Delia Owens

we better hide way out there where the crawdads sing

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tate,”

Each time I forget you

Your eyes haunt my heart and it falls still

“Lawd, he loved ya like his own dawder,” Mabel said.

“I know,” Kya said, “and he was my pa.”

Kya had been of this land and of this water; now they would take her back. Keep her secrets deep

Ma had said women need one another more than they need men

she pulled her chair close to his, their arms and elbows nearly touching. Just to feel him near.

She said, “What? You think what? You can say anything to me.”

“Yes, but I can’t get pregnant. And I can’t be damaged as easily by this. I won’t do it, Kya, because I love you.”

it was the two of them, the marsh, the sea, and the sky