Chapter 12 Maurice #2
Maurice scanned the beach and spotted him near the bar, phone pressed to his ear. Shoulders drawn up and jaw tight, Ricky’s body language was sharp with irritation. Three days after Christmas and thousands of miles away, but fires still needed to be put out.
Maurice’s eyes moved on before his brain decided, attention shifting back to the water, searching—there.
Monique had left her lounger and was walking toward the tide pools at the far end of the beach.
She’d dropped the towel somewhere, and Maurice could see the full shape of her now in the navy swim dress—curves and softness and the careful way she held herself, like she was still deciding whether to be visible.
She was beautiful.
“You like her.”
Maurice turned. Sunny was watching him with those sharp reporter’s eyes.
“She’s here alone,” Maurice said carefully.
“So are you.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
Because Monique didn’t know what he was. Didn’t know what he’d done. Didn’t know that twice now he’d deflected when she’d asked about his work, and each deflection was a lie of omission.
It had angered and offended her. She’d called him out on it, yet she still offered him grace.
“There’s something more to her,” Maurice said instead. “Something I don’t understand yet.”
Sunny followed his gaze to where Monique crouched by rocks, camera trained on the water. “Yeah. There is.”
Before Maurice could ask what she meant, Ricky was walking toward Monique, phone finally away, his expression unreadable.
Maurice’s entire body went rigid.
Ricky said something. Monique stood—too fast—and swayed.
Maurice was moving before he consciously decided to move. Two steps, three—
Monique recovered, her fist going to her shoulder and then her hip. That rubbing and pressing gesture Maurice noticed yesterday, like she was stemming a flare of pain. Her face had gone flat. Closed. Gone was the contented concentration he’d witnessed moments ago.
Her lips pursed as she pressed harder against her hip.
Monique said something back, sharp, even from a distance. Ricky walked away, jaw tight.
Maurice stopped. Forced himself to stop. She’d handled it. She didn’t need him charging in. But his hands and jaw were still clenched.
“Here.” Sunny pressed a water bottle into his hand. “I been in New York too long. Forgot the sun works overtime down here in the winter.”
She took off her oversized hat, a ridiculous and floppy and expensive-looking thing, and handed it to him too.
“She looks like she could use it more than me.”
Maurice looked at the hat, then at Sunny.
“Go on,” she said. “Before you combust.”
Maurice looked back toward the sea and at Monique. She swiped her brow and looked around as if measuring the distance from beach to cabana.
He started walking again.
Eighty-three steps.
Maurice counted without meaning to. An old habit from measuring distances to safety, from always knowing exactly how far he was from anything. Eighty-three steps from the cabana to where Monique crouched by the tide pools again, her attention fully absorbed.
“Hey,” Maurice said quietly.
She looked up, and her face transformed, tension melting into something softer. “Hey.”
“Brought you water.” He held out the bottle. “And a hat. Sunny said the sun’s brutal.”
“Thanks. My daughter will chew me out if she finds out I’m out here without cover.” She took both, drinking deeply.
She placed the ridiculous hat on her head. “How do I look?”
Beautiful. “Like you’re about to serve tea at a garden party.”
Monique laughed. “That’s oddly specific. You must attend a lot of garden parties.”
His chest rose, and he smiled back. “Not really my scene, but that is a very fancy hat.”
“It really is.” She turned back to the tide pool. “But look at this. Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Maurice crouched beside her, looking where she pointed.
He’d never seen a tide pool before. Never seen the ocean before yesterday, not really.
Never had the chance. The pool was maybe three feet across, carved into volcanic rock.
Inside, there was a whole tiny universe.
Small fish darting between rocks. Sea urchins clinging to sides.
Shrimp, practically see-through, picking through sand.
“It’s like my dentist’s office,” Monique said, wonder in her voice. “Remember those fish tanks in waiting rooms?”
Maurice had never been to a dentist with a fish tank. Had barely been to a dentist or a doctor or a church until prison. But watching Monique’s face, her eyes bright and smile unguarded, he understood the appeal.
“I wish I’d brought a waterproof cover for my camera,” she continued. “I could get closer, get the shrimp and urchins.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Don’t have one. I mostly shoot around Chicago. Don’t exactly need waterproofing.”
“How’d you get into photography?”
Monique sat back on her heels, still watching the tide pool. “The year my dad died, Aunt Don gave me an old Kodak Instamatic 100 camera that she’d found when cleaning her office. I was eleven. Said I needed something to focus on besides grief.”
“Did it work?”
“Eventually. I studied some in college. Never thought about pursuing it professionally, but…” She shrugged. “It’s been a comfort. Something that’s mine. Evidence. Memory.”
“Evidence of what?”
“That I existed, that I was here, bearing witness…” She shook her head. “I don’t mean to get all philosophical on you. I’m in my head a lot.”
Maurice understood that completely. “My phone has a waterproof case. If you want to use it.”
Monique’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’s rugged. Made for job sites. Should handle saltwater.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
He pulled out his phone, showing her the heavy-duty case. Three more text notifications popped up on the screen when he unlocked it. He cleared the alerts.
Monique took the phone with reverence. “Okay,” she said, her voice going high and excited as she handed him Sunny’s hat. “Okay, I’m going in.”
She leaned over the tide pool and started shooting. Her whole body changed: focused, intent, giddy. She laughed when a shrimp moved. Gasped when she spotted something else. Giggled when a wave crashed. Took shot after shot.
Maurice watched her work and felt something crack open in his chest. This. This was joy.