“It does look like me!” Mauricio exclaimed.
Richard sketched some more. “And that girl is Benita.”
“But she’s not that much tinier than me.”
“She’s not tiny, she’s just far away. Watch.” He drew a few slanting, converging lines, layered simple details until he had a corridor with boy in front, girl in back. “See? We have a flat, two-dimensional paper, but with perspective drawing, we add a third dimension, what looks like distance and depth.”
Mauricio’s eyes shone with the elation of discovery, and something else. Something he’d once seen in Rafael’s eyes. Budding hero worship. He felt his lungs shut down.
“I get it!” Mauricio snatched another sketchbook, showed him that he did before raising validation-seeking eyes to him. “Like this, right?”
Richard felt the smile that only Mauricio, and his mother, provoked spread his lips. “Exactly like that. You’re a brilliant lad. Not many people get it, and most who do, not that quickly.”
Mauricio fidgeted like a puppy wagging his tail in exultation at his praise. “I didn’t know anyone could draw so quickly and so great! Can you do everything that good?”
“As I told you, whatever I do, I do to the best of my ability. I’m the best in some things, but certainly not in drawing. Plenty can do far better.” Mauricio’s expression indicated he dismissed his claim, making his lips widen in a grin once again. “There are people who make it seem as if they’re pouring magic onto the pages. But what they and I can do comes from a kernel of talent, and a ton of practice. The talent you have. Now you have to practice. It will only become better the more you do it.”
Isabella’s gaze locked with his and the meaning of his motivational words took a steep turn into eroticism. It had been incredible between them from the first, but only kept getting more mind-blowing with “practice.” That last time had been their most explosive encounter yet. He couldn’t wait to drag her into the inferno of ecstasy again.
Suppressing the need, he continued to give Mauricio examples while the boy emulated him. Isabella watched them, the miasma of emotions emanating from her intensifying.
Mauricio finally exhaled in frustration, unhappy with his efforts. “You make it look so easy. But it isn’t.”
“You’ll get there eventually. What you did is far better than I expected for a first time.”
Mauricio eyed his drawing suspiciously. “Really?”
“Really. Draw a lot, draw everything, and you’ll be superlative, if you want to be.”
“Oh, I want!”
“Then, you will be. Trust me.”
“I trust you.”
A jolt shook Richard’s heart. Hearing Mauricio say that again, with such conviction, made him want to go all out to deserve that faith and adulation.
Should he be feeling this way? Was it wise? Could he stop it or had he put in motion an unstoppable chain reaction?
“I want you to teach me everything you know.”
Richard laughed. The boy kept squeezing reactions of him that he didn’t know he was capable of. “I doubt you’d want to learn most of the things I do.”
“I do!”
He slanted a glance at Isabella. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, either.”
“Because it’s dangerous stuff?”
“To say the least.” Before Isabella burst with frustration he looked at his watch. “And that’s a discussion for another day, young man. We agreed we’d do this until your bedtime. Now you need to go to sleep and I need to get going.”
Without trying to bargain for more time, Mauricio stood and gathered his things, looking like a stoic knight’s apprentice. He had an acute sense of dignity and honor. Once he gave his word, he kept it. It made Richard...proud?
Before he could examine his feelings, Marta came to take Mauricio to bed. Handing his grandmother his things, he came back to say good-night. After he hugged his mother, he threw himself at Richard, clung around his neck.
“Will you come again?”
Feeling the boy’s life-filled body against him, the tremor of entreaty in his voice, was like a fist closing over his heart.