By Dean Koontz
Released below pseudonym Deanna Dwyer.
A veil of Caribbean horror shrouds Sonya Carter’s purely probability for love...
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Extra info for Children of the Storm
He whistled for and located another porter, supervised the loading of Sonya's baggage onto another wheeled cart and then led the way out of the chrome and glass structure into the suddenly oppressive-by comparison-heat of the late afternoon sun. The tourists out on the promenade easily outnumbered the locals, dressed in the most awful bermudas and loud shirts, the women in slacks too tight for them, many almost comical in their floppy straw hats and exaggerated sunglasses. But Sonya had had enough of colorful costumes, native accents and mannerisms; now, all that she wanted was to settle down on Distingue as a governess for Mr.
Sonya said, meaning it. Bill asked. �Never, except for the ship coming down, of course. he said. The sea bounces her a bit, unless we put her up toward top speed-and then she bounces the sea The porter put the bags on the main deck, near the pilot's cabin, accepted a tip from Peterson, doffed a tiny porter's hat as he smiled, and wheeled away the luggage cart. With a gentleness she would not have thought Peterson capable of-since he was such a big man -he took her arm and helped her down the steps and onto the deck.
She felt like a silly young girl struck by a juvenile infatuation, rather than like a mature young woman, and she looked away from her reflection, afraid that she would accidentally catch her own eyes, meet her own gaze and end up laughing at herself. Instead, she studied the frame of the large mirror, which was also of red cedar, carved to form two long slim alligators. Their scaly tails touched at the base of the mirror, hiding the sturdy braces that attached the piece to the top of the dresser, while their wide and toothy mouths met snout-to-snout at the top of the mirror.
Children of the Storm by Dean Koontz