Truths of the Heart (39 page)

Rachelle said, “I know I know, but life is that way.”

She filled a second bowl food, topped off his water, and refreshed his
litter box.

After showering, blow-drying her hair just enough so the natural curl
hung slightly wet, she packed a small overnight bag, dressed in white Bermuda
shorts, green M.S.U. polo shirt and, sans socks, slipped on her Adidas running
shoes.

Downstairs, T.S. sitting at the door to the garage, she said, “I'll
only be gone two nights, be back Saturday, so behave yourself, you have the run
of the house.”

She checked to be sure the answering machine was on. “You be good and don't
answer the phone.”

He rubbed past her legs as if he approved.

Bimini sun glasses in place, she drove to Seth's apartment repeating to
herself, in various tones and accents:
Do you have any idea what you are
doing? I think so and I don't feel guilty.

And then aloud, “Do you have any idea what you are doing? I think so
and I don't feel guilty.”

Arrived five minutes early, 11:25 A.M., she turned on Allen Street ad pulled
to the curb beside Toni's Deli. She turned the engine off and, as she opened
her door to get out, Seth stepping from the stairwell. Touting a small khaki duffle
bag, he wore white painter pants, a purple T-shirt, and brown loafers.

Getting in the car, he said, “You're out of character.”

“Why?”

“Early.”

“Must be more to this than meets the eye.” She reached and squeezed his
hand, “I missed you.”

Driving north on Michigan Route 27—warm sunshine, clear sky, windless day,
temperature seventy on its way to a predicted seventy eight—fragrant air gushed
through the open windows.

Rachelle, dazed at how right this felt, glanced in the view mirror and thought
she saw, three vehicles back, a familiar black sports car. It pulled in behind
a U.P.S. truck and stayed there.

Glancing back several times, miles passed and, dismissing it, she
reached and put her right hand on Seth's thigh. He put his hand on top of hers.
Amid squeezes they talked in spurts like this couldn't be real.

Seth said, “This cannot be allowed without, at some point, punishment.”

“Stop that.”

Fifteen minutes from Houghton Lake, Rachelle exited the Interstate and pulled
into a Convenience Mart. While Seth filled the car with gas, she went inside
and bought milk, bread, eggs, lunch meat, cheese, lettuce, a rotisserie roasted
chicken, and, two liters of white merlot. No ginger beer, she picked up a
twelve pack of Canada Dry ginger ale.

Arriving at the Houghton cottage just after 3:30, Rachelle drove down
the packed gravel drive. After winding along through the tall pines and thick
undergrowth, at the end of the drive, she stopped and said, “We're here.”

Seth scanned the cottage, view of Houghton Lake and the sail boat tied
to the dock.

She said, “You like it?”

“Are you rich?”

“Right.”

Getting out of the car, Rachelle carried the groceries, Seth the
luggage, and followed her to the cottage.

She opened the screen and unlocked the back door. Inside, Rachelle opened
windows and began unpacking groceries.

Seth helped and, when finished, she gave a quick tour of the cottage ending
up in the bedroom. Rachelle suggested they change into swimsuits and go tour
Esther
II
.

Unable to keep their hands off each other, after a half-hour detour of
love making, swimsuits on—light-blue boxers for Seth, Rachel a white one
piece—he said, “You are stunning.”

“Bosh.”

Outside they walked down to the dock where
Esther II
bobbed
placidly on the water.

Rachelle said, “Twenty-six foot sloop. Eight foot beam. My father named
her for my mother.”

“You can sail her?”

“Yep, and with a mate, it's even easier.”

 
They boarded and Seth got a
topside tour then she opened the mahogany door that led below. They squeezed
down four steps and were in the cozy cabin. Porthole and galley to the right,
porthole and dinette to left, the head was forward. Beyond that was a berth
with an overhead hatch. The air stale, Rachelle knelt on the berth and opened
the hatch. Seth embraced her from behind. She turned, lay back on the pillow
and said, “I can’t get enough of you.”

****

An hour later, after a quick swim, back at the cottage, Rachelle tossed
a salad and poured herself a glass of wine. Seth drank ginger ale and, with
fingers, they ate roast chicken.

Finished eating, they went to the sunroom. She sipping wine, he ginger ale,
sun about to set, Rachelle was not surprised by her cell phone’s chime coming
from the kitchen.

Seth stood, “I'll get it.”

She grabbed his arm. “Are you insane?”

She went to the kitchen and answered: “Hello... oh hi Carl, how did it go
… that's too bad … I told you, I had that seminar in Ann Arbor … yes, you still
going to Spain … good … nothing … Sheraton, but save time, just call the cell
phone … yes … in my room … doing some reading ... nice ... good ... okay ... bye
... what ... oh good ... okay ... bye ... what ... oh, me too.”

She pressed off and paused,
Did I say Marriot or Sheraton?
She
sighed, he was drunk anyway.

Seth, standing in the doorway, said, “You do that pretty good.”

“Until I met you, I never knew this person, and just in case....” she
turned the cell phone off.

Seth: “Let's go outside.” He took her hand and they walked to the shore
and looked out across the Lake. Warm yellows and soft red streaked the sky.

Contemplating the moment, she asked, “Should I be feeling guilty?”

“About what?”

“Lying, this, us, being here.”

“Do you?”

“No, and that's what concerns me.”

“After the Red Sea closed on the Egyptian army, killing all, do you
think Moses felt guilty?”

“Oh my, a Biblical scholar.”

They watched the sun set.

In bed, just after midnight, Rachelle awoke, thought she saw a shadow
at

the window.

Seth awakened by her movement, said, “What?”

“Nothing, I thought … nothing.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Friday morning, temps predicted to be in the upper seventies, after
coffee and bagels, Rachelle and Seth put on their swim suits.

While Rachelle took a moment to prepare a lunch basket, Seth waited on the
walkway that led down to the dock. He shielded his eyes from the morning sun
and watched a honey bee work a flower.

Simple is elegant,
he
thought, then his dark side took over,
this time will

end.

Rachelle, radiant, carrying a small wicker basket, came from the back

porch. She wore a
light yellow shirt over her swim suit.

Seth: “You are beautiful.”

“Bosh.”

Cloudless day, brilliant sun, sky cerulean blue, they boarded
Esther
II
. Rachelle gave orders to novice sailor Seth, and in minutes they were
sailing Houghton Lake.

Around noon, near the middle of the lake, they dropped anchor and she said,
“How about some lunch?”

In the galley, she opened the lunch basket and they ate ham and cheese sandwiches.

After lunch they went top side. The water lapped peacefully against the
hull. Distant sounds from the shore were tiny echoes. Rachelle spread towels on
the forward bow. After applying sun screen to each other, Rachelle lay on her
back. Seth settled on his stomach. She closed her eyes against the sun. Seth
looked out over the bow and noticed a small speeding power boat abruptly stop
some fifty yards away from
Esther II's
bow.

Basking, they talked about art—modern, classical, her father's work. Then
the conversation went to writing. They had not yet gotten to Seth’s manuscript.

“Wonder why?” He said.

She poked him in the ribs, “I can't imagine.”

Looking out across the bow, Seth shielded his eyes and noticed the same
power boat he had seen before, dead in the water, someone near the stern. “That
boat has been there for a half hour.”

“Fishing, they go for walleye, rock bass, perch, you name it.” She kissed
his arm. “Did you want to fish?”

“For you.”

She turned on her side and looked at him. “When I first saw you, what, nearly
a year ago, I didn't realize it fully but I knew. Then at the Simone party,
after I took you home, when I left, I knew my life with Carl was like a tree
that dies in the middle of summer and there was I among all the green trees.”

“You should write a book.”

She said, “Then there was that first night we made love … I can't
believe you did that, in the open like that.”

“Me?”

She touched his chest, “I feel this feeling I have for you will be with
me, if there is such a thing, forever.”

“You really should write that book.”

She stood, “Let's go for a swim,” and dove in.

After swimming they sailed back to the cottage, docked, showered together
and pulled on simple things—shorts, T-shirts—and shared cold chicken for
dinner.

The sun setting, streaks of crimson red across the sky, they walked to
Esther
II
, and sat on the stern.

She said, “Front row seats for the celestial show.”

His arm around her shoulders, watching the sky become a backdrop of purple,
Rachelle stood, dropped her shorts and pulled off her top. “Let's go for a
swim.”

“You are amazing.”

She slid into the water.

Seth stripped and joined her.

Out of the water on
Esther II
's deck, Seth took the towel she
was wiping herself with and patted her dry.

Tugging gently at his hair, “Seth,” she laid him down and was over him.
They and
Esther II
pulsed gently with the lake.

After some time, the night having turned very still and black, off to
the west flashes of lightning revealed ominous cumulus clouds. In the distance muted
thunder followed.

He said, “Go away with me.”

“In time.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“We can't hide this Rachelle. They will not allow it.”

“Who they?”

Lightning streaked the sky above and thunder rumbled across the water.

Rachelle said, “Oh
my, you've awakened Zeus. We better go in.”

She wrapped a towel around herself, grabbed her clothes, jumped to the dock
and ran to the cottage.

Seth followed.

Inside they showered, dried off, and, the night warm and humid, sat
naked on the sunroom sofa. Windows open, a light rain began to pelt the roof.

Seth said again, “Go away with me.”

“In time.”

“You said that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The Senate hearing a bust, Carl summoned back for a second and third round
of testimony on Thursday and Friday, he cancelled his planned trip to Spain.

He returned to Detroit late Friday night on a red eye flight. Arriving
at 3:30 A.M., he thought about driving to East Lansing then, smashed from a
half dozen rum and Cokes, remembered Rachelle was in Ann Arbor, thought about
surprising her at the Sheraton but he was exhausted.

At his apartment, he entered her cell phone number. No answer. He
called the Ann Arbor Sheraton, no Rachelle checked in.
Had she said the Sheraton
or … piss on it.
He dialed her cell phone again. No answer. He fixed
himself a drink and fell asleep on the sofa.

Gray morning light through the window, a loud clap of thunder awoke Carl.
He checked the time, 9:30 A.M. He undressed, showered, shaved and went out for
breakfast at Mort's dinner, a block away.

Returning to his apartment building just after 10:30, he was greeted by
the security guard: “Mr. Carl.”

“Right.”

The guard pointed, “They's someone waiting in the lounge area to see you.”

Carl looked. A redhead woman sat in a maroon chair holding a camcorder.

He said, “Don't know her.”

“Says her name is Laura, she from Lansing.”

Carl stepped to where she sat, “Guard says you wanted to see me.”

Laura, holding out the camcorder, “Sure do, have some video to show
you, ever been to Houghton Lake?”