The Trouble with Andrew

by Heather Graham

  “You should have known what?” Katie asked.

  “That your husband had passed away.”

  “Why should you have known?”

  He grinned suddenly. “The way your father talked to you. He’s a man who still feels he has the responsibility to look after you. That usually comes when a woman—is alone.”

  Katie felt her flush deepen, and she looked down at her hands. He laughed softly, and she looked at him quickly. “He hasn’t realized yet that I’m capable of looking after myself and that I don’t mind being alone. But then—” she shrugged “—my mother has been gone a while now, too, so I suppose I’m good for him, too. He really is a great guy.”

  “I imagine,” Drew said. “What happened?”

  “To what?”

  “To your husband.”

  “Oh,” Katie said softly. It had been a long time. Over five years. She had learned to cherish all her memories, and just a hint of sadness filled her when she thought about Terry, though she could still grow angry at the way he had died. “A drunk driver,” she told Drew.

  “I’m very sorry.”

  “So am I. He was twenty-seven years old. It was an incredible waste of life.”

  She rose swiftly, not wanting his pity and certainly not needing it.

  She had her father to worry about her, after all.

  “I’m going to take pictures now,” she told him. “while everything is still … awful.”

  “It’s going to be awful for a long time,” he told her softly.

  She nodded. “I know that. But still…” She shrugged, lifting her hands. “It’s what I do.”

  He stood, as well. “Just be careful.”

  “My father already told me that.”

  “No matter what your father has seen on television, I’m sure he hasn’t seen the half of it. Be careful.”

  “Yes, sir!” she promised, and turned toward the door. She realized that he was following her. She paused, turning back questioningly.

  “I know I’m not going to be able to keep you out of your house forever,” he told her. “I’m going to go over and see how stable the structure is—and what happened to the roof.”

  “But it’s not safe—”

  “I know what to watch out for. And like I said, I know I won’t be able to keep you away forever, right?”

  She met the golden gleam in his eyes and smiled. He created the strangest emotions within her. One minute she was annoyed, another irritated—he could treat her just like a child. Then the next minute she was feeling anything but childlike, with little lightning flashes of heat racing through her at his lightest touch or softest word. She was doing things she just never did.

  Thinking about him…

  Imagining him … naked.

  Katie, get a grip!

  She turned staunchly and started out of the house, speaking quickly to cover her confusion. “You’ve got to understand—I have to get into the house. I have to see if I have any clothing left! Any pictures, anything of Jordan’s, anything at all.”

  “I do understand,” he told her quietly. “And that’s why I’ll get in there now and see what’s up.” He reached out suddenly and wiped gently at her cheek with his thumb.

  “Plaster,” he told her.

  “You’re still wearing a lot yourself.”

  He shrugged. “But I might soon be wearing more.”

  “And I really haven’t anything else to wear, period!” Katie said, laughing. “So for the moment, I’m not so sure it matters.”

  She grinned, turned and went out the door, lifting her camera and staring through the lens at the havoc created by the storm.

  The banyan first, she thought. It hadn’t been a person or an animal, but it had been alive. For years and years. It had shaded them, sheltered them, been a haven for squirrels and possums and birds.

  It clearly denoted the power of the storm, for when it had come up, it had taken with it concrete and earth. It was amazing to see it ripped from the ground.

  She quickly became involved with her work, taking care—she didn’t have nearly enough film. She needed rolls and rolls of it. Jordan saw her as she worked, and came to stand quietly behind her, pointing out sad features caused by the storm.

  There was a torn teddy bear stuck in one of the branches of the tree.

  Katie snapped several pictures.

  She turned to the outside of her house then, coming around the rear. The screen enclosure had completely unfolded and lay in her muddied pool. The steel beams had buckled.

  She began to snap more pictures.

  Jordan paused over a dead, almost featherless bird. She snapped more pictures, feeling as if a little piece of her heart tore out as she did so.

  The occasional whip of wind came less and less. The sky began to clear.

  The sun began to get hot.

  She ran out of film.

  She stopped with Jordan, sinking down to her lawn, watching as some of her neighbors started moving about, as well. Brandon Holloway, lifting palms from his front porch, waved to her.

  She waved back.

  A few minutes later, Drew Cunningham came out of her house.

  “You should be all right now to do a little exploring inside. I pulled down what was about to fall, and the rest of the structure seems to be okay.” He hesitated, seeming worried and confused—and angry. “The structure is still good. The walls are solid inside as well as out. Your windows are blown in, of course … but the house can be fixed. If you want it fixed.”

  “If I want it fixed?” she repeated blankly.

  “You’re insured, right?”

  “Right.”

  He shrugged. “Eventually, the insurance adjusters will make it around—probably after the looters, of course, but, when they come, you’ll surely be offered a settlement. You could bail out and move.”

  Katie shook her head. “I don’t want to move. Jordan loves his school. I’ve lived near here all my life. I can remember when this was all swampland. I have no desire to move.”

  “Good,” he said softly, and the golden glitter was in his eyes again. “Then I promise you it can be fixed. I’ll see you at my house in a while. I want to look at the other houses that went down and see if I can do anything for anyone else for the moment. Then I’ve got to make some calls. When you get what you want from the house, just bring it over. I’ll help you two get settled for the next few days. Or weeks,” he corrected himself, staring at her house.

  “Fine. Thanks,” Katie said lightly.

  He left her and walked across the road, hailing Brandon Holloway. There was a big palm down in the middle of the road. Brandon helped Drew drag the downed tree off the street. She could hear them shouting to each other as they cleared the street of palms and debris.

  “Want to try the house, Mom? Or maybe we should go help them clear the street.”

  Katie shrugged, rising from her devastated lawn. “Maybe we’d better see if we have any clothes left at all, huh? We’ll start losing these robes if we get carried away.”

  Jordan grinned.

  “And then everyone would laugh!” Katie warned him.

  “They may laugh, and they may just go, ‘Hubba, hubba!’” her son informed her.

  She tousled his hair. “At me? Or you?”

  “Mom! I’m a kid. At you.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But then again, they may just laugh. Let’s go see if we can’t find some clothing.”

  She started for the house, Jordan behind her. She warned him to be very careful of all the broken glass. Once they were in, she started to salvage the pictures that had survived in the living room. When they were piled up, Jordan left her and went to what remained of his room.

  She went to hers.

  It was so strange. The windows were caved in on her elegant bath. The tub was filled with mud.

  The medicine chest above the commode—which carried a dead bird—hadn’t been touched. She opened it and scooped the things they would need most
into a little bag—Band-Aids, aspirin, antiseptic, toothpaste and toothbrushes.

  She still had room, so she added some makeup, then some more. She had lost a great deal, but there were also pockets in her home where things had barely been touched.

  Drew Cunningham was going to start to think that she was planning on moving in permanently.

  A minute later, Jordan came hurrying into her room. “Mom! All my drawers are just fine, can you believe it. My Star Wars collection is fine, and my baseball cards aren’t even damp!”

  “That’s great!” Katie said with forced enthusiasm. Then she lifted a brow. “How about clothing, Jordan? Have you got any of that?”

  “Jean, shorts, T-shirt. The drawers were fine. The closet is soaked. The plaster is all caving in there.”

  “Grab some sneakers out of it anyway. We’ll have to find some way to rinse them out for you to wear until we can buy some. If and when we find a store that can open!” she added.

  “Right. I have a duffel bag. Should I pack it?”

  “Yep, sounds good.”

  Jordan left her. She started to dig through her belongings.

  Her nightstand had been whipped across the room. Her drawers—the top one odds and ends, the bottom one underwear—had broken out, and her books and notes, pens, papers, calendar and letters were all in wet muddy piles near the closet.

  Undies, bras, slips and camisoles were strewn about, a negligee on the lamp on her main dresser, several pairs of panties at the foot of the bed. She squished through the carpeting in Midge’s loafers and tried to collect what pieces were dry and in good shape.

  She was just reaching for a black bra that hung on her downed curtain rod when she heard a throat being cleared.

  Drew Cunningham was back. Looking absurdly handsome for a damp man covered in plaster and palm fronds, he grinned, his fingers on a pair of red silk panties. He tossed them across the room to Katie. “Those look good.”

  She caught them.

  “Are you done helping humanity already?” she asked him.

  He sobered, the amusement in his eyes quickly gone. “Humanity, here, won’t be helped for a long time. We’ve cleared the circle—it can be driven now, though I don’t know what’s beyond it. I’ve made some calls, and we’ll have trucks out here tomorrow to start hauling away some of the heavy refuse. Florida Power and Light has already been out working, and aid seems to be pouring in from all over. But if you haven’t noticed, it’s almost dark. And we’re under a curfew—most of the businesses down south on the highway were destroyed, and the thieves moved in right away. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but you haven’t eaten all day.”

  Eaten! She hadn’t even had a drink. And she had a little boy. One who hadn’t complained once today about anything.

  “Aren’t you thirsty?” Drew asked her. He smiled again, slipping a beige camisole from the corner of a broken drawer and tossed it to her.

  She caught the camisole, staring at him, realizing that her throat was very dry and that her stomach was rumbling.

  She calmly folded the camisole and added it to her stack of things. “What are you suggesting?” she asked sweetly. “Should we send out for pizza?”

  “No, we need to go to my house and cook some food that is quickly unfreezing,” he told her. He shrugged. “Well, we’ll have some nice room-temperature red wine to go with our steaks and Spaghettios!”

  She found herself smiling, even when he discovered a forest green wraparound nightgown, sheer, soft and still silky. She started to take it from him. He held tight for a moment.

  “Pretty piece,” he teased.

  She swept it from his hand. “Thanks.”

  “Is that all you’ve managed to salvage?” he asked, looking at the pile of undergarments on her bed. “If so, you’re going to make for an interesting neighbor. Housemate, actually.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she managed to say smoothly. “You do seem to be a connoisseur, so I imagine that you’ve had your fair share of women walking around in such garments.”

  He smiled, shrugged and lifted his hands. “Just what is a fair share?” he asked.

  More than I’ve had, Katie thought, but she was determined she could play this sexual game casually and with nonchalance.

  “More than you probably deserve,” she assured him.

  “How do you know what I deserve?”

  “I’m just thinking about that poor lovely woman who was so concerned about you earlier today. Remember her? When she finished speaking to you, I distinctly heard you say, ‘I love you, too.’”

  “Hmm. You do pay attention,” he told her.

  She shrugged, trying to make a neat pile of her things. “I didn’t have much choice. You more or less dragged me back across the street.”

  “I protest. I didn’t lay a hand on you.”

  “I protest. You most certainly did.”

  “Only in the house. This house. And only to try to keep you from getting hurt.”

  “You were—most noble,” she assured him quickly. “And still,” she murmured, feeling a flush coming to her cheeks again, no matter what her determinations, “I’m wondering if I ought to be sleeping in the Holloways’ weight room.”

  “Jordan can have his own room at my house with a Nintendo and the works,” he reminded her. Serious again, he added, “And I told you. If you’re uncomfortable, I can go somewhere else.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I couldn’t let you leave your home.”

  “Oh, but you could,” he said, and he sounded weary and somewhat bitter again.

  “All right,” she said frowning. “I wouldn’t. But I would appreciate it if you would refrain—”

  “From handling your clothing?”

  She sighed. “Would you see if I have anything decent in my closet?” she asked him.

  The door had blown away. He stepped into the huge walk-in closet, then stepped out.

  “Half and half,” he told her. “North wall drenched, south wall all right. Your suitcases are a disaster. Got any garbage bags?”

  “Yes. Well, I did. If they didn’t blow away.”

  Jordan had come to the door. “I’ll try the kitchen!” he offered cheerfully.

  A moment later, he was back. The toaster was gone, so was the coffee machine. But the paper plates, cups, napkins and garbage bags were just fine.

  The three of them set to work packing her things to take them over to Drew’s. Katie’s stomach began to grumble. “We should give this up for now.”

  “In a minute,” Drew told her. “It could rain again,” he explained when she looked at him. “Let’s get what we can.”

  They did, making several trips across the circle. The Holloways saw them and came out to help.

  Darkness had fallen when they finished. They bid the Holloways good-night, then started lighting candles in Drew’s living room.

  He produced a gallon jug of water that they half emptied almost immediately.

  When everyone’s thirst was slaked, Drew looked at Katie across the rim of the water bottle. “It really is steak and Spaghettios. Want to turn the meat over the Sterno or check out the refrigerator for vegetables and fruit?”

  “I’ll take the steaks,” Katie said.

  They moved into the kitchen, bringing the little television with them. They were in the middle of the disaster, and naturally, they were interested in every word about the storm and its aftermath.

  Katie got the Sterno going on the corner of the island in the kitchen. The house was beautifully designed, with more custom touches than her own. The kitchen was equipped with everything from a subzero freezer to wonderful cherry and glass built-in cabinets. Though the kitchen was expansive, it seemed very warm and intimate in the candlelight.

  Jordan set the table, Drew made a salad. He hadn’t lost his water, but he used bottled water to wash the lettuce. The news reporter had warned that the water had been contaminated.

  “At least it will be fine to shower in,” Drew murmured.

  �
��And we do need showers again,” Katie agreed. Maybe they should have showered first—they were both a bit wild looking, half damp, half plastered. But by now, hunger was the driving force.

  “Cold showers,” Drew said.

  “Cold will feel great!” Jordan told them. “It’s starting to get awfully hot!”

  “It’s going to get hotter in the days to come,” Drew said. “The temperature will rise, once all the wind and cloud cover are completely gone.”

  Katie flipped the steaks over the Sterno. They seemed to be coming out amazingly well. In a few minutes she had them on plates.

  And the Spaghettios were warmed through, as well.

  “Ready on this end,” she told Drew.

  “Ready on this one, too,” he told her.

  In a few minutes, they were all seated at the small kitchen table. Drew had taken down the boards and opened the doors that had once led out to his patio.

  The screen that had stood over his pool was in it, but the darkness covered the disaster, and the breeze that moved in was pleasantly cool. Drew had produced a vintage red wine, and they were drinking out of beautiful wineglasses.

  Jordan was drinking warm Gatorade from one of the wineglasses, and he smiled all through dinner, as if he was having fun.

  It was fun, Katie reflected. They had all worked well together. And it was warm and very comfortable to sit down together, to eat together, to comment on the warnings the television gave, to sit back wearily and realize that they had survived something more traumatic than they had realized at first.

  “First night. The National Guard is in, the curfew is on.” Drew lifted his wineglass toward the television where lights were streaming onto darkened streets to show damaged houses. Signs were already painted on those houses. You loot, we shoot! There was the very simple and profound, Andrew sucks!

  “I could take that one personally,” Drew murmured. Katie flashed him a smile.

  “I imagine you might have some ribbing coming your way in the next few days,” she told him.

  He shrugged and poured her some more wine. She was certainly unwinding, feeling very relaxed. The steaks had been good, his salad had been simple but filling, and even the Spaghettios had tasted good. She was very tired and oddly content.