“My place,” Heath answered.
“Sounds fun. Remember, the invitation is open for you guys to join us at Remington’s show in a few weeks. Ally might enjoy meeting a famous sculptor like Sage Remington up close and personal.” Jackson smirked, and Ally knew he’d thrown that jab in about Sage Remington, one of the hottest, and best-looking, sculptors out there, just to annoy Heath.
She liked seeing the way Heath grimaced at the taunt.
“Thanks. Maybe we’ll do that. Jackson is a photographer,” Heath explained. “He’s taking the promotional photos for Sage Remington’s exhibit.” He turned back to Jackson. “What are you going to do with the pictures?”
Jackson smiled. “I’m making a birthday present for Laney.” He pointed to the stairs. “I’m heading up. Nice to meet you, Ally. Mom, you need anything from the attic?” Erica Lane had been Jackson’s best friend since elementary school.
“No, honey. Thank you.”
Jackson took the stairs two at a time, and Mary Lou let out a breath as she settled back again.
“So much for stealth,” Mary Lou said. “Wow, he sounded more like Cooper than himself, didn’t he? He must be up to something mischievous.”
Ally smiled at the way she took her sons all in stride.
They talked for a while longer about Ally’s family and were interrupted when Jackson came back downstairs with a big box of photos and set them on the coffee table.
“Who wants to see Heath’s teenage years?” Jackson’s eyes lit up, and Ally wanted to dive right in.
“Christ. Really, Jackson?” Heath scrubbed his hand down his face.
“Oh, honey.” Mary Lou reached for him. “You have always been such a handsome devil.”
Ally raised her brows and flashed Heath a flirtatious smile. He was handsome, and he was devilish in the bedroom. As she sank to the floor beside the coffee table and Jackson began handing her pictures of Heath and each of his brothers at various ages, Heath sat in the recliner behind her and spread his knees so she was sitting between them.
Mary Lou sat forward and lifted her chin. Ally knew she was listening for clues as to what they saw, and she ached with empathy for what Mary Lou would never have again: she was a mother no longer able to see the faces of the people she loved. Of course, working in a hospital gave her great perspective. Being blind had its hardships, but it wasn’t cancer, which could steal a life without warning. At least Mary Lou was still here to spend time with her sons.
Being in Heath’s childhood home and seeing photographs of his father on the wall and in the hutch by the dining room table would have been enough perspective on its own. Heath’s mother had survived that horrible attack. Perspective was great, but it didn’t lessen the sense of loss that Ally wondered if Mary Lou felt.
“I’m going to share these with your mom,” she said quietly to Heath. She selected a handful of pictures and joined Mary Lou on the couch.
“Maybe you can help me figure out who each of the boys are in the pictures. I can recognize Heath by his expressive eyes, but I’m having trouble with the others.”
“Thank you. I’ll try. I’ve looked at these photos so many times through the years, I probably have most of them memorized.”
Ally selected one of the pictures and handed it to Mary Lou. “This one has three teenagers. I know the one on the far left is Heath because he has a serious look in his eyes that I’ve seen quite often. I recognize your driveway, and Heath has on a pair of jeans and a striped shirt, which looks a little Bert and Ernie to me.” She chuckled and looked up at Heath, who was gazing at her with so much love she wondered if Jackson and his mother could feel the emotion rolling off of him.
Jackson was stacking pictures beside the box. He followed Ally’s gaze and shook his head. Obviously he could feel the love rolling off of Heath, and surprisingly, instead of being embarrassed, she loved it. Heath didn’t react, but his lips curved in a sweet smile meant for Ally.
“He loved that shirt, and his brothers used to tease him relentlessly. It was his lucky shirt. One of his father’s old shirts.” Mary Lou leaned closer to Ally. “Does the shirt sort of hang off of him, like it’s too big in the shoulders?”
“Yes, a little bit.”
Mary Lou pressed her lips together and tilted her chin up, as if she were trying to remember something. “He was probably a junior in high school. He had a growth spurt that year and his father’s shirts fit him a little better.”
“That’s about how old he looks. The other two boys are smiling. One has longer hair—it covers his ears—but the other is very clean-cut. Almost like he’d just come from the barber. They’re both wearing jeans and sneakers.”
“Their shirts, honey? What do they look like? The boys have always had very distinct taste.”
“If it’s a band shirt, it’s probably me,” Jackson said.