Lust, he would later say, was God's way of helping me identify who my father was; in lust had I been conceived, in lust would I discover my father. e had never before been directly under the trestle bridge exactly as The Flying Yankee was passing over us. We had been suffering Scammon's Scripture course-and his Religion Two-when the icy steps of Kurd's Church rose to meet him. Hester, in particular, seemed beyond my reach.
What a wimp he was, Pastor Merrill; but how proud I felt of my mother-that she'd had the good sense to shrug him off. AND ALL THOSE GROWN-UPS! he said. She went into the bedroom without looking at us; she shut the door, and we could hear her shaking the chest of drawers, the coat hangers protesting her roughness in the closet. I guess he had picked up the OLD BOY at Fort Huachuca.
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