Casey says, God sent Lev a vision. He’s chosen to share it with you.
Casey lets go of her hand and fades gently into the background as Lev makes his way over to Bea, coming to a soft stop in front of her, his eyes only on her. He presses his palm to her face and it is warm, and it is love.
Are you ready to receive it? he asks.
* * *
Bea stands in a field alone, tears silently streaming down her face as the walls of a church build themselves around her heart. She is not sad. She is not afraid. She’s awake. Everything is different than it was before. She stares up at the sun, the sound of bells ringing faintly in her head until she realizes it’s her phone. Texts from Patty.
Lo’s awake, the first one reads.
And the next: Lo’s awake and she’s calling for you.
OCTOBER 2017
There’s a stretch of road between the towns of Chapman and Auster that was once covered in my parents’ blood. They were spread all over the highway and breathed their last breaths there. These days, people drive through it as though it’s not a sacred place—just the distance between where they started and wherever it is they hope to end up. Now I stand where Jeremy stood as travelers hurry to their platforms, unaware of what happened here a month ago. Or, if they remember, they’ve moved on quietly from it to go about their lives.
I wish I was built like that.
I stare down at the flyer in my hand.
THE UNITY PROJECT WELCOMES ALL TO ITS ANNUAL PUBLIC SERMON AT THE GARRETT FARM.
Bea is almost guaranteed to be there. If I want to talk to her, I need to be there too—unannounced, of course, because when Bea gets word of me, she has a habit of disappearing.
I haven’t tangled with The Unity Project in a long time. The last time was supposed to be just exactly that. Since then, I haven’t tried to talk to Bea. I don’t even talk about her. If I’d had to place a bet on which one of us was going to break those rules first, it wouldn’t have been her.
So why, after all these years, did she put my name in a dead boy’s mouth?
And what was he telling me to find?
I step back inside the station to check the time.
Fifteen minutes.
No delays.
“I’m headed there too.”
A woman with deep brown skin with amber undertones and warm brown eyes stands nearby. Her hair is in braids that fall halfway down her back. If I had to guess, I’d put her in her late thirties or the first blush of her forties. She smiles, looking to the flyer clutched tightly in my hand. “To the sermon, I mean.”
“You a member?”
“I am.” No small hint of pride in her voice.
I glance around the station, wondering how many others might be here to scope out potential marks. I should’ve anticipated it. Members of The Project lack enough shame to seize any opportunity. I turn back to her, and push my hair away from the left side of my face for an unobstructed view of the scar. Certain members would know me to see me, and I them. Jeremy shouldn’t have been one, but now I wonder if he was the exception or the rule.
Probably better to find out before boarding.
But the scar doesn’t seem to light on the woman the way it did Jeremy. She registers it, but in that subtle way decent people do. She asks if I’ve ever been to a sermon before. I tell her I haven’t and she says, “You’ll have an amazing time.”
“And what if I don’t?” I crumple the flyer and toss it in a nearby trash can. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s my kind of thing.”
“What else have you got to do today?”
I grimace.
“I’m not going to pitch you, but we’ve got time before the train if you want to get a coffee and talk about it, or if you have any questions you want to ask.” I hesitate. She shrugs. “It’s cool if you don’t, but … I just have to tell you, I was in the same spot you were, like, literally. I was right exactly there deciding whether or not to take the train to the sermon. A Project member found me and helped me make my choice. I felt like I had to say something.”