Frankenstein In Love Page 7

  “Hey, kiddo, you all right?”

  “Hi, Joni, I’m fine.”

  “You sound scared.”

  “No, really. I’m fine.”

  “Well, I just wanted to check on you before all the phone lines go down. There’s a hurricane off the coast you know, and since you’re so close to the coastline, I was a little worried. You want to come over here and ride it out with me?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She scowled with concern as she peered out the window. “I’m sure I’ll be okay. The weatherman seems to think we’ll just get the edge.”

  “Okay, but keep your radio on, and if they say anything about evacuation, get the hell out! That’ll mean it’s moving inland, and you won’t have a minute to spare. The village is downright spooky. Nobody left. Reminds me of a ghost town.”

  “Okay, I will. Hey, by the way, how’s your car?”

  “Poor old Bessie died a noisy death. The mechanic actually laughed at me when I asked him to fix her. You know what that creep had the gall to say? ‘Tell me the truth, am I on Candid Camera?’ How do you like that bum? I know I ain’t no beauty, but what the hell do I look like, Peter Funt?”

  “That’s too bad. What’ll you do now?”

  “Monday I’m going to a used car lot I know about up near Luger Pass. Wanna come along?”

  “Sure, I guess so. What time are you going?”

  “Around ten.”

  “How about we stop somewhere for lunch after we buy you a new clunker?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay, see you then.” She chuckled. “That is if I haven’t blown away.”

  Just about the time Tiffany hung up, she heard a high, whining sound. The wind was making horrible music through every crack in her house. Alarm began building in her and she jerked her head around at every sound. First she heard limbs making a horrible cracking sound. Anything outside that wasn’t nailed down began blowing in the wind, some of it bumping up against the door. When the windows began rattling, she felt panic coming on. She stupidly thought of the three little pigs trapped in a house of straw.

  I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll bloooow your house down!

  With those words ringing through her head, she spilled her coffee when she jerked her whole body around, hearing a horrible ripping sound.

  * * * *

  Elaine looked outside at the threatening sky and listened worriedly to the horrible sound of the whipping wind. She thought about Tiffany Lovelace alone in her little cardboard house, and worried about her safety. She kept watching Quinn who was looking through the window toward the lighthouse. She kept watching him as he finally moved away from the window and walked over to the coffee table in front of the fireplace and poured some tea.

  “Damned tea. I wish we had something stronger. Even coffee—”

  “You’re sure you got everything secured?” Elaine asked, interrupting him.

  “Absolutely,” he answered, and turned to see her watching him. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t say anything, just kept staring at him.

  “What?” he finally bellowed out.

  “I’m worried.”

  “I told you, Kirk is going to be fine.”

  “No, I don’t mean Kirk. I’m worried about Tiffany Lovelace down there in that little paper-thin house she lives in. Quinn, she’ll never survive this storm if she stays there. Can’t you go get her and bring her up here to ride out the storm where she’ll be safe?”

  “Elaine, it’s too late to be thinking of something like that. The wind is much too high, I would never make it. Besides, she’s probably already found a place to stay.”

  Elaine touched his arm. “Yes, but what if she hasn’t? She may be scared to death. She’s from New York, she’s not used to violent coastal weather like this. She wouldn’t have known what preparations to make.” Elaine jerked her head around when she heard a high, screaming wind, and whirled back around. “Did you hear that? It’s getting worse.”

  “All right, Elaine, if it’ll make you feel better. But try calling her first. No use getting out in this storm for nothing.”

  With a sigh of relief, Elaine jumped up and rushed to the phone. Since she didn’t know Tiffany’s number she dialed the operator, but got no response. The line sounded hollow, dead, so she pounded the disconnect bar over and over again, trying to get some kind of response.

  She turned to Quinn with the phone still pressed against her ear. “Oh God, Quinn, the phone lines are down.”

  He got up, walked to the front door and pulled the curtain back. He saw tree limbs on the ground, and debris flying through the air. “It would be suicide to try it, Elaine.”

  “But we just can’t—we have to do something.”

  “I know,” he began thoughtfully. “All right, I’m going, but if I’m not back in half an hour, I may not be coming back at all.” With the last words of the tense, moving speech out of his mouth, he grabbed his jacket, and gripped the shaking doorknob.

  Elaine watched him battle the door, and put a frightened hand to her mouth when he finally managed to open it and slam it shut behind him. With a prayer on her lips, she ran and gazed out the glass panels to watch him as he weaved toward his car, and drove out of sight.

  * * * *

  Tiffany could hear her porch swing twisting and turning violently in the wind. One side had already been fully ripped from the porch ceiling, and now she heard another ripping sound, followed by a loud thud. She knew it was the thick chain dropping like lead. She ran to the door and tried to open it just a little to see the extent of the damage, but the wind pushed it back with such a mighty force it swung out of her hand. The wind blew furiously into the house, and she staggered back, falling on the floor.

  The force of the wind was so strong, it easily pushed the furniture back against the wall. She fought against the wind, trying to get to the door and force it shut when she saw it begin to move back and forth wildly as if by some unseen hand. Before she knew what was happening, the door flew off the hinges and began hurtling down the hall. Furniture, cushions, and pictures flew in the air around her. Knickknacks crashed against the wall, and books were being ripped from the bookcases. All at once she felt herself being picked up and thrown brutally against the wall. A terrible pain pierced her head like a lightning bolt when she hit the wall, and began sliding down it until blackness engulfed her.

  *

  Only moments later, Quinn Kessler stood in the doorway of Tiffany’s cottage. His long hair was flying in the wind, and he could hardly stand up. He glanced around at the damage being done to her home, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Holding on to anything he could find that was stationary, he managed to get inside. There was so much wind and debris flying around he could hardly see, so he lifted his arm and shielded his face.

  “Tiffany!” he yelled as loudly as he could, only to have the roar of the violent wind take his words. He pushed broken pieces of furniture out of his path and squinted through the swirling mass to find Tiffany. Finally, over against a wall he saw a crimson path trailing down the wall, making the water in her garden fountain pattern appear as if it were spewing blood. Just below it, she lay there dangerously still while leaves, tree limbs, broken furniture, and all kinds of debris flew above her quiescent body. He stumbled over and removed all the clutter the wind had piled upon her. He felt for her pulse, but it was dangerously weak. He knew he had to get her out of the storm, and fast. He hastily dug her out of the clutter that might have been her grave and pulled her up into his arms. What had he done? he asked himself. Had he allowed the widow’s power to go too far? Gazing down at the face of the woman he loved, he ached inside when he saw those beautiful bedroom eyes closed—maybe forever.

  * * * *

  Elaine paced restlessly by the front door, gazing outside and watching for Quinn when she heard something, and saw Kirk standing in a shadow.

  “Kirk. What’s wrong? Are you feeling all rig
ht?”

  “Elaine, you can’t bring that writer into this house,” he rasped.

  “Kirk, we have to if we can. She’s alone. She needs someone.”

  “She must have friends.”

  “That’s us, isn’t it? Aren’t we her friends?” When she heard no response, she continued. “Kirk, please, if we don’t help her, she may die. She lives in a little cottage at the end of the road. It’ll never hold up in this kind of weather.”

  “She should have thought of that before she moved here,” he said, sounding bitter.

  “She’s not used to living on the coast, how could she have known?”

  “The damned realtor would have told her.”

  “Kirk, you know better than that. Hector Jackson sold her that place. He isn’t going to tell her anything that might ruin a sale. Not when there’s a commission in it for him.”

  Elaine jerked around when she heard someone pulling up into the drive. Both she and Kirk ran to the panel windows and gazed out. When they saw Quinn pull a limp, bleeding body out of the car, Elaine gasped and swung the door wide open. The wind was so high, Quinn could hardly stay on his feet, but he finally made it into the house. He promptly laid her on the couch in front of the burning fireplace.

  “Get a room ready for her!” he shouted at Elaine.

  Elaine immediately ran up the stairs and Kirk backed away into his favorite shadow.

  * * * *

  Tiffany walked among shadows. As she gazed into the chilling darkness, she saw sinister faces with piercing eyes staring out at her.

  “Tiffany,” one of the voices whispered through the darkness.

  “Tiffany,” another tormented voice called her name.

  All at once all the shadows were whispering her name. Some behind her, while others echoed from a long way off. One came from her left side, the other from her right. She put her hands over her ears, trying to keep the sound out, but still she heard them. All at once the shadows began moving toward her as if they were alive. She backed away, frightened. She turned, trying to run, but before she knew what was happening, a hulking figure came into the light and she saw the most hideous face she had ever seen, causing a scream to burst from her throat!

  Tiffany bolted up, a wet cloth falling from her forehead. She grabbed her head when a pain stabbed her. “Ow!” she cried out, and saw Elaine close by. “What—” she began as she gazed around the room. “Where the hell am I?”

  “You’re in Frankenstein’s castle.”

  As soon as she heard Elaine’s answer, she eased back down. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever hear the end of that one, will I?”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  “How did I get here? The last thing I remember is my front door flying toward me.”

  “You’re lucky you’re alive,” she said, while dipping the cloth in some cool water and replacing it carefully on her forehead. “Quinn found you lying under a lot of debris, pulled you out, and here you are. He said he almost didn’t see you. You were practically buried alive under tree limbs, brush, furniture, you name it.”

  “What a day to be out for a stroll. What was he doing, just passing by?”

  “Hardly. We were worried about you, and he decided to go see if you were all right.”

  “God, what a headache I’ve got,” Tiffany said, frowning. “What happened, do you know?”

  “You must have hit your head. Quinn said there was blood all over the wall where you fell. Anyway, he brought you in and I patched you up.”

  She felt around on her head until she found the bandage. “I’m all right then? I mean, I don’t have to go to the hospital or anything?”

  “No, you’ll be fine.” Pulling back the curtain on the window, she added, “Besides, if you tried to go very far in this weather, you wouldn’t need a hospital, you’d need a mortician.”

  Tiffany glanced down at the large supply of bandages, medicine, hypodermic needles, and small bottles of liquids. “My God, what are you, a walking hospital?”

  “Being a registered nurse, I keep us stocked up on all the medical supplies we might need in case of an emergency.”

  Tiffany pointed. “What are those bags? Isn’t that something you would use in a blood transfusion?”

  “You’re right. That’s what they are.”

  Tiffany peered up at Elaine in disbelief. “You’re kidding. Remind me to steer clear of your refrigerator. I faint at the sight of blood.”

  “Well, it…it’s just in case.”

  Taking in all the outrageous medical paraphernalia, Tiffany frowned. “Look, I can understand a bathroom full of pills, bandages, cough medicine and so forth. I even know a few hypochondriacs that have everything but the kitchen sink in their medicine cabinets, but—” she ran her hands through everything, “this is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” She picked up suture needles and heavy thread, and turned her questioning gaze up at Elaine. “When would you ever use this stuff?” She hesitated a moment, and then continued. “My God, this isn’t a joke is it? I mean, because I called your house Frankenstein’s castle?” Tiffany laughed. “Of course, now I get it. You’re a female mad scientist, right? And you’ve got a dungeon downstairs with a monster in it that you’ve sewn together.”

  “Very funny,” Elaine said.

  “Well, don’t bust a gut laughing,” Tiffany said, noticing Elaine’s thin smile, and changed the subject. “So, you’re a registered nurse, huh? Where do you work?”

  “I’ve just started a new job with Dr. Vincent Wilder. His office is out on Beachwood, just before you get to the coast highway. Not too far from here, actually.”

  “Yeah? Where did you work before?”

  “I was a night nurse at County Glen Hospital. I changed because of the hours.”

  “Aren’t you kind of wasted in a doctor’s office? I mean, the hospital…”

  “Oh, no. The doctor keeps me very busy, and I enjoy working with him.” A dreamy-eyed gaze softened her face, and a shy smile tugged at her lips. “He’s brilliant, and I’ve learned a lot.”

  Tiffany smiled at her knowingly, winked and said, “Good luck.”

  Chapter 7

  WITH Elaine’s expert care, Tiffany seemed to have gained her strength back in no time. She had been given permission to get out of bed, but only for short periods. Now, pulling herself out of bed very carefully, she remembered Elaine’s express orders not to overdo it, and paid close attention to how she felt. If she began to feel dizzy, or weak, she was to go back to bed and rest. She had expected her head to pound, or to see the room whirl about her, but actually she was quite steady, and became encouraged.

  So far, so good, she thought, balancing herself with flailing arms, refusing to walk with the assistance of the furniture. She wondered if going about the mansion to find Quinn would be too much. She had expected him to pay her a visit, but he hadn’t, and she was anxious to thank him for rescuing her from the hurricane.

  After grabbing the robe Elaine had lent her, she opened the bedroom door and gazed out into the hall. Everything was so deathly still, Tiffany wondered if anyone was at home. She continued on, peering around open doorframes and searching for any sign of life. She was mindful to be very careful as she at last found the main stairway and began creeping down each step while holding on to the wide balustrade. Her attention was drawn to the study when she heard the flipping of paper. Hopefully, she’d found Quinn. When she made it to the bottom, she turned and noticed the mountain of stairs. She hadn’t thought about having to get back up them until now.

  She gazed around. Seeing everything in the bright light of day seemed very different. She stroked the dark wood that Elaine managed to keep shining, and gazed up into the cavernous ceiling. “Uh oh,” she muttered, and grabbed the newel post. “Mental note. Don’t do that anymore.” After steadying herself, she turned and carefully made her way to the study and peeked in. She saw Quinn’s dark head leaning over a stack of papers. Not want
ing to disturb him she turned away, but not before he saw her and came rushing to his feet.

  “Well, come in, Ms. Lovelace. How are you feeling?”

  Coming face-to-face with the man in her dreams, Tiffany was overwhelmed once again by his larger-than-life appearance and his dark, handsome face. Like a schoolgirl she stared and felt if she opened her mouth a steady stream of disconnected words would rush out. She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and stiff. Even as she stood in the shadow of the doorway, she could feel the power of his piercing eyes, and immediately saw something in them. Some kind of knowledge. As if the two of them shared a secret.

  Possibly the restaurant, she thought. Certainly not the dreams…he wouldn’t know about them.

  “I’m…I’m much better, thank you,” she said shyly. “Elaine’s a wonderful nurse, and…well, I must say, she’s taking very good care of me.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been up to see you, but Elaine wouldn’t allow it.”

  “I understand,” she said softly, and noticed his faintly colored lips. He honored her with a lopsided smile that revealed his white, sparkling teeth.

  A silence rose up between them while his gaze lowered to her body. When she saw where his attention was going, she became self-conscious and began tugging at the robe. Beneath his piercing gaze, it seemed too small.

  The awkward silence between them was doing a number on Tiffany’s nerves. She could tell that he was clearly waiting for her to say something. She wanted to turn and run, but her feet seemed to be planted on the carpet.

  Finally Quinn came around the desk and sat on the edge. Taking his time, he folded his arms across his chest, and asked softly, “You’re comfortable, I hope. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “No,” Tiffany responded, almost too soon. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me from the hurricane. I would have probably died if you hadn’t been there.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said with an appealing smile on his face that she knew must make women fall at his feet. “After all, what would I do for reading material if I let my favorite romance novelist die?”