Rapture

CHAPTER FOUR

The funeral service was short and dignified. Once again, more people attended than Jeff had expected. After the burial, everyone went back to Uncle Roy's place. By the time Jeff got home it was early afternoon. He stripped off his clothes and stood under a cold shower for twenty minutes. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, a large towel wrapped around his waist, and stared at the floor.

There were things to be done around the house, but he couldn't concentrate on them. His mind didn't seem to be functioning smoothly. Putting on a pair of light slacks, a sport shirt, and his loafers, he went out for a drive, acutely aware that he was surrounded by scenes of his past. The high school, the football field, the baseball diamond were all still there, more or less unchanged. But Ramona's Pizzeria had been absorbed into a plastic pizza chain and some of the bars had new names. The Alcazar movie theater was now a roller disco, and a rather forlorn-looking one at that. Next to it was an alcohol-free teenage night club. Jeff felt old.

He parked and went into a package store. A few minutes later he was driving again, a can of cold beer wedged up against his crotch and eleven others stashed under the seat. It was stupidly enjoyable, this cruising of the old ground, even if he was thirty-eight. He hadn't done this in about twenty years, but it still felt good. Sometimes it was the best thing you could do in a small town.

After a while, he got on the New Haven Road, heading south out of Millville. He was curious, but he still wasn't sure he had enough nerve. It could be terribly awkward or embarrassing. Would he really be able to think of anything sensible to say?

When he got there, he hesitated, but turned the car onto the Slaton driveway and went right up and around to the house. A small brown pickup was parked in front of the garage. Jeff turned his motor off and sat for a moment, looking at the house and the yard. The windows were uncurtained and the lawn needed mowing, but the place still had a peaceful, secluded feeling about it. The nearest neighbors were a couple of hundred yards along the road, in both directions, and at the back of the lot was a wooded hillside that rose steeply. The birdbath and swing set remained, but Jeff knew the Slatons were gone. Yet he was glad he had come.

Getting out of the car, he walked slowly toward the house, went up the half-flight of stairs to the back porch, and knocked on the door. The kitchen, he saw through the window, was completely bare. Not a sin gle appliance or piece of furniture had been left. But someone was inside; he could hear a power tool in use. He knocked again when the loud buzzing stopped for a couple of seconds, but it started again. He tried the door, which was unlocked.

He went through the kitchen, which seemed too small, then the dining room, which also appeared to be cramped, and finally came into the living room, which was larger and closer to what he remembered. The place was empty, even the built-in bookshelves on one wall. The good feeling he had experienced only a few minutes ago now seemed to be leaking out of him, and he thought about turning around and leaving. But the power tool upstairs went silent again.

"Hello!" Jeff called out quickly.

"Yeah," a voice answered. A young man, perhaps in his late twenties, clumped down the stairs in a rush. His face, arms, and hair were covered with a fine dust. "Yeah, what can I do for you?"

"Uh ... is this your house?" Jeff asked. There was a very slight chance this person was one of Georgianne's younger brothers.

"Yeah, the sale's gone through now, but the agent hasn't taken his sign away yet. Sorry, if you were interested."

"No, it's not that. I used to know the Slatons years ago," Jeff explained. "I wondered if they were still around."

"Oh. No, the Slatons are gone."

The young man made it sound as if the entire family had been wiped out.

"Gone?"

"Yeah. To Florida, I think."

"Did you know them?"

"No, not me. They moved out before the house was sold. It was a while ago now"

"Okay." Jeff gave the room a last quick glance and started to go. "Thanks anyhow"

"If you want to get in touch with them, you could ask Mrs. Brewer," the young man said. "I think she knows where the Slatons can be reached."

"Mrs. Brewer?"

"First house up the road on this side."

"Going toward town?"

"That's it."

"Okay, thanks. Maybe I will."

Jeff turned the car around in the back-in with the netless basketball hoop and drove down to the road. He shifted into neutral and sat there for a moment, trying to make up his mind. Did he really want to take this thing any further? What was the point? She wasn't even your girlfriend, he reminded himself unhappily. He had gone through Kathy, Joanne, and Betsy, and a couple of minor flirtations, during the years in which he had doubled with Mike and Georgians. But of all those he'd known, friends and classmates, Georgianne was the only one who still interested him. He had thought about her m1py times. In fact, he realized, he'd never quite stopped thinking about her. Georgianne had always been there, somewhere, in his mind. And this could well be the last chance he would ever have to do anything about it.

He put the car in gear and began driving slowly to ward the center of Millville. As soon as he saw the house, Jeff smiled. A woman was weeding a flower bed along the front walk. He took it as a good omen: he was meant to know what had happened to Georgians. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and left the engine idling.

The woman stood up to face him. She wore a checkered bandana on her head, slacks, sneakers, and a print blouse of hideous design. She was pudgy and sixtyish, but, with a three-pronged garden tool in her hand, she looked ready for anything. Jeff put on his best smile.

"Mrs. Brewer?"

"Yes."

"My name is Jeff Lisker, and I grew up here in Millville. I used to know the Slatons real well. Georgians was a good friend and classmate of mine, but we lost touch as the years went by. I live out in California now and I'm just back on a visit to see my family. I thought I'd catch up with the Slatons, but they've moved, and I was wondering if you could tell me where they are now."

The elderly woman had listened to this little spiel carefully, and now she considered it for a few seconds before deciding that it sounded reasonable enough.

"Oh, the Slatons. They're a wonderful family," Mrs. Brewer said. "You know that Jack died five, no, six years ago."

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes. He had the cancer, but it come on him real sudden and it didn't take long. So he didn't suffer the way some do."

"Well, that's something."

"Now, Donnie, he went to college down in Florida, and then he got a job teaching there, in Tampa. And little Jack went to UConn, and got himself a good job at Anaconda, right up here in Waterbury. But the whole company moved to Chicago about four years ago, and he went with it. Both the boys are married now and have kids of their own."

Jeff nodded with every sentence, trying to keep the woman moving along. Apparently she was going to tell him the whole tedious story.

"Well, the winters got to be too much for Doris," Mrs. Brewer continued enthusiastically. "That driveway is murder when there's any snow at all. And ice? Oh! It's impossible. And being all alone up there in that house just wasn't good for her. So she finally put the house on the market in January, which wasn't a good time for that, but she'd had enough and she moved down near Donnie in Tampa. Now she has a nice bungalow-style condominium. I've got some snapshots of it inside."

"Good for her," Jeff said impatiently. "But-"

"Now, you said you were Georgianne's friend?"

At last. "That's right," Jeff said.

"Well. Georgianne worked in Boston for a year or two after she finished college, and then she married a young man by the name of Sean Corcoran. Did you know him?"

"No, I don't think so."

"I've met him a couple of times," Mrs. Brewer said, "and he's a very nice person, very nice."

"That's good."

"They have one child, a daughter. Her name is Bonnie. Now if you're a friend of Georgianne, you know she was always very bright."

"Yes."

"Right. Well, I hear from Doris how the kids are doing, you know, and Bonnie is just fantastic at schoolwork. They say she has a brain like a computer."

In the computer field this is no compliment, but Jeff didn't tell Mrs. Brewer that. Now that he was finally hearing some real news about Georgianne, he was having a hard time absorbing it.

"They live in Foxrock, over near Danbury," the elderly woman went on. "Sean teaches high school there. They have a very nice house. But it's kind of sad, isn't it, the way families are so scattered these days. Connecticut and Chicago and Florida ..."

Jeff nodded sympathetically and took a step back toward the car. He had what he wanted, more or less.

"Thanks very much for your help."

"I'll tell them you were asking for them. Doris still calls up from time to time. What'd you say your name was?"

"Lisker," Jeff replied softly, turning away. "Thanks again." He got into the car.

"What was that?" 8

Mrs. Brewer hadn't caught it, but she knew she'd heard the name the first time. It would come back to her sooner or later. She had read about this somewhere. The trick was not to try to force it. Once you saw or heard something, it was in your mind for good. Maybe you couldn't always find it just when you wanted it, but eventually it would pop up again. All it took was patience.

She watched the young man drive away, noticing the New York license plate on the back end of the car, and then she got on with her weeding.

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