Pacific (9780802194800) by Tom Drury

don’t have to tell her that.”
    Louise tore a piece of the bread, dipped it in the soup. She took a drink of the wine. “Now, about the clock,” she said. “I’m not sure I can give you what it’s worth.”
    â€œWe will not talk money at the table,” said Marian.
    Louise figured she would keep the clock, having acquired it with so much ceremony. Dan met her at the door of the farmhouse.
    â€œI was beginning to think I lost you,” he said.
    â€œIs the house leaking?”
    â€œJust that corner where it always does. I put a bucket down.”
    â€œLook what I have.”
    They took the clock up to the bedroom and Louise set it on the dresser and plugged it in. With her finger she gave one of the children a push to get them swinging.
    Dan leaned his arms on the dresser and studied the clock. He found a thin red button on the side and pushed it. A bulb hidden behind the trellis lit the painted girls on the swings.
    â€œWill the ticking bother you?” Louise asked.
    â€œNo. Will the light bother you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe can turn the light off.”
    And she understood this as a kindness, because Dan loved the small and incidental lighting of appliances, clocks, radios in the dark. Louise thought this might have something to do with memories of the sheriff’s cruisers and their busy dashboards.
    Her hair was wet from the rain and she dried it with a towel and then sat in a white nightgown brushing her hair at the bureau.
    They could hear the wind and rain and the clock. When she came to bed she was all over him like a shadow.
    Jack Snow drove home from the Little Fox, an old-style strip club that suited his taste in sexual exhibitionism. Pole dancing he didn’t care for. It looked more like work than dancing.
    At Wendy’s place he found that his key no longer opened the door. He knocked and knocked. Rain hammered the roof and overflowed the gutter, making curtains of water around the porch.
    Wendy came to the living room window. She held a phone and dialed. Jack’s phone rang. They talked with the window glass between them. Her lips moved and a little time passed while the signal traveled from the living room to wherever it went and back to the porch.
    â€œYou can’t live here anymore, Jack. Your things are in the garage. We’re done. I’m sorry it’s such a rotten night, but the locksmith came today, and I don’t make the weather.”
    â€œWhat is this about?”
    Her phone flashed red. “Hold, please. I’m getting another call.”
    She sat on the arm of the couch and covered her mouth with her hand.
    â€œThat’s my dad. He wants to know should he come over and make you go. He doesn’t mind.”
    â€œLook at me. I’m standing in the rain.”
    â€œWhat should I tell him? He’s on hold.”
    â€œI’ll go. What else would I do?”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œHowever long it takes to load the car.”
    â€œAll right. One second please.”
    There was standing water on the porch, and Jack walked around on his heels to keep the leather of his shoes from getting soaked.
    â€œOkay,” said Wendy. “He’s on his way over.”
    â€œWhat’d I just say?”
    â€œHe doesn’t trust you. I don’t think anyone ever did trust you but me, Jackie. And even I didn’t, very much.”
    â€œWhat happened? Why are you doing this?”
    â€œThey’re watching you. They know what you’re doing. My parents hired the sheriff. Well, he used to be the sheriff. He investigated you.”
    â€œWhat I’m doing? What we’re doing.”
    â€œThat’s the other thing. I quit. Why didn’t you tell me you were in prison?”
    â€œHey. A lot of people are in prison. At least open the door and say goodbye.”
    â€œThat’s what my dad said you would say.”
    â€œYou’re making a mistake. The business is about to