Was it possible, Danny wondered, to be glad you had done something and still be so ashamed of that something that you tried not to think of it?

She had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there was nothing physically wrong.

the snap of the breaking bone had not been loud, not loud but it had been very loud, HUGE, but not loud. Just enough of a sound to slit through the red fog like an arrow—but instead of letting in sunlight, that sound let in the dark clouds of shame and remorse, the terror, the agonizing convulsion of the spirit. A clean sound with the past on one

“Dan,” Jack said, “NO ONE KNOWS.” And that was the worst of all. It was another way of saying never-never-never.

That’s your job in this hard world, to keep your love alive and see that you get on, no matter what. Pull your act together and just go on.”

All his life he had been trying unsuccessfully to control it. He could remember himself at seven, spanked by a neighbor lady for playing with matches. He had gone out and hurled a rock at a passing car. His father had seen that, and he had descended on little Jacky, roaring. He had reddened Jack’s behind … and then blacked his eye. And when his

His own father had been the foulest-talking man Jack had ever run on.

He would write it for the reason he felt that all great literature, fiction and nonfiction, was written: truth comes out, in the end it always comes out. He would write it because he felt he had to.

Weeks passed and the unspoken word retreated further from the back of her lips. Jack sensed its retirement but knew it would never retire completely.