Rapture

"Hi, how are you?" Jeff said.

"Nice to meet you." Jan stepped forward and shook Jeff's hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

When they looked at each other, both Jan and Jeff experienced a sudden slight but distinct chill.

"Thanks for bringing Georgianne," he said politely. "I've been trying for a long time to get her to come out to California."

"Can I sit in your car?" Jan asked. "I've never seen a car this beautiful before. I've never even been close to anything like this."

"Be my guest."

"Nice shade of black," Jan said as she got into the driver's seat.

"Graphite," Jeff corrected.

"I'm glad you didn't get red," Georgianne said. "That would have been too much."

Jeff nodded, with a smile.

"It's ... dazzling," Jan said. "Would you mind if I asked you what-"

"Sixty thousand." Jeff beamed. "The stereo system runs about three thousand by itself."

The numbers registered, but meant nothing. Jan was looking at the interior of the car, but her mind was elsewhere. She tried to make sense of the strange feeling of unease that had come over her. It stayed with her all the way back to Santa Barbara, where she still didn't know what to make of him.

He's a different person, Georgianne thought. But maybe he isn't-more likely it's just that I'm seeing him for the first time as he is on his home ground. She was interested, and curious.

At the moment, she was also scared. They were out for a drive, and Jeff was pushing the Ferrari too fast, she thought. It was like being strapped in the nose of a rocket. But he was obviously enjoying himself, so she said nothing. Oddly, it occurred to her that to feel even a tiny shiver of fear had to be a healthy sign. It was easy, in a way, to sit in Jan's kitchen and talk about how much of you had died, and it wasn't untrue, but it took only a little adrenaline in the bloodstream to remind you that you were still alive and wanted to stay that way.

Jeff sped down Topanga Canyon Boulevard. Just south of Woodland Hills, he turned onto a side road. The paving soon gave way to dirt and packed gravel. He was forced to drive a little slower, but the Ferrari spewed pebbles and a trail of dust in its wake.

"Did you ever hear of Mulholland Drive?"

"No," Georgianne replied.

"Well, this is it," Jeff said. "It's kind of famous in L.A."

"Why?" Georgianne looked around as they climbed up into the hills. There were few houses to be seen, and the landscape was unremarkable. "It just looks like a back road."

"Oh, movie stars have made love up here, or so they say. And a few murders have been committed. That kind of thing. It is just a back road, but it's also a bit of L.A. history."

When they reached high ground, Jeff pulled over and stopped the car. Georgianne was surprised to find that she was trembling. Her legs were shaky beneath her when they got out to look at the view, which was partially obscured by a thin haze. Jeff stretched his arm and pointed.

"Over there is Santa Susana, where we just came from," he said. "And then you have the San Fernando Valley, which is referred to simply as the Valley." His arm continued to swing. "That way is Beverly Hills, Hollywood, downtown L.A. And, behind us, Santa Monica, the Pacific, and on up to Malibu, although you can't see them from here."

There was, in fact, very little to be seen by way of distinguishing features. Georgianne spotted a bird on the road.

"Jeff, is that a roadrunner?"

"What? Oh, so it is. Now you know you're here."

The bird darted out of sight.

"Look," he said a moment later. He was pointing to the north and west again.

"What?"

"See those two grayish patches in the sky? They almost get lost in the haze, but you can just make them out."

"Oh. Yeah." Georgianne wasn't at all sure that the smudges she had picked out in the distance were the ones Jeff was talking about.

"That's smoke," he told her, "from the wildfires."

At once the gray-black blots seemed larger and more disturbing. But people out here accept the fires as a fact of life, Georgianne reminded herself. Like blizzards in New England.

"It's hard to believe that people go out and start some of those fires."

"They do, though," Jeff said.

Two things happened that weekend, so minor they could hardly be called incidents, that stayed with Georgianne and grew in her mind during the days and nights that followed.

The rough ride on Friday afternoon had covered a lot of ground. In addition to Mulholland Drive, Jeff pushed the Ferrari over Saddle Peak Road from Topanga Canyon to Malibu Canyon. Then he drove north on the coast road past Point Dume, really accelerating for a few miles, until he swung onto a secondary road that took them back to Santa Susana by way of Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley. l'wice they spotted fires in the distance, and the spreading pall of smoke was always visible.