The Last Harvest(27)

“Tomorrow, meet me at All Saints in Murpheyville at 11:00 A.M. Bring Noodle for a tour. It will give you an excuse to be there. While they’re showing her around, we’ll present our case to the priests.”

“Noodle … I almost forgot … the note.” Frantically, I dig through my pockets. “I had this terrible nightmare the other night … and then I found this.” I pull it out and hand it to her.

She unfolds it. “I don’t understand.”

“Look what it says.”

She glances up at me with a puzzled expression. “It’s a gas receipt.”

I snatch it back from her. “No, this wasn’t it. There was a note from Noodle that said, ‘he’s coming.’”

She reaches out for my hands to steady them. “Clay, whatever you saw … whatever you think you saw, it’s your subconscious mind. The nightmares … the visions … it’s just your fear taking over. You’re afraid for Noodle, for Ali, for your entire family, which is perfectly normal.”

Ali murmurs something.

“You should go.” Miss Granger crosses the room to check on her.

“But shouldn’t I be the one to take her home? If she wakes up and she’s alone with you in some weird nightgown and—”

“I’ve been Ali’s counselor for a year now. She won’t be afraid. It makes sense that she would come to me after what happened at the game.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“Why is she in counseling?”

“She mostly talks about you. The Preservation Society forbade her from speaking to you until you were ready, but she misses you. She’s worried about you. You have to remember, in her eyes, you’re the one who’s changed. You’re the one who abandoned her.”

It feels like someone just kicked me in the gut.

All this time I could’ve been with her, watching out for her.

I take a step closer, but Miss Granger stops me. “Don’t worry,” she says as she leads me to the door. “We have God on our side.”





16

THE HOUSE is dark and quiet—same as any other night, but everything’s different now.

More sinister.

My body’s exhausted from all the adrenaline pumping through me, but my mind’s wired. I go into the kitchen to dig around in the fridge. I’m suddenly starving. I grab an apple, rub it against my shirt, and take a giant bite out of it as I check out my options, but all I see is that bloody leftover steak. And just like that, my appetite’s gone.

I scrape the plate into the dog bowl. As I’m washing up, Hammy miraculously appears through the dog door just long enough to grab the steak and take it back outside.

“Traitor,” I say, shaking my head.

I’ll never understand that dog. He’s got a nice warm place to sleep. Hell, Noodle’d probably let him sleep in her bed if he wanted to. Instead, he stalks the perimeter of the wheat all night long like he’s looking for something … waiting.

I write a note for Jess on the back of an envelope from some college in Texas that’s still trying to recruit me.

We’re all going to the Harvest Festival tomorrow, 6pm—look normal. You owe me.

As I swing around the banister to head upstairs, a fly buzzes past me into the living room. I stuff the note in my back pocket and grab the flyswatter hanging from the nail in the kitchen. The fly lands on the stark white wall where the crucifix used to hang.

There’s a dozen of them buzzing around, big and slow, like they’ve been trapped in here for weeks. I haul back the swatter.

“Don’t.” Mom’s voice startles me.

I let out a jittery breath and turn to see her sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at the wall.

“They’ll die soon enough … all on their own,” she whispers.

I can tell the pendulum has swung in the other direction. She remembers everything now. I can feel the pain seeping out of her.

I lean the swatter against the fireplace and take a seat next to her on the couch.

We watch the flies.

It’s strangely mesmerizing, how they land for a few seconds and then buzz around a little before landing again in a different spot. Over and over again, like they’ve been choreographed.

I want to tell her everything I’ve learned about Dad, the Preservation Society, Miss Granger, the marks … but I can’t. I’m still not sure what’s really happening, what I believe. Maybe when this is all over, when I know we’re all safe. But for now, I need to put her at ease. And more than anything, I want to give her a little bit of hope.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I say as I pull the acceptance letter from my pocket and hand it to her. “Tomorrow, I’m taking Noodle to look at All Saints Academy in Murpheyville. She got in.”

She studies the paper. “Can we afford that?”

“I’ve been saving up. Dad would want this. She deserves a fresh start.”

Mom grabs my hand, squeezing it so hard I can feel her entire body tremble with the effort of trying to hold in her emotions. Tears slip from her eyes and I look away. She wouldn’t want me to see her like this.

“And tomorrow night we’re going to the Harvest Festival. The whole family. I talked with Mr. Neely. I’m taking my place on the council.”