Bill Pronzini: Deadfall

“-the Reverend Dunston,” she said grimly. “I know. That was him on the phone.”

“What? What did he want?”

“Me. He acted as if nothing had happened, as if Daybreak never even talked to him.”

“But Daybreak must have.” I didn’t want to look at the Right Reverend or his congregation any longer; I shut off the television. “You put the fear of lawsuit into him last week.”

“Well, if he did, then Ray’s defying him. What if he comes here again? What if he starts bothering you again? What if-”

“Hey,” I said, “easy. Don’t worry, we’ll deal with it.”

“But after all we’ve been through-”

“After all we’ve been through,” I said, “Dunston isn’t important. He just doesn’t matter.” I pulled her down beside me. “What’s important is us.”

She let me hold her for a time. Then she drew back a little and said, “I’ve made up my mind.”

“About what?”

“About your suggestion. The mildly exotic one. I still think it’ll hurt you, but if you’re game so am I.”

“I’m game,” I said.

She was right, as it turned out: it hurt me. But not much, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was her. Being with her, loving her. Living a sane and normal life with her.

I kept thinking about retiring…