Rapture

"Do you want anything?" she asked. "If you're hungry..."

Jeff shook his head. "No thanks. Tomorrow I have to fly back to California and my job. So right now all I want is to sit here and get quietly drunk with you."

"I haven't been drunk in ages." Georgianne smiled at the thought, but then became very still. A moment later she asked, "What was your wife like, Jeff?"

"I don't remember," he answered. Her question didn't surprise him, but seemed a natural expression of her growing interest in his life. "I know that sounds strange," he went on, "but I can remember people I haven't seen in twenty years better than I can Audrey. She was just a brief period in my life that's now a blank spot, more or less."

"Oh, but you know what she looked like."

"Well, yeah, I guess," he said. "Her hair was dirty blond, about medium length, like yours. After we got married, she went from being the right weight for her build to being fashionably skinny. And she cut her hair short, so that she looked more like a boy. Maybe that was part of the problem."

"Did she remarry?"

"Yes, thank God." He laughed. "Saved me a lot of money. Best thing she ever did for me."

"But you never did. Marry again."

A couple of small statements, like coins clicking faintly in an empty pocket.

"No," Jeff replied. She seemed to be waiting for more, but he had anticipated this question many times. He couldn't be flip. It was important. Yet he still didn't have a good answer. "I just buried myself in my work, and it was probably the right thing to do at the time. But I'm getting away from that now. I can see that I let work become a kind of mania for me, and I don't want to live that way now. I let it go on for far too long. There are more important things in life." Then, softly, "I would, you know. Marry again. If it was right ..."

"You should," Georgianne said distantly. She had been listening to him and taking in his words, but she was lost in her own thoughts as well. He'd been through a bad marriage; he was entitled to a good one, and he could still look and hope for it. But she'd had a good marriage already, a very good one, and now she thought she had no right to hope for anything.

Jeff took their glasses into the kitchen for refilling. He made Georgianne's drink a little stronger, his own weaker. She wasn't yet thinking in terms of a possible relationship between the two of them-he understood that. And he knew it wasn't something he could rush. But he felt disconcerted. He thought about all the time and effort and energy he had expended, the months of planning and work, the extraordinary risks he had taken-all culminating in these two weeks alone with her. Now he was about to return to California, a separation that would only make things harder. At the very least, he had to make sure he had planted the idea in her mind, even if he had to jolt her a little bit to do so. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left here thinking he'd been too hesitant and fearful again.

When he returned to the living room, he found Georgianne looking more cheerful. She was standing, smiling at him, and she held something behind her back.

"Uh ... would you just sit down there, please," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

He set their drinks on the coasters on the coffee table, and then took his place on the couch.

"This is for you," she said. She handed him a large, framed pen-and-ink sketch. As he took it and looked at it, she came around to sit beside him.

"It's-beautiful." His throat was constricted with emotion. "Thank you. I love it."

It was a drawing of an old country stone wall. There were weeds and field grass along the foot of it, some brambles curling over the top at one side, a few stones missing or fallen off, but the wall itself was the overwhelming heart of the picture, an immense and powerful presence.

"You told me you especially liked the wall in the other sketch I gave you...."

"Yes, I did." He gasped. "But this is so much better. It's fantastic ... the amount of detail." He turned to her. "Thank you. Very much. This will go up as soon as I get back. God, I love it."

"It's like you," she said. "Solid and strong."

He kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand while he continued to admire the drawing. Although he had asked for another sketch, he hadn't expected anything like this, and he was deeply moved.

"I've got a carton for it," Georgianne said. "So you can carry it easily on the plane."

He set the picture on the armchair, on the other side of the coffee table, and then sat down next to her again.

"It's ... fantastic."

"Do you really like it?"

"I sure do. Can't you tell?"

"Good, I'm glad." She smiled with pleasure. "I don't know what I'd have done if you didn't." She laughed, but then her face became serious. "You've been so kind and good to me these last two weeks, Jeff ... I just want to tell you how grateful I am to you."

"I've enjoyed every minute of it."