Rapture

CHAPTER NINE

Jeff woke up a little after one. He didn't feel as bad as he had expected, just sleepy. After a long shower, he pulled back the drapes, and the room filled with sunshine. Another hot, cloudless day, apparently. He called his office again and was pleased to hear that Callie had no news of any importance to pass along.

He dressed and ate a light late lunch in the hotel restaurant. Then he took a drive to Union Carbide and cruised around the massive complex. He felt slightly ridiculous, but thought he should at least see what the place looked like, in case there was any mention of it over dinner. Sean had brought up the subject once or twice the night before, but Jeff had put him off with a few boring comments of a technical nature.

It was nearly three o'clock when he parked downtown in Danbury. He had just realized he was low on money. He found a bank that honored his California cash card, then wandered around for a while, and finally entered that same cocktail lounge for a cold beer. The place was quiet, dead, at this time of day. He sat at the end of the bar, enjoying the cool darkness.

The beer was good, settling him. How strange to have so much free time on his hands, and to be doing so much drinking! Two luxuries he hardly ever enjoyed in California. He told himself that he looked forward to getting home and back to work. The time would be eaten up then, as it always was, consumed in great, easily digested chunks. That's the way life should go. If you sat around too long, you'd go crazy ... wouldn't you?

But, at the same time, he knew it would be different now. Everything was changed by the fact that he'd seen Georgianne. The question was: Changed how? It was absurd to think of anything beyond the simple pleasure of this reunion. When he returned to Los Angeles, it would be over. Georgianne would slip back into the past. Finis.

Jeff couldn't accept that. This reunion was a way of saying A, and a favorite old chess maxim had it that if you say A, you must say B.... His real problem was to figure out what B was. Of course, the obvious solution would be for Sean to pack up and bow out gracefully.

Did he really think that? He lit a cigarette and smiled at himself in the mirror behind the bar. He had a weird grin on his face, and he kind of liked it because it was so new and unusual. Well? Yes, it was a crazy idea, and one that probably had no real chance at all. But why throw it out? Why not enjoy it for a while, as a purely theoretical possibility? She could fall in love with him, she could decide to break with Sean. That kind of thing did happen. Every day.

Jeff was sure he and Georgianne could be very good for each other. He was in a rut at work, and she could get him out of it, help him enjoy life again. By the same token, she was in a kind of rut too, a suburban stupor. He didn't sense any edge in her life. She deserved better. So did he. If nothing else, this trip east had given him a new determination to improve the way he lived, to transform his life. He had the financial means and, now, the desire. They were both still in their thirties; it wasn't too late yet.

The second beer was even more soothing, and Jeff relaxed into his daydream. Oh, he knew it would almost certainly come to nothing, but it was so damn pleasant to think about ... he couldn't let it go. It wasn't new. It had come to him many times over the years. But now, finally, he had seen her and touched her, and that made the dream half real.

He left the lounge just before five and drove back to the hotel. After he brushed his teeth again and changed, he made his way to Foxrock. Georgianne came out the front door and walked across the lawn to greet him.

"I'm a little early."

"Not at all," she replied, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "You could have come anytime this afternoon, you know. Sean probably has a drink ready for you."

This was to be a relaxed at-home evening. Georgianne looked casual for it, but gorgeous. She wore a pair of white shorts, snug but not too tight, and a madras shirt with the tails tied across her bare, flat midriff.

"You look terrific," Jeff said as they walked to the house. "I love the shirt."

"I knew you would. That's why I put it on."

"Really?"

"Sure. Don't you remember how popular madras shirts and jackets were back in high school?"

"Yeah, of course."

He was immensely pleased that she had dressed for him, and that she had chosen something from the memories they shared. No matter what she says or does, he thought, it turns out even better than I could hope.

They found Sean in the kitchen, a tray of ice cubes in one hand. He wore sandals, jeans, and a Mets T-shirt.

"Hello, hello," he welcomed Jeff merrily. "What'll you have for openers?"

"Uh ... well ... what're you drinking?"

"Harp lager, good and cold."

"I'll join you."

"Right you are." Sean went to the refrigerator. "Honey, what about you?"

"Can I have a white wine spritzer?" Georgianne asked.

"Certainly, certainly."

Jeff showed no reaction, but the image of the hooker's asking for the same drink at his hotel the previous night flashed briefly through his mind.

"Ah, that's good," Jeff said after sipping the can of beer. He knew it had been bought specially for him, for this occasion; surely Sean couldn't afford to drink Harp all the time. He took it as another sign of the man's insecurity.

Georgianne had things to do in the kitchen and suggested that Sean give Jeff a quick tour of the property. They went out the back door, onto a flagstone patio. The Corcorans had just over an acre of land, with some fine old trees. Sean had put up a split-rail fence around the front and two sides. The back gave way to tall grass, briers, and a gradual downhill slope. They had a vegetable garden, flower beds, and a modest grapevine.

The house itself was a gambrel, with cedar siding that had weathered to an attractive silvery gray. Inside, the post-and-beam construction created an old, country feeling, solid and homey, rural but not of the wilderness. They had an ornate soapstone wood stove.

The cellar comprised a small cold-storage room for food and a large main area that contained the laundry appliances and Sean's workshop. Jeff had never seen so many tools. Not even his father, who had been a professional carpenter, had owned this many.

"Don't ask me if I need them all," Sean said, as if reading Jeffs thoughts. "When you build a house yourself you tend to accumulate all sorts of things."

"I'm impressed."

"Ah, well. I've come to the conclusion that a house is really just a big inventory of things That need to be repaired, changed, adjusted, or refinished. You keep doing them, one after another, but the list never gets any smaller."

Jeff smiled. "The rigors of ownership." His fiveroom condominium was elegantly furnished, but decidedly uncluttered.

"Exactly," Sean said, leading the way back upstairs.

"I love it." Jeff pronounced his verdict as they went through the kitchen.

"Thanks," Georgianne said, smiling. "So do I."

Fresh cans of beer in hand, Sean and Jeff went outside to sit on the patio. The Adirondack chairs were comfortable and looked recently painted. Jeff was going to say something about them, but decided not to-he didn't want to hear that Sean had made them himself.

They chatted about the winters, summer vacations, the Mets and the Dodgers, cars and computers. Sean didn't like computers, and on his home ground he was less reserved about saying so than he had been the previous evening. Jeff didn't bother arguing. He found it amusing and rather pathetic. He had the luxury of being on the cutting edge of technology. In the cellar, Jeff had seen a huge display of tools, but they were the old tools, the tools of the past. Still useful, of course, but undeniably quaint, as far as he was concerned. Sean struck him as one of those people whose idea of common sense is to go back to some simpler, earlier way of life. The only technology needed to accomplish this was H. G. Wells's time machine. Jeff could smile at this without being aware of the irony.

"You must come jogging with me," Sean said, re turning from the kitchen with more beer. 'I go out early in the morning. It's beautiful."

'No way," Jeff replied, setting the full can of lager next to the one he hadn't yet finished.

They heard a car stop in front of the house. A door slammed shut, and the car drove away. A minute later Georgianne came out to the patio with a teenager in tow.

"Jeff," she said, "I'd like you to meet our daughter, Bonnie." Her voice was proud, her smile radiant. "Bonnie, this is Mr. Lisker, a friend of mine from grammar school and high school."

"Jeffll do fine," he said, standing. His heart hammered in his chest, and he was afraid his face had changed color. "Hi. How are you?"

"Hi. Pleased to meet you."

The girl smiled shyly. She was stunning. She was an inch or so taller than her mother and she had her father's darker hair, but otherwise Bonnie Corcoran fulfilled in almost every way the twenty-year-old image of Georgianne in Jeff's mind. Breasts perky and girlish beneath a thin T-shirt, obviously no bra. Legs long and slender in tight designer jeans, a compact but definitely female ass that Jeff could hardly bear to look at. Most of all, the face and eyes, so like her mother's. Jeff had to make an effort not to stare at Bonnie, but he ached inside.

Can I have some wine?" Bonnie asked her father.

"All right," Sean said. Then, to Georgianne, "Water it down a bit for her, would you, hon?"

The women went inside.

"Did Georgianne tell me that Bonnie's about to graduate from high school?"

"That's right," Sean said. "And she's only seventeen."

"She's a beautiful girl."

"The price is more or less constant terror," Sean said. "You think it'll get better as a child gets older, but it doesn't. Just the opposite."

"I can imagine."

"Bonnie looks like any other teenager, and she is, in most respects, but God gave her a great brain. She's highly motivated and she seems to know exactly what she wants to do. Her SATs were fantastic."

"That's great," Jeff said. "Where is she going to school in September?"

"Harvard."

"Wow!"

"And they're paying just about everything, which is just as well, since I couldn't."

"What does she want to study?"

"Molecular biology." Sean had a helpless expression on his face. "She can tell you about it; I can't. My knowledge of biology is limited to giving electricshock treatment to dead frogs."

Jeff laughed. "Me too."

The four of them ate at a large redwood picnic table on the patio. The food was simply prepared but excellent. Cold shrimp, which they dipped in a spicy sauce, was followed by a platter of soft-shell crabs and a spinach salad with mushrooms and hot pieces of crispy bacon. For dessert they had chunks of watermelon that had spent the afternoon soaking in iced vodka.

Throughout the meal, Jeff and Georgianne took turns telling old high school stories. It was a kind of mutual self-indulgence, but Sean and Bonnie seemed to find it entertaining. Afterward, they sat back and relaxed. Then Georgianne went inside to prepare the coffee, and Sean followed her to mix some vodka-and-tonics.

"So...you're going to be an Ivy Leaguer in the fall," Jeff said to Bonnie. The girl nodded, smiling shyly again. "You'll like Boston, Cambridge-well, Cambridge might as well be a part of Boston," Jeff continued. "I've been there a couple of times."

Bonnie nodded her head enthusiastically. We went up for my interview, and we walked all around Harvard afterward. I really liked the look of it, but we didn't see much of the city. Cambridge was nice."

"You'll like it," he repeated.

There was a brief silence between them. Jeff felt he should say something more; he wanted to talk to the girl, but the words wouldn't come. Bonnie had a way of looking directly at him, open, almost expectant, and it had an effect on him. Jeff realized, amazingly, disturbingly, that he was unsure of himself. Was this what he had been like with Georgianne, years ago? Suddenly, it was hard to tell. The past and the present had merged into a moment of confusion.

"Mom says you live in L.A."

"Outside the city," Jeff said. "But close by. Just a short drive on the freeway."

"What's it like?"

"Like any other city," Jeff replied promptly, grateful that Bonnie had taken the lead. "But the state of mind is different. I don't think anyone has figured out what that is, yet."

Bonnie laughed, another trivial gesture that sent waves of delicious sensation through Jeff.

"That's just my residual New England prejudice," he added. "I really like L.A., and I wouldn't live anywhere else."

"I'd like to do my graduate work in California," Bonnie said. "Unless I end up liking Harvard so much I can't bear to leave it."

"Well, you certainly-"

"Are we in graduate school already?" Sean asked, returning with two tall glasses. "Here you are, Jeff."

"Thanks."

It was a strong drink, and Jeff wondered if Sean was trying to get him drunk. Not that he cared. He was annoyed with Sean anyhow. The conversation with Bonnie had just been getting off the ground, and now Sean had killed it. Jeff wanted to talk with the girl, but it was impossible with her father sitting in on every word. It didn't matter at all that Jeff really had very little to say to Bonnie. He had enjoyed being alone in her company, and now the spell was broken. There would probably never be another opportunity.

Perhaps it was that feeling of annoyance, in combination with the alcohol, that got him in the trouble that followed. Whatever the reason, by the time the coffee arrived, Jeff had agreed to accompany Sean to the Gorge at seven o'clock the next morning. They would jog together. It was madness, and Jeff didn't know why he'd been so foolish. The Gorge was a park, a stretch of countryside that jutted into Foxrock. Sean jogged there every morning. Jeff smoked and had no desire even to try running, but Sean talked, wheedled, dared him into it, convincing him that the Gorge was beautiful to see and promising that they'd mostly just walk anyway.

Later, Jeff would tell himself that the real reason he had agreed to jog with Sean was because it would give him one more chance to see Georgianne and Bonnie. The plan was that they'd go out at seven, run or walk for a while, and then return to the house for breakfast. He thought he'd drive down to New York in the afternoon. He had reached the point where he wanted to leave Danbury.

It was getting dark and cool outside by the time they'd finished their coffee. Bonnie cleared the table and cleaned up in the kitchen while her parents sat in the living room with Jeff. Georgianne dug out some albums of old photographs, which they looked through with a mixture of disbelief and amused embarrassment. She had a lot of pictures Mike Rollins had taken-he had been a Polaroid enthusiast. The result, Jeff discovered for the first time, was a number of snapshots of himself with two girls, his date at the time and Georgianne. He was fascinated to look at them now. How odd he appeared to himself! Weedy, angular, stiff. But there was something nice about it. He wished he had some of these photos, because he saw it would be possible to crop out the other girl, leaving pictures of himself with Georgianne, alone.

"My hair didn't start to grow until I got to college," he said absently.

Georgianne looked great in every snapshot, as he knew she would, and Bonnie's resemblance to her became even more apparent. Mike, in various poses, showed great fat-bearing potential, which Jeff now knew had not been left unfulfilled. Kathy, Joanne, and Betsy looked almost like strangers to Jeff. None of them was quite as pretty as he remembered, although in one picture, as a result of an optical illusion or a pair of falsies, there was definitely more to Joanne's bosom than Jeff had ever encountered. They were still going through the albums when Bonnie came in to say good night. Not long after that, Sean began yawning and hauled himself to his feet.

"I'm always early to bed," he explained. "And I've got some catching up to do for last night."

"I should be going," Jeff said.

"No, no, stay and finish your drink," Sean insisted. "Georgianne will fix you another one, if you like. You two haven't talked in twenty years, and I'm sure you still have a lot of ground to cover."

"He goes to bed at ten o'clock every night," Georgianne confirmed.

"Just make sure you're here at seven sharp," Sean warned, "or I'll come down to that hotel and drag you out in your pajamas. You're going to do some jogging."

"I know," Jeff said, nodding his head reluctantly. "I may be unconscious, but I'll be here on time."

"You do need another drink," Georgianne said when Sean had gone upstairs. "Come on."

"I've had more to drink this week than I have in the last year," Jeff remarked, following her into the kitchen.

Georgianne poured two more tall vodka-andtonics. They touched glasses to toast each other once again. Jeff leaned back against the counter, Georgianne beside him at a slight angle.

"1 told you yesterday that you'd done well," he said. "Meeting your husband last night, your daughter today, seeing you in your home and how you live, I have to say it again, kid, only more so."

"Thanks, Jeff." Georgianne looked down at her drink, which she held in both hands at her waist. You know, I told Sean last night, on the way home after dinner, that the reason you and I were such good friends in school was because I always felt safe with you around. We all did. Even Mike. You know the kinds of things he could get up to-I think he felt freer and could be a little wilder as long as you were there, because you knew how to take control when things started to get out of hand."

Jeff shrugged, but he was deeply touched. "I'm glad we never had to test it." He took her hand, squeezed it, held on. "Twenty years later," he joked softly, "and I'm finally getting to hold hands with you. How about that?"

Georgianne smiled back at him, then tugged gently. "Come on. I've got to sit down. The drink is catching up with me."

They returned to the living room and sat together on the couch. Hands still held between them, they stretched out their legs on the coffee table. Jeff was beginning to feel dizzy, but not from the drink. The back of his hand, holding hers, rested lightly against bare thigh where Georgianne's shorts ended. The feeling was devastatingly wonderful, but at the same time he was a little frightened by it. What was happening? Was she seriously flirting with him? It was another bizarre echo of a past that had never occurred-on the couch with Georgianne while her old man slept upstairs. This time her husband, not her father. Jeff felt anything but self-possessed now. This moment was precisely what he had wanted and dreamed of so many times. But he didn't know what to do with it.

"How has it felt being back here?" Georgianne asked. "Make you think at all about moving back to Connecticut?"

"No, not really," Jeff replied, glad to have something to say. "Where you are, here, is the nicest place I've seen. But the old Brass Valley is even more depressed, and depressing, than it was when we grew up there. Besides, I've made a home for myself in California that I can't see myself leaving, not in any foreseeable future."

"It doesn't really matter where any of us lives," Georgianne said. "As long as we live well in ourselves."

"Right."

Side by side they sat, close, comfortable together. It felt so very good, but Jeff was afraid to turn and look at her. Afraid of what might happen. But suppose that was what she was waiting for ... ? Could he be reliving his own unnecessary hesitancy?

Jeff finally turned to say something, but the words were lost as he was transfixed by Georgianne's madras shirt. The top three buttons were undone. They had been that way all evening, he realized, but now the image meant something more to him. She still wore a shirt like a high-school girl-open like that but with no cleavage visible. It seemed peculiarly girlish, and Jeff couldn't explain why but he thought it was the most beautiful, telling quality that Georgianne possessed. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't move his eyes. Georgianne gave no indication that she was aware of how intensely poignant this moment was for him. She simply held his hand and gazed absently at her drink. Finally, he leaned forward, his face closer to hers. She looked up at him and smiled.

"I should be going," he said.

And cursed himself silently. Even now, he thought, you're hesitating, hoping she'll take the initiative and kiss you. He felt desperately miserable. At the same time, he couldn't believe that Georgianne really wanted him to try anything. She had made the point about feeling safe with him. The wrong move now would destroy that. He had waited twenty years, and now he had come this close to her; he could wait a while longer to get the rest of the way.

"Think you'll make it here at seven?" she asked.

"Yeah, somehow."

They stood up and walked across the room to the front door. Georgianne stepped outside with him.

"Thanks for a great meal and a great evening," he said.

"Thank you," Georgianne responded. "For last night, and for coming tonight."

She seemed subdued, in a dreamy, wistful kind of way, as she leaned back against the door frame and looked at him. He was no longer a successful businessman, he wasn't even an old acquaintance enjoying a nostalgic reunion. He was a trembling schoolboy saying good night to the girl he had never really stopped wanting in his life. And she looked better than ever, a picture he would keep, if only he could.... He brought his hand up into her hair and kissed her. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but gentle, lingering, open-mouthed. It was a moment he wanted never to end, the past made perfect in a simple act of innocent but deeply felt affection. No, not just affection-love.

"Jeff ..."

Instinctively, he kissed her on the cheek to lighten the moment. But secretly he was thrilled. He had finally done it. He had kissed her, not like a brother or a harmless friend, but the way a man kisses a woman. And it had done no apparent damage.

"See you at breakfast," Georgianne whispered. Then she pulled back slightly, a small but clear step.

On the drive to his hotel, and until sleep overtook him, Jeff wondered about that last look on her face in the doorway. It was impossible to decipher, but endlessly fascinating. Had he seen sorrow in her expression? Perhaps, but happiness, too-he was sure of that. And there was more-a fire, an undefined longing for something ... or someone. Had he awakened that in her? He wanted to believe that more than anything, but he knew it was too early to tell. Still, it was all beginning to drift in the right direction as far as he was concerned; that much was undeniable.

Jeff sprawled across the bed and started laughing quietly. The laughter grew, a rhythm that took hold of his entire body. You're delirious, he told himself, enraptured, enthralled, on your way off the deep end. You know that, don't you?

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes ..."

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