The Covenant of Water (Oprah's Book Club)

Love, she thinks, isn’t ownership, but a sense that where her body once ended, it begins anew in him, extending her reach, her confidence, and her strength. As with anything so rare and precious, it comes with a new anxiety: the fear of losing him, the fear of that heartbeat ceasing. That would mean the end of her.

God gave her one moment in time that she could stretch out for as long as she lives, this would be it.

She pleads silently, Never grow old, never die, knowing it’s too much to ask. My rock, my fortress, my deliverer.

This is a part of me. Like the goldsmith’s wife whose face is scarred by smallpox, or the potter’s son whose foot is turned. This is me. This is who I am.”

begins to feel now for the first time lying under him: that she’s integral to his world, just as he is her world. She cannot imagine now that the pleasure she sees on his face will be something she too will experience from time to time, or that she’ll unobtrusively find ways to guide him in a manner that pleases her.

In that sheltered, sacred nook between his arm and chest, she’s at peace. “Forgive me, Lord.” She thought

All water is connected, and her world is limitless. He stands at the limits of his. On her sixteenth birthday, she hears a commotion

But such memories are woven from gossamer threads; time eats holes in the fabric, and these she must darn with myth and fable.

It comes free with a splash, a pink jewel, a miracle that something so beautiful can emerge from water so murky.