The Valley and the Flood Rebecca Mahoney (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📖

sweep the auditorium. If the Mockingbird’s client was a woman, that rules out John Jonas and Loreen.

“We’ll cooperate,” says Adrienne. I meet her eyes. She looks as scared as I feel. I’d really like to believe that she’s as scared as I feel.

“Jay,” Christie says. “I presume you remember where you were that night.”

Jay sniffs. I know he’s the reason we’re here, kind of, but I feel a pang anyway. “Paco’s.”

“Then you’d better hope they still have the security footage,” Christie says. “Because you and I are going to make a list of every person who was there that week.”

“And the vote?” Ace Martin asks. But his heart’s not in it.

We’re still for a moment, save for Rudy. I can see him straining at the edge of the parasol’s shadow. He can see what’s closing around us—closing around Christie, his whole world. One slip of her hand, and the decision would be made for us.

Maggie smiles. It’s tired this time.

“I think I know when I’ve been overruled, Ace,” she says. “But all in favor of my proposal, please. Surprise me.”

There’s reluctance on some of those faces. A few shoulders twitch.

But not a single hand goes up. Even Ace, smiling grimly, keeps both palms flat against his lap.

“Sorry, Maggie,” he says. “If one of us did bring that—that Flood here . . . then Ms. Colter’s right. One more day. They didn’t choose to come here. But they can choose to make this right.”

“And I appreciate that,” Christie says, as we walk briskly to the front of the school, “but you need to head home.”

“I can help Jay,” Alex says.

“Your father’s starting to get worried about all these late nights,” Christie says. “Felix, your father’s out front, too. I’ll send your mother and sisters home as soon as I can.”

“They didn’t do it,” says Felix halfheartedly.

“Well, of course they didn’t,” Christie huffs. “But if the others see me giving out special treatment, they’re not going to be cooperative.”

“I guess that means I’m staying, too,” Sandy says, trailing behind Christie.

Christie smiles hesitantly over her shoulder. “Glad to see you’re still talking to me.”

“For now,” Sandy says. “We’ll chat later about how you didn’t think I could resist the temptation to destroy our town.”

“I didn’t!” Christie goes pale. “I just—”

But Sandy’s already breathing out. “I know. And yes, it would have hurt, choosing not to see my sister again. But I’m an adult, Chris. That’s a choice I can make.”

Christie looks at her a moment, meek. “If it helps,” she says quietly, “I also wanted to spare you the pain of keeping this hot gossip to yourself.”

Sandy looks at her sideways. Her eyes are narrowed. But her lips do twitch. “I would have if it killed me,” she says.

Christie grins. Her nose even crinkles. “Trust me, I know.”

I don’t miss Cassie’s full-body eye roll next to me. As much as she insists she doesn’t see them as family, it’s the look of someone whose parents are flirting in public. “I’ll go with Jay,” she says.

They both turn to look at her. “Honey,” Sandy says, “you should get some rest.”

“In a bit.” Cassie shrugs. “You’re both here. Who’s going to be looking for me?”

Christie gives her a long, searching look. And eventually she sighs. “A couple of hours. Then you’re going home.”

“I’ve still got pastelitos left,” Sandy says. “And I’m not eating them all myself.”

Cassie smiles thinly back. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sandy heads back toward the school, and Jay and Cassie split off across the parking lot. “Give you a ride back?” Felix says to me as he opens the door for Alex.

I shake my head. “I’m going to stay.”

“She’ll take the ride,” Christie says. To me, she adds, “Go with Felix. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I can help,” I say quickly. The Flood comes tomorrow. I have to help.

“The biggest help to me right now would be you going back to the house,” Christie says.

I laugh, though it’s not funny. “I’ve been trying to talk to the Flood all day.”

But she doesn’t react to that. She speaks slower, calmer. “What you need to remember,” she says, “is that they’re trying to talk to you, too.”

I let out a long, slow breath. “So what do I do?”

She picks my bag up from the ground and slides it onto my shoulder. She told me earlier she wasn’t sure how to be a mother. But it feels like such a motherly thing to do.

“Go back to that house,” she says. “And listen.”

—

THE EARLY EVENING passes in flickers. We pick up drive-thru fast food on the way out of town and eat it on the ride to the Lethe Ridge housing development in complete silence. We pull up to the driveway and watch the houses, shrouded in darkness, for a long moment. Alex is the one who eventually asks if I want them to come in with me. I thank them but turn them down.

I glance around me, into the model house. The living room is a little island of light in the sea of dark—from my seat on the couch, I can see down the bedroom wing hallway, and little shadowy angles of the kitchen.

If there’s a good time to talk, this is it.

“So,” I say. “Here we are.”

I don’t need to feel the shift in the atmosphere anymore to know that they’re hearing me. I swallow.

“I’m not sure if you were listening before,” I say. “But Christie Jones, the sheriff . . . I was telling her I’ve been trying to talk to you. And she said—well. She kind of thinks I’ve talked enough.”

Nothing. I take a deeper breath. “So,” I say again. “If there’s something you wanted to say . . .”

I curl deeper into the couch in the silence that follows. It’s like approaching a cat, I think. I need to let them come to me.

I check my phone again. Nothing from Cassie. Nothing from Felix or Alex, or the sheriff. Nothing from Flora, as promised—presumably that conversation will wait until I give up and call her, and somehow that’s less of a relief