All That Really Matters, Nicole Deese [best detective novels of all time .TXT] 📗

his own. Miracle was the only word that could have described what had happened inside that old, dusty manor.

No, not just a manor, a home. One that equipped and supported, shepherded and loved. One that offered sanctuary in place of survival. And hope instead of heartache.

The current statistics that today’s youth faced without a program like The Bridge faded in and out at the bottom of the screen. On the final slide, the donation link lingered long after the final sustained note of a cello played.

In the wake of an emotionally charged room, a reverent silence fell over us all.

Still nestled against Silas, I closed my eyes and prayed for tomorrow’s collective efforts to succeed. For this four-minute, forty-seven-second video to have an impact. For the hurting, lost, and vulnerable to finally find a place to call home.

Do it again, God, my heart pleaded. Give us a miracle.

39

Molly

It was incredible what happened when people banded together to fight for the good of others. Excitement pumped through me as I watched the fireside room overflow with volunteers of all ages and backgrounds to put their swiping fingers and devices to good use.

The premise for our Bridge The Gap Launch Day was simple enough: Anybody willing to give an hour of their time to share the campaign videos and donation links was welcome. As were their friends. And their friends of friends, too.

Naturally, Silas had worked out a schedule based on the research Val provided regarding the steady push we needed to build throughout the day and evening. And despite having a brand-new platform, The Heart of The Matter, I’d been surprised to find over two thousand followers waiting for me this morning—most of whom I recognized from an account formerly known as Makeup Matters with Molly. I could only hope their loyalty was stronger than my last five-star pick for ultra-hold hairspray.

While some of our participants today had committed to posting the campaign during their allotted time from home or carpool line or after-school study group, others had decided to join us here, in person, at Fir Crest Manor. It was a beautiful effort of solidarity for a cause worth far more than the ask.

Just before noon, Carlos showed up at the house with his mentor, Pastor Peter Rosario. And whether it was launch day nerves or the three shots of espresso I’d consumed before sunrise, the sight of Carlos standing next to Silas in a house built from the splinters of their childhood was enough to push me over the edge.

“Hi!” I said, sticking my hand out to him before Silas could even finish the introduction. “It’s great to finally meet you, Carlos! Thank you both for coming, it means so much to us.” I smiled at the line forming behind me: Jake, Clara, Glo. “Glo and a few of the residents baked muffins and cookies to share with our guests today, and there’s coffee and juice, so please feel free to help yourselves.”

“I’ve heard many good things about you, Molly.” Carlos, who looked like a shorter version of The Rock, only with more hair and a more defined neck, had an accent that seemed to curl around each word he spoke. Most people here would likely suspect he and Pastor Rosario were hired as our security team, seeing as nobody in their right mind would try and get past them. Carlos arched a humorous eyebrow at Silas, then returned his attention to me. “My baby brother did not paint an adequate picture of your beauty. I think he could use less time at the dart board and more time studying poetry.”

I blushed a thousand shades of flattered while Silas wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Thanks for that, Carlos,” he deadpanned.

Peter laughed as Carlos slapped Silas on the back, putting the whole group at ease. While Wren and Devon waved me up to the stage for the big kickoff, Val gave me a thumbs-up as I reached the mic and looked out over the room. Incredibly, every round table was full. Friends, foster families, local clergy, past residents, teachers, and neighbors had all rallied to be here on such short notice, and the sight of them made my throat ache with gratitude.

I met Silas’s eyes from across the room, wordlessly asking if he’d like to join me on stage as planned. But he simply dipped his chin for me to go ahead—a gesture of trust I’d never take for granted. “Welcome, everyone, to our Bridge The Gap Launch Day. We’re thrilled you’re here with us, and more than that, we’re thrilled that you believe in a cause that’s been near and dear to our hearts for . . .” I glanced at Silas, Carlos, and Jake, noting the unique trio of biological and adopted brothers they formed. “For years.”

Reaching my arm out to the line-up of chairs filled by our residents at the side of the stage, I asked them to stand and introduce themselves. Each one of them had a part in the success of this day—whether keeping the refreshment trays filled, answering tech questions, or playing live music during the posting push.

I was just about to step down when Amy gestured to the projector screen over the fireplace. “Ah, yes, and as you can see, we’ve set up a place to monitor the donations as they come in throughout the day. This is a live counter, which is located at the bottom of the donation website.”

A former foster mother from a neighboring town raised her hand. “What is the final goal?”

I did my best to keep my smile intact as I answered her. “We’re hoping to raise five hundred thousand dollars to secure a matching grant for the expansion plan—” I took a breath but did not let my voice falter—“by tomorrow morning.”

I couldn’t decipher the chatter that hummed through the room at this announcement, but this wasn’t a day for doubts. This was a day for miracles.

“I’m sure you’d all like to know a bit more