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January 16, 1994
10:00 p.m.
Remington Steele pulled the robe tighter around his lean frame and nudged the thermostat a notch higher. It was going to be a cold night and he wanted to be sure everyone slept warmly. He snatched his hand away quickly as he heard Laura coming up the stairs.
"I hope you're not kicking that thing up again," came her affectionately accusing voice, a moment before she appeared on the landing.
Remington gave her what he hoped was a innocent smile. "Who me? Not on your life," he lied smoothly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward their bedroom, and away from the thermostat. "If there's one thing I've learned from you, Laura, it's the value of sleeping in a brisk environment."
The newly adjusted heater suddenly kicked on, the whoosh of the forced air unmistakable. Laura glanced up at the duct over their heads, then gave him a wry smile. "A brisk environment, huh?"
He shook his head innocently. "Must be colder than you thought, eh?"
Laura relented. "All right, you win... tonight," she grinned. "Just don't complain if I kick you when you start snoring."
"Remington Steele never snores," he stated emphatically.
"Except when the heater's turned up," Laura pointed out as they climbed into bed.
He clutched the comforter up to his chin. "But it's so cold," he argued. "You wouldn't want to wake up to find your poor husband frozen to death beside you."
Laura smiled mischievously and moved close to him. "But, Mr. Steele," she purred into his ear. "I was so looking forward to huddling together for warmth."
He felt her hands move over his back and he suddenly wasn't quite so cold. He took her into his arms and pulled her even closer. "What a wonderful idea, Miss Holt."
January 17, 1994
2:25 a.m.
Laura tossed restlessly, changing position for about the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. She'd woken up hot and couldn't get back to sleep. The light snoring beside her didn't help either. She glanced over at her husband, wishing he was awake so she could tell him she told him so. He had the covers half kicked off, so she knew he was warm as well.
She'd never get back to sleep this way. Resignedly, she got out of bed and padded out into the hallway. She made a quick adjustment to the thermostat and smiled to herself. He never believed her, always wanting the more immediate gratification of feeling warm and toasty before he fell asleep. She didn't really blame him. Knowing enough about his youth, she imagined he'd spent more than his share of nights cold and hungry. She was also certain they'd all rest better once the house cooled down a bit.
Before she returned to her own bed, she made a quick check on the kids. Six year old Katie Laura was curled up in a ball, surrounded by stuffed animals. Laura chuckled softly. Their daughter never could decide between them, so she usually ended up with at least six soft friends snuggled under the covers with her. Laura replaced the blanket, pulled back the long, dark hair that fanned out over the pillow, and placed a tender kiss on her little girl's cheek. Katie stirred slightly then fell quiet again, her face bathed in the soft blue light from her fish tank.
Laura then moved down the hall to Brian's room. The three year old was sprawled spread-eagle, his footed pajamas keeping him more than warm enough. He was also snoring slightly from the heater-dried air. The big, blue Power Ranger he took to bed was kicked onto the floor. Laura reached down and replaced it beside her son. She smoothed his brown hair off his forehead and sighed. Brian was her baby, but he was growing so fast. Both the kids were. It was scary sometimes to think about how fast the years passed.
Standing there in the dark, she suddenly became aware of how quiet it had become and she realized the heater had shut off. Maybe now she could go back to sleep. She wanted to be well-rested tomorrow. They'd closed the office in keeping with the Martin Luther King holiday and she and Remington planned to take the kids to the zoo. With one more glance at Brian, she headed back to her room
The drapes were parted slightly in the master bedroom and Laura walked over to the window. She never got tired of their hillside view. Below them the city gleamed; even at this late hour, there were plenty of lights. Her frosted breath on the glass told her it really was cold out there tonight -- cold and still. There wasn't a leaf stirring in any of the trees. She smiled softly and turned to gaze at her slumbering husband. Life had certainly been kind to her, sometimes more so than she could believe at times -- certainly not twelve years ago, when this man had been nothing more than a charming stranger, trying to con her out of the jewels she'd been hired to protect.
That was long ago, though. They were both different people. She climbed into bed, peering over to be sure the glass of water on Remington's nightstand was full. By the sound of his snoring, he'd probably need it before the night was through. She pulled the comforter up over them both. In his sleep Remington felt for her, drawing her near. Laura sighed contentedly. She couldn't ask for more than this.
January 17, 1994
4:31 a.m.
The first thing he felt was the thud of something hard impacting painfully with his skull. He grunted groggily and grabbed his head. At the same instant he realized he was wet, he registered the moving of their bed. But it was more than just the bed. As he became fully awake, he could hear what sounded like the entire house coming apart at the seams. He reached out instinctively for Laura and felt his heart rise into his throat at her whispered words.
"It's an earthquake!"
His mind went into automatic mode for a few confusing seconds. Earthquake. Charlton Heston, Ava Garnder... Universal, Nineteen... uh, nineteen seventy...
"Daddy!"
Katie! Remington vaulted over Laura without letting go of her hand. He dragged her up and out with him.
"I'll get Brian," she told him and he instantly lost contact with her as she headed away from him.
"Daddy!" Katie sounded frantic now and Remington groped his way along the rocking hallway, trying to find his daughter's bedroom door.
Their home had become some grim imitation of a carnival funhouse. It was black as pitch and every time he took a step, he was thrown against the wall. Everywhere he could hear the crashing of glass, the groaning of the house as it rocked to and fro, and beneath it all, the rumbling of the earth itself as the quake spent its energy.
He seemed to be going in slow motion, but he finally came to the door and pushed it open.
"Katie?" he called loudly, unable to see where she was. It finally struck him that all the night lights were out. They must not have power.
"Daddy, I'm here." Katie's voice sounded like it was coming from the floor.
"Okay, Sweetling. Daddy's here." He knew the way to her bed, even in the dark, but there were toys and books all over the floor. He stumbled awkwardly over to the other side of the room until he barked his shin against the bed frame.
"Ahh," he yelped and then felt Katie's arm wrap around his waist.
"Daddy," she cried into his pajama shirt. "The house is falling down."
"No, baby, it's not. It's okay." He scooped her up into his arms and she clung to his neck. He was headed to the doorway when he heard Laura's panicked call.
"I can't get Brian," she cried. He could hear her pounding on their son's door.
Remington's heart was racing as he dashed out of Katie's room, only distantly registering the pain in his bare feet at he stumbled over toys, books and heaven knew what else, his daughter clinging to him the entire time. They were into the hallway, before he realized that the shaking had finally stopped.
He ran in the direction of Brian's room. He could hear Laura clearly, and more faintly, the sound of their son crying behind the door.
"Laura?"
"Here," she called. "I'm right here."
He used her voice as a guide and was soon standing beside her.
"It's jammed," she told him, her voice quavering. "I can't get it to budge."
Remington set Katie down and she reluctantly let go of his neck, only to grab onto his leg. He gently pried her off and handed her over to Laura.
"Here, baby, stay with Mommy."
As Laura grabbed Katie up, Remington reached down for the knob and braced his shoulder against the wood.
"Brian?" he called out. "Brian, move away from the door."
"Daddy?" His son was frightened and it was obvious Brian was standing close by.
"Son, move away so Daddy can open the door. Can you do that?"
He heard a distinct sniffle and then a mumbled "'kay." He took a deep breath and rammed his shoulder against the stubborn barrier. It shifted slightly and he repeated his actions, elated as he felt it give more.
"Almost got it," he muttered, steeling himself for one more try.
At that moment the house pitched, rocking with the force of the first aftershock. He heard Katie's small shriek of terror, muffled as Laura grabbed her into a protective embrace. Remington dove down and pulled his wife and daughter to him, under the meager shelter of the door frame.
"Daddy!" Brian's young voice was nearly hysterical and it tore at Remington's heart.
With a strength fueled by his son's terror, he pulled himself up and threw himself once more at the obstructed door. It gave suddenly, and opened up, spilling Remington into the room to land on top of the fallen bookcase that had blocked their way. He didn't see his son in the darkness, but he felt him as the boy vaulted into his arms.
"Daddy! Daddy!" Brian burrowed into Remington's embrace.
"Are you all right?" he asked the boy worriedly and felt Brian's vigorously nod.
"Brian? Are you okay, sweetheart?"
Brian lifted his head at the sound of his mother's voice. "Mommy!" He reached for her and Steele let him go.
Another jolt shook the house. Though it wasn't as severe, it was no less frightening. Katie grabbed for him again and they rode it out huddled together.
"We need to get outside," Laura instructed.
He felt for her hand and squeezed it. "You take Brian... stay close to me." He scooped Katie up into his arms, waited for Laura to get to her feet as well. "Ready?"
"We're set."
"All right, here we go."
He held onto his daughter with one arm and felt along the wall with his free hand. He moved cautiously, wary of fallen pictures and broken glass. It didn't help any of their nerves that every few minutes the house rattled ominously again.
After what seemed like forever, he finally felt the wall end and knew they'd reached the landing.
"Hang onto the bannister," he advised Laura. "We don't know what might have fallen onto the stairs."
He was just about to take his first tentative step, when he suddenly saw a beam of light below. At the same instant, he heard a voice shouting for them.
"Remington! Laura!"
He breathed out a sigh of relief. It was Fred.
"Up here," he called and the light moved to find them.
"Are you all okay?"
"Just a little shell-shocked," Laura told him. "How're Maggie and Jack?"
By now Fred had reached them. "They're okay. Everything's a mess though." He aimed his beam ahead of them, lighting their way down.
"Did Maggie fall outta bed too," Brian asked.
"She sure did, pal," Fred laughed, "we all did."
In another moment, they reached the ground floor. The first thing Steele noticed as they left the house and walked outside was how cold it was. He hadn't even thought to get blankets or robes for the kids. But he didn't have long to worry. Maggie was there in an instant with quilts from her home.
"Bless you, Maggie." Remington set Katie down and helped her wrap up.
"I just grabbed them on the way out." She kissed Katie Laura and moved to help with Brian. Immediately the child leaned out and grabbed her around the neck. She took him into her arms.
"I'm so glad you weren't hurted," he murmured.
"Me too, Bri," Maggie soothed, as Laura draped the blanket around her son. "We were lucky, nobody was hurt."
"An' Jack's okay too?" Brian persisted.
"He's a trooper," Fred spoke up with a chuckle. "Slept through the whole thing." He turned to Laura and Steele and gestured toward the driveway. "I pulled the limo out of the garage. Jack's in there snoozing. Figured it might be the warmest place to spend what's left of the night."
Remington glanced back up at his house, a dark silhouette against the starlit sky. "You're probably right. I don't want anyone going inside until we can see what we're dealing with." Another aftershock rumbled under their feet, setting Steele's heart to pounding again. "Or until those stop," he added wryly.
They herded the children to the driveway, the grass cold and damp under their bare feet. Maggie got in the front where little Jack was still sleeping peacefully, cocooned in quilts.
"We're gonna sleep in the car?" Katie was obviously puzzled about the whole series of events. She climbed into the back seat.
Laura reached in to be sure she was tucked in nice and warm. "Think of it as an adventure," she suggested with a grin for her daughter.
"Yah, a 'venture," Brian echoed as he hopped in to sit next to his sister.
Laura slipped in beside the children, scooting them over to make room for Remington. He didn't get right in. He was still eyeing the house.
"What is it?" Laura asked.
He frowned. "I was wondering if we should shut off the gas main."
"Already did that," Fred volunteered.
"Good man." He took a last glance out at where the city should have been, only just realizing he couldn't see anything. "The power must be out all over," he commented.
"That explains why it's so dark," Laura speculated. She patted the seat next to her. "Get in so we can close the door."
Steele sighed and climbed in. The kids did some seat shuffling so they could be in the middle of their parents. Katie Laura ended up snuggled under Steele's arm, Brian in much the same position with Laura. Remington leaned his head against the upholstery and closed his eyes, feeling suddenly drained. He supposed it was the after effects of the near-panicked flight from the house -- the end of the adrenaline rush from being so abruptly awakened and thrown into a crisis. Another rumble rocked the car, reminding them again of what they'd just been through.
He heard the static and jumbled sounds of a radio being tuned and he opened his eyes to see Laura playing with the dials.
"I just want to see if I can get any news. I'm worried about Francis and Donald... and Mildred."
Remington leaned forward. "Have you tried the phone, Fred?"
Fred shook his head. "Nothing's working right now. Not even the cellular. Must be a lot of lines down."
Laura finally settled on KNS, one of the local all-news channel. Information was sketchy at best. It would more than likely be a few hours before they really knew anything. Most people were probably waiting for dawn, as they were. He shifted into a slightly more comfortable position and closed his eyes again. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, but it was calming to sit there and let the voices on the radio lull him into that inbetween state -- neither awake, nor asleep. If only those nerve rattling aftershocks would stop.
Laura opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment. Then she remembered and she was suddenly wide awake. She saw Katie and Brian were sound asleep, taking up a great deal of the space in the back seat. She tied to sit up and felt the kink of sore muscles, protesting over this kind of treatment. Spending the night in a car, with the armrest digging into her spine, was not her favorite thing to do. She'd spent too many hours on stakeouts doing just that. Remington was asleep as well, one arm flopped over Katie's shoulders. She wondered if she looked as bedraggled as he did.
She glanced up to the front seat and saw that Fred was gone. Maggie leaned against the passenger side window, Jack in her arms. She opened the door and slipped carefully out from under Brian's slumbering form. She lay his head onto the seat and softly closed the door.
It felt good to be standing and she stretched long and hard. There was an eerie stillness to the morning and she was positive she could smell smoke in the air. Probably a few fires, she decided. She clutched her blanket around her shoulders and made her way over to the house.
At first glance, it seemed undamaged, but as she grew closer, she could make out small breaks in the stonework, patches of stucco that had crumbled. The front room windows were cracked. It could have been much worse, she knew, but she didn't look forward to going inside and seeing the mess that had to be there.
"There's some tiles down from the roof."
She looked up at the sound of Fred's voice. "Is it bad?"
He shook his head. "Just a few. Probably a good idea to have somebody check it out, though."
"What about your place?" Laura inquired.
"Seems to be okay. There's a big mess inside... kitchen mostly."
Laura sighed and pulled her disheveled hair off her face. "You think it's okay to go in and get clothes and shoes for the kids?"
"Probably. We'll need water and food too. Hopefully the power'll be on soon."
"We'll have to salvage what we can, if we get to it It might be a good idea to boil the water too."
She heard the sound of the car door and turned. Remington was coming their way, limping noticeably. Laura frowned.
"What did you do?"
He grimaced. "Must've cut my foot last night. Lord knows what I might have stepped on."
She moved over to slip an arm through his arm and led him to the steps. "Here, let me take a look."
He eased himself down and Laura knelt to examine his foot. She made a face at the dirt and dried blood.
"Fred, can you find me something to wash this off with? Even the garden hose would help."
"Right." Their friend trotted off toward the side of the house.
Laura glanced up at Remington and took hold of his hand. He smiled at her.
"Quite a night, eh?"
"Not one I'd want to repeat," she stated. "That's probably the worst I've ever lived through."
"I considered myself a veteran after the Landers quake." Remington chuckled lightly. "Little did I know." His face grew more serious. "I heard a bit of the news this morning. It sounds fairly grim in some places. I hope Mildred's all right."
"Are the phones still out?"
He nodded. "And with her housesitting at her friend's, she doesn't have her neighbors to check up on her."
At that moment, Fred returned with a couple bottles of water and some rags. He also held up a first aid kit. He handed everything to Laura. "There must be a water main busted somewhere," he explained. "I couldn't get any water out of the hose."
Laura broke the seals on one of the plastic bottles and began squirting it over Remington's foot.
He eyed the Perrier label. "Spare no expense, eh?" he quipped.
Laura smiled, but continued her work. "You use what you can find."
He winced a few times, but sat patiently as she finished.
"Well?"
She frowned. "It could probably use stitches and it really should get cleaned out better so it doesn't become infected."
"I can drive him to the hospital," Fred volunteered, "if you and Maggie don't mind being left alone with the kids."
"We'll be fine," Laura assured him, though she could tell Remington wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of his family being without him. "Maybe you can go see about Mildred afterwards," she suggested.
"Mmm... good idea." He appeared to have consoled himself with that. At least if he had to desert Laura and the children, it would be for a good cause and not just because he'd been too clumsy to avoid a piece of glass. He glanced down at his night attire and laughed self-consciously. "I think I should at least change clothes."
Laura reached up to kiss his forehead. "Certainly. It wouldn't be very good for business to have the great Remington Steele seen in his p.j.'s."
The noon time sun shone brightly on the city, uncaring of the pre-dawn devastation. As the shiny black Wrangler passed through the nearly deserted streets, the two passengers inside the vehicle rode in silence, each man viewing the scenes of devastation in shock and disbelief.
They'd spent the last few hours at St. Joseph's emergency room. Of course, it was that in name only. The hospital, unwilling to let patients inside their doors until the building had been declared safe, had set up an emergency trauma unit in the parking lot. When Fred and Steele arrived, they'd had to wait outside amid scores of people with varying degrees of cuts, sprains and fractures.
Remington had fretted impatiently, anxious to get on their way to check on Mildred. If he'd been by himself, he would have just left and taken his chances with his foot. He actually felt rather silly sitting here for what he considered a minor problem. Fred let him grouse and grumble, but refused to let him leave until he'd been taken care of.
After at least a couple of hours, a frazzled young doctor finally came over to examine him. Her brown hair had once been pulled into a bun, but now at least half of it had come loose to fall in long strands down her back and shoulders. Her green scrubs were grimy from kneeling on the pavement. As she approached them, wheeling a portable supply cart, she rubbed her forearm across her eyes and Remington wondered how long she'd been working.
"What've we got here?" she greeted wearily.
"It's nothing, really, Dr... uh," he caught sight of her name tag, "Dr. Cord," he finished.
"He cut his foot," Fred supplied.
She nodded knowingly and lifted his foot into her lap. "Seen a lot of this kind of thing this morning. Guess people should sleep with their shoes on."
Fred chuckled at her attempt at humor. Remington merely winced as she probed into the cut.
"This seems pretty well cleaned out. My compliments to your nurse."
"My wife," he told her between clenched teeth. He was trying not to notice the needle she was sticking in his foot.
"This'll numb it so I can take some sutures." She worked quickly and soon had him stitched and bandaged. "You should have your own doctor check those out when you get a chance... be sure they're healing right. Stay off your foot for a while too."
He nodded his thanks. He couldn't fit his shoe on over the bandages, so he settled for pulling on his sock and limping carefully over to the jeep. They were soon on their way to Chatsworth.
They'd been trying the phones off and on all morning and finally got Laura over the cellular. She'd been able to reach Francis, who was slightly hysterical, but all right. She'd talked to the Carmichaels in Westwood and the Foley's in Bel Air. Both family had come through with no injures and minimal property damage. She still hadn't been able to get Mildred yet and Remington could tell Laura was growing more and more concerned.
What they passed on their way didn't do much to ease his own mind. The earthquake had certainly been capricious, striking one building viciously, yet leaving the one next door untouched. Even the roads had been affected. Several major freeways were damaged and others were shut down for inspection. They'd had to detour around highways that were flooded from damaged water pipes and others that were buckled and split. Steele was glad they'd taken Fred's four-wheel drive jeep. It had definitely come in handy.
They'd been listening to the news on the radio the whole time and one of the things they'd learned was that the epicenter of the quake was in Northridge. They passed through that city in solemn silence as they saw crumbled apartments, a battered hospital, a shopping center that looked like it had been bombed. The only time in his life that he could remember seeing anywhere near this scale of damage was as a child in Dublin. An I.R.A. attack had taken out a row of shops, but that had only been one city block. He didn't think he would ever be able to rid his mind of the images he saw.
"We're nearly there." Fred's voice broke into Steele's thoughts. "You got the address?"
"Yes, right here." He pulled out the scrap of paper he'd scribbled the information on.
In another few minutes they turned onto the street where Mildred's friend lived. Remington sat up a little straighter. The houses here had all sustained a moderate amount of damage -- from shattered windows to fallen chimneys, to partially caved in walls. None of them looked like they could stand up under further onslaughts and he shuddered, thinking of dear old Mildred alone in one of these house of cards.
Fred pulled into the correct driveway and stopped the car. Remington got out, alarmed at the sight that first greeted their eyes. The garage had folded in on itself and within the debris, he could see Mildred's car -- the silver blue Camry now covered with timbers and rubble.
"The house doesn't look that bad," Fred observed hopefully.
Steele didn't waste time answering. He started up the walk as briskly as he could, with Fred right behind him. When he reached the front door, he banged heavily.
"Mildred? Mildred, are you there?"
Several neighbors were milling about their yards and a few curious ones wandered over to see what the new commotion was about.
"Hey, buddy," one man began. "Nobody's home there."
Remington paused long enough to fix the man with an angry glare. "My friend was staying here as a favor to the owners. Have you seen a short woman, in her sixties, blond hair?"
The man shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't know Shirley had arranged for a house sitter. We woulda checked earlier."
Steele pounded again and still got no answer. He patted his pockets, but came up empty-handed. "Damn!" he swore. He moved back and started searching for something -- anything -- he could use to pick the lock.
"Let me try, Mr. Steele." Fred stepped forward and, without ceremony, launched a hefty kick at the door.
The wood splintered and gave, opening up into the house. Remington stared at his chauffeur, then whistled his admiration.
"Good job, mate."
Fred smiled broadly. "I've always liked the direct approach."
Steele patted him on the shoulder, then rushed past him into the foyer. "Mildred? Mildred? Where are you?"
He picked his way through the rearranged living room and found the kitchen in a shamble. The refrigerator had toppled, spilling milk, juice, soda and a variety of other perishables onto the linoleum. Every cupboard seemed to have opened up and dumped their contents onto the floor as well, making for a huge mess of broken glass, canned goods, flour, sugar, and other, less identifiable items.
"Maybe upstairs?" Fred raced off in that direction.
Remington followed at a slightly slower pace. It was harder to run when you were only wearing one shoe.
"I found her!" Fred exclaimed from one of the bedrooms.
"Mildred!"
Steele reached the staircase and climbed as fast as he could. He stopped at the doorway to the master bedroom. It was as if some wanton giant child had thrown a tantrum and tossed the furniture around in a rage. Fred was on the other side of what appeared to be an entertainment center.
"Over here," the chauffeur beckoned. "She's trapped under it."
Remington carefully picked his way through the mess, stepping over the bed and climbing down on the other side. He could see Mildred now, her portly form lying on the floor, her legs pinned under the toppled unit. He knelt beside her and could see she was crying.
"Mildred, I'm right here. It's going to be all right now."
When she lifted her head and saw him, he could see the stark fear in her face. "Oh, Boss. I was so afraid nobody would come." Her tears were renewed, this time with relief.
Remington reached out to brush her dusty cheek. "There now, Mildred. We're here now. That's what counts. Fred and I will get you out of here. Are you hurt anywhere?"
She struggled bravely to get her tears under control. "I think my leg might be broken. The TV fell on it." She sniffed. "I just got up to go to the bathroom. I was on my way back to bed. I thought somebody had blown the place up."
He gave her a reassuring smile. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" He stood up and scrutinized the work ahead of them. "Let's get the main unit off first."
Fred positioned himself on one end and Remington on the other. The wall unit was solid oak and extremely heavy. It was also tangled with a mass of wires and cables from the various electronic components that it had held. It took them some time, but eventually the two men were able to lift it up and prop it against a wall.
The big 36" television was lying face down on the carpet, with Mildred's foot pinned under it. Once more, the men worked together and were able to right the cumbersome TV. Steele returned to Mildred's side. Her foot free, she'd managed to sit up, but Remington could see the pain in her eyes.
"How is it?" he asked worriedly.
"I think it's busted." Mildred tried to wiggle her toes and let out a groan of protest.
"She won't be walking on it, in any case," he informed Fred.
"Should we call the paramedics?"
Steele shook his head. "It will be a very long wait for them, I'm afraid. They're probably inundated with calls today." He brightened. "What about Mr. Rogers neighbors out there? They might help."
"Right." Fred dashed out of the room and thumped down the stairs.
"I'm sorry about all this, Chief?" Mildred apologized.
"Now, none of that, Miss Krebs," he admonished kindly. "The last time I heard, an earthquake is a violent act of nature, not the fault of my most trusted associate."
Mildred gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Boss. You always could cheer me up."
He flashed her a grin. "I do my best, Mildred."
They heard the sound of many people and soon Fred returned, accompanied by a group of dirty and sweaty men. "I rounded up some troops."
The man who had first approached them stepped forward. "We feel real bad that we didn't check on your friend here. We just didn't know." He glanced over his shoulder and the other men nodded their agreement. He turned back to Steele. "So, what can we do to help."
In a very short time, they had Mildred settled in the back seat of the jeep, as comfortable as they could make her. Remington shook hands gratefully with the neighborhood men.
"We'll keep an eye out on Shirley's house," the first man assured them.
"Thank you for all your help." Steele climbed into the car and Fred resumed his place behind the wheel.
Shortly, they were back on the road, this time on the way to the nearest functioning hospital.
Laura sighed wearily, then froze momentarily as another aftershock rolled under them. After it passed, she went back to work, quickly putting the flash of fear from her mind.
"How long do you think those will last?" Maggie asked as she came by with another sack full of broken dishes.
"I don't know. They're driving me a little bonkers."
The two women were doing their best to clean up the gatehouse where the Parks lived. It was a much less foreboding task than tackling the mansion. Besides, they didn't know if the big house was even safe to be in yet. This place, much smaller and only one story, felt solid and stable. They'd decided that for now, both families would stay here. It would probably be several days before they could get an engineer out to check the mansion over.
The kids were trying to help too. Brian was keeping 1 year old Jack entertained the best he could. Katie had wanted to do something bigger, so Laura had given her the task of sorting through cans of food.
The water had come back on, though the news was advising it be boiled before use. The phone lines had cleared up slowly and Laura had finally been able to talk to her sister and some of their friends. The only one left unaccounted for had been Mildred, but Remington had called about an hour ago and brought her up to date. So there was nothing left to worry about there.
She heard the sound of a car and she looked up to see Fred's Wrangler pull up.
"Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" Katie abandoned her chore and skipped outside.
"Daddy?" Brian ran in from the bedroom and followed in his sister's wake.
Maggie went to retrieve a deserted Jack and the women trailed after the children at only a slightly slower pace.
Remington pulled the sleeping bag up a little higher around his neck.
"You're going to get awfully hot like that," Laura teased from her own nylon bag. They were camped on the living room floor. The kids had taken over Jack's room and the baby was in with Fred and Maggie.
"I keep telling you, Laura, it gets cold at night."
"Uh-huh. That's why you always wake up with no covers on."
She grinned at him and he reached out to pull her closer, sleeping bag and all.
"Haven't we had this conversation before?" he asked. It was hard to believe it had been less than twenty-four hours since they'd been so rudely awakened.
"Only every night," Laura laughed. She snuggled down deeper into his arms.
He placed a kiss on the top of her head. He couldn't put into words how grateful he was that no harm had come to any of them, and most especially to this woman that he loved more than his own life.
"As long as we don't have any more nights like the last one," he breathed into her ear.
"Oh, I don't think it was all bad." Laura's hands on his chest reminded him of exactly what part of the night she was talking about.
"Perhaps not," he murmured.
At that moment the little house rumbled with a sizeable aftershock.
Remington lifted his head then looked down at his wife with a crooked grin. "But, on the other hand..."