Crest (Book #2,Swift Series) by Heather London Read Free Book Online Page A

smile and got out of the car.
    My stomach began to feel uneasy as I walked towards the glass doors. The same doors I had bolted out of after reading the newspaper article about the Harpers and then, again, the night I ran to the cemetery to ask for my mother’s help in going to 1905 in order to warn them.
    My heart felt like it was in my throat and my legs felt strangely weak. I wondered why I was so nervous. I should be excited to be here and see Ms. Donaldson. She would surely have some answers for me, right? She would at least be able to explain the whole memory erasing thing... right? Then, something hit me and fear crawled up my spine. What if... what if she had her memory erased as well? I would be here—in this time—all alone. No one in this century—or that was still living—would know my secret. I shook my head, trying to get those thoughts out of my head.
     When my hand finally reached the handle, I couldn’t help myself from tearing the door open and rushing in, hearing the loud screeching sound as it closed behind me. I looked to my left and saw that Ms. Donaldson wasn’t sitting at her desk. Panic filled me. I scanned the library, searching desperately for who I felt was the only one who could help me make sense of what was going on, but I couldn’t find her.
    “Ms. Donaldson!” I called, my voice cracked from my slight panic. I heard some rustling of papers coming from somewhere in front of me and then I saw her. She stood up from behind the checkout counter looking frazzled with a messy stack of papers in her hand.
    “Oh, Meredith, thank goodness you’re here. I have this awful cold and apparently clumsiness is a symptom.” Her voice sounded scratchy and I could see her nose was a glowing red. She was looking at me over the rim of her glasses and her hair was disheveled. My stomach turned at her reaction, or lack of, knowing at that moment that she had no memory of me being gone the last six weeks, either.
    Slowly, I walked towards her, the whole time wondering if I should say anything at all. Maybe if I explained everything, then she could help me. But what if there was a reason they weren’t supposed to remember anything? What was I supposed to do then? If I couldn’t talk to her, then I couldn’t talk to anyone. How could the council—my mother—do this to me? The more I thought about it, the more it irritated me. I knew the council must have had a reason for bringing me back here, but leaving me vulnerable, confused and freaked out was not fair.
    “Are you okay, dear? You have a look of fright on your face?” Ms. Donaldson asked as I got closer to her.
    I made up my mind, I was going to try and talk to her about it because I couldn’t imagine trying to figure all of this out on my own. My heart hammered against my chest and I wasn’t sure of the best way to approach the subject. I wasn’t sure what she remembered. Did she even remember telling me everything that night in the library?
    “Ms. Donaldson, when was the last time you saw me?” I swallowed hard, trying to force down my panic.
    She cocked her head and looked at me with a confused expression. No words came out of her mouth for a moment; she seemed to be thinking hard on the question I had just asked her.
    Finally, she spoke, “Well, I—I don’t quite remember the last time I saw you, dear, but if today is Monday, then it must have been Saturday, right? Huh, that’s the strangest thing.” She laughed nervously. “I guess forgetfulness is another symptom of this horrible cold.”
    I could tell that she was struggling with something internally. It was as if she knew that something strange was going on. I bit my lip, not knowing if what I was about to do had any repercussions. Could the council punish me for rebelling against them? At this point, I felt like there was no other choice. She was my last chance.
    “Ms. Donaldson, do you remember the day that I ran out of here in a hurry? The day I was working down in the