"No. I mean maybe she isn't interested in any man right now. Maybe it's still too soon for her. It hasn't even been a year since my father's murder, and my mother is not the kind of woman to start looking around for a replacement in a hurry."
Her tone was still maddeningly detached. Jeff felt he was losing ground, a foot a minute.
"Yeah, okay, that could certainly be true," he said. "But why did she cut me off? That wasn't necessary." He could barely conceal the bitterness he felt.
"Well, I know what you're saying," Bonnie replied calmly. "But you've got to remember that you stopped calling her, you broke the routine. More important, maybe she was afraid to let things go too far. The thought of your coming to visit at that time, maybe it scared her. Maybe she knew she wasn't ready to commit herself to anyone, and she didn't want you to get your hopes up and then be hurt. Telling you not to come last February might have been her way of protecting you, as much as herself."
"So what do you think I should do? Just leave her alone? Am I supposed to wait another month? Six months? A year? What do you think I should do? You know your mother, and now you know the situation."
"I don't know what to tell you, Jeff. I can't lie to you; I don't think she's ready for a serious relationship at this time. She's got a lot on her mind, with the sale of the house, the move to Boston, and all that. But it sure wouldn't hurt if you called her up again, just to say, Hi, how are you, what's new. That kind of thing."
Bonnie had to remind herself that she was talking like this to a man more than twice her age.
"Hi, how are you, what's new," Jeff echoed sullenly.
"How come you never made a play for her back when you were in school together?"
"I don't know, I don't know," he said, rubbing his forehead. "That was then and that's the way it happened. All I'm concerned about now is-now."
He was getting into a mood, and Bonnie knew she had to pull him out of it.
"Look, you know I'll do what I can for you, Jeff. On top of everything else, though, there is the problem of distance. You've got to admit it's not going to be easy to develop a relationship when you're in L.A. and she's in Boston. But let's try to-"
"You mean you don't think it's a bad idea?" he asked, looking up sharply.
"What?"
"Your mother and me. I mean, when she's ready for an involvement with another man. Would you think she'd be making a mistake if it was me?"
"No. Of course not." Bonnie tried to think of something more to say, but couldn't. "No."
"I think you should tell me the truth," Jeff said.
"About what? I have been-"
"There's something you're not telling me."
"What?"
"I want to know what Georgianne has said to you about me. What does she feel about me? You have to have a better idea than what you've told me so far, and I think it's only fair that you let me know. I'm sick of ... hanging like this."
Bonnie frowned. Clasping her arms around her knees, she rocked her body slightly while she began forming the words in her mind.
"Well, I guess she knew how you felt about her."
It was a vindication of sorts. Jeff hadn't completely failed; he had gotten through to Georgianne. But that only seemed to make matters worse. Georgianne had known, but she deliberately hadn't responded.
"But I don't think she knew how to handle it," Bonnie went on. "As I said, it's too soon, or-"
"What else? Come on, there's more to it."
Bonnie glanced sideways at Jeff. His face was a wreck; he was all torn up emotionally. She had never seen an adult like this. It was a little frightening, but also fascinating. She discovered that she felt he deserved it, somehow, and that she really didn't want to make it any easier for him.
"The worst that can happen is that the two of you don't click, right?" Bonnie said. "Maybe you will, but maybe you won't. My mother hasn't said anything about it to me, one way or the other, but you have to consider the possibilities. She married my father, and he was a different kind of guy from you. Maybe you're not my mother's type."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Jeff asked petulantly. "We were always friends, we always got along together really well."
"Yeah, maybe. But that's not the same thing-is it?"
"Is that what she told you about me? That I'm not her type. Did she say that?"
"Well, no, not in those words, but ..."
But what? What did she say?"
"She has a very high opinion of you, Jeff," Bonnie replied, trying not to sound exasperated. "She said you're a good person. But it's not what she said; it's what she didn't say. I just didn't get the impression that there was any real romantic ... well, you know ... that she didn't think of you in those terms. At least not yet," she added quickly. "That doesn't mean something couldn't build up, in time, when she's in the right frame of mind for it."
Bonnie had the uneasy feeling that she was letting it get away from her. Jeff didn't seem to be listening. What would he do if she stood up and started to walk toward the road? She decided that would be too abrupt a move and that there wasn't any need for it at the moment.
"Going nowhere," Jeff muttered, "going nowhere."
"What?" Bonnie snuggled down beside him, resting her head on his chest. "What is it?"
"Just the feeling that I'm getting nowhere ... and going nowhere."
"Ah, Jeff, Jeff ..." She stroked his face gently. "It really means a lot to you, doesn't it."
"Everything."
"Everything?"
"Yes."
"Then it'll work out. Somehow. Don't worry."
What does she have on me, Jeff wondered. The fact that Bonnie had once put his name on a list bothered him, although he knew it shouldn't. Everyone she knew even slightly was on that list; he hadn't been singled out for special consideration. But then he'd begun to pursue Georgianne. Yesterday Bonnie had asked him about her father's death. Was she putting it all together? She didn't appear to be particularly suspicious of him, but she was so clever and precocious it was impossible to know what was going on in her mind. And if she did think about it seriously, if she did come to believe that he might have been involved in her father's death, then surely she would get around to discussing it with Georgianne. Legally, Jeff was convinced he had no worries. There was no weapon, and nearly a year had passed. No one could put him in the Gorge on that morning. But life would be terribly complicated if they decided to investigate further and started to ask questions.
"I'd like to make love right now," Bonnie whispered, caressing his thigh. "But someone might come along and spoil it for us...."
How could he have any doubts about a girl who would lie in his arms and behave with him the way she did? It didn't make sense, but at the same time he knew that the only person he could trust absolutely was himself. There were things that could be checked out and verified or disproved. Union Carbide, for instance. Georgianne would never do that herself, but if Bonnie ever admitted that Jeff had been to Boston to see her, it might come to mind. His visit to Boston just didn't look right, he knew, and it would be the easiest thing for 'a cop to determine that neither he nor anyone else at Lisker-Benedictus had ever had any business dealings with Union Carbide, Wang, or Prime. So why did you lie about these things, Mr. Lisker? What were you doing there?
"Come on, Jeff," Bonnie suggested. "Let's get back to the hotel and jump into bed." In spite of her roving hand, he showed no signs of interest or arousal. "It's getting cold, honey. Please."
Jeff ignored her. The real problem was Georgianne, who was sooner or later going to move to Boston. He was just beginning to understand what that would mean to him. She would be farther away, she would have many new distractions, and she would come into contact with countless new men, one of whom, surely, would take an active interest in her. Boston would change everything about Georgianne's life. It was only a matter of time, but the result was inevitable. He, on the other side of the country, wouldn't have a chance.
Bonnie got up, brushed sand
off her jeans, looked around, and shivered. Jeff was still lying on his back, staring at her. His face was expressionless.
"Well, you can stay there a while longer if you want," Bonnie said nonchalantly. But I think I'll wait in the car. I'm getting a chill out here and I don't want to come down with a cold just when I'm about to take my finals." She picked up her handbag and rummaged through it, looking for something.
"Bonnie."
"Hm?"
"I want to ask you something."
"What?"
He raised himself on one elbow. "When you drew up that list of names last year, did you really think I could have had anything to do with your father's death?"
Bonnie froze, her hand still in the leather bag. "No, of course not."
"Why not?"
"Jeff." A protest. "I told you. Listen, I wrote my uncles' names down too. It didn't mean anything. It was just something I did to ease my mind at the time."
"But then you didn't know that I loved your mother."
"So what?"
"People do kill for love."
"Yeah, but in the heat of the moment, on impulse, a sudden explosion, that kind of thing."
"So you don't think someone would travel clear across the country and calmly kill another person out of love?"
"No." Bonnie found what she wanted in the handbag. "No, that doesn't make any more sense than my father being a drug dealer."
"Really?" He could see she was nervous and lying. "But you wouldn't think someone would try to im press Jodie Foster by shooting the President either, would you?"
"That was insanity."
"Isn't love a form of insanity?" He wanted to say, And something, maybe your mother, has made me crazy, has made me do things I wouldn't have believed possible...
"No, I don't think that," Bonnie said. "And you don't believe it either, Jeff, I know you don't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"What are you trying to tell me, Jeff? Are you trying to say that you did kill my father?" She tried to sound hard and skeptical, but there was a tremor in her voice.
"Haven't you been thinking about that all weekend?"
"No."
"Don't lie to me. You started thinking about it the minute I sat down in the cafe in Harvard Square, and it's been on your mind ever since. You're too intelligent not to consider the possibility, now that you know how I feel about your mother."
"If this is some sort of mind game you're playing, it's in very poor taste."
"Sick?"
Bonnie knew she couldn't answer that, because to do so would play right into his hands. She didn't like the situation, but she still felt she could take care of herself. If only her options weren't so limited. Perhaps she could outrun him back to the car, lock herself inside, and then sit on the horn until someone came. It wasn't pretty, but it might be the best alternative.
"Why are you acting like this, Jeff? It's just nasty and pointless. I didn't want the weekend to end like this. We've had such a good time together...."
"I wanted to know what you think about it," he replied simply, with a thin smile.
"Well, I don't like it, and I haven't thought about it."
But you are now, Jeff thought.
"Bonnie, Bonnie. What am I going to do?"
"You're going to drive us back to the hotel, and we're going to get in bed and see if we can't put all this nonsense behind us and finish the weekend on a real high."
But Bonnie knew she didn't sound convincing. She knew Jeff figured, correctly, that once they got back to Boston she'd ditch him in a hurry. There was nothing left to say or do but to get out of this place. Now. Bonnie started to walk away, but Jeff grabbed her hand and pulled her down.
"I'm sorry," he said. Then he took the front of her sweater and maneuvered her on top of him. "Kiss me."
She obeyed mechanically, closing her eyes because he kept his open. It was a cool, asexual kiss, and while their lips were together, Jeff started to do something peculiar with his fingers on her neck. She tried to pull back slightly, but he wouldn't let her. Bonnie's body was stiffening with fear, and she knew she had to act immediately, before he had her completely paralyzed. She let herself lie on him, one hand stroking his hair while she continued to kiss him. Her other hand came out of the leather handbag with the knife, and she held the point of the blade against his throat. It was a small hunting and camping knife, with a three-inch blade, but it was quite sharp. She had bought it shortly after her father's murder and she carried it with her at all times. Jeffs eyes widened a little when he felt the cold metal on his vulnerable flesh.
"Listen carefully," Bonnie said, her voice shaky but very serious. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Jeff, but you give me no choice. Please don't move, not even a fraction of an inch. Put your hands down and slide them slowly under your back, but don't do anything else. If you try to get up, you'll just stab yourself on this knife, and it's very, very sharp. Believe me."
Jeff let go of her and moved his hands slightly under his body. Bonnie tightened her grip on his hair, holding his head to the ground. She had surprised him, and she had him in a pretty good position-he couldn't move without hurting himself, perhaps fatally. But to his amazement, Jeff felt utterly serene. It was beautiful. He had to admire the girl. What courage and presence of mind she had, for an eighteen year old child. She was truly worthy of him, and he loved her for it. He wasn't afraid of death. In a way, it would make sense to die here at Bonnie's hands. He had no desire to escape this sudden new situation. He felt light and airy, as if freedom were finally at hand. None of the many scenarios he had dreamed up for his own triumph could equal the abrupt possibility of his tragic demise. A man who had taken life and then given his own-for love. All for love. It was as close as he had ever come to mak ing a hero and a myth out of himself. He smiled at Bonnie, with love and real gratitude. The two of them were growing enormously with each passing second.
But she looked terrified now that she had gained a positional advantage. Her face was pale, and her body trembled on his. She slid off carefully, kneeling beside him, not for an instant loosening her grip on his hair or the knife. Jeff could imagine what an extraordinary effort of nerve and will it took for her to do this. It was like finding out she was his daughter.
"Sex isn't like this, is it?" he asked. "Sex isn't nearly this good. I'll bet you've never felt more alive than you do right now."
"Please," Bonnie said. "Just listen to me and answer me and do what I say. I'm sorry about this. I didn't want it, but I have to protect myself."
"Of course." It was difficult to speak with the knife point jabbing his throat, but he ignored the discomfort.
"I want an honest answer from you," Bonnie said. "And I'll know if you're lying. I'll know."
"What if I did?"
"What, lie?"
"No. What if I did kill your father?"
"My God," she gasped.
"That's what you wanted to ask, isn't it?"
"You did. I can't believe it. You really did."
"I didn't say that," Jeff replied pedantically.
But Bonnie looked at him as if she no longer had any doubt. She had considered the possibility many times before, but it still came as a shock to her. It was real now, and she had to adjust to it.
"I knew it," she murmured. "I knew it."
`Knew what?"
"Last year, when you first stopped in Danbury," she said. You called my number the night before you met my mother. You asked for Harry or somebody, a wrong number-right? When I met you a day or two later, I recognized your voice. You did a lousy job of disguising it on the phone, Jeff."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. I didn't call you; I didn't even know you had your own phone."
"And you never had any business with Union Carbide, or Wang, or Prime, right? It was all just an act, an excuse to be where you wanted to be."
"Call them and ask."
"Why did you come to Boston?" she asked. "To get me, to fuck me because you co
uldn't have Mom? Or to kill me?"
Both, maybe, Jeff thought. To fuck you, yes, sure. To kill you, maybe that too. Because he had been slowly drifting to the point where he realized that he had to isolate Georgianne completely, to strip her life of any ties and trappings that kept her from him. Yes, even to keep her from moving to Boston.
"Tell me," Bonnie went on. "Tell me the truth."
"What truth?"
"I'm asking you if you killed my father. I'm asking you if you can deny it to my face."
Jeff looked at her calmly and smiled.
"What are you going to do, Bonnie? You've got me where you want me now, but what are you going to do? Kill me? Go ahead. I won't resist. You can do it, you know. You're really a lot like me."
"Don't say that," she responded angrily. "I'm not like you, not at all."
"Oh yes, oh yes."
"When my father was murdered, I bought this knife for my own protection. I thought that whoever did it might come after me next and I wanted to be prepared. But even when you came along the other day, I was surprised and I found it hard to believe. I have to believe it now, though. I have no choice. I'm sorry for you, Jeff, I really am. Obviously my mother reaches deep, deep inside you, and you can't help it. I guess that's not your fault, but it's not hers either. I hope to God I never have that kind of effect on any man. But you didn't have any right to kill my father, and you did. I know you did. Tell me."
Jeff didn't flinch or show any reaction.
"You have your mind made up," he told her. "I just wish you'd do whatever you're going to do. Go on, do it. Now."
"I wonder," Bonnie said. "Would you be so eager to die if you hadn't killed my father? Somehow I doubt it. You're not brave enough to come right out and admit it, but the way you're acting is as much as a confession."
"Think what you want. You will anyway."
"But I'm not going to kill you," Bonnie said. "Because I'm not like you, Jeff."
That's not right, he thought. One of us has to die here.
He was ready for it to be him. His death would be an exclamation mark at the end of a sentence practically no one had heard. It would transform Bonnie's and Georgianne's lives forever. The whole story would come out and make news all around the country. They would never escape the importance he would have achieved in their lives. In death, at least, he would have them both, and they would spend the rest of their days haunted by the memory of him. It was a sweet and profoundly satisfying thought, and Jeff smiled at Bonnie again.
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