Eye of Flame by Pamela Sargent Read Free Book Online Page A

mathematics or some sort of magical mumbo-jumbo. Words seemed inadequate for what he was trying to say.
    “I explored this for a long time,” he went on. “I was trying to see past the illusions of time and space. Each moment of time became another bead on an endless chain, while the world itself seemed almost like a series of cross-sections, a cutaway set in which, if you could see it all, you could move to any place in it almost instantly.”
    He fell silent; she heard only the rhythmical pounding of the waves against the shore. She felt that if she turned, she would see only bare hills, discover that the world she knew had vanished.
    “We used to talk this way,” he said at last. “I’ve missed you, Jackie. I kept imagining that I’d meet you again. I think I’m still in love with you.”
    He pulled her to her feet and drew her toward him. As he kissed her, she stepped back, startled at how aroused she felt.
    “This is ridiculous.” Another woman seemed to be speaking the words, not Jacqueline herself. “We haven’t seen each other for twenty years. I don’t know anything about you. You can’t be in love with me.”
    “I know what I feel. I wouldn’t be here with you now if I didn’t think you wanted me, too.”
    “There’s someone else. I’m living with a man.”
    “Jackie.” He kissed her again. Her arms were around him, clutching at his back. He drew away and encircled her waist with his arm. “I love you,” he said as they walked back up the beach.
     
    Jacqueline opened her eyes and stared at the bedroom ceiling. Tad was gone; she could not remember when he had left. For the past three days, it had been like that; Tad had exhausted her with his lovemaking and had been absent when she awoke. She would shower, dress, and go to the terrace; he was inevitably below in the street, waiting.
    Her memories were hazy and blurred. She dimly recalled that Tad had driven her in the Fiat that Patti had loaned her to a restaurant overlooking the beach. There had been a drive up the coast to Marina del Rey and drinks at a bar, but she had only the faintest recollection of the sailboats and yachts in the harbor there.
    Other memories were more vivid—the touch of Tad’s hands, the feel of his muscled body, his whispered endearments as he made love to her. Thinking of him made her want him even more; he had awakened desires she had believed dormant or dead.
    She sat up abruptly. Three days, and she knew about as little of Tad’s life as she had known when she first saw him. They had talked about her life and her problems, or had sat together in a comfortable silence, whenever they were not making love. He had to live nearby, since she had never seen his car, but he had not shown her his home. He had enough money to buy her overpriced drinks and an expensive dinner, but she did not know how he got it. She had been content to tell him about herself while asking no questions about his life; he had been the perfect lover, responding to her needs without imposing his own.
    Now she was appalled at herself, thinking of the risks she had taken. Tad might have herpes or some other disease. She had not even thought of contraception; her diaphragm was back East in her apartment, where its presence might serve to reassure Jerome.
    It was Saturday; Jerome would be home, perhaps hoping she would call. She reached for the telephone, dialed the number, and waited until it had rung fifteen times before hanging up.
    She climbed out of bed, reached for the watch on the folding table where her typewriter stood, then saw that it was nearly noon. Patti would be expecting her. Her cousin had not called during the past days; she wondered why.
    Jacqueline hurried into the adjoining bathroom, pressing the light switch as she entered. The face staring at her from the bathroom mirror looked haggard; the harsh light revealed all her flaws. Tiny lines she had never noticed before marked the skin around her eyes; at her temples a few