Alarm grips the back of my throat, metallic-tasting. I go over and put my hand on his shoulder. His head is down and I can see a muscle in his jaw twitch. His arm is unyielding beneath my fingers and he doesn’t look at me. The leaden fist around my throat tightens.

“Dude!” Tim calls from the backyard, where he’s vacuuming the pool. “The frickin’ thing’s blowing out the dirt into the pool instead of sucking it in. Can you do your thing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fix it,” Jase calls back without moving.

“What would anybody do around here without you?” I say, going for a light tone. “Everything would be broken.”

He snorts without any humor. “Kind of already is, isn’t it?”

I move closer, rest my cheek against his shoulder, rubbing his back.

“How can I help?” I ask. “I’ll do anything.”

“There’s nothing you can do, Sam. Just…” He turns away, shoves his hands in his pockets. “Maybe…just…give me a little space.”

I back toward the kitchen door. “Right. Sure. I’ll head home for a while.”

This doesn’t feel like us at all. I hover in the doorway, expecting…I’m not sure.

Instead he nods without looking at me and bends to mop up the spilled milk.

When I get home, where it’s still and clean and hushed, all the outdoor sounds muffled by the central air, I climb upstairs, feeling as though I’m pushing through water or wearing shoes made of lead. I sit down abruptly halfway up, lean my head back against the step above me, shut my eyes.

A thousand times since this happened, I’ve been about to blurt out the whole story, unable to stop myself, unable to keep something this big inside from Jase. Every time, I’ve bitten my tongue, stayed silent, with the thought: If I tell him, I’ll lose him.

Tonight is when I know.

I already have.

Late that night, there’s only one dim light shining in the living room. Mom likes the overhead ones, so I know right away it’s not her. And I’m right. Clay’s sitting in the big armchair by the fireplace, shoes off, this big golden retriever at his feet. Mom is curled up on the couch, fast asleep, her hair tumbling out of her careful bun, draping over her shoulders.

Clay jerks his chin in the direction of the dog. “Courvoisier. I call him Cory. Pure bred from champions. He’s old now, though.”

Indeed, the muzzle that rests on Clay’s bare foot is white with age. Cory raises his head at my entrance, though, thumping a greeting with his tail.

“I didn’t know you had a dog. Mom’s asleep?” I ask, stating the obvious.

“Long day. Meet-and-greet at five a.m. at General Dynamics. Then we had a speech at Republicans for Change and dinner at the White Horse Tavern. She’s a pro, your mama. Just keeps going and going. She’s earned her rest.” He stands up and pulls the woven beige throw from the top of the couch, covering her.

I start to turn away, but he stops me, hand on my arm. “Have a seat, Samantha. You’re burning the candle at both ends too. How’re those Garretts doing?”

How can he even ask that question, in his calm way? “Not well,” I say.

“Yeah. A tough break.” Clay picks up his wineglass and takes a casual sip. “That’s the thing about a one-man business…all riding on luck.”

“Why do you even pretend to be sympathetic about this?” I ask, my voice unexpectedly loud in the quiet room. Mom twitches in her sleep, then snuggles her head into the pillow. “Like what happened is some sort of act of God, not something you were involved in? Like you even know what they’re going through?”

“Y’all don’t know much about me, do you?” He takes another swallow of wine, reaching down to stroke Cory’s head. “I know better than you ever will what it’s like to be poor. My daddy ran a service station. I did the books. Our town was so small, you hardly needed a car to get from one end to the other. And folks in West Virginia are what you might call naturally frugal. A lot of months he didn’t make enough to pay his employees and draw a salary himself. I know all about being broke and having your back against the wall.”

His eyes are suddenly intent on mine. “And I’ve left that far behind. Your mom’s the real ticket, with a bright future. I won’t let some teenager with a grudge take that away from her. Or me.”

Mom stirs again, then curls up, almost in a fetal position.

“You need to distance yourself from that family,” Clay adds, his voice almost gentle. “And you need to do that now. Otherwise things are going to come out that shouldn’t come out, hormonal teenagers not being known for their discretion.”

“I’m not my mother,” I say. “I don’t have to do whatever you say.”

He leans back against the chair, blond hair falling across his forehead. “You’re not your mama, but you’re not stupid either. Have you taken a good look at the books for the Garretts’ store?”

I have, we all have, Tim and me and Jase, working on them. Math-challenged as I am, the numbers don’t look good. Mr. Garrett would be clicking his pen furiously over them.

“Did you happen to notice the contract from Reed Campaigns? Your mom is using Garrett’s for all her yard signs, her billboards, her visibility flags. That’s a helluva lot of lumber. She wanted to go with Lowe’s, but I told her picking a local business looks better. That’s steady cash flow for the store, straight on through November. Not only that, but the Bath and Tennis Club is using Garrett’s. Your mama’s suggestion. They’re adding on a new wing for an indoor pool. Cash that goes straight into the store. Cash that could go away with a comment or two. Green wood, sloppy workmanship…”

“What are you saying? If I don’t break up with Jase you’ll, what, pull those contracts?” In the glow of the light, Clay’s blond hair shines angel-fair, nearly the same color as Cory’s. He looks tidy and innocent in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his eyes big and blue and frank.

He smiles at me. “I’m not saying anything, Samantha. Just stating the facts. You can draw your own conclusions.” He pauses. “Your mama’s always telling me how smart you are.”

Chapter Forty-four

Early in the morning the next day, I cross the short distance from my yard to the Garretts’ to find Jase.