The Photograph That Proved Her Mother Never Drowned

"Daddy, don't marry her."
Emmie stood in her flower-girl dress, a crumpled note in her hand.
Dan Pruitt was a co-op lineman in a rented tux, out of place among the Coles' SUVs.
Whitney Cole turned from the rented arch, bridal smile still on.
Emmie pressed the note into her father's hand.
Whitney's smile didn't move.
Her eyes did.
"Nobody likes a child who tells stories, Emmie."
Dan unfolded the paper.
Whitney's hand closed on his wrist.
"Give me that. It's nothing."
Then she grabbed the girl's wrist and squeezed.
"I'll have her sent away before the reception."
Emmie cried without a sound.
Nobody on the lawn moved.
An old woman in lavender watched from the back.
Dan never raised his voice.
"Emmie. Look at me. Is there more?"
She nodded and tugged his sleeve.
From her purse she pulled a photograph.
"Where did you get that?"
"Whitney's car. Three weeks ago."
Dan turned the picture to the light and went still.
"Did you write this?"
Whitney let go of his wrist.
Her bouquet hit the grass.
The woman beside Whitney was smiling like an old friend.
She was Josie Pruitt.
His wife.
Emmie's mother.
And Josie had drowned in Table Rock Lake five years ago.