Bewildered, he shifted his attention from Tommie to Lanie and back again, and again, and again.
“Lord, you are so gifted in so many things, but inferences have never been one of them,” Lanie said. She laughed and pulled him to her again. “Go to her. Be what she needs. Don’t question things too much,” she said, resting her cheek against his.
Tommie clapped him on the back. “When Monie’s having a hard time, she pulls away.”
Yeah. He learned that right away. But Maurice only understood just now that he liked the chase.
“We didn’t take care of our Monie like we should have,” Tommie said, tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s hard to see her carry so much—”
“So much that isn’t hers,” Lanie said quietly.
Tommie nodded, his jaw working. “We’re gonna do better. Starting now.” He pinned Maurice with a rare, serious look. “And you’ll be there too.”
He smiled at his best friends and then nodded. He was down.
“Let’s put that smile to use,” the photographer they’d forgotten was there said. “Mr. and Mrs. Lane, please stand on either side of the reverend.” He moved them into several other poses, circling them as he snapped pictures. Each click of the shutter renewed his longing for Monique.
“Let’s get the parents with the bride and groom,” the photographer said, and Tommie trotted off to gather the Turners. The Aunties were already nearby.
The only people from his past who hadn’t forgotten about him surrounded Maurice now. And he had just stood in front of them preaching about loving without reservation.
He almost laughed.
The thousands of hours of counsel that he’d given and taken. Being an encourager, a leader, a lover of man, of life, of the Word of God, but somehow he’d spent most of his life treating the people who loved him like creditors. He called it debt. They called it family. Swooping in wearing a cape like some neo-Christian Batman, martyring himself, denying himself, while Tommie and Don and Deb had been there the whole time.
He hadn’t been a hypocrite. He’d been unseeing.
He was still a convicted killer—remorseless and unrepentant. That hadn’t changed. But maybe that wasn’t the only thing true about him.
Until her… Maurice stood there staring at the ceiling, as if he could somehow see her.
Throat clearing snapped him back to the here and now. “You better follow your own advice,” Deb said, patting Maurice on the shoulder and bringing him into awareness.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the cheek. “I will do my best, Auntie.” He squeezed her tighter, making her groan and squeak as he lifted her off her feet and gave her a spin. Aunt Deb looked like she’d been on a roller coaster when Maurice set her on her feet. And he was sure he looked insane. “I gotta go!” he said, planting another kiss on her cheek before turning on his heel.
Maurice got to the gate at 11:47 p.m. Her plane had already taken off.
Now what? It was December 31. New Year’s Eve. The island was celebrating. Even in the airport, people were passing out noisemakers and little cups of champagne.
His flight wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. He sighed and walked to the airline counter to ask for help.
“I need to go to Chicago,” he said, without preamble.
“Are you trying to change your flight?”
He nodded. “This’ll be my second flight ever. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The clerk smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you to Chicago. Let me get your confirmation number.”
After about ten minutes of typing and Maurice putting almost five hundred dollars on his credit card, he had a direct flight from San Juan to Chicago that would leave in two hours.
Outside, the sky exploded with fireworks. Happy New Year greetings echoed through the airport and over the PA system. He tapped out a text to Deb with the details. And another to the wedding group chat wishing everyone a Happy New Year.
His phone rang almost immediately.
“I’m sending you the hotel I usually stay at when I’m in town.” Deb was matter-of-fact. Boss Lady mode. Maurice smiled.
“I’ll let the twins know you’ll be around, and I’ll give them your number.”