The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney (i wanna iguana read aloud TXT) 📕

This is a hole I’ll never fill. But I don’t want to. I want to preserve this spot where she stood until time and erosion wear it away.

“Thank you,” I say as I feel the Flood’s chill around my shoulders. Because we finally, finally understand each other.

I’m not sure how long we stay like that. Eventually, I feel a hand against my arm, and when I turn, Cassie’s there. Her face looks puffy and red, and her eyes are still brimming.

And yet when she hugs me, she cradles the back of my head, runs her hand through my hair, like I’m the one being comforted.

I understand that better when I go to speak and I can’t get the words out.

I don’t cry, though. Not yet. Crying, I think, is going to take time, unwrapping those layers of performances and straight faces. But I was the one who wrapped them. So I think I must know where the knots are tied.

“So,” I whisper. “I don’t think you have a shot at second-most accurate now.”

She pulls back, her mouth a perfect O. “Wow.”

I let out a choked laugh. “What do you think changed?”

“Well. I’m guessing.” Her shoulders twitch, like she’s too tired to shrug properly. “But I think they were just so convinced they were going to hurt us, that that’s what I saw. I’ve never seen a vision of anyone’s fears before. But I’ll think long and hard about what that means once I’ve slept for eight years.”

“Might boost your status in the prophet world,” I say.

“I mean. It might.” Cassie’s still scowling. But she looks thoughtful, too. “But I think we can all agree that I still get to be mad as hell, right?”

“Oh God, yeah,” I say, so quickly that she snorts. “You lost family. Years of your life.”

“It’s a lot to think about,” she says softly. “But. Well. I suddenly have a lot of time I wasn’t planning on.”

She’s smiling. I don’t understand why until I see Christie Jones making her way through the crowd, Maggie Williams trailing behind her. Her parasol is by her side, and Rudy’s tendrils spread from her feet, whipping all around her.

“And,” Cassie says, “I didn’t lose everything.”

Over my shoulder, I smile back at her, even as I stand a little straighter at Christie’s approach. There’s something rigid in the way she’s walking. It occurs to me too late that she’s still holding Rudy back.

“I spoke to Theresa,” she says, by way of greeting. “And your car is ready whenever you are. She fixed it within a day, apparently. But, well. Didn’t tell you, for obvious reasons.” Her gaze darts over my shoulder and then softens—I think maybe Cassie just shot her a look. “I don’t want to rush you,” she says. “You’re welcome here as long as you like, though I’m sure you want to be back with your family.”

“And . . . ?” I say, mildly. Because she’s still looking over my shoulder, but not at Cassie.

Finally, she looks at me properly. Rudy’s many arms stretch, just a little, toward me. “And,” she says, resigned, “the Flood is following you again, aren’t they?”

Next to me, Cassie doesn’t flinch. If I wasn’t watching Rudy’s slow approach across the pavement, I would have been touched that she’s still holding my hand.

“Please don’t hurt them,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m talking to Christie or the shadow at her feet.

“Rose, look at me.” Christie’s dark brown eyes hold mine for a long beat. “We don’t want to hurt them.”

Maggie, who’d been letting her take the lead, blinks. “We don’t?”

“This was a misunderstanding,” Christie says. “We know that. But you need to be at home, where you can heal. And you don’t have to bring them back with you. We can figure something out.”

I hold her stare. She looks so concerned. For the first time all week, she doesn’t have to be.

“I don’t think,” I say slowly, “that they’ll be with me forever. That’s not what either of us wants. But if they’re around a little while longer—we’re okay with that. If that makes sense.”

“Still.” Christie’s lips are pursed, tight. “This is living memory itself. Their concept of ‘a little while’ might be very different than yours.”

There’s a light stir of air at my back. I reach up to touch my shoulder, as if they have a hand to hold. Just hours ago, the worst thing you could have said to me was that I would never be able to shake the Flood. And now, with them standing as close to me as it’s possible to get, I know that I won’t. We’ll drift gradually, maybe, like plates beneath the earth: shift by minuscule shift. I don’t know how long it’s going to take. And that doesn’t scare me.

“They’re safe with me,” I say. “And I’m safe with them.”

The crease on Christie’s brow melts away. And gently, Rudy’s limbs loosen and recede. One slides into my palm and, laughing, I scratch it until I hear a low purr.

“Well,” she says, a little rueful. “That sound good to you, Maggie? I think she knows better than we do.”

Maggie’s lips thin, and for a moment, it looks like she’s going to object. “It’s all the same to me, Christie.” She sighs. “That’s not what I came here for, anyway.”

“You didn’t?” Christie says. But Maggie’s attention is now, fully, on me.

“Rose,” she says. “You’re going to be all right. I wanted you to know.”

I meet her solemn, steady gaze. I’ve heard a lot of grand pronouncements from Maggie Williams these past few days. But Cassie was right. It sounds different when you’re sure.

And I’m grateful. It’s nice to be reminded. But I mean it when I tell her, “I know.”

—

CASSIE, FELIX, AND Alex walk me to Theresa’s garage. Or rather, Cassie walks me to the garage, and Felix and Alex gaze into the other’s eyes.

“You guys are gonna crash into a pole,” I say, with all the love in my