He pretended to examine each drawing at length, trying to bring his own chaos under control.
At last he murmured, “Your imagination is quite original and your work is extremely good for your age.”
Mauricio whooped. “You really think I’m good?”
Though the boy’s unrestrained delight made him wish to give him more praise, he had to give him the qualification of reality. “Being good doesn’t mean much without hard work.”
“I work hard.” Mauricio tugged at Isabella. “Don’t I?”
Her eyes moved between them, as if she was seeing both for the first time. “You do, when you love something.”
Richard retuned his gaze to Mauricio before he plunged into her eyes. “When you don’t love something, you must work even harder. When you’re lucky to love something, it only makes the work feel easier because you enjoy it more. But you must always do anything, whether you enjoy it or not, to the very best of your ability, strive to become better all the time. That’s what I call ‘got what it takes.’”
Mauricio hung on his every word as if he was memorizing them before he nodded his head vigorously.
Isabella’s gaze singed every exposed inch of his skin.
The burning behind Richard’s sternum intensified as he turned a blank page. “What do you want me to teach you?”
Mauricio foisted the colors at him. “Anything you think I should learn.”
Richard gave him a considering look. “I think you need a lesson in perspective.” As soon as the words left his lips, Richard almost scoffed. No one needed that more than him right now.
“What’s that?” Mauricio asked, eyes huge.
“I’d rather show you than explain in words. We’ll only need a pencil, a sharpener and an eraser.”
Richard blinked at the speed with which Mauricio shoved the items in his hand then bounced beside him on the couch, bubbling over with readiness for his first drawing lesson.
Gripping the pencil hard so the tremor that traversed him didn’t transfer onto the paper, Richard started to sketch. Mauricio and Isabella hung on his every stroke.
Before long Mauricio blew out a breath in awe. “Wow, you just drew some lines and made it look like a boy!”
Richard added more details. “It’s you.”
“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.”