Claire Danes attempted to straighten her back as her tense, aching muscles found a new way to contort in her left shoulder, creating a fresh wave of pain and misery. Her too-high, sleek, black heels made her toes go numb, causing her almost to lose her balance. Clenching a bobby pin precariously between her front teeth, Claire yanked back a section of blond, uneven hair. “Ow! You’re hurting me,” Claire’s youngest daughter, Olivia, squawked. “Sorry, honey. If you could just hold still for 5 more seconds, then we will be done.” Olivia danced and wiggled while her mother bounced back and forth behind her, determined to tame her daughter’s wild locks. Claire’s difficulty did not stem just from Olivia’s movements, which were a daily acrobatic occurrence in the Danes’ household. What made this venture even more difficult was the young, precocious five-year-old’s decision to cut half her hair off this morning. She had righteously claimed that it was the look she wanted before bursting into a million tears. Claire had to choke back her own tears of frustration as today just so happened to be the Danes’ family Christmas picture photoshoot. After another minute of song and dance between mother and daughter, Claire released her and stepped back to look at her handiwork. It was not perfect by any means, nor was it the look she had hoped to style her little girl’s hair in for the photoshoot. A braid would never work with the uneven locks jutting out everywhere. Claire had to begrudgingly settle for two simple pigtails, low on the back of the nape of Olivia’s neck. The one was noticeably shorter than the other. She would just have to advise the photographer to capture her daughter’s face only from the right side. A throbbing headache started to pound in the center of Claire’s forehead. One down, two more to wrangle. In all honesty, even despite Olivia’s propensity to never stay still for more than a few seconds, she was considered one of the easier ones to deal with and Claire’s first choice any day. Glancing down at her rose gold Rolex, Claire let a small gasp of exasperation escape. It was already ten minutes after their appointed photo time. Picking up the bottom edges of her flowy, blue silk dress, Claire hurried out onto the veranda. The Balston Mansion was the favorite spot in town for photos, with its expansive landscape overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Carefully watching her step so as not to step in the large holes the construction crew had left in the wake of their work on building a new visitor center on the property, Claire took in a large, salty, fresh breath of air once she reached the immaculate section of the yard. She knew she couldn’t linger in this state for much longer. Claire temporarily arched up onto her tip toes, but quickly fell back down as shooting pain immediately reminded her of the fancy shoes she was currently wearing that offered no form of mercy. She pulled out her phone and glided her fingers over the keyboard, at the ready to type a stern message, when she heard his boisterous shout coming from around the corner. Knowing they were already almost fifteen minutes late and about to run out of time, Claire picked up her dress and did a weird hop-run-skip across the yard toward the male voice. “Yes! Now that’s what I’m talking about, baby,” the man said as he enthusiastically pumped his left fist several times into the air. Claire pursed her lips with agitation. Her husband, Erick, seemed to always be attached to his phone or the TV. Claire smirked as she remembered the one time she told her girlfriends she would be better off getting a job as a sports commentator so her husband would finally listen to her. She braced herself for the inevitable pushback she was about to receive. Sucking a huge, courageous breath of air, Claire positioned herself in front of his phone screen. He jumped back a little, as if surprised to see her and clearly not remembering at all where he was right now. Not speaking a word, Claire simply held up her watch and pointed to the time. Erick let out a grumpy ‘hrrmph’ and turned around to start walking back to the gazebo. Their middle child, Emma, was already there, trying to corral Olivia into position. Atta girl, Emma, Claire mused to herself. She knew she could always count on good old Emma. She was the reliable, steady one of the family. Always quiet and reserved, Emma’s strength lay in her dependability and her strict adherence to following rules. If only her responsible nature had rubbed off on their eldest son, Seth. Of course, he was nowhere to be found and Claire’s heart rate started skyrocketing at the reality that they may have to take the family picture without him. This would actually probably please Seth, no doubt, but ruin everything for Claire’s vision. Faking a smile, Claire hurried to join her disjointed family. A light breeze flowed out of the south and gently caressed her bare shoulders. The summery nights were slipping away fast as chillier, darker ones of autumn began unceremoniously to take their place. It did not matter how old Claire got, she would always treasure the longer, warmer days of summer. They were the days when the family slowed down a little. Not too much, though, as various camps and lessons reigned over their daily schedules. The one tradition remained, however, and it was secretly Claire’s favorite. Every Friday, the family would swim in their big, private pool and have pizza for dinner, followed by a family movie night. Of course, there was always fighting over which movie they would watch, even though she had made a rotation chart. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, recalling those days anyway. She sighed and choked back a sob threatening to rise up in her throat. It was the only time her family had been truly happy together, squabbles and all. Now it was a major struggle just to get everyone to show up for a family photo. Claire stuck out her chin high in protest. Even though the truth taunted her under the surface every day, she was too proud to admit it. The Danes family would have a picture-perfect Christmas family photo, even if she had to doctor it with AI to fix the flaws. Anger surged in her veins as she squinted toward the large house. There was no sign of Seth and the photographer’s very thin patience was up. Kimberly Grace’s Christian Romance Stories is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. “Ma’am, shall I take the photo then? I told you, I have more appointments after this and I cannot be late.” Just then, Erick yelled in triumph as presumably his team had scored another goal. Olivia jumped and shrieked, clearly startled by her father’s loud cry. He had his head turned away from the family, looking down toward his pocket where his phone was not so discreetly sticking out. Emma hugged her little sister and patted her back with small, gentle movements. Claire knew she should be the one doing that, but she had delegated the care of Olivia to Emma years ago. She would admit to no one, least her own self, that raising three children was terribly overwhelming for her. Her jealousy roared just then and she found her biting words vomiting out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Emma, fix your makeup. You look like a clown reject.” The immediate guilt and regret rocked Claire hard inside. She watched as her daughter nodded silently and hurried off to fix herself, but undoubtedly to have a good cry as well. Claire felt her jaw lock from the stress she was putting on it. Oh well, a small lip smile is all the rage now anyway, she thought to herself, as she nonchalantly absolved herself of all wrongdoing. Her jaw even loosened slightly so she could talk. “Ma’am, your daughter has one minute. Then I’m taking the photo whether she’s back or not.” “Of course. No worry, she’ll be back in time.” Claire meant it, too. Despite how awful she had spoken to Emma, she always obeyed and did what she was told. She knew her daughter’s behavior stemmed from fear of failure. The Danes children had to adhere to high standards with their school grades. Emma did not struggle in that department, but she did socially. She was often being left out by her friend circle, the very group her mother had worked so hard to make sure she was in. Claire could not understand why Emma complained so much about her friends when she should be grateful that her mother had had the wherewithal to get her daughter in with the popular girls. She had set her up beautifully for a successful life, yet she floundered with blushed, red cheeks every time she tried to talk. Just then, Emma reappeared and slipped back into position. Her eyes were slightly swollen and red. Claire looked away and did not dare to meet them. She knew if she locked eyes with her daughter, she would be forced to see all the pain she had caused her over the years firsthand. There would be no place to run from that monster. It was better to pretend everything was fine. Claire gasped quietly, her breath getting caught in her throat momentarily. She had been raised to fake it until you make it. She truly believed that if everything looked perfect on the outside, it would all fall into place eventually. “All right, everyone smile and say che—” “Wait! He’s coming!” Claire bellowed. She saw him, a tiny speck off in the distance. Most of the time, he did not show up, but today he was actually here. She had to contain her excitement. He was late, but her firstborn son was going to make the picture after all. As he came closer into view, however, Claire’s secret happiness melted into disappointment. Seth was wearing a black t-shirt with a vulgar word scribbled across it. His jeans were ripped, and his hair was soaking wet with sweat. Claire’s body tensed and her mind froze. This was just like Seth. He h
