Memories of the day that picture had been taken had not been skewed with the passage of time. Tristan could still remember running down the levee with “Uncle Cam.” The light was perfect when she snapped that picture. She took many photographs that day, waiting for her father to finish his work with the boat in dry dock. It was a perfect afternoon spent with those who truly loved her.
She sat watching the sunset next to Cam. With his arm draped over her shoulders, he told her of the humorous antics of his Cajun grandmother. Tristan burrowed closer to Uncle Cam; he was just like her dad. He made her feel loved. Unfortunately for the ten-year-old, all her happy feelings would desert her when she returned home.
Tristan chattered excitedly about her adventures with Uncle on the ride home. Her dad never seemed to tire of hearing her stories and was content to listen as she relayed the day’s events. “I took a bunch of pictures, Dad. Do you think Mom would develop them 140
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for me?” Her innocent face rose to her father, waiting expectantly for an answer.
Mitchell, Tristan’s father, sat silently for a moment. “I’m not sure, sweetie. She may be busy with her work when we get home.
Why don’t you let me ask her about it?”
When they arrived at the modest Delacroix home, Tristan became quiet and sullen once more. Mitchell grieved for the way his wife treated their only daughter. The change in Tristan’s behavior when she was around her mother had not escaped his attention. He had attempted to reason with his wife to no avail; she was a hard woman, and any suggestions made to her about her child were always taken as an insult. Mitchell did what he could to keep peace in the household, but he feared what effect it might have on his daughter later in life.
Mallory Delacroix was setting the table when Tristan and Mitchell walked in. Instead of a hug and kiss for either of them, she went about her tasks and suggested that they wash up for dinner. Mitchell complimented his wife on her cooking, as he always did, while they ate. Tristan, as usual, did not say a word at the table but sat listening to the conversations between her parents.
When he had finished most of his meal, Mitchell patted his wife on the hand and asked her about developing Tristan’s film.
“Mallory, Tristan took a lot of pictures down at the work site of the boat we put on dry dock today. I would like to see what she captured on film. Would you minddeveloping it when you get a chance?”
Mallory looked up at her husband. “If you wanted photos of the boat, why didn’t you have an adult take them? I am sure that whatever Tristan took will not be suitable for what you are looking for. You will be lucky if she were able to get a shot of anything that would be useful to you.”
Mitchell chose his words carefully, hoping not to spark his wife’s temper. “I would like to see what Tristan captured. She may have taken after you and may have an eye for photography. Who knows, your daughter may follow in your footsteps.”
Mallory set her fork down and pushed her plate back. She looked at Tristan, who refused to meet her eyes. “Like I said before, if you were hoping to get some decent photos, you should have had 141
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them taken by an adult. I see no reason to waste my time and effort on developing something taken by a child.”
Tears formed in Tristan’s big brown eyes, but she refused to look at her mother and give the hateful woman the satisfaction of knowing she had hurt her. When she was confident that she had her emotions under control, Tristan asked to be excused from the table. She took her plate to the sink and went to take a shower.
Only then did she allow her tears to flow freely.
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CHAPTER TWELVE
Tristan and Claire agreed not to discuss the issue of the stalker while they were on their trip. Instead, the conversation moved to food. By the time they exited the interstate onto the highway leading to Gulf Shores, they were famished. About twenty minutes later, they came upon a restaurant that looked interesting to Claire.
“Hey, how about that place?” Claire asked excitedly. ‘Home of the throwed roll.’ How can a girl pass that up?”
“Claire, I am not sure I want to eat in a place where they throw the food.”
“Come on, Tris, be a sport,” Claire pleaded while bouncing up and down in her seat like a child.
The atmosphere of the restaurant was casual and relaxed. The cuisine was mainly Southern home cooking, which appealed to both women. After they had placed their orders with the waiter, they sipped iced tea and ate the rolls that Claire had bravely caught until their plates arrived heaped with food. The staff walked around the dining room with hot pots of side items and ladled huge helpings for anyone interested.
The food was wonderful, and Claire ate like there was no tomorrow. Tristan was enjoying her meal until she was knocked in the head by a rogue roll, which put a damper on her dining experience. Claire laughed all the way through dessert.
Claire was impressed with the small town of Gulf Shores. There were plenty of tourists but not so many that it was overwhelming.
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She rode along, grinning from ear to ear, pointing out all the places she wanted to explore.
Late that afternoon, they arrived at the condo. After unpacking, Tristan and Claire agreed that they were still too full from their late lunch to consider dinner. Instead, they opted for a sunset walk down the beach. When they came to a picnic pavilion, they sat and talked. Except for an occasional beach stroller, they were alone.
Tristan chose one of the picnic tables in the corner, where the large beams obscured them from sight. She began to kiss and nibble Claire’s ears and neck while slipping her hands underneath Claire’s shirt when Claire stopped her. “Tristan! Are you nuts?
Someone is going to see us out here. Not to mention, I have some nut running around snapping off pictures of me.”
“You have a good point. I’m sorry, Claire, I wasn’t thinking.
Sometimes when I’m around you, I get a little carried away.
Besides, this atmosphere is so romantic. I feel frisky.” Tristan wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
Claire pulled Tristan close and nuzzled her neck. “Nothing to apologize for, my love. We can continue what you started when we get back to the condo. Matter of fact, we can spend the entire weekend doing that if you want.”
Tristan gave her a mischievous grin. She and Claire made their way back down the beach, walking a little faster than before. Most of the hike back was spent in the surf as they kicked water and sand all over each other. When they did eventually make it back to the condo, they were soaking wet and covered in sand.
Tristan gave Claire a seductive look. “Why don’t we conserve some water and shower together? That way, we won’t get sand all over the place. I assure you, my intentions are entirely innocent.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped when she got Claire’s answer. Without saying a word, Claire stripped off every piece of clothing and dropped it at Tristan’s feet. Then, she ran upstairs naked as the day she was born, leaving Tristan to stare wide-eyed after her.
Tristan joined Claire in the shower as Claire was shampooing her hair. Tristan stood back and watched the water and suds cascade down Claire’s shapely body. The beauty of her lover never ceased to amaze her. To Tristan, Claire was as pretty on the inside as she was on the outside.