Another showed them baking cookies together, flour covering both their faces.
In one, Amanda was asleep on our couch with three-year-old Sophie curled against her.
“These are lovely pictures,” Travis said cautiously. “But why are you showing them now?”
“Because Sophie isn’t here today.”
He frowned.
“I know. Amanda said Sophie was having a difficult time with crowds because of the bullying at school.”
I looked directly at my sister.
“Is that what you told him?”
Amanda’s cheeks reddened.
“Travis, please. We’ll discuss this afterward.”
“No,” I said. “I think he deserves to know why his favorite little flower girl isn’t sitting with the family.”
Travis turned toward Amanda.
“What does she mean?”
I explained the phone call. I repeated Amanda’s words about Sophie’s skin ruining the photographs.
Travis’ expression changed.
“Tell me that isn’t true.”
Amanda gripped her bouquet.
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You said exactly that,” I replied.
