All That Is by James Salter Page B

but accepting, and he kneels and puts his lips to her. He lifts her and holds her up by the waist, like a vessel, to his mouth. He can see himself as they pass a dark silvery mirror, her legs dangling, beginning to kick as he hardens his tongue. She is leaning backward as in one smooth movementhe sets her, in the dream and to an extent in life, on his unholy hard-on and as he does, comes in a flood.
    After a while, except for Liz and Travis who were playing cards, they had all gone to bed. The snow went on falling though sometime in the early hours it stopped and stars appeared in the black sky. Also it became even colder.
    In the morning through windows that were half-covered with frost the great white expanse of fields could be seen, not a footprint on them, not a flaw. The whiteness reached into the distance, into the sky. Two of the dogs had gotten outside and were flying over the snow, throwing up a white trail like comets as they ran.
    One by one they all came down to breakfast in the dining room. Liz and Dare were among the last. Bowman and Vivian were just finishing. Amussen was still at the table.
    “Good morning,” he said.
    “Good morning.” Liz’s voice was a little hoarse. “Look at the snow,” she said.
    “It finally stopped. That was a real storm. Don’t know if the roads will be open. Good morning,” he said to Dare as she took a seat.
    “Morning.” It was almost a whisper.
    “Your daddy already called,” Willa told her as she brought coffee.
    They sat eating bacon and eggs. Travis joined them. Peter was the only one who didn’t appear.
    A terrible thing had happened during the night. After everyone had gone to bed and it was finally quiet, Peter, who had waited as long as he could, stepped out into the hall in his pants and undershirt, carefully closing the door behind him. The light was subdued. All was silent. Quietly he walked to Dare’s room and put his face close to the doorjamb. He whispered her name.
    “Dare.”
    He waited and whispered again, more intently.
    “Dare!”
    He was afraid she was asleep. He called again and then, overcoming his fear, knocked lightly.
    “Dare.”
    He stood there, despite himself.
    “I just want to talk to you,” he was going say.
    He knocked again. Just as he finished, his heart leapt as the door opened slightly and revealed George Amussen, who said in a low, authoritative voice,
    “Go on to bed.”
    Liz all morning had been on the phone deciding whether or not to go to California. She wanted to go to Santa Anita and was asking about the weather there and if her horse would be running. Finally she decided.
    “We’re going.”
    “You’re sure, Bun?”
    “Yes.”
    Eddie watched it all without comment. Later he said,
    “He won’t be around for long. She’ll marry someone else.”
    It would not be Aly Khan, who had been divorced and was planning to marry a French model when he was killed in a car crash. Liz read it in the paper. She had never really stopped thinking about being married to him. It was always a fond dream. They would be in Neuilly in the morning, watching the horses train, the early mist still in the trees. He’d be in Levi’s and a jacket and they would walk back together to have breakfast at the house. She’d be the wife of a prince and converted to Islam. But Aly was dead, Ted had gone on to marry someone else, and her second husband had moved to New Jersey. Still she had lots of friends, some made one way, some another, and she rode.
    Vivian had liked Christmas and being home. Liz, she could see, took to Philip, and even her father, who was in an amiable mood that morning, seemed to accept him more. They all said good-bye, Amussen said good-bye to Liz and then to Dare, whose boyfriend wasn’t feeling well, rubbing a bit of egg from the side of her mouth as they talked briefly. He did it with his napkin in a fatherly way.
    “Is Liz Bohannon really your father’s cousin?” Bowman asked afterwards.
    “They just call each