Phyllis laughed and waved. “Yoo-hoo, waiter. Two more piña coladas, and with an extra splash of rum. Bill it to our room. Suite 2312.” She turned back to Laura. “You make a good argument. All I can say is sometimes friendship grows into an even stronger affection. Remember what Mitch kept telling you—give it time. If you’re not ready, don’t allow Bryan to pressure you.”
Mitch Carter. Laura didn’t want to think about him, and decided to change the subject. “C’mon, let’s go freshen up. I’m looking forward to the luau and watching the hunky male hula dancers swiveling their sexy hips.”
After an evening of over-indulging in food and fun, Laura and Phyllis returned to the hotel. “Laura, I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive, totally exhausted, and a wee bit tipsy.”
Laura kissed her aunt on the cheek, quietly slipped into her bedroom, and shut the door. Uttering a sigh of relief, she kicked off her silver orthopedic slippers, letting her feet sink down into the soft lush carpeting. She changed into an oversized T-shirt and climbed beneath the silken duvet.
The past several weeks had a dreamlike quality about them. Could it already have been four months since Deputy Sheriff Mitchell Carter rescued her from a demented psychopath? She closed her eyes. Too much had happened since the beginning of the year. She found it all slightly overwhelming.
It was still incomprehensible that she’d let Mitch walk out of her life. Yet hadn’t they both agreed the timing wasn’t right for them? He was returning to El Paso to run for sheriff and to bring down the men who had murdered his wife and wounded his mother. As for herself, having given up her job as a New York investigative reporter she had just purchased the Harbor Gazette and was trying to recover from post traumatic stress disorder, plus coming to terms with being a cripple for the rest of her life. She had made it clear she wasn’t ready for a relationship, and she certainly wasn’t leaving Cole Harbor. And then there was Bryan.
It was true, Mitch had often told her to set the rules, to go slow and easy. Maybe that’s what bothered her about Bryan. As much as she resisted his proposals, he pushed, always declaring his love for her. There was, as yet, no formal announcement of an engagement, but everyone in Cole Harbor expected a spring wedding.
A solitary tear dislodged itself from the corner of her eye and slowly slid down her cheek to finally fall unheeded on the pillowcase. So here she was on a beautiful breezy night in Hawaii, her hip and leg aching, and feeling a little sorry for herself.
An even bigger sigh escaped her lips as she stared up at the ceiling.
****
Just for an instant, unable to separate dream from reality, Laura believed herself back in her own bed in Cole Harbor.
“Laura!” The voice cut through the silence in the room like a knife. “Wake up!” The voice was resonant and forceful.
She wanted to shrug off this intruder. Brilliance from the bedside lamp and the persistent hand shaking her shoulder caused her to force open her eyes. She yawned. “Aunt Philly, what’s wrong?”
Her aunt’s voice quavered with emotion. “I don’t know how to tell you!”
Laura looked at the clock. She scooted to a sitting position. “It’s one in the morning.” The pinched, drawn look on her aunt’s face caused every muscle in Laura’s body to tense. “What’s happened? Are you ill?”
Phyllis stood at the edge of the bed. Hands knotted together, her voice a pitch higher, she quavered, “There’s been a terrible accident… We’ve lost everything… Oh, by Godfrey, Laura, what are we going to do?”
Laura swung from the bed and gripped her aunt by the shoulders. “You’re not making sense. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”
“I-I actually think I might faint. I feel all swimmy-headed.”
Laura steered Phyllis toward a chair and helped her sit down. “I’ll get you a cold cloth.” She limped to the bathroom and returned with a dampened washcloth. “Did you have a bad dream about an accident? Can I get you a bottle of water from the refrigerator?”
Phyllis shook her head as she placed the cool cloth to her face. She drew a shuddering breath. “If only it were a bad dream. It’s seven p.m. in Maine. Maudie didn’t realize the time difference. There was a gas leak in the underground lines. Something happened. I don’t know what or how. Maudie was near hysteria and yelling into the phone. I could hardly make sense of what she was saying. Oh, by Godfrey! This is terrible…terrible!”
“Aunt Philly, inhale, then exhale, and try to calm down. Tell me about the gas leak.”
Tears stained her aunt’s cheeks, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. She did as Laura suggested. Inhaled, exhaled. “Apparently, and unbeknownst to anyone in the town, gas has been leaking and accumulating underground for quite a while. There was an explosion.” She placed her hands over her face and shook her head before refocusing on Laura. “The bookstore, the newspaper office, the entire block went up in flames. The Silly Lobstah is gone, and the gazebo, too. Maudie said it looked like a bombed-out war zone. Buildings blown apart and houses burned to the ground.”
Laura’s heart pounded against her chest. She had difficulty getting the words out. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Maudie said ten people were killed, and about twenty-six injured. She wasn’t sure exactly who or how many. Thank goodness most everyone leaves for warmer climates, and they don’t return until after Easter.”
A word about the author…
Loretta C. Rogers is an award-winning author who writes romance with a twist. When not writing, she enjoys reading and traveling, especially going with her husband on their motorcycle. She enjoys hearing from readers and invites them to visit her website:
www.lorettacrogersbooks.com
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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