Even if Richard never believed me, he might finally hear something from Arthur that had not made it through the years between them.

That night I looked again at the fishing picture.

I had assumed the boy in it was happy because he was smiling.

Reading the letters had taught me to be less certain about what photographs proved.

People can look joyful in a single moment and still carry years of pain.

I wondered how many times Arthur had looked at this picture wishing he could return to the river and begin the conversation again.

I put the photograph back exactly where it belonged.