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

true,” I say, “then I think you can ignore your charter.”

But she doesn’t smile this time. “If,” she repeats, low. “So you don’t believe it?”

I start to tell her no. The truth slips out instead. “I don’t know what I believe.”

I could take that sympathetic purse of her mouth as genuine. But I think I’d be wrong.

“If you’re hearing me,” she says, “and I think you are, we don’t need to bother with that charter, you and I. We can solve this little problem by close of business.”

“Meaning what?” I say.

“You haven’t spoken to the sheriff yet,” she says. I can’t stop the little shake of my head. “She’ll be along soon, I imagine. We’re both meant to talk to you today, we could agree on that much. And she’ll try to convince you that something can be done. She’ll tell you that what you brought was always meant to return. That it’s our responsibility to help. No matter what that means for us. Are we still understanding each other, Rose?”

“I—I think we are.”

“Good,” Mayor Williams says. “Because you’ll see how easy it is to get swept into the romance of this town, its purpose. I had my own regrettable dabblings long ago. All I ask is that you remember this. The sheriff has the means to stop this tragedy. She just chooses not to.”

She smiles beatifically. And she never for a second looks away. “But if you told Sheriff Jones you wanted rid of it, she’d have no choice.”

It sounds simple enough. But the way she says it sends a chill through me.

“And if I just left?” I say.

“I’m afraid that’s not one of the choices, dear.” Something in her smile hardens. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? There’s a pull to Lotus Valley. Like an ocean’s current, drawing us in. And this flood feels that more keenly than anyone. Now that you’ve led them here—they won’t simply turn back and follow you out. You may be intriguing to them, but this town is more intriguing by far.

“And besides,” she says, “it found you out there. It chose to follow you. If you left without resolving this, who’s to say it wouldn’t find you again someday?”

Sutton Avenue isn’t here. I can’t see it, anyway. But when I breathe in, I feel the cold, clammy air.

She’s trying to scare me. But I know she’s right. I could go on not believing Cassie. I could discount half the things I’ve seen here. I could leave this place and try to trust that I didn’t destroy it.

But something is following me. I can’t deny that anymore. And once it’s finished here, it could follow me home. To Mom, and Dan, and Sammy.

There’s a long, loud rush of blood through my ears. Loud enough that I don’t hear the music until the car careens around the corner.

TONIGHT, I’M GONNA HAVE MYSELF

A REAL GOOD TIME

I FEEL ALIIII-I-I-IIIIIVE

As the beat-up Dodge screeches in front of the house, I turn back to Mayor Williams. “I want it gone,” I murmur.

She slides a business card into my hand and whispers, “Talk to Sheriff Jones. Hear her out, by all means. But more importantly, see her methods. Ensure that you have the resolve.”

“I have the resolve,” I shoot back. “There’s something I need to do. But I’ll call you after.”

I didn’t know how hollow that smile was until right this second, when her face lights up.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she says.

The passenger’s door sails open, nearly flattening the mailbox. And I tuck the business card into my pocket and out of sight.

“Rose?” Alex Harper from the sheriff’s office calls out. Even from across the lawn, I see the furrow in his pale, delicate features. “Is everything okay?”

Mayor Williams has a beauty queen’s wave. “Just introducing myself.”

The furrow deepens, but the tone remains the same. “I was asking Rose, ma’am.”

The mayor lets out a single startled laugh, leaning forward to peer past Alex. “And how are you, Felix? Feeling good about your decision?”

Over Alex’s shoulder, I can make out Felix Sohrabi’s queasy smile in the driver’s seat. “As good as I feel about any of my decisions, Ms. W.”

“Don’t let me keep you.” The mayor makes a show of stepping out of my path. And as I walk past, I feel a light brush against my shoulder. “But don’t forget.”

I can see her in the rearview mirror as I slide into the back seat. I don’t think she moves once as we pull away.

For a long moment, I forget to be anxious about Felix’s driving. But I get there eventually.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. It takes me a second to remember that he’s asking about the mayor, not about my fingernails curling into the shredded back seat.

“Fine,” I say. “She wanted to talk.” They both make little noises of assent, and we lapse back into silence.

“Thanks for the ride?” I add.

“Oh, you know, yeah,” Felix says.

We make our way out of the housing development and toward the city, and I drum my fingers against my kneecaps and concentrate on breathing. Felix is, to put it mildly, not a careful driver. No one’s on the road, though, so it should be fine. That’s what I keep telling myself.

“You can’t talk to her like that,” Felix finally mumbles.

“Like what,” Alex says, crisply enough that it’s clear he already knows what.

“Allie”—Felix lets out a long, controlled breath—“we have to be civil to her if we want her to—”

“She’s a hypocrite,” Alex interrupts quietly.

“Did you hear me say she wasn’t?” Felix says.

“I’m not going to let her—”

“I don’t see you letting her do anything,” Felix says.

Alex only raises his voice a little. But I have the feeling that for him, this is a shout. “I’m not going to let her spin me as some victim for her—”

The word cuts off in a little half-suppressed cough. And Felix, with the intensity of someone who’s had to say this more than once, blurts out, “Will you please use your inhaler?”

“I’m good,” Alex says. “Thank you.”

“What, are