“We are called to love our neighbors, Bethany. Later that day, as she rolled the peas around on her plate, her mother asked her if she would like to be slapped so that she knew what it felt like. She was never as proficient at this job she was expected to be, once slapping a girl in grade school who pulled at her ebony braid before calling her a bible pusher. Being the daughter of a Baptist pastor meant she was tasked with the constant responsibility of representing the church, a crushing weight bestowed upon her since childhood. For if places like this existed on earth, what in the world was keeping everyone she had ever known in the lowlands of rural Kentucky?īeth was raised in an outdated clergy house, the sententious steeple of the church always visible as a reminder that the almighty was always watching. She was sure that she had arrived at another planet. As if suddenly passing through a barrier, what had once looked like an endless ether of uninhabited space now abruptly registered as the reflective surface of the ocean, lazily mimicking the night sky as if it were swaying to a gentle serenade. She felt the unfamiliar tickle of sand beneath her feet as the chilled grains molded together under the weight of each determined step.
Beth sauntered toward the sound of crashing water, the twinkling dance of a shoal marker providing promise that she was getting close.
