Micah sauntered around the area, looking at it with his professional eye, considering the shading and judging the position of the sun in three months.

“What time is the ceremony?” he asked.

“The music will start at one o’clock, and the processional a half hour later.”

“Then, I’d say this is an ideal spot. The light should be good for photographs.”

“The formal pictures will be taken inside. We want candid shots of activities here on the lawn. Dereck’s father plans to make a video, but we want some professional pictures for albums.”

“Are they having many attendants?”

“Just one each, plus a flower girl and a ring bearer— Dereck’s niece and nephew.” She halted, and looked out over the river. “Without any close male relatives, I’ll have to give her away.”

Her voice faltered a little, and Micah quickly glanced her way. “Pretty difficult to do, huh?” he said sympathetically.

“Yes, especially since they’re moving to Colorado. The groom is an engineer, and he has a job there. Besides, Colorado is his home state.”

“And you’ll be all alone.”

Laurel turned away and started walking toward the house.

“I’m sorry, Laurel. I shouldn’t have said that. Not being a parent, I can’t quite understand your fears.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I will miss her, but I’ve tried not to tie her to my apron strings. I’ve learned to love Oaklawn, but in a way, it’s been a prison to me. I’m trying to preserve the place for Debbie, never knowing if she’ll ever want to live here. Her future husband travels a lot with his job, but I don’t want her to feel tied to Oaklawn. I’m anticipating Debbie’s wedding as a turning point in my life, too.”

He followed her up the steps to the gallery.

“I’ll be happy to photograph the wedding.”

“Thank you so much,” Laurel said. “Debbie will be very pleased.”

Laurel felt a welcome surge of excitement. She was assured of Micah’s presence the rest of the summer, and she could have shouted for joy. Trying to control her exuberance, she said, “We’ll start for church at ten-thirty.”

Micah said good-night and sauntered toward his apartment. But he turned back, and at his quiet approach, he saw that Laurel sat with her head in her hands. He scuffled his feet, and when he reached the steps of the gallery, she was sitting erect, her eyes suspiciously moist.

“Will you and Debbie go with me for lunch after church?”

“That’s nice of you,” she said. “I don’t know Debbie’s work schedule for Sunday, but she tries not to work on Sunday morning. Thanks for asking us.”

“Since I’m new in the area, I’ll leave it up to you to choose a restaurant.”

Laurel nodded, but the despair in her eyes saddened him. She was disturbed about something, and he didn’t think it was Debbie’s leaving. Micah wanted to help, but he couldn’t intrude into a place Laurel didn’t want him to go.

Micah would never have dreamed that Sunday morning would find him searching the closet to find something suitable to wear to church. Why had he accepted Laurel’s invitation to go with her today, when he hadn’t attended an organized worship service for years?

He hadn’t thought he’d need dress clothes for the summer, and most of his garments consisted of denim pants and shorts. His suits and ties were at his house in Kansas. He sorted through his garment bags and came up with a new polo shirt and a pair of trousers, both in need of pressing. Laurel had provided an ironing board and iron for her renters, and while he waited for the iron to heat, Micah shined his shoes.

He hoped his casual clothes would be acceptable at Laurel’s church. Not that he ever gave much thought to what people thought, but he didn’t want Laurel to be ashamed of his appearance. Confused by his preoccupation with Laurel and her affairs, he wandered restlessly around the apartment.

He couldn’t understand her obvious attachment to Oaklawn. He’d been on the move all of his adult life, and the only land he owned was a quarter-section of farmland in Kansas. He’d inherited the property from a maternal uncle a few years ago, and he used the farm to store the possessions he couldn’t haul around with him.

He rented the land to a farmer whose farm adjoined his, and the farmer’s wife cleaned and aired his four-room house monthly. The farm was valuable to him as a good source of income, but he visited the place infrequently. Obviously, Laurel wasn’t making much money from Oaklawn, so her attachment to the place must be sentimental.

As Micah paced, he wondered why he couldn’t put down roots like other people. Was he destined to be a wanderer to the end of his days? He didn’t want to settle down in Kansas, which was hot and dry in summer and cold and windy in the winter. Micah felt as strong and competent as he had when he was a teenager. He had several years before he needed to retire, so why was he thinking of settling down? Not willing to acknowledge the reason for his discontent, he decided to put these perplexing emotions out of his mind.

When he finished dressing and took a look in the full-length mirror on the closet door, Micah decided he looked acceptable. Laurel had said the church was small, and it was a hot morning, so he assumed none of the men would be wearing suits.

After he cleared the seats of the car and put all of his photographic equipment in the apartment, he tapped on Laurel’s back door. A lovely sight in her Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes, Laurel opened the door and greeted him. He thought she looked like a child playacting in her mother’s clothes. With her diminutive stature, delicate body, and a shy smile hovering on her lips, she seemed like a little girl dressed up for her first party. She wore an ankle-length black skirt and black sandals. The scoop-necked blouse was an ivory color that blended charmingly with her pearl-like complexion.

When Laurel’s lashes dropped, and a telltale flush appeared on her cheeks, Micah realized he’d been staring.

“Good morning, Laurel,” he said. “Am I too early?”

“Not at all,” she stammered, still flustered by Micah’s intent appraisal. “Debbie is a little late. We both overslept this morning.”

She motioned to the chairs on the porch. “Shall we sit and wait for her? We still have half an hour before services begin, and it’s only a ten-minute drive to Bethel Church.”

But before they could be seated, quick steps sounded in the hallway, and Debbie stepped out on the porch. She was a pretty young woman of above average height, but she had few characteristics of her petite mother. Debbie’s hair was straight instead of curly. Her eyes were brown instead of green. Apparently Debbie looked like her father’s side of the family. Since Debbie was dressed in casual slacks and a knit blouse, Micah decided that his attire was suitable for their church.

“Have I kept you waiting long?” she asked.

“Debbie,” Laurel said, “this is Micah Davidson.” And looking at her daughter with unmistakable pride, she added, “Micah, my daughter, Debbie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Davidson,” Debbie said with genuine warmth. “I’ve seen your work featured on TV several times. You’re a fantastic photographer.”

“Thanks. I enjoy my work.”

“Have you ever considered writing a book about your exploits?”

“I’m having one published in a few months,” he said, with a wide smile.

Out of the corner of his eye, Micah noticed that Laurel was fidgeting from one foot to the other.

“Should we go now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laurel said. “I don’t want to be late. You sit in the front seat, Debbie, you’re better at giving directions than I am.”

They passed Walden College on the way to worship, and Micah wondered why he was hesitant to tell Laurel he’d been invited to teach there.

The sedate brick buildings, dating to the early twentieth century, looked quiet and confining. After he’d been his own taskmaster for twenty-five years, could he endure working on a regular, day-by-day schedule arranged by someone else? Was he too set in his ways to ever change?