bottomlands. Yet every few years it floods catastrophically through the marsh at its delta. It causes immense destruction. In 1977, the river flooded, and the National Guard was called in to help the locals cope. Thatâs how Jimmy Devine, National Guard, met Lang Thia, whose father was a prominent local businessman who made hearing aids.
Her mother didnât need a hearing aid. She came to the window near which Chloe was hiding and said into the screen, âChloe, come to the table. Dinner is served.â
With a great sigh, Chloe peeled away from the wood shingles and walked, head hung, to the door.
5
The Irish Inquisition
L ANG TURNED ON THE LIGHT ABOVE THE SMALL RECTANGULAR table. They sat silently, their hands folded. They blessed their food. Jimmy said amen. Chloe asked him to pass the potatoes. Jimmy poured Lang a jasmine ice tea. Lang poured Jimmy a beer. They cut into their pork chops. The silence lasted two or three minutes. Jimmy had to get some strength before he began, though he looked pretty strong already. Chloeâs dad was a big Irish guy, blond-haired once, now gray, blue-eyed, direct, no nonsense. He was funny, he was easy, but he also had a temper, and he never forgot anything, neither a favor nor a slight. It was almost his undoing, the merciless blade of his memory. Sometimes he had to dull it with whiskey. Tonight Lang eased him into Chloeâs summer plans by letting him eat for a few minutes in peace while she grilled Chloe on irrelevant matters.
âDid you do your homework?â
âItâs senior year, Mom. No one gives homework anymore.â
âThen what do they give you a fourth-quarter grade for?â
âShowing up mostly.â
âSo no tests, no quizzes, no overdue projects, no missing labs, no oral presentations, no incomplete class assignments?â
âEnough nonsense,â said Jimmy, having fortified himself on meat. âWhatâs this your mother tells me about you wanting to go to Barcelona?â
Her father looked straight at her, and Chloe had no choicebut to stare back. âDid my mother tell you that she wants me to enter into a story contest? Ten-thousand-dollar prize.â
âI donât see how the two are related.â
âI have nothing to write about.â
âCome to work with me for a day or two. Youâll get three books out of it.â Jimmy Devine was the Fryeburg chief of police, like his father and grandfather before him. Fryeburg, Maine. Pop. 3,500. Settled in 1763 by General Joseph Frye, and incorporated in 1777, exactly two hundred years before the bad luck of the paleo floods two thousand miles away, just so Chloe could now sit impaled on the stake of parental chief-of-police disapproval.
âReally,â she said with irritation. âBooks on what, breaking up domestic arguments and littering?â
âNice. So now even my work, not just your motherâs, is denigrated?â
Chloe regrouped. âIâm not denigrating, Dad. But our hearts are set on Spain. Hannah and I have been talking about it for years.â By not saying yes immediately, they were denigrating her !
âHow in the world can Hannah afford Barcelona?â Jimmy asked. âHer mother is at the bank every other day asking for an overdraft increase. And your friend, who abandoned you to do Meals on Wheels by yourself on Saturdays because she claims she has a job, often skips out on the one lousy four-hour shift she has at China Chef. So whereâs her trip money coming from?â
Chloe hated how her dad knew everything about everybodyâs business. It was terrifying. She stopped eating and stared at her father, the bite of pork chop lodged in her dry throat. Did he know why Hannah was skipping out on China Chef? God, please, no. A demoralized Chloe couldnât withstand even two minutes of modest interrogation.
âWhy do you want to go so much? Tell me.â
Her entrails in knots, Chloe said