inquired.
“No. It’s real, as real as you are,” Jack said, “and it kind of blows me away, like you do.” Jack shifted his gaze from the lake to the sky and back. “It’s starting,” he said.
“What is?”
“The show, look.”
With light playing over the field and lake, first illuminating, then muting both, a magnificent display occurred. All in an instant the wide field flamed a burning red and then the flame diminished to a ruddy glow. The blue lake sparkled and shined, then darkened, subdued to navy in the shade. Jack had been here before and knew the light and how it changed and how the colors did. He pulled the jeep to the side of the road and stopped. For several minutes the entire scene played out repeatedly, as the light came and went, shined and died. It was like watching a magical stage from perfect seats where not a nuance could be missed and the stage genius operating the lights, with utmost dexterity and keenly aware of his guests attention, did not fail to put on his best show. There was such ineffable magic going on in such a golden silence. And through it all, Veronica, with Jack beside her, felt a child’s sense of wonder. Never had she felt so immediately attracted to someone and not nervous about it, but joyous.
“This is amazing,” she said.
“If you get too close it’s not the same. You have to know how to look at it,” Jack said, “and it’s the same with school. It’s probably the same with everything. You just have to know how to look at it.”
Veronica thought about everything they’d seen: the ride out, the rolling country road and the quiet, beautiful, hills. She thought about campus, subdued by distance and mood now. She thought about seeing things with Jack. She looked at Jack and couldn’t stop looking.
In the afternoon’s falling light he glowed intermittently-like a flickering candle. His tousled hair was burnished gold, his bright blue eyes warm and clear with kindness and attention. His eyes were the eyes of someone who had just given a special gift and couldn’t help being a little delighted. Delightful is how she saw him. There is magic in the world. That is what she knew. He proved it. There was never any rush. It all came naturally after that. Two hands, warm together.
Once they had met, their life together felt as if it were lived outside of time with the only urgency their love. Their seasons were seasons of affection and they followed an orbit that had them revolving around each other.
But now, at the hour of their departure to Taylor Island, an alien quality emerged, a tension hitherto unknown. It was as if Time had caught up to them and they heard at last the inevitable tick tock of its breath.
Veronica had readied herself according to Jack’s desire and met him outside her apartment. Jack’s reassuring smile put her more at ease and he loaded her bags into the jeep. Then he got behind the wheel and Veronica took the passenger seat.
“I feel like we’re escaping from something,” she said with a look of still unsatisfied curiosity. Jack squeezed her hand in his.
“Not escaping, embarking,” he answered, aglow with anticipation. “Other worlds than this await us.”
“Do they?” Veronica worried.
5
Jack and Veronica stayed the night in Boston, and took a bus to Cape Cod at an ungodly hour to make the earliest ferry to Taylor Island.
The prow of the boat cut a V-shaped wake through the smooth water heading toward Taylor Island. It would get into Chimera harbor at 7:15 where Uncle Browne would meet them. Taylor Island had two main towns, one at either end. Chimera on the Northwest side and Cythere, fifteen miles away, on the Southeast end of the Island. Jack’s aunt and uncle lived in Cythere.
It was a pleasant morning, not as chilly as usual coming across the sound, so Jack took off his parka and placed it on a white steel bench next to Veronica. They were up top in the open air. Veronica sat, busily trying to push her camera back into her over-stuffed backpack. Jack stood at the rail, watching as the boat glided over the water, searching ahead for the outline of Taylor Island. He wore a long sleeved white linen shirt, tan khaki pants and penny loafers. As the sun rose, it made his hair shine reddish gold. His clear blue eyes eagerly looked out toward the island.
With the commotion Veronica made, Jack turned to watch as she wrestled with the back pack, determined by sheer force of will to get everything into it. Amused, Jack commented, “V, no sense stuffing the camera back in, you’ll just be taking it out again in a minute.”
Veronica hesitated, not sure whether to put the camera in the bag or use it at that moment to snap a photo. She scanned the view before her.
“You said it’s lovely here, and it is,” she commented, the camera now raised and ready to shoot.
“I said lovely? That sounds like your word. I said it’s cool here,” Jack responded, eyeing Veronica. She wore a light silk rainbow scarf to keep her neck warm, and her chestnut hair cascaded around her shoulders and over the top of her iris-blue blouse. She had on thick, black, sunglasses Jack had bought for her. She could have been an Arabian princess, and Jack loved looking at her. “Veronica,” he said, “you look great this morning. Maybe we can get someone to take our photo.”
A young ship’s assistant passed by and Jack asked him to take their picture. Standing against the railing of the boat, with the sun rising and the island coming into view behind them, and with the calm, aquamarine water in the background, they looked splendid.
In a few moments the ferry horn sounded and the ferry slowed as it came into the channel to dock. The captain swung the boat around to back it into its slip and that gave Jack and Veronica time to get their things together. Veronica scudded about, picking up her things, looking around for anything she might have left behind, making a small uproar by her anxious movements. She started putting the camera away again but stopped when she noticed Jack watching her. He was just about to laugh.
“What?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”
“You, you seem altogether discombobulated.”
“Thanks a lot,” Veronica grinned, “guess I’m nervous about meeting your aunt and uncle. Do you think they’ll like me?” she asked beseechingly, at the same time abandoning attempts to control everything around her and trying to relax for a moment.
“I know they’ll like you,” Jack said confidently.
“How do you know that?” Veronica asked.
“Because they’re nice,” Jack insisted.
“But why will they like me?” Veronica pleaded, raising the sunglasses off her eyes so they rested on her forehead and Jack could see her anxiety.
“Because you’re nice,” he said, walking up to her and warmly gazing into her eyes to reassure her, “and you have nothing to worry about and we’ll enjoy ourselves, right?” Jack had placed his hands on Veronica’s shoulders so as to steady her and he felt her body relax under his touch.
“I’m being absurd, I know,” Veronica said.
At the dock it had suddenly begun sprinkling even while the sun still shone.
“Island weather,” Jack said, “you never know.”
Uncle Browne wasn’t there yet. Jack had called the night before and given the arrival time. He explained to Veronica, “He’s never on time. I think he goes by a different clock.” But Veronica’s insecurity had resurfaced.
“I hope it has nothing to do with my coming. You’re certain they know I’m coming, right?”
At school she was usually confident, doing Dean’s list work every semester. But she was insecure about Jack’s family and their affluent background. And recently she’d started to imagine Jack’s aunt and uncle as aloof snobs, probably because they lived on this well-to-do island, out of circulation with the average world, where many of the islanders were, in fact, rich. “Stop it, Veronica,” Jack