The Trouble with Andrew (11 page)

Within ten minutes, she was downstairs.

“Ready?” he said, arching a disbelieving brow.

“We're taking the Probe!” Jordan told her delightedly.

“Great,” Katie said, “and yes, I'm ready.”

“You're very good,” he told her.

“Thanks.”

The rain had stopped, she was glad to see. But of course, when they were in the car, the radio instantly reminded them that the dousing rain had caused greater disaster for the many homeless people in the area. She thought of how quickly Drew Cunningham had gotten roofers out to maintain what had been left of her home, and she was grateful.

It felt good to be in the car, too. The air-conditioning was on. She hadn't felt really cool in a lifetime, it seemed.

“What a car!” Jordan said.

“Glad you like it.”

“Oh, I like everything of yours,” Jordan said honestly. Katie turned from the front seat to frown at him. He lifted his hand innocently.

“There!”

They had barely left the sheltered little area of their cul-de-sac when Drew stopped the car. They had come upon an amazing sight—a steel power pole twisted into and out of an Oldsmobile.

“Stop?” he asked Katie.

“Yes, stop, please.”

She slipped out of the Probe and quickly started snapping pictures. The power of the wind had been fantastic. She wanted her photos to be important. Photos that would capture that power.

So that it could not be forgotten.

When she finished, Drew drove on in silence. He took her on an amazing odyssey, and at times during their trip, she felt like crying. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Strip malls with their windows and contents completely blown out. House after house after house, destroyed. Huge warnings put up in spray paint—
You loot, we shoot!

She took pictures of the houses with their warning signs, their crumpled roofs, their boarded-up windows. The trees that lay in living rooms. They moved on.

Police were at some of the major intersections, but traffic moved at a snail's pace. Some drivers were incredibly careful and courteous, and some were incredibly rude. They wound up in a gridlock that took about fifteen minutes to clear.

He brought her to the hotel where the parking lot had flooded with seawater, and where the local children were catching fish, barefoot, smiling, despite the fact that half of them had no homes.

Her camera captured it all.

Finally, she ran out of film.

They moved toward the water, where million-dollar boats sat in the middle of million-dollar houses. Once beautiful sleek craft lay atop each other, on shore, offshore.

They left the water, and Drew told her he was going to have to take her home; he had to go to work.

Katie thanked him, determined that she was going to drive out again herself, if not this afternoon, then tomorrow. She might develop this film this afternoon and see what she had.

Drew returned her and Jordan to the house and left again. Jordan went upstairs—he wanted to lie down. Katie went out to the garage and started working with her film. The task was absorbing. She stayed at it, both pleased and horrified by her pictures. They were definitely some of her best work.

And her best work had come from such tempest…

“Mom?” Jordan called to her.

“Yep?”

“It's dark. I've got a flashlight out here, in case you need it.”

Katie hung the picture she had been studying and hurried out of the darkroom. Jordan was waiting for her with a flashlight. Of course, she'd had her own with her, but she was still touched by the sight of her son.

And annoyed with herself. Some mother! Her poor child must be starving.

“Want to wait for Drew?” she asked him, “Or are you starving now?”

“He called and said to eat without him, he's going to be very late,” Jordan told her. He grinned. “And yes, I'm starving.”

“Poor kid!” Katie said, ruffling his hair.

“No,” he said, very seriously—too seriously for a ten-year-old boy, “I'm a lucky kid. I've got a roof over my head!”

“Yeah, I guess we are lucky,” Katie said. “Come on—let's see what we can scrounge up.”

She found a canned ham and sliced and heated it along with canned green beans and canned corn. She was rather impressed with the meal she managed to get together, but though Jordan ate it quickly and hungrily, he stared at his plate with a pained expression when he was done.

“What's wrong?” Katie asked.

“Boy, I sure can't wait to go to Burger King again. Or McDonald's. Wendy's, maybe.”

“Thanks!” Katie said.

“I didn't mean anything terrible by that!” Jordan said, and Katie laughed.

“That's all right. I can't wait to go for Thai food again. Or Chinese, or Japanese. Or—”

“A sub sandwich with all kinds of great junk on it!” Jordan finished happily.

“I can't wait for hot water!” Katie told him.

“And I can't wait for air-conditioning.”

He helped her clean up. By then, Katie felt hot and sticky, and she went up to take her shower early. She slipped into her white cotton gown and one of her own robes and went downstairs. She sat before the little television, watching the news, which still centered on the storm, then suddenly realized that she needed to try to call Wanda and find out if she had managed all right. The phone was busy. Katie tried again, then again. She decided after a while that Wanda's phone must be out, then, on her last try, she heard Wanda's voice as her friend answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Wanda?”

“Katie?”

“Yes, it's me. Are you all right?”

“I think so. Katie, I tried to get you! Your phone is out, you know.”

“Wanda—my whole house is out. How about you?”

“Well, I'm living in the den,” Wanda said. “My bedroom reminds me of Lake Erie. But I'm fine, and I guess I'm going to make it, but oh, is it miserable! Katie, my store doesn't exist anymore! I have no home and no business.”

“You were insured, right?”

“Yes, and things will come around, I'm sure, it's just that for the moment… Well, I wake up, then I sweat for a while, and then I cry and sweat for awhile, and then I cry harder because I feel so guilty—I know I could be so much worse off!”

“Wanda, it's a tough time. And it's going to be a tough time.”

Wanda lowered her voice. “There's one good thing that has come from it all.”

“Oh?”

“The people in my neighborhood association got together to hire an off-duty policeman to watch the area during the evenings. And he's very nice and very good-looking.”

Katie grinned. “Well, I'm glad.”

“What about you? What are you going to do? Oh, Katie! We can't even meet for lunch—there isn't any place to have lunch.”

“Broward County,” Katie said.

“If you could only get there!”

Katie thought she heard a car coming into the driveway. “Wanda, take care, and I'll call you again soon, okay?”

“But Katie, where are you? What are you doing?”

“I'm staying with a neighbor, right across the street. I'm in good shape. I'll talk to you soon, promise.”

She hung up before Wanda could start asking her questions she definitely didn't want to answer with Drew Cunningham coming home.

She stood and waited for him to come up the walk, looking through the peephole then opening the door when he neared the house. She saw him a moment before he saw her. She was startled by the look of bleak exhaustion in his eyes, and she wanted to reach out to him.

She was living with him—but she wasn't that close to him, she reminded herself.

And then, when he saw her, the look was gone, camouflaged behind his smile.

“You waited up.”

“It's the least I can do. I have dinner waiting,” she said.

He came in, closed the door and leaned against it. “I could get to like this arrangement,” he told her.

She turned quickly, feeling a flush coming to her cheeks, afraid to tell him that she was beginning to like the arrangement herself and that she was beginning to feel far too at home in his house.

“Can I shower first?” he asked her. “I've been working with the roofers down the street, Seth's house. It isn't quite so bad as yours, only one area of the roof was swept away, and they're anxious to get back in. I think they'll be able to do so soon.”

Katie paused by the entry to the dining room and kitchen, turning to him.

“Great!” she told him.

She went into the kitchen. He went up the stairs. She set the table attractively for one, then gave them both a wineglass and lit the Sterno to heat the ham and vegetables. When he came down, she set the plate before him.

“Thanks,” he said. “You're not joining me.”

“I ate with Jordan.”

“It's delicious,” he told her, taking a bite of the ham.

She smiled. “Thanks. Jordan ate his dinner and told me he couldn't wait to get back to Burger King.”

Drew laughed. He poured the wine and sat back, sipping his, watching Katie. She felt herself growing very warm. She sipped her own wine.

“How did your photos come out?”

“Wonderful—horrible,” she told him.

He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Send them to some of the papers and magazines,” she said. “If I can get to a post office.”

“I know the South Miami branch is open. We can drive up tomorrow if you want.”

“I can drive myself,” she reminded him.

“I don't mind—”

“Right, but if you don't spend half the day playing chauffeur to me, you won't have to stay out all night.”

“Some of these guys prefer working at night—it isn't so hot. They're used to working in the sun, but then, they're used to getting into air-conditioning and cold sodas or beers afterward. There's a lot going on at night.”

“And I imagine night will be prime feeding time for mosquitoes pretty soon.”

“Mosquitoes—they're already worried about a rat problem, as well,” he murmured.

“We are getting an awful lot of trash built up already,” she agreed.

It was strange. She felt herself growing warm all over again, just because he was watching her. They had fallen into an incredibly domestic pattern very quickly and very easily. She still didn't know much of anything about him—his life before the storm was a blank—but she felt more and more comfortable with him…

More and more intrigued by him, more fascinated.

More drawn…

“Well!” she said suddenly. “I think I'll go on up to bed. Jordan went to sleep really early—especially for Jordan. He must be trying to catch up. I'll do the same.”

She stood. He didn't stop her. He continued to watch her, though, and he smiled slightly, his dark lashes lowering. “No movie tonight? We could see half the classics before this is over.”

“No movie tonight,” she said softly. She started to turn. His fingers suddenly fell on her hand where she had been holding the back of her chair.

“You're not afraid of being with me suddenly, are you, Katie?”

“Afraid? Of course not.”

“Oh.”

“Should I be?” she found herself asking.

He shrugged, smiling again. “No, you shouldn't be, but you are. As soon as we get close, you start retreating.” His voice grew soft, deep, low … sensual. He stood, meeting her eyes with a certain challenge in the golden depths of his. “And I haven't felt quite so right with anyone in a long, long time.”

Katie felt as if her breath had caught somewhere deep in her chest. She couldn't find her voice immediately.

“I barely know you.”

“I barely know you. I like what I know.”

“I don't know anything about you. I don't know if I'm intruding on anyone else's relationship, I—”

“I'll make it easy. I've been around some. I was married briefly, ten years ago. I was involved in a relationship that split up about a year ago. I've dated since, but no one seriously. Your turn. Tell me about yourself.”

“I'm an open book,” she said softly.

He arched a brow. “You haven't been serious with anyone since—your husband passed away?”

She shook her head. She wasn't sure if all the blood had drained from her face or if a ton of it had rushed into her cheeks. She felt as if she was burning. And she was afraid. Of herself, of him, of the way the conversation was going.

“I—I really need some sleep,” she said, almost desperately.

He nodded, watching her, “Sure. Go on up.”

She turned, then turned back. “I forgot to say thank you—”

“You don't need to thank me. I keep telling you that.”

“Thanks anyway,” she murmured, and left the kitchen.

She took her flashlight and made it up the stairs almost blindly. She hurried into her room, closed the door and leaned against it.

Her heart was hammering. She turned off her flashlight, set it down and stood in the darkness.

In a few minutes, she heard him coming up the stairs.

She didn't know what she was doing; she didn't know at all. But she suddenly opened her door and went into the hallway. The slimmest rays of moonlight seemed to illuminate it. She couldn't see his features, only his silhouette as he stood there before her.

“Katie?” he murmured softly, coming toward her. “Are you all right?”

She could feel his heat, almost as if he touched her with it across the foot of space that separated them. In the pale moonglow she could see the contours and shadows of his handsome features, the way a damp lock of hair hung over his forehead. She could breathe in the subtle scent of him, masculine, clean … alluring.

“Katie?”

“Yes!” she whispered. “I'm—fine.”

“Can you see all right?”