Bethany’s husband calls down from their house on the hill, “There’s a storm coming.” Rumbles in distant clouds punctuate his yell. She raises a hand in his direction, but her mind refuses to acknowledge his interruption. Instead, her thoughts remain in the blissful memory of a carefree summer day. 

     The sun blazed in the sky. Bethany’s daughter, Daisy Mae, was as lovely as her namesake. She danced in the tall grass and bent with the breeze as she moved closer to the riverbank. She smell...