Travis turned toward Amanda.
“What does she mean?”
Iexplained the phone call. I repeated Amanda’s words about Sophie’s skin ruining the photographs.
Travis’ expression changed.
“Tell me that isn’t true.”
Amanda gripped her bouquet.
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You said exactly that,” I replied.
“I wanted one day without everyone making everything about something else!”
The church became painfully quiet.
Travis stepped away from her.
“Sophie wouldn’t have made anything about herself. She’s eight.”
Amanda looked around at the watching guests.
“Can we please talk privately?”
I knew I had already embarrassed her.
That had been my intention when I drove there.
But standing before everyone, I realized that wasn’t why I’d spent three nights assembling the album.
There was something Amanda needed to remember.
“One more picture,” I said.
I turned to a photograph taken when Sophie was five.
