Hurricane Andrew rages through Southern Florida with the force of God's wrath. In the blink of an eye, Katie Wells's Miami home is destroyed, her former life gone. All she wants now is to make sure her young son stays safe. Rescue arrives in the form of Andrew Cunningham, the architect who built her house.
As neighbors work together to rebuild, Katie realizes she's starting to fall for Drew. But something doesn't add up. With devastation all around them, why did a few houses—including his—remain standing? Her quest for answers uncovers a twisting trail of sabotage and cover-up that conceals the shocking truth about Andrew.
Heather Graham uses her firsthand knowledge of one of the last century's worst natural disasters to weave an unforgettable love story that's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Heather Graham, including rare photos from the author's personal collection.
Hurricane Andrew rages through Southern Florida with the force of God's wrath. In the blink of an eye, Katie Wells's Miami home is destroyed, her former life gone. All she wants now is to make sure her young son stays safe. Rescue arrives in the form of Andrew Cunningham, the architect who built her house.
As neighbors work together to rebuild, Katie realizes she's starting to fall for Drew. But something doesn't add up. With devastation all around them, why did a few houses—including his—remain standing? Her quest for answers uncovers a twisting trail of sabotage and cover-up that conceals the shocking truth about Andrew.
Heather Graham uses her firsthand knowledge of one of the last century's worst natural disasters to weave an unforgettable love story that's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Heather Graham, including rare photos from the author's personal collection.
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Overview
Hurricane Andrew rages through Southern Florida with the force of God's wrath. In the blink of an eye, Katie Wells's Miami home is destroyed, her former life gone. All she wants now is to make sure her young son stays safe. Rescue arrives in the form of Andrew Cunningham, the architect who built her house.
As neighbors work together to rebuild, Katie realizes she's starting to fall for Drew. But something doesn't add up. With devastation all around them, why did a few houses—including his—remain standing? Her quest for answers uncovers a twisting trail of sabotage and cover-up that conceals the shocking truth about Andrew.
Heather Graham uses her firsthand knowledge of one of the last century's worst natural disasters to weave an unforgettable love story that's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Heather Graham, including rare photos from the author's personal collection.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781497674011 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media Romance |
| Publication date: | 10/21/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 247 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
When Next We Love, was published in 1982. Although she became famous as an author of romance novels, Graham has since branched out into supernatural horror, historical fiction, and suspense, with titles such as Tall, Dark, and Deadly (1999), Long, Lean, and Lethal (2000), and Dying to Have Her (2001). In 2003 the Romance Writers of America, whose Florida chapter Graham founded, granted her a lifetime achievement award. She lives, writes, and scuba dives in Florida with her husband and five children.
Read an Excerpt
The Trouble with Andrew
By Heather Graham
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1993 Heather Graham PozzessereAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4976-7401-1
CHAPTER 1
The wind whistled to a higher pitch, groaned, then screamed as if a thousand of Grandma Boyle's banshees were outside creating havoc and terror—and demanding every soul within a radius of a hundred miles. Katie Wells stared blankly at her television, listening while news anchor Bryan Norcross explained to all who could still hear him just what was happening with the storm. She glanced at the clock radio beside her bed. It was 3:13 a.m.
The phone rang and Katie nearly jumped sky-high. Though she still had electricity, she was amazed that the phone was functional while the storm raged outside. She didn't expect the electricity to last much longer.
The ringing came again, grating in her ears. She made a dive for the receiver, thinking that Jordan might still be sleeping. She didn't want to wake him up. Not yet. She might have to wake him soon. There had been so little news about Andrew! Just yesterday morning her father had casually reminded her that there was a small storm off the coast.
And by tonight, the "small" storm that might have found landfall anywhere between the Keys and north central Florida had proven itself to have winds up to a minimum of one hundred and forty-five miles an hour.
And it was heading straight at them.
No, not heading for them anymore, she reminded herself as she cradled the phone receiver in her hand. Hitting them. Hitting them harder with each minute that passed.
"Hello?" she said quickly.
"Katie!"
The booming voice of Ronald K. Wheeler came loud and clear over the wires.
"Hi, Dad," she said softly.
"Katie, you making out okay?"
"I'm fine. I was just sitting here watching the storm report on channel four. Actually, Jordan and I watched television together until about two o'clock—then Jordan said he was sleepy so I thought I'd let him go to bed for awhile. I'm going to give him just a few more minutes—this wind is getting really wild." She hesitated a moment. "You were right, Dad. We're taking a direct hit." She winced. Ron Wheeler had never minded a moment of "I told you so" in his entire life.
Oddly enough, he didn't sermonize. "I told you to come up here, Katie."
"And if I'd come up, Dad, Andrew might have swung to the north and hit Orlando! And Disney World might claim to be fantasyland, but not even Mickey Mouse could stop this monster!" She bit her lower lip, wincing again. How damned stupid to let him hear that she was beginning to be afraid. Really afraid.
"Katie, now, you tell me what's going on there—"
"Nothing, Dad, nothing! I've weathered these before, remember? I'm the little kid who followed you around the house with the C-clamps to board up the windows all those years ago. You taught me well. I've got tons of fresh water, plenty of Sterno, enough canned goods to supply the Red Cross, flashlights, candles and batteries. We're all set."
"Hmph!" Ron said doubtfully.
The wind whipped again and she braced herself from cowering. Already, the tenor of the wind had changed. It was beginning to sound as if a freight train were coming through her living room.
"Katie, if the wind gets any worse, you pick up Jordan and you hightail it—"
"Right into the bathroom, I know, Dad. I told you, I'm prepared. I've got pillows and blankets and everything in there. Candles, flashlights, radio, batteries. In a minute, I'll go grab Jordan and we'll sit out the rest of the storm in there. Are you happy?"
"No," he said gruffly. "I'd be happy if you were here."
She smiled. What a pain in the hind end! She'd had to go off to college to get him to allow her to stay out until midnight! He still checked on her like a mother hen. But he was a great, very caring father, and she loved him dearly.
She sighed. "Dad, I'm in a Hunnicunn home. They're supposed to be among the very best and safest in the state."
"I know that. I just worry."
"Well, you mustn't—" Katie began, but just as she said so, she heard a sudden monstrous shudder and thundering, as if one of the huge trees on the lot behind her had fallen.
The lights and the television went simultaneously, following a sudden, eerie green glow right on the storm screen.
She swallowed hard, determined to remain calm. She'd already heard a few of the tiles on the roof going. And now the electricity.
She had known the electricity would go; they always lost electricity in a storm. She was prepared. She had candles, flashlights, ice. Batteries, all the right things ...
"Katie, Katie! Are you there?"
"Yes, Dad." She forced her voice to be level and light. "Dad, as I was saying, you're not to worry. The power just blew—I think a transformer was blown down nearby. The phone lines will probably go soon, too, so don't you go getting panicky trying to call me. I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?"
"I'll be there as fast as I can—"
"No! Dad, you hang tight! Maybe Jordan and I will take a trip up to see you, if I can take a few days off work when the winds quit blowing. Listen, Dad, I'm hanging up now. I want to bring Jordan in here with me. Believe it or not, I think he's still sleeping. I love you. Now I've got to go."
"Katie—"
"Bye, Dad. Talk to you soon!"
She hung up on him, only feeling a little bit guilty. The electricity was gone, and she was alone in the darkness—as was Jordan. He was a great kid, but he was only ten years old. And she was starting to get darned scared herself.
It was the wind, the sound of the wind. She didn't think she'd ever heard such a horrible, ripping cry. And it seemed to go on and on ...
"Calm, Katie, calm! It's just that it's been a long time since you've really heard the wind blow, and you were a little kid yourself then." She spoke aloud, trying to reassure herself. A lot had been different then. The wind had risen, and she'd crawled up to sit on her father's lap while it blew. She'd felt instantly safe and secure.
Well, she was the parent now. And Jordan was alone.
Just then there was another thunderous crash. A tree had gone down in back, she told herself. The sound was deafening.
"Mom! Mom!"
She had barely flicked on her flashlight when she heard her son's high-pitched, panicking voice. She leaped to her feet and ran into the hallway toward his room.
She crashed into him in the hallway. The flashlight catapulted from her hands. Small hands clutched her sleeves feverishly. "Mom, it hit the shutter! That one hit the shutter! I thought it was going to crash right through. I've heard of storms before, but I never heard that they come right inside."
She groped for him in the darkness and shadows, smoothing his sandy hair. "Hey, kiddo, it's all right. We've weathered a whole lot together already, now we'll weather this out, too. The storm isn't coming inside. We bought one of the best houses built. We're going to be just fine."
Even as she said the words, the board she had so painstakingly and carefully clamped over her bedroom window was suddenly wrenched loose, as if a vicious hand had reached out of the darkness of the night to tear it away. Instantly, there came a violent crashing sound. With the board gone, something had come hurtling through her bedroom window.
"Mom!" Jordan said.
"It's just my room."
"It will be soaked and ruined—"
"It's all right. We've got insurance. We're much more important than any room. Let's get into the bathroom, right where we're supposed to be, according to the weathermen, okay? Guess what? I've even got Oreos in there!"
"Wow!" Jordan said admiringly. "That's good thinking, Mom."
She turned him around, starting him toward the hall bathroom. Her home was a beautiful one—Hunnicunn homes were richly detailed in all kinds of architectural features, the finest appliances in spacious kitchens, wonderful, cozy breakfast nooks, master bedrooms with huge baths with skylights and whirlpools, dressing rooms, walk-in closets, the works. But to weather the storm, she'd heard it was best to pick the smallest bathroom in the house with a heavy tub and small windows. That was the hall bathroom, so she had her arsenal there, ready and waiting.
Even as she hurried him along, though, she heard a thunderous pounding on her front door.
"My God!" she breathed. "Someone is out there! In this!"
In the pale glow of her flashlight, she could see her son's beautiful blue eyes widen with alarm. "Mom, you can't go out there."
"I'm not going out there, but someone is in trouble."
"Mom, it could be a mass murderer—"
"In the middle of this storm?"
"Well, you're always telling me to be careful."
"And well you should be. But, honey, in the middle of the storm—"
They heard the pounding again. And then a panicked voice, rising even higher than the shrill cry of the hammering storm. "For the love of God! Please, let us in!"
"Get into the bathroom, now!" Katie told her son, all teasing gone from her voice. She had known that storms could be serious, and she had never taken this one as a joke, as a reason for a hurricane party.
She had not imagined it getting this bad, never imagined the feel of wind during this horrible avalanche of fury.
Jordan turned instantly to obey and she tore down the hallway and into the living room, stumbling around the antique furniture she had so painstakingly refinished. She reached the door and heard the cries again, frantic, pleading. The locks were off. She tried to open the door, but the second she did, it slammed in on her with a force that nearly knocked her out, throwing her into the wall like a football hurled across the field.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" She heard the fervent, feminine cry as a soaked crewful of people swarmed into her house.
The men shouted and pitched themselves against the door to close it once again. Katie was soaked from the rain that rushed in along with the people.
There was one woman, two men and a rain-soaked, panicked child of about six.
"My God, you've saved our lives!" the woman cried. "I thought we were dead, another few seconds and we wouldn't have been able to hold on. My God! The trees! You can't imagine! Even the big ones are falling, crashing all over the place. They're ripping up the sidewalks. Oh, my God ..."
Even as she spoke, something fell against the house with a horrible crash. The phone began to ring. The little girl started to cry. "There's the hallway," Katie told her sodden, frightened, unexpected guests. "I'll be right there. We'll get towels." She grabbed her living room extension. "Hello?"
"Katie! It's Wanda. I'm in panic, absolute panic!"
Wanda, a friend she worked with frequently, was fairly new to the area. She'd survived a number of blizzards in Montana, but she'd never seen a hurricane before. Katie, close to panic herself, tried to speak reassuringly. "Wanda, get into the bathroom you fixed up—"
"Oh, Katie! Part of my roof has already ripped off! And I'm in the bathroom, but I'm in the wrong one! I got so scared when I heard the ripping sound—now I'm in my bedroom bathroom, and my flashlight and radio and Twinkies and diet soda are in the hallway bathroom!"
"Wanda, you're going to manage without the Twinkies—"
"Katie, the storm is in my house!"
"It's in mine, too. Listen, Wanda, get your mattress into the bathroom with you."
"I have it."
"Then hang in tight! I've got wet strangers in my hallway. I've got to go. Be careful, stay put, keep that mattress over your head, okay?"
"Oh, Katie! I thought the wind would blow—I thought we'd have a rough night, but I never imagined I wouldn't have a home left."
"Hey, we'll get through it. Keep that mattress with you, and watch for the bathroom roof, all right?"
"Right, Katie."
Katie hung up, more worried than she wanted to be. She hurried into the hallway, finding the four wet strangers awaiting her there, wide-eyed as her flashlight hit their faces.
"Come on in here," Katie said quickly, leading them to the bathroom. "I'll get towels." She did so quickly. Jordan had the big flashlight on and the battery-operated radio going in the bathroom. He seemed pretty cool at the moment, lying in the tub, reading a Dracula comic.
"Mom?"
"Some neighbors lost their house," she said.
The talkative woman stuck her head in the bathroom door and saw Jordan. "Hi!" she said, calmer now. "I'm Susan Keogh. I live—I lived two houses down with my daughter, Amy, and my husband." She came in and sat on the toilet seat, and her daughter quickly followed her. Katie handed out towels. "I don't believe this!" Susan said. "I just don't believe this." She was a pretty young woman, Katie realized. It had been hard to tell at first because she was so wet.
"It's more than I remember," Katie admitted. As she handed a big, fluffy towel to the little girl, she was grateful that the bathroom was large.
One of the men came in. Tall, thin, balding, but with a great smile, he offered his hand to Katie. "I'm Ted Barlow. I live on the other side of the Keoghs."
"Nice to meet you," Katie murmured, getting another towel.
"Wow, listen to this!" Jordan told them. He turned up the radio. People were calling in from all over the county.
The dome from the hurricane center in Coral Gables had blown away; places on the highway were devastated. Roofs were flying off right and left, and many desperate people were fleeing for their lives.
"I got in my car in the garage and started moving it out slowly. My sister said, 'Floor it, Donna!', and I did. Then the whole building caved in as we shot out!"
"I live in one of the old guys, made right after that big blow in '26. My home is standing fast, and anyone is welcome to seek shelter here."
"The window blew, the glass shattered everywhere, and once that happened, the roof was gone!"
There was a sudden, horrible grating sound. Susan looked at Katie with alarm.
"It's the roof!" she whispered. "I know the sound."
"My roof can't be going!" Katie said. "This is a Hunnicunn home."
She broke off, hearing the sound again. A few seconds later the other man, Seth Keogh, stepped into the bathroom. "One of your bedroom doors just blew in. If there was a broken window—"
"There was. My bedroom."
"I think your roof is going, too."
"I'll get more mattresses," Katie said.
"I'll help," Seth told her.
"Why don't you stay, and we'll go," Ted suggested.
Katie laughed. Gentlemen! In the middle of the storm. "I know where the mattresses are," she told him.
She started out with one of the small flashlights, the two men behind her. Before she had gone down the hall, she heard the horrible wrenching sound again.
Almost directly above her, the roof suddenly caved in. Water poured down on them.
"Ma'am," Seth said, "I think we've all got to run. This whole place is going to come down!"
He turned back, anxious to reach his wife and daughter. "There's another two houses that seem to be standing all right," he told Katie, "straight across the road."
She aimed her flashlight at the roof in the hallway. Well, what remained of the roof. The rain was blowing in on her. The wind was howling. She couldn't believe it.
There was another violent crash. "Mom!" Jordan cried.
"Jordan!" Katie screamed as she rushed back, not caring that she dropped her flashlight.
The Keoghs and Ted were already on their way, moving down the hall. Jordan came bursting out of the bathroom. "Mom, the roof—"
More of it caved in behind Katie. "Come on!"
She put her arms around her son's shoulders and started running down the hallway, feeling chunks of roof fall behind her.
She passed through the living room.
The room with all her painstakingly refinished antiques. With all those special little baby mementos of Jordan's.
Her cameras were in her bedroom. They were her livelihood. They were insured, and they were replaceable. The pictures were not. Or the ribbons, the newspaper clippings, the baby shoes ...
"Mom?"
Jordan was the only thing that really mattered. "Let's go, baby!"
Her door was standing open. Seth Keogh was standing there, his whole weight against it, trying to hold it for Katie.
"Ma'am?"
"Coming!"
She was out of her house with Jordan. She followed Seth as he set his hands on his wife's shoulders and started to run with her.
They had said that it wasn't a wet storm. You could have fooled Katie. The water was pouring down on them, the wind so fierce that she could barely walk.
"Crawl!" someone shouted.
She did so, dropping to her knees with Jordan, trying to protect him with an arm.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Trouble with Andrew by Heather Graham. Copyright © 1993 Heather Graham Pozzessere. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
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