Hattie wrenched away from Rayford’s hand, and her frail fingers grabbed his shirt. She fiercely pulled him closer and rasped in his face, spittle landing on his cheek. “I’ll remember every word, Rayford, and don’t think I won’t. I will do this thing if it’s the last thing I do, and I hope it will be.”
This is as close to a “God as my witness, I’ll never be hungry again” moment these books are ever going to deliver — calling it now. This isn’t even particularly strong, but the bar is so low that I feel like jumping up and cheering for Hattie.
