Mohawk

cormorants. You know I’m never
willingly
unkind.”
    “I wish you hadn’t told me. I’ve always felt good knowing you and Diana had some money.”
    “Have some more brandy. And put another log on the fire, will you? I can’t get warm.”
    Though the room was plenty warm enough, Anne laid on another log and it caught immediately, the wholepyramid ablaze. When she returned to the sofa, her eyes were red.
    “Oh, don’t, for God’s sake.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just feel awful, that’s all.”
    “Well, don’t. Don’t cry and don’t feel awful.”
    “I’ll feel any way I want to feel,” she said, choosing to sit at the opposite end of the sofa. “Why don’t we run away? We could be happy, don’t you think?”
    “Probably not.”
    “When you say things like that I hate you more than anyone in the world.”
    “Then I won’t say them any more. Come here.”
    She wiped her eyes and slid toward him. “Do you suppose we could do anything, or would it kill you?”
    “No, it wouldn’t kill me.”
    To shuck her clothes took no time, and then the fire’s warmth kicked in. They kissed, tentatively at first, then forcefully. “You’re letting yourself in for some disappointment,” he said.
    “No,” she breathed. “No.”
    Outside, Kings Road was quiet until the rain slowly began again.

34
    Around three in the morning the fire began to burn down and dampness again crept back into the living room, though Dan’s upper body was still warm. He was sleeping soundly. Anne had dozed pleasantly, but hadn’t really slept. The quilt pulled over them didn’t reach her shoulders. She snuggled into the small of his back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. She did not worry much about the possibility of Diana coming home, partly because Dan wasn’t worried, partly because the story of her love for her cousin’s husband was more the story of abstinence than adultery, and she felt certain that neither God nor Fate would be so cruel. Still, staying on seemed an unwarranted risk. Prideful even, so she slipped off the couch and quickly dressed. Once ready to go, she decided she’d better wake him. Otherwise, if Diana returned early in the morning she might find him there, his clothes in a cold, suspicious heap beside the dying embers.
    “I have to go,” she whispered.
    “No,” he said. “Stay.”
    “I can’t. Though I
am
willing to listen to you plead for a few minutes.”
    “I feel like pleading, if you want to know the truth.”
    “Do you need help?”
    He pushed himself into a sitting position, careful to keep himself covered, and looked around. “No,” he said. “You’ve already helped. Thanks.”
    She knelt beside him and touched his cheek. “Don’t you dare thank me. Ever.”
    “All right. Nice talking to you.”
    “Shall we get together on a regular basis?”
    “Absolutely. Once every twenty years?”
    When she turned onto Mountain it seemed like a bad idea. If she went home, fatigue was likely to set in and she’d fall dead asleep, and she didn’t want to. Not yet. She felt too completely good to surrender the moment to sleep’s neutrality. Besides, it had been a long time since she’d just driven aimlessly, and once the car warmed up she was comfortable.
    Downtown Mohawk was black and deserted, so she headed up the long hill past Myrtle Park and out onto the highway. There she had to choose between heading north into the Adirondacks or south and east toward Albany and New York. There was nothing north but blackness all the way to Canada, so she headed south toward the buzzing yellow neon, never mind that everyone in its glow was in bed. The Ford seemed to have more pep than usual and, when she stepped on the accelerator, seemed eager to strain itself forward against the cold, cleansing April rain.
    At Fultonville she turned onto the Thruway, alone except for the occasional semi. As a rule Anne didn’t like to drive, but tonight it felt good and she suddenly wanted to drive all the way to New York. If she stepped on it, she could make the city by eight or nine, just in time for breakfast. The midtown Hilton would be nice, and maybe Price was still living in the city. Possibly he’d meet her for melon and mimosas on some terraceor other. She was always able to count on him for breakfast, anyway.
    After her separation from Dallas, Anne and Randall had moved to New York. She thought her father would approve, but he showed little enthusiasm. She began to realize that he