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"I thought so," Jacky said. She was surprisingly sympathetic for someone who had been throwing wine gla.s.ses at him the last time he'd seen her.
"How's _your_ love life?"
"Improving," Jacky said. "I found a real nice guy. He works on Capitol Hill, actually."
"I'm glad," Oliver said. "You look mellower."
"I've been working my way through some of this s.e.xual stuff," she said.
"I'm not so different. I mean--I still like my equipment." Oliver put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "But it's not _so_ important. There are other kinds of bonds." She paused. "I think maybe you have some work to do in that area. But--leave it in the bedroom, Oliver." They walked on.
"I'm trying," he said.
"I think you have a little dom in you," Jacky said. Oliver realized that he was having a talk that actually meant something. He filled with grat.i.tude.
"I love you," he said. "I can't live with you, but I love you." They reached her car.
"Thank you," she said. "That's sweet." She got in the car, started it, and rolled down her window. Oliver put both hands on the window and leaned over. "Be true," she said. "That's the main thing." He straightened.
"Take care," he said. He didn't kiss her; his mind was going too fast.
Be true? To what? He fought for understanding.
"Bye, Oliver," she said. She backed out and continued backwards down the driveway at a good clip. Coordinated, he conceded.
"Bye, Jacky," he said, waving as she disappeared around the corner. The rain came a little harder. Drops washed down his face like tears. No wonder things can grow, he thought. The rain forgives them.
18.
Bogdolf Eric delivered the puppy two days later while Oliver was at work. Emma loved her and vice versa. As soon as Bogdolf's presence faded, Oliver loved her too. They tried "Jesse" for a name, then "Jesse Woofwoof." "Woof" was what stuck. She was good--natured and full of energy, forever trying to get Verdi to play. Verdi would tolerate her briefly and then swipe her in the nose. Woof would yelp and jump back, feelings hurt. Verdi would leap to a windowsill and ignore her.
Oliver stayed away from Suzanne, although he badly wanted to talk to her. He could have gotten out of the hospital Christmas party if he had made an effort. He didn't.
When the day of the party came, Jennifer was happy to stay home with Emma, Woof, and Verdi. Oliver put on a warm jacket and drove to the hospital where he pa.s.sed a slow two hours exchanging glances with Suzanne. Various employees made speeches, and her uncle presented awards. Dan's daughters were a hit playing a fiddle and accordion medley of dance tunes and Christmas carols. Suzanne was wearing a caramel-colored cashmere sweater over a tight red skirt. She made an effort to be cheerful, but she seemed tense. Without either of them making an obvious effort, they moved next to each other.
"I've got to talk to you," he said quietly.
"Not here," she said.
"O.K."
A minute later she turned toward him and said, "Follow me when I leave." Her lips barely moved. He nodded.
When the party ended, she exited the parking lot, turned right, and drove slowly until he came up behind her. She led him seven or eight miles away from the coast and into the country before turning into a narrow driveway. They climbed between pines to the top of a short rise where a small house faced away from the driveway. Suzanne parked in the carport and got out as Oliver stopped. She waved for him to follow her and walked around to the front of the house. A screened porch looked out on a two acre field, a tangle of browns and yellows in the weak December sun. A rectangle of field near the porch had been made into a lawn. A flower border separated the lawn from the field.
"Isn't this pretty," Oliver said.
"I guess it'd be easier to live in a condo," she said, "but I like it out here." The way she said "I" and "out here" was instantly familiar to Oliver. She was comfortable with being alone, in the company of the trees and the field. A chickadee flitted to a large bird feeder and flew back toward the woods. The quiet hammered in Oliver's ears. He took a deep breath. Suzanne was looking at him in a concerned way. She was concerned about _him_, he realized--not their future, not their work, not their child--him.
His knees began to shake. She felt it and moved closer. "I need to sit down," he said. Suzanne looked at the porch. Oliver went to his knees on the hard ground. She bent over and put a hand on his shoulder.
"I can fix us some tea," she said. Oliver closed his hand on her wrist and pulled her slowly to the ground beside him. She rolled gracefully to her back, her eyes wide open on his. Her other hand was on his arm, lightly holding him to her. Time slowed.
He brought his mouth down on hers. She softened and opened. He pressed harder, flattening her lips against her teeth. He could feel the ground through her head as he rocked in each direction. Her hand went to the back of his head, pulling him closer. Oliver's mind began to spin from not breathing. He started to pull away. Suzanne's head came up with his. She made a pleading sound and drew him back to the ground. His hand went to her hip. Heat spread across his upper chest and into his arms. He put one hand on each side of her head and held her down as he raised his body and gasped for air.
Suzanne's eyes were closed. She was breathing rapidly through her mouth. Oliver got to his knees, took off his jacket, and spread it next to her. She did not resist as he lifted her hips and moved her onto the jacket. He lay next to her and put the fingers of one hand across her mouth. She kissed his fingers. He pushed up her skirt and reached between her legs with his other hand. Her knees fell open, and her mouth opened under his fingers. She tilted her pelvis, pushed against his hand, and helped him to remove her warm underwear.
He took off his pants and put his fingers back on her mouth as he lowered himself over her. As he slid into her, she took the heel of his hand between her teeth. When he withdrew, she bit harder. He came in deeper, and she lifted against him. Her arms were flung out wide, palms up. He was cradled in her hips. With each stroke, he felt the ground beneath her, felt closer and closer to home. Suzanne strained up, jerked twice convulsively, and sent a clear cry across the field. She wrapped him with both arms and urged him, helped him through the door.
He fell headfirst, grateful, filling her as he fell, filling her for good and all.
He lay collapsed and quiet while his breathing straightened out.
Suzanne giggled. "What?" he mumbled.
"I'm hot on top and getting cold below," she said.
He pictured them from above. "Ummm," he said, "spy satellites . . ."
"It's your a.s.s going to be saved for intelligence," Suzanne said.
Oliver raised himself from her. "Enough to make a man put his pants on."
"I've got a shower big enough for two," she said.
Minutes later, they were trading places under a stream of hot water, soaping each other and rinsing off bits of gra.s.s and dirt. "Great b.r.e.a.s.t.s," Oliver said, rubbing each one respectfully.
"The Lord was in a good mood," she said, pus.h.i.+ng against him.
"Oh, oh," Oliver remembered. "What about babies?"
"I'm on the pill," she said. "Have been ever since Donny."
"Donny?"
"He's the one I ran away with."
"Oh. Good about the pill."
"I wouldn't mess you up," she said. "Or me, either. I could never have an abortion. How about that tea?"
"Yes," Oliver said.
"You're a much better f.u.c.k than Donny," she said. Oliver was embarra.s.sed and pleased. "Well look at you blus.h.!.+ Come on, Lover--here's a clean towel."
He dried himself and dressed. As he waited for tea, he thought about going home. Impossible. "We're in big trouble," he said.
"I knew that the first time I saw you," she said. "If my uncle finds out, I'm a goner. Milk and honey?"