these old images of Fairview kids. I think I've got one in here of Alex LaSalle, and I need a photographer to get in the old Magnolia Hotel and take pictures of her paintings if they're still hanging. Could your mom let somebody in over there?"

"Ms. LaSalle was an artist?"

"Painter," Nancy said. "Considered a real comer for a while. She moved back here from Atlanta to help Bill Kyser with some of his developments. I'm not sure what happened, but after a couple of years, she suddenly retired. Didn't want any publicity, tried to erase all memory of her painting career. I thought I'd give her a call and see if she's softened up some now that her kid's doing so well. That was part of the reason we picked up your feature. Locals will remember her and put the two together."

My head was spinning. Julian had never told me his mom was a painter. Moved back to help Bill Kyser?

I thought about that night at the hospital and grabbed the picture again, studying the faces leaning against a car near the old drive-through. Even in black and white I recognized her fair skin and beautiful bone structure framed with long, dark-brown hair. She was exactly the same. And standing right next to her was a face that could've been Jack's but with light brown hair.

"Who's that?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to be sure. He had the same killer smile that made me forget everything logical.

"Oh, that's it," she laughed. "That's Alex with Bill and Meg Kyser. Look how young and handsome he was. Meg was so pretty... Too bad about all that."

I grabbed the picture back and saw now that his arm was around what could've been Lucy, same long blonde hair, looking at his face with an enraptured smile. I knew that feeling.

"That's his wife that died?" I asked.

"Yeah. Sad story. Local girl dies young, leaves behind three babies and a grieving husband."

I almost couldn't breathe. "What happened exactly?"

"Car crash. I'm sure we have the write-up in here somewhere. Those guys are a little older than me, but I remember they were all friends. He and Meg got married when I was in middle school. Big local event. I don't remember the exact year, but I'd graduated and moved away when the accident happened."

"But why would Ms. LaSalle just retire from art like that?"

"I don't know," Nancy said, standing up and straightening her blouse, smoothing her hair back. "I'm planning to see what I can find out if she'll talk to me. Will you call your mom?"

"It's better if I walk over. She doesn't always hear the phone ring."

I walked back to the front office to grab my coat with the old images in my head. Ms. LaSalle's face was as serious then as it was now, and I was amazed at how much Jack looked like his dad-just like she'd said at the hospital.

But the way they were all standing in the picture, I didn't see any signs of romance. Not then, at least. Mr. Kyser's arm was around his wife's shoulders, and she was holding his waist. It was just friends leaning against an old car in front of what looked like a very different version of our town.