The Fourth Trumpet by Theresa Jenner Garrido Read Free Book Online Page A

appearance at any time. Especially under these circumstances. What would they do then? Andrea cringed at the thought.

SEVEN
     
    While Keith sat beside Carrie and continued to reassure her that everything was going to be all right, Andrea went about preparing a better-than-average supper for them. Keith had told her to make it a party, so she wanted it to be especially nice. She gazed longingly at the oven, separate from the stove, and wished she could bake cookies or a cake, or something! But, when the old gas oven had worn out, they’d replaced it with an electric model. Big mistake.
    Taking one of Aunt Claire’s cookbooks from the kitchen bookcase, she thumbed through it in search of a no-bake cookie recipe. The candle she’d lit and placed in the middle of the table gave insufficient light for comfortable reading. It struck her that Abe Lincoln had had a harder deal to contend with than she’d credited him.
    Then she found a recipe for peanut butter cookies that required only instant oats, sugar, peanut butter and melted chocolate. They had the necessary ingredients and in minutes, the chocolate pieces were melting on top of the stove and instant rolled oats and sugar were mixed with a cup of gooey peanut butter.
    While waiting for the chocolate to cool, she opened the freezer. “Oh, no,” she moaned, realizing that Aunt Claire had stocked up a lot of meat, which was thawing rapidly. “Guess we’ll eat like kings for a few days. Got to use this stuff up before it goes bad.”
    She pulled out a pound of hamburger, tore off the wrapping and dumped it into a skillet. While that cooked, she chopped an onion and added it to the frying meat. Next, she got out a large jar of spaghetti sauce, put it into a saucepan with a sprinkling of brown sugar then left it to simmer at the back of the stove. A few minutes later, pasta was tumbling in a big pot of boiling water on another burner. They were going to achieve their goal. It smelled delicious.
    With everything pretty much ready—just waiting to be dished up—she spooned globs of the cookie dough onto waxed paper. The gooey stuff needed thirty minutes to set and would be ready to enjoy by the time they finished eating and had digested for a while. Surveying her handiwork with satisfaction, Andrea made herself a cup of tea and plopped onto one of the kitchen chairs.
    Her lower back ached. And so did her head. She needed to relax before this whole thing killed her. Aunt Claire always said nothing came from worrying. She had to force herself to stop worrying. But how? Seemed more than impossible.
    She laid her head on arms crossed on the big, wooden table. Closing her eyes, she made herself take in deep, even breaths. The pent-up emotions trickled out like air from a punctured tire.
    The thundering in her ears was more alarming than the actual beast itself. The ground shook as the monster’s flying feet ate up the distance between them. She could never out-run it. Never in a million years. Her only hope was that Berry would show up in time and—and do what? Throw a rock at it or something?
    Wrapping her arms around her head, Andrea counted the seconds until her death.
    “Andrea? Andrea?”
    Andrea looked up in bewilderment. Keith stood in the doorway, staring at her, eyebrows in a knot. “Are you okay? You didn’t answer when I called.”
    “Oh, yeah, I-I’m okay. Just fell asleep, is all. Dinner’s almost ready.”
    “Great. Smells awesome. Spaghetti or something with tomato sauce?”
    “Yeah, spaghetti. With hamburger and onions and scads of seasoning. Forgot all about the stuff in the freezer. We’re going to have to eat pretty lavishly for a couple days—you know, before it spoils.”
    “No problem.” Keith grinned. “Smells wonderful and I’m absolutely ravenous. Thank you so much for all you’re doing for Carrie. And me.”
    Andrea smiled faintly. “Ditto the no problem. As I said, I’m just grateful I’m not alone any more. As the saying goes,