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

a middle-aged man with a potbelly and a warm smile. The girl has a gap-toothed grin and a sky-blue eye-patch over her right eye. Without that eye-patch, I may not have recognized the younger Theresa. It’s not like I could say for sure, but I can’t see her smiling like that, ever.

“What are you doing?”

I almost drop the picture frame. “I-I’m sorry,” I say, gingerly placing it back among the others. “I . . .”

The words stick in my throat as I look up. She sounded angry, just now. But her face is blank.

I swallow. “I didn’t think anyone was here.”

Without looking away from me, she pops the earbuds out of her ears. “Didn’t hear you,” she says.

“I was coming to check on the car,” I manage.

“I told you,” she says. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”

There’s heat unfurling in my chest, like I’m having another panic attack. Fight or flight, my brain supplies numbly. Or freeze.

“I’ll leave you alone,” I mumble as I move toward the door.

She slides into my path.

“You know, Ms. Nobody,” she says. “You may have been invited in, but take care that you don’t make yourself too much at home here.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my throat tight. “I don’t—”

“Let me be clearer, then,” she says. “Not everything in this town is about you.”

Move, I remind myself. It doesn’t work.

“If this is about your desk,” I say slowly, “I’m very sorry. I didn’t—It was wrong of me. I won’t do it again.”

She watches me for a long moment, with that hard, unblinking eye. And then smoothly, without a sound, she leans in close.

“Just messing with you,” she says, her lips twitching.

Queasily, I smile back. But her grin doesn’t seem to reach her eye.

“Your baby’s coming along nicely,” she says. “Should be ready in a day or two. Can’t promise that it’ll be done by showtime, but don’t worry. If we have to evacuate, I’ll give you a tow.”

“That’s kind of you,” I say carefully.

“All part of the Gibson Repairs guarantee.” Her gaze travels to the takeout container in my hands. “Didn’t know the Sweet as Pie was selling sushi now.”

My grip on the container tightens. “It’s the Home Away from Home.”

“Ah, Adrienne. Hell of a cook,” Theresa says. “It’s a shame, though.”

It’s odd enough that for a moment, I forget my unease. “What is?”

“The Home Away from Home,” Theresa says. “She couldn’t always make it, you know. Not until the day she lost her mom. Went to work from the hospital hoping she could get her mind off things, and it just”—she snaps her fingers—“happened. But no matter how hard she tries, she just can’t seem to make one for herself. Says it doesn’t taste the same. Can you imagine how that’d feel? To give everyone that taste of home except yourself.”

My panic is draining away. But something else fills my chest in its place.

She was so nice to me. So nice. But that means something different here in Lotus Valley.

“What do you think she would give?” I say. “To be able to make it.”

I realize just how odd the question sounds when it’s out of my mouth. But if Theresa’s taken aback, it doesn’t show. She blinks once, thoughtfully.

“If it were me,” she says, “I imagine I’d kill for it.”

Twenty-One THE FOREGONE CONCLUSION

THE FIRST THING I see in the lobby of the station is Deputy Jay, pacing by the front desk. His hands keep clenching and unclenching, and there’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Either our impending doom at the hands of Lotus Valley’s civic spirit is starting to get to him, or that’s just his normal resting face.

“Oh!” He sits up so sharply, I think I hear his back crack. “Ma’am. I’ll let Cassie know you’re here.”

Ma’am. I was miss to him before—when I wasn’t a harbinger of destruction, I guess.

“I’ll let her know myself,” I say with a wobbly smile.

“Can I get you anything?” His hands are under the desk, but I can see the muscles in his arms working as he wrings them. “Water? Seltzer? I think maybe we’ve got some soda?”

“I’m fine,” I say. As impossible as it seems, I think he’s more anxious than I am. “Thank you.”

He says something in response that I don’t quite hear, and then I’m moving deeper into the building, down where the hallway opens. My heart is just starting to slow from my sprint across Lotus Valley, but now I’m dazed. Floating. Like on the off chance that this hallway and this building are real, I’ve been cut and pasted in.

I’ll describe this to Maurice, if I tell him any of this. I’ll bet he has a word for it.

As I round the corner, I see Alex is at his desk, working hard on his thousand-yard stare. And standing opposite him, leaning against the wall, is Sheriff Christie Jones.

She grins, though even that looks somber.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Welcome back.” To Alex, I smile and ask, “You okay?”

He levels me with a long look. His face doesn’t have a whole lot more color in it than when we left the caverns. But he looks calmer.

“I’m fine,” he says. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

I narrow my eyes. “How bad did you think it was going to be, exactly?”

Christie Jones laughs. “Alex, would you mind bringing Cassie and Felix back here? I’ll get Rose caught up.”

She watches Alex’s retreating back down the hallway, but she doesn’t say anything at first. She crosses the room and sinks into Alex’s chair, motioning for me to take Felix’s. I glance down at her feet. And I see the shadows there warping, stretching toward me.

Rudy is struggling to get to the Flood.

She sees me looking, and she grimaces. “I’ve got him. Just be careful. I don’t think he can control himself right now.”

I nod slowly, and I let myself look away. It’s not his fault, really. Rudy’s trying to protect Christie, like he always has. And I’ve felt the