living room was demolished.
And yetâ¦
Strange things had remained. The camera on the couch had been just fine. And across the room, she could see a little rosewood wall stand that contained some of her small porcelain miniatures.
Not one of them had even moved.
And there, just down the wall from the standâ¦
She hurried across the living room, amazed to discover that the picture of her and Terry and Jordan as a three-year-old still hung in place.
The windows were gone, the roof was half caved in, and still⦠Her picture remained. It was so strange. In the midst of such destruction, strange and somewhat delicate things remained. She started to reach for the picture.
âKatie! What in Godâs name do you think youâre doing!â
Stunned, she spun around. Drew Cunningham was standing in her doorway, hands on his hips, his voice that of a shipmaster yelling at a second mate.
âItâs my house!â she said indignantly.
âItâs not safe!â he exploded.
âI have toââ
âKatie, look up, look out!â
âThe storm is overââ Katie began, but looked up as he had warned her. She could already hear a strange, tearing sound. As she stared at the ceiling, Drew came hurtling across the room, throwing his arms around her and himself upon her as he brought them both down to the floor away from the wall.
She was beneath him. And even as they landed, a large chunk of plaster came crashing down, the bulk of it missing them, but a corner of it breaking away and landing with a startling thud right on his back.
âOh!â Katie gasped in alarm.
He raised his shoulders quickly without a word or a groan, and the plaster fell to his side. He remained above Katie, and she met his eyes, shaking.
She struggled quickly for words. âIâm sorry, are you all rightâ?â
âIâm all right.â
âYouâre covered with plaster.â
âI said Iâm all right!â
She might have been killed. He might have been killed. And it would have been her fault for running in here. But the shakes were dwindling to something an awful lot like warm, shooting tremors.
And she wasnât at all sure the feeling was coming from the danger of the storm-damaged house.
All she really knew was that he was half lying atop her, that she could feel the heady fever of his body, the shape and form of it, the warmth and life of the muscles in his thighs and chestâ¦
âDammit, Katieââ
âI said I was sorry!â
âYou can get killed running into dangerous places like this without knowing what the condition is!â
âYou could have been killed, as well!â
âI, at least, know what the hell Iâm doing!â
âBut itâs my house!â
For a moment, he looked as if he would shout at her again, and she was ready, tense and ready. Somehow, she was afraid to lose this argument, and if she just kept shouting back, sheâd be all right.
But he didnât shout at her again. He opened his mouth, then fell silent. Then he said softly, âKatie, itâs not safe.â
It wasnât safe. Not at all.
And she wasnât thinking of her houseâ¦
Chapter 4
T he immediate danger didnât last long.
Before many more seconds had ticked by, they were interrupted by a tentative call from outside the house.
âMom? Mr. Cunningham?â
âJordan!â Katie cried. She set her hands on Drewâs chest to push him away, but he was already up, reaching down a hand to help her up, too.
They were both somewhat whitened by ceiling plaster, and Katie wasnât sure whether to laugh or try to apologize again. Before she could do either, her camera swung around from her shoulder and belted him in the ribs.
He grunted.
âWhat nowâ?â
âSorry!â she said again.
âYou came in here for a camera?â
âI came in here to see what was
And yetâ¦
Strange things had remained. The camera on the couch had been just fine. And across the room, she could see a little rosewood wall stand that contained some of her small porcelain miniatures.
Not one of them had even moved.
And there, just down the wall from the standâ¦
She hurried across the living room, amazed to discover that the picture of her and Terry and Jordan as a three-year-old still hung in place.
The windows were gone, the roof was half caved in, and still⦠Her picture remained. It was so strange. In the midst of such destruction, strange and somewhat delicate things remained. She started to reach for the picture.
âKatie! What in Godâs name do you think youâre doing!â
Stunned, she spun around. Drew Cunningham was standing in her doorway, hands on his hips, his voice that of a shipmaster yelling at a second mate.
âItâs my house!â she said indignantly.
âItâs not safe!â he exploded.
âI have toââ
âKatie, look up, look out!â
âThe storm is overââ Katie began, but looked up as he had warned her. She could already hear a strange, tearing sound. As she stared at the ceiling, Drew came hurtling across the room, throwing his arms around her and himself upon her as he brought them both down to the floor away from the wall.
She was beneath him. And even as they landed, a large chunk of plaster came crashing down, the bulk of it missing them, but a corner of it breaking away and landing with a startling thud right on his back.
âOh!â Katie gasped in alarm.
He raised his shoulders quickly without a word or a groan, and the plaster fell to his side. He remained above Katie, and she met his eyes, shaking.
She struggled quickly for words. âIâm sorry, are you all rightâ?â
âIâm all right.â
âYouâre covered with plaster.â
âI said Iâm all right!â
She might have been killed. He might have been killed. And it would have been her fault for running in here. But the shakes were dwindling to something an awful lot like warm, shooting tremors.
And she wasnât at all sure the feeling was coming from the danger of the storm-damaged house.
All she really knew was that he was half lying atop her, that she could feel the heady fever of his body, the shape and form of it, the warmth and life of the muscles in his thighs and chestâ¦
âDammit, Katieââ
âI said I was sorry!â
âYou can get killed running into dangerous places like this without knowing what the condition is!â
âYou could have been killed, as well!â
âI, at least, know what the hell Iâm doing!â
âBut itâs my house!â
For a moment, he looked as if he would shout at her again, and she was ready, tense and ready. Somehow, she was afraid to lose this argument, and if she just kept shouting back, sheâd be all right.
But he didnât shout at her again. He opened his mouth, then fell silent. Then he said softly, âKatie, itâs not safe.â
It wasnât safe. Not at all.
And she wasnât thinking of her houseâ¦
Chapter 4
T he immediate danger didnât last long.
Before many more seconds had ticked by, they were interrupted by a tentative call from outside the house.
âMom? Mr. Cunningham?â
âJordan!â Katie cried. She set her hands on Drewâs chest to push him away, but he was already up, reaching down a hand to help her up, too.
They were both somewhat whitened by ceiling plaster, and Katie wasnât sure whether to laugh or try to apologize again. Before she could do either, her camera swung around from her shoulder and belted him in the ribs.
He grunted.
âWhat nowâ?â
âSorry!â she said again.
âYou came in here for a camera?â
âI came in here to see what was
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