A photograph

Back at the house atop the hill Hazel pulled the photograph out of her jacket pocket and showed it to Beth.

            “Huh, would you look at that? I think that’s Phillip’s father! Where did you find this?”

            “In the wall of the crumbling cottage across the causeway. We thought it might something important, given its hiding place.”

            “Well yes, I suppose it is. Phillip, come look at this!” Shee called out over her shoulder. “Phillip?”

            They all looked around the wall to the living room, where Phillip sat in his comfy chair, the latest edition of the Countryman open on his lap. His head was tilted back and mouth wide open. A snore vibrated his soft palate. They each smiled.

            “Oh well. We’ll show him later.” Beth looked down at the photograph again. “He sure was an attractive man, even if he was a bit awkward.”

            “Huh, really?” Hazel looked over Beth’s arm at the photo. “I guess he was.”

            “What do you mean ‘he was awkward’?” Marshall said.

            “Oh you know. He was a bit… different that’s all. Not like any of the other men I knew. Don’t get me wrong; he was a wonderful, generous man. But there was something a bit different about him. He was very good at what he did on the farm, but he wasn’t that great at making conversation. He was socially awkward, that was all.”

            “So that’s where Phillip gets it from then?”

            “Ha! Not the least bit. Phillip’s social awkwardness comes from deliberately trying to overstep the line of appropriate conversation. He’s a devious old devil.”

“And yet you married him…”

            “Marshall!”

            “And yet I married him…” Beth sighed, “And it seems like you are headed down exactly the same path. Anyway, best not to wake him. I’ll just put this over here until he wakes up.” Beth walked over to the rough timber cabinet in the living room and propped the photograph up amongst the photoframes strewn across its surface.