Rapture

by Thomas Tessier

  "Yes," she said finally. "I am thinking about it."

  The day Georgianne returned to the cemetery was bright, clear, and crisp, the picture of early autumn. The grass was still a rich green but it wore a scattering of leaves, the first to mark the season's change. In less than a year, she had buried a husband and a daughter there. It seemed impossible. A family had ceased to exist. As simple as that. Both stones were in place now. The names and dates told everything, and nothing. Georgianne imagined someone stopping there a hundred years in the future. Would that person notice that the man had died young? That the woman had died still a girl, less than a year later? Would that person even wonder about it? A mystery. A story lost in time. The names would mean nothing, but would merely indicate two more human beings restored to the anonymity of the earth. Maybe that is the story, the only story. It hurt to think that if she lived out a normal life span, Georgianne would eventually be the odd one of the three buried there, and sometimes she wondered if it wouldn't be better to join them now. Get it over with, accept the last portion of an abrupt fate. But they wouldn't want her like that. She could almost see Sean and Bonnie shaking their heads, saying, No, stay away, live. Georgianne arranged the flowers she had brought and sat for a while on the grass, thinking about all the good days and nights, the years she'd had with Sean and Bonnie, telling herself that in spite of what had happened she had for a long time been very lucky.

  Georgianne sipped the hot drink carefully. Exquisite. The glass held Irish whiskey, a slice of lemon, sugar, cloves, a silver spoon, and water that had just boiled. She wanted to let the liquor take hold of her and make her feel better. But it was like drinking after a funeral-it didn't quite work. She'd been trying, with Bobbie Maddox's help, for several days now. They'd gotten tipsy, they'd even fallen asleep drunk a couple of times, but it still didn't quite work. Nothing did, nothing ever would. Georgianne was beginning to reconcile herself to that. But drinking with a friend was a distraction at least, sometimes fun and occasionally enough to diffuse the pain a little.

  She had concluded all her business in Foxrock that day. She'd kept a few trunks of personal items in storage in Danbury, but everything else that had been in her home on Indian Hill Road was sold and gone. The last of the bills were paid, the papers signed and filed away.

  Georgianne had more money in her checking account than ever before, and much larger sums secure in certificates of deposit. Burt wanted her to see a friend of his about investment planning. Money, money, money-not a cent of which she wanted or knew how to spend. It gave her nothing but a spurious, meaningless freedom.

  Burt and Bobbie, like almost everyone else, had been more than kind. Georgianne stayed with them for five days, taking care of her personal business but mostly just talking, joking, and reminiscing over drinks. It was pleasant enough, and in some ways easier than being with relatives. She, however, grew increasingly aware of a difference. She was an odd person now, a detached wheel rolling about aimlessly.

  Bobbie wanted her to buy a condo in the area, perhaps get her job back at the nursery school or take some courses at Western Connecticut State University in Danbury. Mrs. Slaton had suggested something like that in Tampa, Jack in Chicago. The options were always about the same, only the people and places varied. There was something wrong about it. Georgianne didn't know what, but she didn't like it. Freedom had a way of seeming to narrow down to practically nothing at all. It was true that she had more friends and acquaintances in the Danbury area than anywhere else, but after a few days at the Maddoxes, she'd begun to feel restless again. She didn't know if it was Foxrock, all the painful memories and the new feeling that she didn't, couldn't, belong there any more, or if it was some psychological compulsion to keep moving, but in either case she knew she had to leave.

  "But why?" Bobbie asked, turning on the front burner to boil more water for the next round.

  "I don't know," Georgianne said. "I've just seen my mother and my brothers, and their families, but I feel I have to go see them again. And there are other people and places I have to go. Friends I haven't seen in a while. I have to stay in touch, I have to see them."

  "Whatever happened to that friend of yours?" Bobbie asked. "Oh ... I can't remember his name now."

  "Which one?"

  "The one from California. Good-looking man. He came here with you one night last fall."

  "Oh ... Jeff Lisker."

  "He's in computers or something like that."

  "Yes, that's Jeff."

  "Have you heard from him recently?"

  "No, not in quite a while."

  "He seemed nice."

  "Yeah, Jeffs ... nice."

  "I thought he was showing signs of interest in you," Bobbie persisted. "I mean, as more than just a friend."

  "Maybe he was."

  "Didn't he call you every week for a while there?"

  "Yes, for a while. 'Twice a week."

  "Aha. But nothing came of it?"

  "No," Georgianne said, managing a slight smile. "He wanted to come and see me again, but I ... discouraged him, I guess. At the time, I just couldn't handle anything like that." The smile was gone. "Now, I don't think I'll ever be able to again."

  "Now don't say that, Georgie."

  "I mean it."

  "Listen, that's what you think now," Bobbie said gently. "But sooner or later you're going to begin to feel you need someone. There's nothing wrong with that. It's perfectly natural. Your life is far from over, honey, but you just have to be careful. When the time comes, don't overreact. That's all. It's like after a divorce-so many people fall in love on the rebound, and it turns out to be a huge mistake. You know?"

  "Yes, I know what you're saying." Georgianne didn't like comparing the violent and unnatural deaths of her husband and daughter with something as banal as divorce, but she knew Bobbie meant well. She gave a short pathetic laugh. "It's all so unreal, though. I'm not even ready to take on a one-room apartment, let alone another person."

  Aunt Kitty and Uncle Roy gave Jeff the excuse he thought he needed to get in touch with Georgianne again. He could, of course, have picked up the tele phone and called her anytime, just to say hello and chat, but he had always resisted the temptation to do that. He had to let enough time go by, he kept telling himself; he had to wait. And when he did eventually make contact with Georgianne again, he would have to have a reason, something specific to hang it on. He hadn't spoken to her in months, and somehow that meant it would be wrong to call offhandedly, out of the blue.

  He had talked with his aunt and uncle twice since he'd been east for his father's funeral. Now, in October, they arrived in Los Angeles for a few days of whirlwind sightseeing. They'd decided to spend some of the money from the sale of his father's house, and they'd joined the Ramblin' Rovers, a club that organized tours for groups of retired people. Aunt Kitty and Uncle Roy had already "done" Canada from Nova Scotia to Toronto, and had come to inspect fabled California.

  Their days were well planned, with excursions to Hollywood, Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, the Cu- camonga winery and the Getty Museum. That made it easy for Jeff, who had only to give them a tour of Lisker-Benedictus, show them his condo, and take them out to dinner a couple of evenings.

  "Did you go to school with any of the Slaton kids?" Aunt Kitty asked at one point when they were filling Jeff in on odd bits of Brass Valley news.

  "Sure. I knew the Slatons," Jeff replied. It would never have occurred to him to mention Georgianne to his aunt and uncle, and he was a bit surprised by the question. "Georgianne was in my class. We were good friends. Why?"

  "Georgianne," Uncle Roy said, nodding. "That's the one."

  They told him the whole story of Bonnie's death, which was still regarded as a suicide, and of Sean's murder the year before. The Corcoran double tragedy had been widely reported and gossiped about in Millville, since Georgianne had been a local girl. Jeff acted astonished and saddened, but he learned nothing new.

  He could call Georgianne and honestly expla
in that he had just heard about Bonnie. It was an excuse, a reason, a hook.

  They would have to get the subject of Bonnie's death out of the way sooner or later. Enough time had passed. He would have to find out where she was, and what she was doing now.

  A call to the Corcoran home revealed that the phone number had been reassigned. So the house was sold. Directory assistance advised him that there was no new listing for Georgianne Corcoran (or Slaton) in either Foxrock or Danbury. Therefore, she was out of there. So far, so good.

  Next he called Doris Slaton in Florida. She remembered him, of course, but wasn't very helpful. She hadn't heard from Georgianne in a week or more. At that time her daughter had been visiting friends in Connecticut, and might still be there. Or she could be somewhere else by now, with her brother in Chicago, perhaps. In any event, Mrs. Slaton did expect to hear from her soon and would tell her that Jeff had called. Did he want Georgianne to call him? Yes, please, Jeff told her. Neither of them referred to Sean or Bonnie.

  It would have to do, he decided. He didn't want to take it any further by calling the Maddoxes or Georgianne's brother in Chicago. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked the new situation. He had no doubt that Mrs. Slaton would keep her word and tell Georgianne about his call. It wasn't just an obligation, but something she would want to do. She knew Jeff from the old days and surely she'd want her daughter to talk with an old friend. Especially at a time like this. And Georgianne would have to return his call. That was it. Georgianne was incapable of being so rude as to ignore his call. All Jeff had to do was sit back and wait a little longer, a week, two at most. Georgianne would get in touch with him. And about time, too. Yes, he had done the right thing. It was turning out better than he had hoped.

  A month later, he wasn't so sure. Thanksgiving was only a few days away. Georgianne had to be in Tampa again, to spend the holiday with her mother and brother. Where else could she be? Chicago, with the other brother? Possible, Jeff thought, but unlikely. The weather in Chicago would remind her too much of Connecticut, and Thanksgiving would be hard enough to take without that.

  He hadn't heard a word from her. No call, no message, not even a click on the answering machine connected to his home phone. It didn't seem possible. Jeff didn't like it. It was worse than rude, it was a dismissal of their friendship, of ... everything.

  It didn't make Jeff bitter; it frightened him. What was he supposed to do? Hit the road and track her down? Then what? No, he didn't like it at all. The possibilities seemed to be narrowing to a single dark option. He would hold off as long as possible, because when you acted out of desperation you were no longer in control of things. For the last year and a half, he had followed an elaborate, evolving plan. He didn't always understand it, and at times he thought he was just drifting aimlessly, but at every crucial point the plan had worked, and his instincts had proved correct. It would be a disastrous mistake to rush things now. Patience and perseverance were still the order of the day, and faith. With the right moves at the right time, sooner or later she would fall into his waiting arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  "It's been a great week," Georgianne said happily. "The best week I've had in quite a while. Thanks to you."

  "So stay," Jan said with a bright smile. "Take my word for it, you won't find a better place to live."

  "I'm not arguing. I like what I see."

  And, Georgianne thought, You saved my life. Well, that might be an exaggeration, but there was no denying the fact that she had turned a corner since coming to visit Janice Tillotson. The two of them had been roommates at college in Boston, and had stayed in touch over the years with Christmas cards and the occasional letter or phone call, but they hadn't seen each other in a long time.

  "You've been here-"

  "Eleven years," Jan finished proudly. "And I'm never leaving. I've worked in Boston, Philadelphia, Houston, and ... let's see ... oh, Denver. Denver wasn't bad, but you can have 'em all. This is the place."

  an was a nurse, had a broken marriage behind her and was "decidedly and permanently" single. She lived in her own cozy little ranch house and drove a perky old MG, lovingly cared for, that she was determined would last a million miles or the rest of her life, whichever came first.

  When Georgianne stepped off the shuttle flight at the municipal airport, Jan had been there to hug her, hold her, and brush a few tears away. And from that moment everything started to get better. Jan was positive and full of life, and fifteen years of hospital work hadn't put a dent in her cheerful, optimistic nature. The darkness was squeezed out; it was as if she literally had pulled Georgianne around a corner and into the daylight.

  Sean and Bonnie were mentioned hardly at all, to Georgianne's unexpected relief. It just wasn't necessary. Jan's sympathy and sorrow were communicated without words, and that was enough. For the first time, Georgianne didn't feel she was being treated like some special creature nobody knew what to do with-the bereaved. The years apart meant nothing. She and Jan were two friends together again, happy and comfortable in each other's presence.

  Thanksgiving passed painlessly. Jan had taken the week off, and they'd been busy every waking hour. They even went to a couple of night clubs-something Georgianne wouldn't have dreamed of doing only a week before-not to pick up anyone, but for the simple pleasure of dancing until they were exhausted.

  It was Sunday evening now, and Jan would be back at the hospital in the morning, but she wanted Georgianne to stay on in Santa Barbara.

  "I think I'll rent a car and go for a drive tomorrow," Georgianne said, unfolding a road map and spreading it out on the coffee table.

  "Use mine," Jan said. "You can drop me off at work and then pick me up in the afternoon. Where are you thinking of going?"

  "Let's see . . ."

  "L.A. is about ninety miles from here."

  "And here's Santa Susana." Georgianne put her finger on the spot and gauged the distance from Santa Barbara. "That's only about sixty miles."

  "What's in Santa Susana?"

  "Oh, just a guy I've known on and off since high school. Mostly off. But as long as I'm this close, I'd like to surprise him. He did it to me once...."

  Callie Shaw knocked once and entered Jeffs office, closing the door behind her. He glanced up from a desk covered with charts, print-outs, and other papers.

  "Someone to see you."

  "Who?"

  "I don't know." Callie shrugged, but she had a sly smile on her face. "She just said, 'Mr. Lisker will see me,' and she wouldn't give her name. She's very attractive. You ought to take a look."

  "Oh?"

  "I don't think she's selling anything," Callie added. "I got the impression she does know you."

  "Well ... okay."

  Jeffs mind raced as he got up from his chair and crossed the room. He'd had a recurring paranoid fantasy that Diane and Knobs would track him down one day and present some outrageous blackmail demand, but he knew that really didn't make much sense. Who else could it be? A stray body from Triffids? But he hadn't been there in months.

  Georgianne, a broad grin on her face, began to laugh merrily because Jeff looked so shocked. His cheeks turned pale, then red, and he stood frozen, as if he didn't know what to do.

  Finally, he recovered his composure, and in the next few minutes he and Georgianne hugged each other, laughing and talking. Jeff introduced her to Callie, and then to Ted, whom he called in from the adjacent suite. He ordered some coffee and took Georgianne into his office.

  He had been startled, he told himself, but not really surprised. Hadn't he always believed that Georgianne would come to him sooner or later? A year and a half of hard work and desperate risks had finally paid off. The only reason he'd been startled was that he hadn't expected it to happen this particular morning. But now that it had, he felt completely vindicated. It was as if twenty-one years had been erased, just like that, and he had achieved a new beginning in his life.

  As soon as they were alone, Jeff put his arms around
Georgianne and said, "I've been so worried about you. I called your house, your mother. You see, my aunt and uncle were here not too long ago, and they told me about Bonnie."

  Georgianne's face tightened somewhat but she maintained her smile. 'I should have called you," she said. "c'hat's twice, isn't it?"

  "Georgianne, I'm so sorry ..."

  "Thanks, Jeff. It was ... terrible. But I'm better now, I really am." She spoke like someone who had taught herself how to acknowledge an unbearable fact without actually thinking about it. "Anyway, here I am, as you can see."

  That's it? Bonnie disposed of in ten seconds? Jeff could hardly believe his luck.

  "Yes, you are," he said happily. 'And about time, too. I can't tell you how delighted I am....'

  And on, and on. Only one thing bothered him. Georgianne looked different. Still attractive, of course, as Callie had noticed. But her face did seem-older.

  It was very impressive," Georgianne said. "It's not really huge, not like a big factory, but it's very impressive. Everything about it is ultramodern and elegant. Jeff's office is beautiful. It's not flashy, but, like the rest of the place, it gives you a feeling of money and power. I've never actually been in that kind of environment before. He has a lovely walnut desk with brushed brass trim, and there's a sitting area with furniture you just sink into, and a great view of the mountains-the canyon, I guess. Anyhow, it was all like walking through the pages of a rich magazine."

  "And this guy-Jeff-he owns the company?"

  "Half of it. I met his partner."

  'Sounds like your friend is a California millionaire," Jan said. 'One of those high-tech success stories."