Rapture

by Thomas Tessier

  "I know," she said distantly.

  "Listen. I'm going to be in Danbury soon."

  "It'll be nice to see you again."

  "You're going to be around?"

  "My mother wants me to go down to Florida to spend some time with her, but I think I'll wait until Christmas, when Bonnie and I can go together."

  "That's a good idea."

  "And my brother wants me to go out to Chicago, but I'll think about that next spring or summer. Right now I'm just seeing how I feel a day at a time."

  "That's perfectly natural. Anyhow, you will be there for the next few weeks."

  "Oh. Yes."

  "Okay, good. I'll call you again as soon as I've got my dates worked out. We'll get together, go out for dinner ... and talk."

  "I'll look forward to it, Jeff."

  "Me too."

  When Jeff hung up, he lit another cigarette and paced the living-room floor. He couldn't sit still. He hated to think of Georgianne suffering this way. It was worse than he had expected. He might have to wait another two or three weeks for her to get over it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It added up. The Los Angeles-New York round trip was about fifty-six hundred miles. The first time was for his father's funeral, but Jeff reckoned the real reason was to find Georgianne. The second trip was exclusively for her, and this one was the third time in less than six months. It came to a little over seventeen thousand miles when you threw in the car trips between Danbury and the airport. It added up to an impressive amount of time, money, and distance, and Jeff wished he could tell Georgianne. A small matter, but another sign of the effort he was willing to invest for her.

  And she wasn't even home.

  Jeff couldn't believe it. He had checked in at the Ramada Inn and called her immediately. No answer. It was just before seven, Friday evening. Where could she be? He fidgeted over a large glass of Scotch and several cigarettes, and then tried her number again. Still no reply.

  Georgianne knew he would be arriving in Danbury that evening. He had phoned her from Santa Susana earlier- in the week to tell her his plans. It had been a short and practical conversation, with neither of them much in a mood to chat. Georgianne had sounded as vague and absent as she had in their previous talk, but she was still glad to hear that she would see him soon. Now where was she?

  Jeff showered and shaved, both for the second time that day. He remained confident that he could begin to pull Georgianne together, once he was with her in person. He had plans, ideas. He would take her out day and night. Movies, restaurants, galleries, antique shops. Relaxed, easy drives through the countryside. If all went well, he might even persuade her to spend a few days away-Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont. It was the season for picking apples, drinking fresh cider, and enjoying the autumn colors. If he needed a sweetener, he would dangle the possibility of going by way of Cambridge to see Bonnie, an idea that was as attractive to Jeff as he was sure it would be to Georgianne. He had no doubt that Bonnie was his natural ally.

  There were a couple of minor problems, but he thought he would be able to handle them without too much difficulty. Georgianne had not yet renewed her invitation to him to stay at her house. He would remain at the Ramada as long as necessary, for the entire two weeks if it came to that. He didn't want to press her. It was obviously a very sensitive and different situation now, with Sean dead and Bonnie away at college. Even if Georgianne did offer him a room, he might be wiser to turn it down gracefully. But would he be able to resist the temptation?

  Then there was the matter of Union Carbide. He had to get out from under that millstone. He had decided to tell Georgianne that the deal had fallen through, but that he had come east anyway for a much-needed vacation. After all, it was pretty much the truth.

  Georgianne finally answered the telephone shortly after nine. She sounded breathless, as if she had just come in.

  'I've been calling for a couple of hours," Jeff said, simply to let her know.

  "Oh. I was next door. Having dinner with the neighbors. They're very nice. I've been saying no to everything since the funeral, but today I just thought, Yeah, I want to walk across the lawn and eat with the neighbors."

  "Good for you," Jeff said, taking it as a healthy sign. He was encouraged. "How are you now?"

  "Better, I think. I'm not sure, but I feel better."

  "Great. You do sound better." A little perkier, a little brighter. He wanted to reinforce and enhance any positive note with Georgianne. Is it too late to take you out for a drink?" he asked, thinking surely it wasn't, not at nine o'clock on a Friday night.

  But Georgianne said, "Oh, thanks, Jeff, but could we make it tomorrow?"

  "Well . . ." Unwilling to concede.

  "I've had a long day."

  She said it as an explanation rather than an excuse, but Jeff was not pleased. A longer day than his? He had come 2,800 miles and three time zones-was it too much to ask that she go out for a nightcap with him?

  "Okay. No problem," he said unhappily.

  "Thanks. I hope you don't mind. I just want to have a cup of tea and go to bed."

  "That's okay," he repeated. "I understand. But I hope you can spend a few minutes on the phone." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice.

  "Sure," Georgianne replied. "How long are you here for?"

  "Two weeks," he said, "and it's all vacation. I don't have any business to do this time."

  "That's terrific, Jeff. You know, when you were here the last time, in June-"

  "May," he corrected instantly.

  "May, yeah. Well, you did look tired then. A vacation is probably the best thing for you!"

  "So everybody at work kept telling me." Jeff laughed. "How about lunch tomorrow?"

  "That'd be nice," Georgianne said. "Do you want to come here? I can make something."

  "No. Let me take you out. You don't want to sit around the house. We'll go for a drive and find a restaurant." .

  "If you want. That would be lovely."

  Jeff was pleased. He didn't want to rush in like an eager puppy. But at the same time, her offer to prepare lunch for him was a good sign. Evidently she had no hang-up about entertaining a single man alone in her home. Sean's ghost might haunt the Gorge, but not the house on Indian Hill Road. The possibility of getting her away for a few days looked better already.

  The sight of Georgianne the next morning made a deep impression on Jeff. Her beauty was unchanged. He had expected some mark of trauma in her appearance-newly formed lines, a surrender in the flesh or a loss of tone in the skin. It would be natural, and he had prepared himself for it, but Georgianne had weathered the storm and come out looking as she had in May. Jeff felt a new rush of warmth and love for this woman. He kissed her on the cheek, then held her close and patted her back affectionately.

  They drove north from Foxrock, into the countryside, making idle conversation. Bonnie liked it at Harvard and was working hard. Jeff had just missed the autumn colors at their best. The Union Carbide deal had fizzled, but he didn't mind; they had enough to do with Star Wars. He did his best to keep the chatter going, certain that they would settle into a rhythm and that more substantial talk would come later, over lunch and drinks. But already he had noticed what he took to be new strength and determination in Georgianne's eyes. She looked good, remarkably good. He especially liked her plaid skirt, white sweater, and tweed jacket. Most of the leaves had fallen, but Georgianne was a glorious October vision.

  They stopped in New Milford and spent some time walking around looking at window displays before going into a restaurant just off the green. They drank Bloody Marys while waiting for lunch to be served.

  "I am better," Georgianne declared, and Jeff thought her expression was nothing less than fierce. He was awed and thrilled, and he felt he was seeing for the first time a glimpse of the woman he had set free. "Bonnie and I sort of pulled each other through. I couldn't have managed it by myself. It was hard again when she went off to school, and I almost had-I don't know-a
relapse, I guess. But then I thought, God, she's only seventeen, she's lost her father, she's coping somehow, she's so brave, and she's gone away alone. And all that shamed me out of the black mood I was in."

  "That's good," Jeff said. "No matter what, you have to pick yourself up sooner or later, and carry on. But I still find it hard to fathom what happened. If you don't want to-"

  "No, it's all right. I can talk about it-now."

  "Did the police ever ... ?"

  Georgianne shook her head. "No. They don't seem to have accomplished much at all." Her face was a clash of sadness and cold anger. She told him about the supposed drug aspect of the case and, apparently referring to the triangular pattern of bullet holes, said that there were other signs the police took to indicate that Sean had criminal connections. "But it's not true," Georgianne said bitterly. "I don't care how it looked, I know that Sean hated drugs and would never, ever, have anything to do with them."

  "Of course not," Jeff said.

  "I lived with him long enough to know him, and to know that I'm not just kidding myself."

  "I'm sure you're right."

  "That's what's so lousy about it, Jeff. Not just the pain Bonnie and I suffered, which was bad enough. Whoever did it took Sean away from us forever, and we'll never be the same two people we were. But they also stole Sean's good name, and that's really lousy. It hurts to admit it, but I know there are people, and not just the police, who believe Sean was dealing in drugs. It's so-unfair."

  "Of course it is," Jeff agreed. "But you know Sean, and that's all that matters, that's what you'll remember."

  "It must have been a case of mistaken identity," Georgianne went on. "Whoever did it was looking for someone else and got Sean, without realizing he was the wrong person. You see, he always left his wallet locked in the car when he ran, and with no identification, well, a killer wouldn't take his word for it, would he?"

  "No. You could be right." Jeff almost smiled. He hadn't noticed Sean's leaving his wallet in the car, but then, Jeff had stared straight ahead most of the way to and from the Gorge. It was beautiful. A little extra help from Sean. Georgianne had it worked out so that she could live with it. It wouldn't become an obsession.

  "Even the police agree that it could have been mistaken identity. They won't say yes, but ... maybe."

  "What you know is what counts."

  Their steaks were served then, and Jeff was grateful for the interruption. He had learned enough to reassure himself that he was quite safe, and now all he wanted was to steer the conversation away from the subject of Sean. Sean was dead. Forget Sean.

  "Have you thought about whether you want to stay on at the house, or is it too soon ... ?"

  "Oh, yes," Georgianne replied promptly. "I'm keeping the house, at least until next summer. Where would I go? Besides, I want it for Bonnie to come home to."

  "Of course." Said tonelessly.

  "It's bad enough, what she's been through, without suddenly seeing the house go too."

  "There's no rush," he agreed.

  "Right, and-oh, did I tell you? I don't remember if I did. I have a job now. Only part time, but it's a job."

  Jeff blinked at his plate. The piece of meat in his mouth turned dry and tasteless. He chewed mechanically for a few seconds before looking up at Georgianne.

  "You have a job, did you say?"

  "Yes. Carole Richards, a neighbor up the street, talked me into it. I work mornings, until twelve-thirty, at a nursery school. The kids are three and four, and they're a real handful, but you know what? I love it. It's just what I needed."

  "That's great," he said vacantly. "Where is it?"

  "In Foxrock."-

  "Well. I'm very happy for you, Georgianne." His voice was straining ever so slightly. "I did tell you that you should get out and do something with yourself."

  "Right. So, I'll see how it goes. I did think about moving to Boston and trying to find something to do in the city. I'd be close to Bonnie; we could even live together, share an apartment. But then I thought if I rushed away, it would look bad, you know-like I was admitting that Sean was involved in something criminal. And besides, it would be unfair to Bonnie. She's entitled to the experience of being away at college on her own, without her mother breathing down her neck."

  "That's true."

  "I'll stick it out here until next summer, and see how we both feel about things then."

  "You're making some wise decisions," Jeff said, feeling as if he were talking by rote. His mind was in disarray, but he couldn't reorganize his thoughts and plans now. "It's all too easy easy to go off in the wrong direction after a major upset in your life. You've got to stay active, see people, do things. And work is good. But take your time before jumping into any big change."

  "Right." Georgianne nodded.

  Jeff forced himself to smile, but he hated this whole line of talk. It was worse than discussing Sean. He felt he was saying things that ran precisely contrary to what he hoped to accomplish.

  Back in the hotel room late that afternoon, he tried to view it all in a constructive light. He had come here knowing that he couldn't rush Georgianne, knowing that it would take time. They had passed several hours easily, pleasantly, comfortably. The lunch had confirmed that he was safe and that Georgianne was well along the road to full recovery-at the very least, she was no longer deep in the pit of mourning. All of this was to the good.

  Her job messed things up somewhat. Getting her away for a few days on a drive north was probably out of the question now, but it was too late for the autumn colors anyway. He would adjust. Mornings were gone, but the rest of the days and nights still belonged to him. He had the inside track. He had the time. But whatever it took, he would get her all the way into his life, where she belonged.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "Georgie tells me you're doing business with Union Carbide," Burt Maddox said.

  "No, not really," Jeff replied. "We were talking about working on something together, but it didn't come off."

  "Oh, that's too bad," Burt said. "So this is just a pleasure trip for you then."

  "A vacation, yes." Then Jeff added defensively, "My first in about five years."

  In less than a minute he had taken a dislike to Burt Maddox. The man had a forced gregariousness that did nothing to hide the fact that he was sizing Jeff up. But the worst thing was his habit of referring to Georgianne as Georgie. Jeff hated it, and he could hardly keep from wincing whenever he heard it.

  At the last minute, Georgianne had almost balked, and Jeff wished she had. A few of her friends had per suaded her to come to the Maddox house that evening. No party, no special occasion, just a handful of friends and neighbors getting together for a drink. Georgianne hadn't wanted to go, but she had finally given in, and Jeff had agreed to accompany her. Then, in the car on the way there, she had begun to worry about it again. It would look wrong. It was too soon. Sean had been dead less than three months. Jeff sympathized, but didn't want to argue the case one way or the other. He did point out to her that she had no reason to feel guilty. She would simply be stopping by a friend's house for a short visit. Georgianne looked pale and nervous when they arrived at the Maddox house, but she decided to go through with it, intending to stay for only an hour or so.

  "I've been with them for nine years now," Burt was saying.

  "Oh ... uh ... Union Carbide?"

  Jeff could feel the blood leaving his face in a rush, and he bent over to take a hideous-looking hors d'oeuvre from a tray on a side table. It tasted awful, but the maneuver gained him a few seconds, and he hoped his cheeks had regained some color. His heart was pounding.

  "That's right," Burt continued smoothly. "Didn't Georgie tell you? I'm a marketing manager." Then, with mock chagrin, "One of many."

  "I see," Jeff said aimlessly. "It's quite an outfit."

  Maddox would be a salesman, he thought contemptuously. He could tell the type: large, florid, incapable of tolerating two seconds of silence in a conversation, pursuing a re
ndezvous with a coronary-which in this case wouldn't come a day too soon, as far as Jeff was concerned.

  Maddox tried to stick to the subject of Union Carbide, but Jeff killed it easily, and his host was too polite to persist. Jeff wished he had known ahead of time that he would be meeting someone from Union Carbide. It wasn't that he couldn't handle such an encounter, especially with someone as transparent as Maddox. But he didn't like surprises. For some time now, weeks, months, he'd felt as if he were walking a tightrope-a very long tightrope-to Georgianne. It had the effect of magnifying everything else in his daily life, and the most trivial vibrations could turn suddenly into tremors and quakes. How much easier it would be if he could simply whisk Georgianne away to some remote mountain cabin for a month or two, where he could win her over by sheer undistracted force of character and love. Instead, the tightrope stretched ahead indefinitely.

  There were fewer than a dozen people scattered about the capacious, L-shaped Maddox living room. They all looked prosperous and satisfied, a little too much so for Jeff's liking. He wanted to see an edge in someone, but this crowd was round and soft. It was impossible to think of them as Georgianne's friends, even if, inexplicably, they were.

  "Oh, I think Georgianne wants me," Jeff said, creating a flimsy opportunity to edge away from his host. "Excuse me."

  "Catch you later," Maddox said, turning in the other direction to mingle.

  Jeff drifted across the room and perched on the end of the sofa next to Georgianne. He lit a cigarette, acutely aware that all eyes were on him. Cool and professional, he told himself, that's the best stance to maintain.

  "Georgie tells me you're doing some very exciting work with computers," Carole Richards said, leaning forward to rope Jeff into the conversation.

  "Some of it is," Jeff allowed. He didn't like Carole Richards, because she had arranged the job for Georgianne. And because she called her Georgie too. It was appalling.

  "And you two were in high school together?"

  Everytime she spoke, Carole arranged her face in an expression of intense seriousness, which was utterly disproportionate to what she actually said. She was frizzy-haired and forty, Jeff figured, and trying to keep a young and intelligent look-and missing by a wide margin.