God Spare the Girls by Kelsey McKinney

Author:Kelsey McKinney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2021-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

12

For the next several days, Caroline watched Abigail watching her. Her sister didn’t ask questions. She didn’t beg, and yet every time Caroline opened her mouth to speak, she appeared to be waiting. And every time, Caroline’s confession remained lodged in her throat like a Ping-Pong ball. By Thursday, she still hadn’t told Abigail anything. Maybe tonight, she thought, as they stretched out long and lean on the dock in the afternoon sun. She was so consumed with her thoughts that she didn’t notice her sister staring out across the lake at the darkening horizon.

At first, it was only a troubling line along the outer edges, growing thicker as it drew nearer. Abigail stood to face it. “Storm’s coming,” she said, and winked at her sister.

“Okay, Dad,” Caroline said.

And Abigail just laughed.

One of their father’s favorite stories was about the storm that only he’d predicted. Caroline had heard him tell it exactly the same way at least a hundred times. For as long as she could remember, it had always been built out of the same pauses, the same rhythm and tone. It was practically lore; it was his origin story.

And like every good origin story, Luke Nolan’s began with the Lord choosing him. He had woken to the sound of water, even though the weather was supposed to be clear that day. He always began by describing how the sky had stretched all the way to the horizon, not a single cloud in sight, a gorgeous cerulean, and so Ruthie and Nannie hadn’t heeded his warning. They had shaken their heads, pushed a pot roast into the oven. All saviors need to be questioned, Caroline knew this.

So that same evening, after everyone had already arrived to celebrate his new marriage, the sky had caved under the weight of his prophecy. Normally, when he was onstage and reached this part, he’d grip the sides of the podium and tell the audience how the clouds had darkened from white to gray to violet quicker than greased lightning.

“Faith is about that,” he’d say. “Because the Lord never once promised that your skies would always be blue.” God’s promise, as he liked to preach, wasn’t that there’d be no storm, but that He would always provide you with refuge.

Caroline wondered now if her father had been chasing that same feeling ever since, searching for some undeniable evidence that he was predestined. Maybe his affair would become yet another storm after so many retellings, evidence that even he was sinful. He’d point to his transgression as proof of God’s forgiveness. She imagined how he’d frame it: “God knows I’ve had my own periods of struggle.”

The sky above the girls darkened. The air turned sweeter; the humidity fell away for the first time in days. Caroline watched the navy clouds gather. She turned to her sister, who was still standing beside her, watched her turn and march away, her heavy steps reverberating across the wooden dock. Abigail turned back and stopped, smirked when she saw that Caroline was watching.

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