Page 20 of Familiar Things New

“It’s fine, Andrew,” Agnes said sweetly.

Andrew nodded—a silent acknowledgment of her forgiveness—though his expression stayed somewhat pained. After another couple of seconds, he spoke again.

“I was thinking that maybe you’d like to try this?”

Slowly, Andrew unfolded a fine muslin veil, one that was practically see-through. Even from the other side of the room, Edwin could tell how pretty it was.

Agnes lifted a hand to her chest.

“It’s lovely,” she said, wonderstruck. Andrew handed it to her, and she brought it closer to her face to inspect it. “Goodness, it’s like woven air.”

“Yes, my mother thought so, too,” Andrew said. His lips curled to form a small smile, though his expression changed, his eyes filling with what might have been . . . sorrow. Edwin’s heart sank a little, but he tried to ignore it. “Anyway, I thought it might look nice on you, with your fair complexion. I won’t charge you extra for wearing it or anything.”

Agnes stood and walked over to the hanging mirror. Delicately, she covered her hair with it, letting the sheer fabric rest atop her head and then wrapping it loosely around her neck. She turned to Edwin with a hopeful smile.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very becoming on you,” Edwin confirmed.

Agnes’s eyes brightened. Chin held high, she strode back over to the seating area.

“All right. I will try it,” she confirmed. “And I want you to know, Andrew, that I sincerely appreciate all of these suggestions.”

“Of course,” Andrew replied as he turned toward his worktable. “Anything to increase my chances of you being happy with the photographs in the end.”

“I would have been happy with them regardless. I can tell how knowledgeable you are. And therefore, I can surmise how skilled you must be as well.”

“Thank you,” Andrew said, blushing. “I’m not worthy of such praise. Really.”

Next, Andrew went over to the camera and focused the lens (at least, that was what it looked like to Edwin since the man was moving the accordion-looking part of the camera while Agnes remained posed). Soon, Andrew went into the closet. Moments later, he came back out, and Edwin noticed a very faint flicker of red light inside.

Once Andrew returned to the worktable, he began preparing what looked like a plate for the photograph. First, he took one off of a stack and then proceeded to clean it with a brush. Afterward, he uncorked a solution. Balancing the glass plate in his left hand, he poured some of the solution over top. Edwin’s muscles tensed while he watched, his stomach fluttering nervously as Andrew tilted the plate this way and that to coat it completely. Edwin expected Andrew to spill some of the mysterious yellow liquid or to perhaps even drop the plate. But somehow, Andrew stayed steady and focused while he handled it. After the man was finished, he hurried back into the closet.

Edwin and Agnes looked at each other, and Agnes shrugged. For the next little while, they listened to the constant tick-tick-tick of the wall clock. Edwin’s stomach continued to twist and flutter as he kept himself pressed against the wall. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous for Andrew. It wasn’t as though they’d refuse to let him try a second time if something went wrong. But still, Edwin’s heart hammered while they waited for Andrew to emerge from what must have been his darkroom. When Andrew came out (three or maybe four minutes later), Edwin sucked in a breath and held it. Andrew strode over to the camera with what looked like a flat, wooden box.

“Are you ready, Agnes?” he asked as he bent down to look through the camera’s screen in the back.

“Yes, I believe so,” she said, her voice soft, her words wavering a bit.

Next, in rapid succession, Andrew inserted the wooden box, went under the black fabric that he’d hung over the back of the camera, and then came out and pulled a long, metal sheath from the camera box.

“One, two, three,” he said before promptly removing the camera’s lens cap.

Edwin’s stomach seized, and he lifted his eyebrows. Agnes, meanwhile, stayed extremely still. Her porcelain skin and serious expression coupled with the long, sheer veil made her look like a statue—one that had been carved out of marble.

Andrew replaced the cap.

“Perfect, Agnes,” he said brightly. “Just perfect.”

Agnes let out an audible breath.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Andrew remarked as he shoved the metal sheath back into place.

He took the wooden box into the closet. Agnes stood up and hurried over to Edwin.

“Were you nervous?” he asked, trying to sound playful, though of course, he’d been plenty nervous himself. “You looked it.”

“I really was. I’m not even sure why, either. We’ve had our photographs taken before. Of course, we were much younger then, and we weren’t paying for them ourselves, either.”