9
The next morning, after a few more hours of fitful sleep, I pulled myself out of bed and got ready for church. Anxiety tingled under my skin, and I needed the company of friends and good music more than ever.
I’d been attending Bethel Church for a few months now, and although I was one of a handful of white people who went there, the people of Bethel had made me feel completely at home. That morning when I arrived, Sister Harriet hugged me and asked after Sawyer, and Mr. Lexington handed me a loaf of his infamous zucchini bread. “Used the last of my frozen stash for this batch,” he said with a wink.
I made my way to my seat next to Mary and squeezed her hand as I sat down. I’d come early, as was my habit, because I just liked to be in the sanctuary to hear the bustle and conversation
