Rapture

"Better, I think. I'm not sure, but I feel better."

"Great. You do sound better." A little perkier, a little brighter. He wanted to reinforce and enhance any positive note with Georgianne. Is it too late to take you out for a drink?" he asked, thinking surely it wasn't, not at nine o'clock on a Friday night.

But Georgianne said, "Oh, thanks, Jeff, but could we make it tomorrow?"

"Well . . ." Unwilling to concede.

"I've had a long day."

She said it as an explanation rather than an excuse, but Jeff was not pleased. A longer day than his? He had come 2,800 miles and three time zones-was it too much to ask that she go out for a nightcap with him?

"Okay. No problem," he said unhappily.

"Thanks. I hope you don't mind. I just want to have a cup of tea and go to bed."

"That's okay," he repeated. "I understand. But I hope you can spend a few minutes on the phone." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice.

"Sure," Georgianne replied. "How long are you here for?"

"Two weeks," he said, "and it's all vacation. I don't have any business to do this time."

"That's terrific, Jeff. You know, when you were here the last time, in June-"

"May," he corrected instantly.

"May, yeah. Well, you did look tired then. A vacation is probably the best thing for you!"

"So everybody at work kept telling me." Jeff laughed. "How about lunch tomorrow?"

"That'd be nice," Georgianne said. "Do you want to come here? I can make something."

"No. Let me take you out. You don't want to sit around the house. We'll go for a drive and find a restaurant." .

"If you want. That would be lovely."

Jeff was pleased. He didn't want to rush in like an eager puppy. But at the same time, her offer to prepare lunch for him was a good sign. Evidently she had no hang-up about entertaining a single man alone in her home. Sean's ghost might haunt the Gorge, but not the house on Indian Hill Road. The possibility of getting her away for a few days looked better already.

The sight of Georgianne the next morning made a deep impression on Jeff. Her beauty was unchanged. He had expected some mark of trauma in her appearance-newly formed lines, a surrender in the flesh or a loss of tone in the skin. It would be natural, and he had prepared himself for it, but Georgianne had weathered the storm and come out looking as she had in May. Jeff felt a new rush of warmth and love for this woman. He kissed her on the cheek, then held her close and patted her back affectionately.

They drove north from Foxrock, into the countryside, making idle conversation. Bonnie liked it at Harvard and was working hard. Jeff had just missed the autumn colors at their best. The Union Carbide deal had fizzled, but he didn't mind; they had enough to do with Star Wars. He did his best to keep the chatter going, certain that they would settle into a rhythm and that more substantial talk would come later, over lunch and drinks. But already he had noticed what he took to be new strength and determination in Georgianne's eyes. She looked good, remarkably good. He especially liked her plaid skirt, white sweater, and tweed jacket. Most of the leaves had fallen, but Georgianne was a glorious October vision.

They stopped in New Milford and spent some time walking around looking at window displays before going into a restaurant just off the green. They drank Bloody Marys while waiting for lunch to be served.

"I am better," Georgianne declared, and Jeff thought her expression was nothing less than fierce. He was awed and thrilled, and he felt he was seeing for the first time a glimpse of the woman he had set free. "Bonnie and I sort of pulled each other through. I couldn't have managed it by myself. It was hard again when she went off to school, and I almost had-I don't know-a relapse, I guess. But then I thought, God, she's only seventeen, she's lost her father, she's coping somehow, she's so brave, and she's gone away alone. And all that shamed me out of the black mood I was in."

"That's good," Jeff said. "No matter what, you have to pick yourself up sooner or later, and carry on. But I still find it hard to fathom what happened. If you don't want to-"

"No, it's all right. I can talk about it-now."

"Did the police ever ... ?"

Georgianne shook her head. "No. They don't seem to have accomplished much at all." Her face was a clash of sadness and cold anger. She told him about the supposed drug aspect of the case and, apparently referring to the triangular pattern of bullet holes, said that there were other signs the police took to indicate that Sean had criminal connections. "But it's not true," Georgianne said bitterly. "I don't care how it looked, I know that Sean hated drugs and would never, ever, have anything to do with them."

"Of course not," Jeff said.

"I lived with him long enough to know him, and to know that I'm not just kidding myself."

"I'm sure you're right."