Rapture

by Thomas Tessier

  "'That's right."

  "it's so nice that you got in touch again...."

  And on and on. Jeff went to get fresh drinks, and Carole was still nattering on when he returned. It was definitely worrying. Georgianne seemed relaxed and at home with these people. But who were they? Maddox and his bouffant wife with the eyes of an appraiser. Carole Richards, a self-styled progressive teacher, and her husband, a financial adviser. The others, with names Jeff had already forgotten, included a local lawyer, a "publisher" of advertising supplements, an Audi dealer, and their spouses. There was a certain sameness about them, he thought, an enforced healthiness, an endless capacity for small talk, and a way of standing or sitting that seemed somehow practiced.

  They were all apparently normal, but Jeff couldn't imagine himself knowing these people, seeing them regularly-much less ever think of an evening like this as fun. Were they enjoying themselves? Perhaps, but he couldn't help thinking of it as the shared jollity of people stuck in the same boat-one that he had no desire to board.

  And there in the middle was Georgianne. She seemed the most natural in the whole crowd. One of the things he found so attractive in her was her downto-earth acceptance of her own life, her lack of airs and pretensions. But he could see that she and Sean might fit in with these people: Georgianne with her daily swim at the Fitness Center and her pen-and-ink sketches, Sean with his wood-burning stove and his do-it-yourself approach to suburbia. It made a certain kind of sense.

  But would Georgianne want to go on living like this? Jeff knew that these people would find his lifestyle far too severe. But this, the way they lived, was boring and empty. He was beginning to feel glad he and Georgianne had come to the Maddox house. It was tedious and uncomfortable, but it confirmed the rightness of his mission to open Georgianne to change, to help her grow and become the kind of person she was meant to be. They would grow together.

  First, he would have to get her away from Foxrock, which was nothing more than a well-upholstered enclave of phony, self-preoccupied people. Then, he had to do something daring with his own life, something that was still almost inconceivable. When he and Georgianne were finally alone together, their love would blossom.

  He sat back to let Georgianne and Carole continue their conversation. Bobbie Maddox saw her chance and moved in. She pulled a large hassock next to him at the end of the sofa and sat down on it. She wore a white jumpsuit, open to an unexciting cleavage, and a pair of gaudy earrings that looked like surrealistic cornucopias. She put a hand on Jeff's arm, as if to make sure he wouldn't bolt for the door.

  "I'm so glad you brought Georgie tonight," she said in a conspiratorial hush. "It's time she began to get out again and see her friends, don't you think?"

  "Yes," Jeff agreed. "She's doing pretty well, but something like this can only help."

  "I hope so. Of course, she is so much better now, thank God." She paused theatrically. "And you have your own company ... ?"

  Subtle as a billboard, Jeff thought. "That's right."

  "How nice. California's the place, isn't it?"

  "It's where I work," he replied, reluctant to follow her obscure train of thought. A minute later, he finished his drink and used the empty glass as an excuse to escape the company of this Maddox. At the makeshift bar on the kitchen table, he wondered if it was possible that these people were secretly hoping, even plotting, that he and Georgianne would get together. It seemed a wild, fantastic notion, but maybe there was a grain of truth in it. If they were her friends, they'd surely want to see her happily married again in due course. I should be making more of an effort to cultivate this crowd, he reminded himself. They could help me, they might even want to help me.

  How are you bearing up?'

  It was another wife. Jeff tried to remember her name. Mandy, he thought. Yes, Mandy, and the reason he remembered was because, after Georgianne, she was the best-looking woman there. She was conservatively dressed, which seemed to enhance her voluptuous sexiness.

  Pardon?"

  "I asked how you were bearing up, surrounded by strangers. Don't worry," she continued before he could reply, "we're not all as stuffy as you might think.*

  'I'm having a fine time,' Jeff said, smiling. 'Everyone has been very nice to me."

  'Ibat's good," she said with a sly smile. And what's going on with you and Georgianne?"

  At last, someone who didn't call her Georgie. Jeff hadn't expected such a blunt question, but he was more amused than surprised. It couldn't be a bad thing that these people were thinking of him as a potential mate for Georgianne.

  "Oh, we're just old school friends, you know. ..."

  "Uh-huh." Mandy looked as if she didn't believe that was all there was to it, but would let it pass for now. "She's such a sweet kid."

  Yes..

  "A good, old-fashioned kind of girl. And there aren't too many of those around any more."

  'I know,' Jeff said. She had put her finger on exactly what made Georgianne so special. But he couldn't understand why she was talking to him this way. Was she trying to sell Georgianne to him, or warning him not to hurt her? "I'm glad to see she has so many friends here, especially at a time like this."

  "Yeah, but I'm afraid we might lose her."

  ?" Y•

  "I might be wrong," Mandy said with a shrug, "but I think a town like this can be hard on a woman alone, a widow. It's kind of isolated, and there's not much going on, even in Danbury. It may get to her after a while."

  You could be right," he said hopefully.

  "Unless she remarries, and I'd be surprised if she didn't, sooner or later."

  "She's too young to stay a widow," he agreed.

  Jeff and Georgianne were at the Maddox house for nearly two hours. He chatted with most of the people there, and they all revealed a certain curiosity about him along with a general concern for Georgianne. It wasn't as uncomfortable as it might have been, but he didn't like Georgianne's friends and he hoped he wouldn't have to meet any of them again.

  When he dropped Georgianne off at her house, he accepted her invitation to come in for a nightcap. The place felt cold and empty, and he wondered how much worse it must seem to her. When she looked ahead, what would she see? Night after night in an empty bed, an empty house, winter chills, and the air dry as dust and dead flowers. But tonight she was in a good mood. Jeff sat on the couch, and Georgianne took the armchair facing him, a few feet away.

  "I like your friends," he said.

  'I'm glad." She looked at her drink. "They've been very kind to me through ... all this."

  The house seemed too quiet, and Jeff suddenly felt a responsibility to keep the mood upbeat. It was as if the large gambrel wanted to wrap them in its own forlorn atmosphere. The sensation of death was almost physical. She would have to move out, he thought, and the sooner the better. He forced a slight laugh.

  "One thing, though," he said. "I never heard anyone call you Georgie before tonight. Everyone calls you Georgie. Oh, except for Mandy."

  Georgianne smiled mischievously. 'I saw that you found Mandy."

  She found me." He guessed there was probably a bit of history to Mandy. "Actually, they all did. One after another."

  'T'hey were just being friendly, and trying to make you feel welcome."

  "I know. I wasn't complaining." Then, "All the same, I couldn't help feeling that I was being sized up, somehow."

  "Oh?" Georgianne was still smiling, but she cocked her head to one side and gave him a quizzical look. For what?'

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing, probably. I imagine they were just being protective on your behalf. But, you know, they're all wondering what you're going to do."

  NAbout what?"

  "The house, Foxrock. Whether you'll stay here or not. That kind of thing."

  "I'm not moving. It's my house, and I live here," she said firmly. But then her voice faltered as she concluded, "At least for the next year or so."

  "Sure, of course, and they all want you to stay," he assured her.
"I did get the impression that the women would love to see you married off again." He laughed in an attempt to keep the tone light. "So you'd better watch out, kid. By Christmas they'll be fixing you up with likely candidates."

  "I know," Georgianne said with a bittersweet smile.

  "But you're lucky to have friends nearby."

  "What's it like where you live?"

  The question shocked and thrilled him. It didn't matter whether she was simply changing the subject or if there was indeed something more to it. He took it as an important signal from Georgianne's subconscious. She was beginning to look beyond her own grief-to him.

  "Santa Susana? It's beautiful out there," he said enthusiastically. "I love it...."

  He told Georgianne more about Santa Susana, the valley, the coast, Los Angeles, and his condominium. He described his rooms and the simple but elegant way he had furnished them. He told her how he had framed and hung her sketch of the dilapidated barn, and he asked if she would let him have another one for his office. That led him to Lisker-Benedictus, and he gave Georgianne a brief history of the company, how he and Ted had gotten together, the building they had constructed-a combination office, computer plant, and research center in the canyon. He avoided going into too much unnecessary detail, but Georgianne listened intently.

  Something is different, Jeff realized as he talked. In May, she had listened and expressed a certain interest, but this was different. Now, he felt she really wanted to learn about him, what he did and how he lived. It was because Sean was dead and fading into a memory. Her mind was no longer complicated by the presence of Sean. Georgianne doesn't know it yet, he thought, but she's already beginning to see me in a new light.

  When it came time to leave, Georgianne thanked Jeff for being such good company and for taking her to the gathering at the Maddox house.

  "My return to society, I guess," she joked, but there was a measure of sadness in her eyes.

  "It'll get better. You'll see."

  "I know," she said wearily. "I know."

  Jeff hugged her and held her close to him for several long minutes. He stroked her hair and kissed her lightly on the forehead, but was afraid to do anything else. Although Georgianne didn't break away, he could feel the same hesitancy in her.

  "It's all right," he whispered. It's just a line in the sand. We'll cross it soon, and then I'll hold you safe all through the night, every night. "It's all right."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  On the last Saturday of his trip Jeff had an early lunch with Georgianne at her house. She made steak sandwiches, and after the meal they got into his rental car and drove east on 1-84. It was to be a day out, one that Jeff hoped would serve as a brief swing through the past and on into the future.

  "I haven't been to Millville since Mom closed the house and moved down to Tampa," Georgianne said.

  Two pleasant long weeks had passed, and Jeff didn't know what they added up to as far as he and Georgianne were concerned. He'd been through a lot. He felt drained, mentally, emotionally, and even physically, and, although he had enjoyed all his time with Georgianne, he wondered if he shouldn't have more than nice memories and continued hope to show for it.

  He had seen her every single day. She worked five mornings a week at the nursery school, so he would meet her in the afternoon or evening, or both. They would go out to eat, or stop somewhere for a few drinks, or she would cook something at home for him. They took drives through the countryside of northwestern Connecticut. They visited an antique shop owned by a friend of Georgianne, and they looked in at a gallery, where Jeff compared the art on exhibit unfavorably with her sketches. They looked at the lovely old houses in villages like Roxbury, Washington, Bridgewater, Gaylordsville, Kent, and Cornwall. Most of all, they talked-and it was good. There was no question in Jeffs mind that Georgianne was making a real effort to put her personal tragedy behind her. Every day he thought he saw some small sign that she was getting better.

  He knew he had a lot to do with it, simply by being there, keeping her busy and drawing her out. But it was a strain in many ways, and he thought, ironically, that getting back to work in California would be like taking a rest.

  One of the strains he had to cope with was the need to rein himself in when he was with Georgianne. His instinct was to be more aggressive about burying the past and Sean, and to be more open about his feelings for Georgianne. But he was terrified of upsetting everything he was working for with her, and so he was constantly on guard against himself. He had the pleasure of being with her, but not the full pleasure. He had her to himself for large chunks of time, but always within carefully drawn limits.

  Georgianne liked being with Jeff. She felt safe with him, and it was a time when she needed more than anything else to feel safe. He was a distraction, an old friend and good company. In his own somewhat awkward, glancing way, he made her think about things she knew she had to deal with, and he did so inoffensively.

  After they'd been to Burt and Bobbie's house, for instance, Jeff had mentioned widowhood and remarriage. He probably didn't even know what he'd done, but he'd made her think for the first time since Sean's death about her sex life. Georgianne had been forced to admit to herself that a significant part of the awful loneliness she felt, missing Sean, was purely sexual. She had no idea what she would do about it in the coming weeks and months, but at least she had a better understanding of the problem now, and that represented progress. The funny part about Jeff's helping her to see this was that her feelings for him were not at all sexual.

  Jeff, in idle moments, occupied himself with the ever-changing numbers that testified to his love for Georgianne. She had never mentioned the subject of his staying at her house, so he kept his room at the Ramada and watched the bill accumulate. When he added in the car-rental charges, the round-trip air fares, all the meals and miles, it came to an impressive sum of money. He was pleased. Numbers were symbols, and the larger they became, the happier he felt. Movie stars and rock singers lived like this, falling in love in Honolulu, breaking up in Vail, reconciling in Saint Tropez. Jeff knew that he and Geor gianne would never live that recklessly, but they would enjoy the same freedom-it was part of the new life he was creating for both of them.

  He turned off 1-84 a few miles before Waterbury and drove the back roads into Millville. They swung by the high school, where a crowd of cars in the parking lot suggested a football game in progress, although the field wasn't visible from the road. They circled the green, another place where many hours had been idled away, and they passed the town library, one of Jeffs favorite refuges in adolescence. The library was freighted with erotic history for him. It was where he'd first started looking up girl's skirts. Thro of his former girlfriends had worked part time at the library. The long dark aisles of books, especially the upstairs stacks, were wonderful places for useful peeking, fast kisses, and an occasional grope.

  After a quick run through the center of Millville, they headed south on the New Haven Road. When they were approaching the Brewer house, Jeff asked Georgianne if she wanted to stop and say hello.

  "No, don't bother," she replied definitely.

  He took it as a good sign: Georgianne didn't want to go through the inevitable explanations of Sean's death.

  "Miss the old homestead?" he asked as the Slaton driveway appeared ahead on the left.

  "No ... not really." A moment later, she continued. it was a good house and I loved growing up there, but you can't live in the past."

  He said nothing, but he felt a shiver of excitement. She was looking to the future. If she could say that about her family home ... But it didn't occur to him that her words might have any bearing on his own life.

  They reached New Haven thirty minutes later, and Jeff went to the parking lot in the center of Broadway. He and Georgianne spent a while browsing through the Yale Co-op and looking in the windows of some of the fancy clothing stores nearby.

  Jeff still had a certain fondness for New Haven. In high school, it had had a
vague prestige value: if you could take your date thirty miles to New Haven, find your way to some worthwhile joint-a jazzy coffee bar, a folk club, a shady head shop that sold nitrous oxide-you were a cut above the jerks who couldn't find their way beyond the creature-feature drive-in. It wasn't New York or Boston, but in those days and at that age New Haven had been the first step toward some imaginary sophistication.

  And this, Jeff thought as he and Georgianne strolled along York Street, is the date we should have had back then....

  The air was crisp and sweet, the light sharp, the afternoon purely October. They walked through Yale courtyards and side streets. They said little, but seemed content to enjoy the day in each other's presence. Later, they went to a Truffaut double bill, Stolen Kisses and The Man Who Loved Women, and then had a white clam sauce pizza and cold beer at Pepe's. It was all as effortless as a dream, a dream of the future by way of the past, and if it was the best day of the entire two weeks, Jeff attributed that to the fact that they'd come a distance from Foxrock. When Georgianne moved away from there permanently, every day would be like this one.

  That morning he had worked out a quicker, alternate route back to Danbury, by way of Shelton and Newtown, but it was still a fair drive. Georgianne dozed off on the way. Jeff found some quiet jazz on the FM band and pulled her gently closer to him. She settled comfortably, resting her head on his shoulder. As soon as that happened, he eased up on the gas pedal. No need to rush. He wanted to enjoy every second of the drive. He was taking Georgianne home after a date. She was nestled against him, and he could smell her hair. A moment he had dreamed of and waited for, and now that it had finally arrived he didn't want it to end. He would have been happy to drive around the back roads of Connecticut like this all night.

  When he did park the car on Indian Hill Road, Georgianne stirred and looked up at him. She smiled sleepily. Perfect, he thought, just perfect. And he smiled back at her.