Page 176 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

arms around each other’s waists, smiling for the camera.
Roger, an inch shorter than his wife, had a lot more hair than
now. Greta leaned her head against her mother, and Ash,
on Roger’s side, clutched a bread bag and watched a nearby
goose. This was before they knew bread wasn’t good for geese
or ducks. It had always galled Roger, years later, when posted
signs made other suggestions: halved grapes, grain. “The
ducks eat better than we do,” he complained.

Greta propped all three pictures against a stack of text-
books on the dresser. “We’ll have to get some frames.”
Ash got up from the bed and stood beside her. He over-
lapped two photos, blocking out Roger completely.
“He’s still your father, Ash,” Greta said.
Ash shook his head. “He’s not. He chose that.”
She didn’t want to get into it with him, didn’t even know ADVANCE READING COPY

if he was wrong. Maybe she was the human carpet, and he
was the sensible one. Greta didn’t mind that photo—the
Before Family. If Patty had been resting her pruny little chin
on Roger’s shoulder, Greta would have hidden that part too.
Cut it off.

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