“Where next?” Beth yelled, hoisting herself aboard the skittering Scooter, and Margery, winded from the effort of climbing back aboard Charley, had to bend over a minute and catch her breath before she answered.

“Sophia,” she said, suddenly. “I’m going to check on Sophia. If this place is flooding, then Sophia and William’s will be, too. You head for the houses across the creek.”

Beth nodded, wheeled her horse around, and was gone.

* * *

• • •

Kathleen and Alice loaded the wheelbarrow with books, covering them with sacking so that Fred could push it up the soaking path toward his home. They had only one barrow, and the women would load it as swiftly as they could, carrying the books in stacks toward the back door, then following him laden with as many other books as they could fit into four saddlebags, knees buckling under the weight, heads bowed against the weather. They had cleared maybe a third of the library in the past hour but since then the water had risen to the second step and Alice was afraid they wouldn’t manage much more before it rose right over.

“You okay?” Fred passed Alice on the track back down. He was wrapped in oilcloth, and a trail of water ran from the side of his hat.

“I think Kathleen should leave. She shouldn’t be away from her children.”

Fred looked up at the skies, then down the road, where the mountains disappeared in a blur of gray. “Tell her to go,” he said.

“But what will you do?” said Kathleen, minutes later. “You can’t move all these, just the two of you.”

“We’ll save what we can. You need to go home.”

When she hesitated again, Fred put his hand on her upper arm. “They’re just books, Kathleen.”

She didn’t protest a second time. She just nodded, mounted Garrett’s horse and swung round, cantering back up the road so that sprays of water shot out behind her.

They rested a moment and stood briefly in the dry of the cabin, watching her go, their chests heaving with the effort. Water dripped off their oilcloth coats into pools on the wooden floor.

“You sure you’re okay, Alice? It’s heavy work.”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“Well, that’s the truth.”

They exchanged a small smile. Almost without thinking, Fred lifted a hand and slowly wiped a droplet of rain from under her eye with his thumb. Alice was briefly stilled by the electric shock of his skin on hers, by the unexpected intensity of his pale gray eyes, his lashes soaked into shining black points. She had the strangest urge to take his thumb into her mouth and bite it. Their eyes locked and she felt her breath pushed from her lungs, her face coloring, as if he could read her mind.

“Can I help?”

They sprang apart at the sight of Izzy in the doorway, her mother’s car parked haphazardly up against the rail, her riding boots in her hand. The roaring of the rain on the tin roof had muffled the sound of her arrival.

“Izzy!” Alice’s voice emerged in an embarrassed rush, too high, too shrill. She stepped forward impulsively and embraced her. “Oh, how we’ve missed you! Look, Fred, it’s Izzy!”

“Came to see if I could help,” said Izzy, blushing.

“That’s—that’s good news.” Fred was about to speak then looked down and realized she was not wearing her leg brace. “You ain’t going to be able to walk the track, are you?”

“Not very fast,” she said.

“Okay. Let me think. You drove that thing here?” he said, incredulous.

Izzy nodded. “Not too good on the clutch with my left leg but if I lean on it with my stick I’m fine.”

Fred’s eyebrows shot up, but he swiftly lowered them. “Margery and Beth have taken the routes nearer the south side of town. Take the car as far up to the school as you can and tell them on the other side of the creek that they need to get to higher ground. But go across the footbridge. Don’t try to drive that thing across the water, okay?”

* * *

• • •

Izzy ran for the car, her arms sheltering her head, and climbed in, trying to make sense of what she had just seen: Fred, cradling Alice’s face tenderly in his hand, the two of them just inches apart. She felt, suddenly, like she had done at school, never quite party to whatever was going on, and pushed the thought away, trying to smother it in the memory of Alice’s delight at seeing her. Izzy, we’ve missed you!

For the first time in a month, Izzy Brady felt something like herself again. She rammed her stick down onto the clutch, hauled the car into reverse, spun it round and set off for the far end of town, a determined jut to her chin, a woman once again with a mission.

* * *

• • •

Monarch Creek was already under a foot of water by the time they reached it. This was one of the lowest points of the county. There was a reason that this land had mostly been left to colored folk—it was lush, yes, but prone to flooding; mosquitoes and no-see-ums were thick in the air through the months of summer. Now, as Charley clattered down the hill through the sheeting rain, Margery could just make out Sophia, a wooden box atop her head, wading through the waters, her dress floating around her. A pile of her and William’s belongings sat on the slopes of the patch of woodland above. From the doorway William looked out, his face anxious, his wooden crutch wedged under his armpit.

“Oh, thank the Lord!” Sophia yelled, as Margery approached. “We need to save our things.”

Margery jumped off the mule and ran toward the house, heading into the water. Sophia had rigged up a rope between the porch and a telegraph pole by the road, and Margery now used this to make her way across the creek. The water was icy and the current ominously strong, although it only came to her knees. Inside the house Sophia’s cherished furniture had toppled over; the smaller items bobbing in the water. Margery found herself momentarily paralyzed: what to save? She grabbed for photographs on the wall, for books and ornaments, wedging them into her coat and reaching out for a side table, which she hauled to the doorway and out onto the grass. Her belly ached, the pain low in her pelvis, and she found herself wincing.

“You can’t save no more,” she yelled at Sophia. “Water’s coming up too fast.”

“That’s everything we own in there.” Sophia’s voice was despairing.

Margery bit her lip. “One more trip, then.”

William was moving around the flooded room, using his arms to support himself on the wall, trying to corral essentials—a pan, a chopping board, two bowls—clasping them in his huge hands. “That rain easing off any?” he said, but his face suggested he already knew the answer.