Page 24 of Not Part of the Plan
“They do seem to want to suck me in,” Niko agreed. “Summer sent me into town for diapers yesterday, and I ended up shaking hands with half of Beckett’s constituents who all pitched in to help me pick a brand.”
“Okay, that’s weird even for Blue Moon,” Emma admitted. Usually they’re nice to newcomers but not completely smothering. That happens after you buy property here.”
“I feel like the whole town is really invested in making me like it here.”
“Sometimes in Blue Moon, it’s best not to know why Mooners do the things they do,” Emma said sagely.
“Let’s talk about this unsolicited advice you’ve got for me,” he said, changing the subject.
Emma scooted her chair around to face his. “Before I get to the doling out part, do you remember why you got into photography?”
He nodded once, gazing into the flames. “I remember exactly why and when.”
Emma pulled her knees up to her chest and waited.
“When my mom died, the funeral home suggested we pull together our favorite pictures of her so they could be displayed at the viewing.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I dug through every album we had. Mom was the amateur photographer of the family. There were hundreds of shots of me, dozens and dozens of my father and me. Christmases, birthdays, first days of school. But nothing of her.
“My father and I never thought of picking up the camera and turning it around on her. Sure, there were a handful of shots here and there but nothing that would be considered a documentation of her life. We’d lost her, and without pictures, we lost all those memories with her.”
Emma reached out and laid a hand on his arm, her heart hurting for the young man and his father.
“We’d been lucky enough to have this wonderful, amazing woman in our lives, and neither of us ever thought to document her. To capture and keep her moments. And we lost the chance to when we lost her.”
“So you became a photographer.”
Niko nodded. “I was obsessed with it. Capturing the moments where you really see someone.”
“And that’s why you’re so brilliant at it.”
He shrugged, a desolate lift and drop of his shoulders. “It’s what made me good at it. But if I’ve lost it… Why are we talking about this?”
“Because I have an idea. And you haven’t lost anything,” Emma told him.
“You sound confident in that assessment.”
“You’re just having some kind of creative crisis, and it’s something that most artists struggle with from time to time.” At least, she assumed it was. She didn’t exactly have any strong data to back up her theory. “These stagnations usually occur right before the artist breaks into a higher level of their art.”
“I get the distinct impression that you’re bullshitting me.”
Emma waved away his concern. “Bear with me here. You haven’t suffered a physical trauma that would impact your skillset, correct?”
“I have not yet been kicked in the head by a cow, but Summer did let a goat chase me yesterday.” He shuddered at the memory.
“Traumatic, but your issues began before Clementine. Are you suffering from a drug problem? Mental illness?”
“No, and I don’t think so.”
“Then I think we can assume that your creativity hasn’t just collapsed in on itself leaving you with nothing but a black hole of nothingness,” Emma continued.
“You’re sure we can assume that?” Niko eyed her.
“Of course we can. You’ve still got your eyes and your shutter-pushing finger. What we need to figure out is how to get you back to the point where pictures were about capturing moments.”
“And how do we do that?”
“My dad and Phoebe’s wedding is coming up.”
“Oh, no.” He was already shaking his head.
