Julian hesitated. The last time he had seen them standing together in those clothes, a camera had been used to turn one child against the other. Zoey noticed his expression and hurried to explain. “A happy picture. Not the talking game.”
Amara touched her little sister's shoulder. “We don't have to.”
“I want one,” Zoey said firmly. “With both of us.”
Julian reached for his phone, then set it back on the coffee table. “How about we ask Mrs. Ellis to take one when she visits the school open house next week? Or I can set a timer, and we'll all be in it.”
“All three?” Zoey asked.
“All three,” he said.
Amara surprised him by moving a framed photograph of Camille onto the side table. “Could Mom be in it too? Just in the corner, so Zoey remembers.”
Julian looked at the photograph, at the woman who had loved these girls first, and then at the daughters who were still teaching him how to love them well. “Of course,” he answered.
They took the picture on a warm Sunday afternoon. Julian set the timer and ran across the carpet just before the shutter clicked. Zoey stood between him and Amara, her white beads swinging. Amara was laughing because her father had nearly tripped over a shoe. Camille's photograph rested in the sunlight beside them. It was not a perfect portrait. Someone had left a folded blanket on the sofa, and the blue bowl was visible on the kitchen counter beyond the doorway. No one tried to hide either thing.
Later, Zoey asked to see the photo, and Julian held the screen where both sisters could look. Her face grew serious for a moment. “Nobody has to go away to make this one good?” she asked.
Julian knelt to her eye level. “Nobody has to go away to make our family worthy of love.”
But the room was full of afternoon light, the doors were open, and neither girl was being asked to repeat a sentence someone else had chosen. Julian placed his phone facedown on the table and sat between his daughters as Zoey began telling a story about two sisters who lived in a house made entirely of sunshine. This time, when she reached the part where the sisters had to decide where they belonged, she gave them both the same answer. They belonged together, and the grown-up who loved them would be there when they came home.