The Valley and the Flood Rebecca Mahoney (top 10 motivational books TXT) đ
- Author: Rebecca Mahoney
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âYouâve been nothing but nice to me,â I say slowly.
âPartially so you would help. So youâd trust me,â she says with a shrug. âIâm told sometimes I can be . . . careless with people. You might have noticed by now that I canât always tell what weâve talked about and what we havenât. Sometimes I donât have the patience for conversations. Where Iâm concerned, weâve already had them and moved on.â
âYou donât have to be nice,â I say. âYouâd have every right to blame me for this.â
âThatâs the good thing about looking ahead,â Cassie says. âI was done blaming you a long time ago, even before I knew for sure that it wasnât your fault. And if blaming you fixed anything, youâd have that covered by yourself, wouldnât you?â
I wince. âThatâs fair.â
âItâs really okay.â She laughs. âThe first time I saw tomorrow nightâthat was such a long time ago. Iâve seen it from every angle since then. And Iâve seen glimpses of your life. So many times now. So when I tell you that itâs not your fault, or even the Floodâs fault, thatâs not to make you feel better. Thatâs because itâs true. Most bad things happen without malice, yâknow? They just happen. Storms never wish anyone harm. They just come and go.â
Something about the way she says it sends a rush of goose bumps up my arms and legs. âWhat did you mean before, what you told Felix?â
Thereâs enough of a beat that I know sheâs scripting an answer. âI donât blame him for being scared. He has a big family. He wants them out of harmâs way. But that doesnât mean he gets to forget that the rest of us are scared, too.â
I nod. I donât buy for a second that thatâs it, not when she still hasnât told me how the prophecy ends. But sheâs respected my silence countless times, without question, in the past day and a half. The least I can do is return the favor.
Cassie chews on her lip for a moment. âRose. What happened with the Mockingbird . . . you donât have to explain it if you donât want to. But maybe you should think about telling someone.â
I laugh weakly. âI donât think Iâm ready to hear what theyâd have to say.â
Cassieâs eyes narrow. Not the answer she was expecting, I think. âWhat do you mean?â
I concentrate on my feet, shifting my weight. âNot everything âjust happens.â Sometimes it happens because someone didnât do all they could.â
She looks perplexed at first. She gets this look, like sheâs doing math in her head. Then her eyes get wide.
âOh no, Rose,â she says. And she looksâsympathetic? âYou havenât beenâOh no, no, no. Itâs not like that.â
âWhatâs not?â I say slowly.
Suddenly, weâre not walking anymore. Sheâs facing me, holding my shoulders. âListen to me,â she says. âWhat happened to that girl was an accident. Just an accident. Itâs not like what he did with you.â
Thereâs a pause. A long, cold moment I canât quite put my finger on. A burn of metal up my throat and across my tongue.
âWhat did you say?â
Cassieâs eyes get wide in her pale face. âI hadnât told you yet,â she whispers, her voice hoarse. âHad I?â
I saw you, sheâd told me, yesterday. Just you, standing in the middle of this empty road. But she saw more than that.
âYou saw what happened to her.â My tongue feels thick. The metallic taste floods my stomach, dissolves into a rush of churning blood. âNo . . . you saw all of it. What happened to me, too.â
âIâm so sorry, Rose.â Sheâs stammering, clasping her hands together. To her, weâve had this conversation, already moved on, and yet sheâs at a loss for words. âIt wasnât supposed to go like this, Iââ
âOh my God.â Laughter bubbles up, unstoppable. âI havenât told anyone. I was never going to tell anyone, and you knew. You knew before it even happened.â
âRose.â Her hands hover at the edge of my space. âWhy donât you sit down.â
We lock eyes. I wonder what she sees in mine to make her look at me like that. I wonder if she can see threads of cause and effect as easily as she can see futures. I donât want to sit. I want her to explain.
Did you see what I agreed to, that night on the road?
Or I didnât want him to lose his license, can you believe that?
Or Would she have gotten in his car if I said something? If I picked up the phone?
Or Did you see what happened to her?
Did it look like it hurt?
Did they mean it when they said it was quick?
What finally comes out is âIâll meet you at the station.â
âRose,â she says again, in a rush of air. âI donât think you should be alone.â
Itâs like thereâs a break in the water, and I drag myself to the surface. I can convince her Iâm okay. If thereâs one thing Iâm good at, itâs looking okay. But I canât keep talking to herânot like this.
Because next time I open my mouth, everything might come tumbling out.
âIâm fine,â I say. âI am. But I need a minute.â
Cassie chews on her lower lip. âIf anything happens, call me. I mean it.â
âI will,â I say. I think she hears just how perfunctory that sounds.
âListen.â She drags a hand through her curls. âYou donât have to talk to me. Just . . . maybe itâll be easier. That you donât have to start from the beginning.â
She watches me for a long time as she walks away. The ghost of her stare lingers after I turn to the empty road.
â
EVEN THOUGH LOTUS Valley looks empty at first glance, there are surprisingly few places to be alone. Everywhere I try, thereâs always someone staring, or trying to talk to me.
I end up wandering in circles at first. Walking used to helpâespecially at night, when the sounds of my neighborhood were sleepy and muted. That was never Momâs favorite habit of mine. But there were no dangers out there that I hadnât already
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