Love in a photograph

111

They open a market out of the front room of the farmhouse, which Ma runs for the rest of the summer. Harry spends his free time at the library when he's not working at the farm, searching through book after book for the perfect school to go to. He wants to go back east, he thinks, and explore the place he never got to live. He's always been fascinated by New England, and it turns out there's a few good law schools out there, and all he has to do is narrow them down.

He thinks he'd like to go to Boston, maybe, since that's where his parents used to live before they decided to take on the frontier. He'd love to see the city, and it's about as far as he can get from the farm, so it seems like a pretty good idea.

There's a fairly new law school that just opened in downtown Boston, and the tuition is significantly cheaper than the other schools in the area, which means he could afford it and still have money left over to take care of his father. Gemma's all for it when he discusses it with her, and it's nearly the end of August now, but they get his application in the mail first thing the following morning.

He tries his best not to think about it while he waits for a response, puts his all into the farm and works harder than ever. They're moving into the last bits of harvesting for the season until the fall harvest begins, but by then Gemma will have new hands to help out and Harry will hopefully be long gone to Boston. Every potato he unearths, every ear of corn he cuts down feels like it's weighing upon his shoulders, trying to pin him down to the land, refuse to let him leave.

The response comes on a Thursday morning, waving wildly in Gemma's hand as she sprints down the cornfield to where Harry is working. Harry can hear her coming all the way from the house, yelling and screaming like that, but he doesn't turn away from his work until she grabs him and presses the letter into his chest.

"It's here," Gemma says, grinning madly, her hair a mess from running. "Christ, open it, or I will."

Harry takes the letter from her, staring down at his address written neatly on the envelope. He hesitates, and Gemma swats at his shoulder.

"I'm scared," Harry says, finally meeting her eye. "What if-"

"You'll never know if you don't open it," Gemma says, waving him on. "Go on, Harry, or I swear to-"

"Fine, fine," Harry mutters, sucking in a slow breath and holding it while he tucks his finger under the lip of the envelop, tearing it open as slowly as his nerves will allow. Gemma is just about vibrating in front of him, chewing on her thumbnail.

Harry feels ill when he pulls the letter out and unfolds it, eyes sweeping too quickly over the words to properly take them in. He has to go back and reread, and a slow smile breaks over his face.

"Yes!" Gemma screams, twirling around a few times with her arms up toward the sun. Harry laughs and covers his face with the hand not holding his acceptance letter, handing it over to Gemma before he sinks to his behind in the grass.

"I got in," he says, holding his hair out of his eyes and resting his elbows on his bent knees. "I'm going to college."

"You got in!" Gemma echoes, still twirling but now with the letter in hand, eyes closed and smile wide. "You're going to college!"

"I'm going to be a lawyer," Harry says, staring in disbelief at the walls of corn surrounding him. Never again will he have to do this work, to sweat like an animal under the blazing sun all day long only to wake up and do it all again the next day.

"You're going to be a lawyer!" Gemma shrieks, reaching down to pull him up so he can twirl with her, hands interlocked.

Harry obliges her for a moment and then stops their twirling, tugging Gemma into his chest. "Thank you," he breathes, grinning against her hair. "Thank you for this, Gemma. I won't let you down."

"You never could," Gemma assures, hugging him back for a long moment before she pulls back and twirls away. "Finish up, but don't be long! I'll tell Ma to make you a big supper to celebrate, and a pie, as well! You deserve it!"

With that she's gone, letter still in her hand, and Harry's left with no proof that any of it actually happened. He puts it out of his mind for a moment, finishes harvesting the row of corn he's working on before he can't stand it any longer, and he runs back to the house to make sure he's not dreaming. Gemma is nowhere to be found, but his mother is stooped over the stove, stirring something slowly.

She turns around when she hears Harry come in, her face lighting up immediately. Harry smiles shyly at his feet, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"Gemma told you?" he asks, looking up at her sheepishly.

"She didn't tell me anything," his mother says, pressing her lips together mischievously. "Not out loud, anyway."

Harry laughs, looking down again. "Well, I got in."

His mother squeals, clapping once as she rushes forward to hug him. "I'm so proud of you," she says, petting at his sweaty hair. "Gemma's telling Pa right now. She couldn't wait; I tried to stop her, I swear. Why don't you go get washed up, dear? Supper will be ready in a bit."

Harry nods and sets off, leaving his mother once again stooped over the stove. He's sort of glad that Gemma is telling Pa, because that means he won't have to do it himself. He knows Pa will be proud of him, but he also still feels wrong for using the money on college instead of a doctor.

He has his bath and takes his time, his mind wandering while he scrubs himself clean. He'll be leaving for Boston soon, within the next few weeks, and suddenly it feels terrifyingly real. He doesn't know anyone out there, doesn't even know his way around, and now he's supposed to just move out there and live all on his own?

He thinks briefly about Louis, his and Gemma's childhood friend. Louis packed up at 18 years old and left Nebraska, and as far as Harry knows, he's never looked back. He had dreams of getting the hell away from Hastings, just like Harry, but Louis always wanted to open a store back east, maybe New York, or Philadelphia. He used to talk about it all the time when they were growing up, and Harry never considered that he'd actually do it, but then one day he came round to say goodbye and he was gone. They meant to keep in touch, but things had been busy, and Harry's mostly forgotten about him until now.

He hopes Louis has made it big, just like he always wanted. He hopes he's got the most popular drugstore in whichever city he's found himself in, hopes that it's a neighbourhood hangout for all of the kids to get a Coke or an ice cream after school. He hopes Louis is happy, hopes Louis still thinks about him sometimes, too.

He settles down at the kitchen table once he's clean and dressed, reading over his letter again a few times and letting it all soak in. The letter says he's meant to check in at the law school on the 5th of September, and classes will begin the following week. He's got a dorm on West Street that he'll share with three other boys, which he supposes is good. At least he'll have friends, and he won't have to be all alone all the time.

Gemma comes trotting back to the kitchen just in time for supper, after Ma brings Pa's tray of food to him in bed. It's a quiet meal, but Ma and Gemma look so happy, Harry can't bear to tell them how scared he is.

They spend most of the evening talking, while Ma does her knitting. She's working on a new sweater for Pa to keep him warm come winter. Gemma does the dishes and then comes to sit with them, plopping down next to Harry in the rocking chair by the dormant wood burning stove.

"Boston," she says dreamily, glancing over at Harry. "Gosh, you must be so excited. Promise you won't forget about us amidst the glamor?" she says, reaching for his hand.

"Never," Harry chokes out, forcing himself to smile. Gemma sees the tears that spring so quickly to his eyes and smiles sympathetically, shaking her head.

"None of that, you baby," she teases. "I know how scary this must be. But we'll write you all the time, won't we, Ma? And you'll be back for Christmas," she says.

Harry nods, pulling Gemma's chair closer to his so he can cuddle into her side. She holds him under her arm, just like when they were kids, and Harry swallows thickly. It's quiet for a long moment, until finally Harry smiles into Gemma's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Boston," he breathes.