The first flurries blew haphazardly just as they touched ground on Spoon Island. Spencer quickly secured the boat as his father carried the unconscious arrival. The two girls grabbed their belongings and followed fast in his footsteps. Nikolas had radioed ahead via the walkie talkie so Spencer wasn’t surprised that Thom and TJ waited at the gate. His father brushed aside their offers of assistance to hurry inside. As if in a parade, everyone followed with Spencer in the rear.
The blizzard arrived just as Spencer shoved the heavy wooden doors closed. The simple act effectively shut Wyndemere off from the blustering cold and wind. Spencer knew he would always remember the bone-chilling breezes that had pushed them across Spoon Lake as the water froze.
Usually, they directed the newcomers to the section designated for survivors but on this occasion, Spencer watched his father carry the frail form to the library, never pausing until he reached the warmth of the blazing fireplace.
"Push the settee over as close as possible," Nikolas said, his voice gruff, but not winded.
Spencer, Thom, and TJ moved quickly to position the furniture, From the corner of Spencer’s eye, he noticed the other survivors watching them closely. Their gazes drawn to the quiet still form on the settee but also on him and his father.
Nikolas shrugged free of his protective clothing and moved swiftly to do the same for the new arrival as TJ pulled his stethoscope from his medical bag.
"What are you doing?" the taller girl demanded. "Stop!"
Spencer said, "Wet clothes—"
"Thom, where are the blankets?" Nikolas asked, ignoring them. "Hurry!" As he tugged the boots off, he looked at the girls, "You should take your coats and boots off, too. We may not have the means to treat frostbite for all of you."
"Frostbite?" the shorter one whispered.
The taller one’s eyes widened. "Do you think my mom has frostbite?"
"How long were you out there?" Nikolas had removed the boots and socks. The girl joined him to help with the coat, but her hands trembled. "I'll do this," he said. "Remove your coats, boots, and gloves. We have dry clothes that will fit both of you. We'll take care of your…mom, you said?"
"Yes, she’s my mama."
The shorter one stared, but she did not respond.
Nikolas nodded and returned to the task of unbuttoning and unzipping. Under normal circumstances, he stood aside while TJ or Michael tended to the frail and wounded, but today, he was compelled to assist. The woman had collapsed just as they called out to them and since then, urgency drove him.
The removal of her damp gloves revealed a pair of soft brown hands. Next, he slid his arm between her back and the coat. As he lifted her, TJ removed the snow-soaked overcoat. The heat of her back surprised him as did the low moans of discomfort. This was the first sound she had made since he lifted her from the ground and the five of them began their trek back to Wyndemere.
"This is good," TJ said. "The faster we remove these clothes, the better."
Nikolas nodded.
"Is she okay?" the taller girl asked. The shorter one sat nearby to remove her outer garments and boots.
Nikolas' eyes widened as he stared at the young woman. Now that she was free of scarves, cap and other coverings, he truly saw her face. "What's your name?"
"Noelle."
He swallowed hard before he asked the rest. Although he already knew, he needed to confirm. "Noelle who?"
She regarded him with a frown that he knew all too well. "Noelle Spencer."
She then knelt beside him and carefully pulled the woolen cap from her mother's head. Nikolas' chest tightened as he stared down into the unconscious, beautiful face of the woman who had captured his heart many years ago and walked away without looking back.
"Dawn," he murmured softly.
Dawn awakened in a nice, warm bed. Soft linen covered her body and a distinctive, attractive scent livened her senses. She attempted to sit upright, but the movement proved too painful. A faint moan erupted from low in her throat. Firelight cast a faint glow in the large room. Her eyes adjusted to the limited light, but she was unsure about the details. The room was large. Expensive wooden furniture was scattered about. This was not the brownstone where she, Noelle, and Trina resided. This room bore a resemblance to one she held in her deepest memories, but that could not be…unless?
"Lie still." The masculine voice was hoarse, yet sounded firm with unquestionable authority. "Don't move around. Your stitches could—"
"This isn't a hospital," she interjected. "Come from the shadows. Where am I? Where are my girls? Who are you?"
"My intentions aren't to alarm you." He stepped away from the fireplace, lit a candle, and carried it toward her. The flickering light cast his handsome olive-toned face in a warm glow. He had aged some in the years since she had seen him, but his appeal had not lessened in the least.
"Nikolas," she murmured, falling back against the downy soft pillows. "I wasn't…sure."
"So, you do remember me," he said quietly. "Hello, Dawn. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Decades," she said. "Is this Wyndemere?"
"Yes, we found you, Noelle, and Trina—"
"My girls," Dawn said, her breath quickening. "Where are they? Are they okay? Please tell me they’re here. The raiders have been so rampant lately, but I feared what would happen if we stayed in the brownstone. We didn't have enough--"
"Ssh." Nikolas sat on the edge of the bed as he placed the candle on the nightstand. "All is well. Spencer is helping them get settled. Once they were sure that you were resting, I was able to convince them to go with him."
"Who's Spencer?"
"My son."
The two words had no business in causing a reaction deep within her soul. After all, she had moved on, and he had every right to do so as well. But still, knowing that he had a child with another woman left the strangest sensation in the pit of her belly.
Upon her silence, Nikolas touched her arm. "After so much time, I'm not sure how much my assurances are worth, but you can trust that your children are safe with mine."
Dawn nodded in quiet acceptance. So many questions continued to riddle her mind and demanded attention, but the one that screamed the loudest was how the mere touch of his hand could still cause her flesh to tingle and her heart to race. Would Nikolas Cassadine always have an effect on her? What made her so powerless when common sense dictated that everything they had once shared died a horrid death over twenty years ago?
Before the world changed, Trina remembered the extravagance of private jets and luxurious hotel suites. Touring the world with her godparents and godsister had been exciting and educational. Dawn spared no expense in taking care of “her girls” and Trina deeply appreciated never being treated as if she was the poor relation. In truth, she was far from poverty. Her mother, Portia, had been a doctor and while her salary never compared with that of a Grammy award winning artist, the income was okay. For Trina, money was never the issue whenever she thought of her mom—Portia’s absence far outweighed any concerns about millions versus six-figure salary. But Trina preferred not to dwell on any of that now since she could only hope that her mom was somewhere safe, protected, and well.
“What’s wrong?” Noelle asked. She stood near one of the queen beds. “I think the suite is close enough to Mama, don’t you?”
Trina nodded as she looked around the suite. A fireplace separated the two four-poster beds. Lit candles were strategically placed on the mantel, nightstands, and round wooden table. Thick bedding covered the beds. They had already discovered the fully operational adjoining bath. Fresh towels and new clothes awaited them, but they hesitated before using the facilities.
“Trina?”
“Huh?”
“Are you okay?” Noelle asked. “You had a…look…on your face? I think Mama will be okay.”
“I do, too,” Trina agreed. “Sometimes, I just wonder…”
“About Aunty Portia?” Noelle moved to stand closer to Trina. “Everything happened so fast, didn’t it? The message about her extending her time with Doctors Without Borders and then the earthquake and then everything else. It isn’t fair that you don’t know that she’s safe.”
“Do you believe she is?” Trina noticed a light at the curtains and walked toward it. Snowfall was coming quickly and piling onto the parapet. She stared sightlessly as the pile grew. “Sometimes, I feel silly for wanting it so badly.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting your mom to be okay. I know you two didn’t always agree, but I know she loves you. I know you love her.” Noelle released a low sigh. “It’s hard not knowing where our parents are and what they are doing in a time like this. None of this makes any sense. I’m gonna freshen up unless you want to go first…”
“No.” Trina shook her head. “I’ll go later. Um, Noelle…”
“Yeah?”
“Uncle Lorenzo wouldn’t just leave you and Aunt Dawn.”
Noelle nodded. “I know and that’s what scares me. It’s been six months.”
Trina watched as Noelle went inside the bathroom and closed the door. The faint click snapped her to the present and her earlier thoughts of the numerous hotel suites of their past. This room was no less extravagant although the décor was decidedly goth. The dark walls and sturdy, wooden furniture reminded her of the Cassadines’ longevity. Aunt Dawn had spoken to them about Wyndemere in bits and pieces, but she had never fully described how historic the residence appeared. As an artist and a history buff, the space intrigued Trina and she decided to focus on that instead of her fears about her mother and her godfather.
She took her knapsack to the table and began to unpack. Her clothes fit easily in the dresser with more than enough room to share with Noelle. The food she left in the sack, but she pulled her sketchpad and pencils out. Maybe a few sketches would help calm her thoughts while she waited for Noelle to finish.
Several minutes passed and Trina was deep into the outline of one of the gargoyles she saw as they rushed inside. Because of the cold and their concern for Dawn, their movements had been fast, so her memory was not one hundred per cent. The sketch was not her best, but she was fine with the attempt. This could be a series on Wyndemere, she thought. Then, a knock sounded at the door and a voice followed.
“Hi… It’s Spencer…”
She flipped the sketchpad closed and covered it with a blanket. “Come in!”
He entered, balancing a tray of sandwiches, soup, and hot tea. He changed from his wet clothes and now wore a form-fitting navy sweater and dark jeans. The colors were remarkable against his skin tone. His dark hair and expressive brown eyes fully captured her attention now that she could fully see him.
“Here, let me help,” Trina offered.
“It’s okay.” He gave her a faint smile. “Should I put it on the table?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She frowned as she watched him unload the tray.
“Are you not hungry?” he asked, concerned.
“Yeah! I am…we are, actually… I guess I’m surprised that you brought this.”
“Father is tending to your mother,” Spencer replied. “He said that you two should eat, so here’s food.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Trina explained. “I don’t know what I mean. It’s been a long day. Noelle is freshening up. She’ll be very happy to see this when she comes out. Would you like to join us?”
He gave a brief nod and quickly sat on one of the chairs near the fireplace. With a nod, he indicated for Trina to sit at the round table. “I ate earlier. Go ahead while everything’s still warm.”
The offering of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup made her stomach grumble. She chose a chair that faced him and cupped her hands around the warm bowl and inhaled. From the aroma alone, she knew this soup did not come from a can. Wow! She could not recall the last time she had fresh food.
“Is everything to your liking?” Spencer asked. Resting his forearms on his knees, he leaned toward her and gave her a faint smile. “Is there anything that you and Noelle need?”
Trina laughed. “Did your father tell you to say that?”
With a frown, Spencer straightened and leaned back. “No, why would you ask that?”
“Because you sounded like him, I guess?” Trina took a swallow of soup and paused. The taste of fresh tomato, herbs, and spices was divine. “This is delicious. Thank you.”
His cheeks reddened as he nodded and watched her closely.
For several moments, the clink of the spoon against the bowl filled the silence. Then she asked, “Are there more people here?”
“Of course, Wyndemere is housing numerous displaced residents. Well, I guess they are no longer displaced if they are here, are they not?”
“But it’s so quiet. I don’t hear anyone. Is there a curfew for noise?”
At that, Spencer laughed and Noelle returned to the room as he answered, “No, no curfew. This wing is the Cassadine private quarters. Normally, only my father and I and a few close friends are here.”
Noelle joined Trina at the table. “Did you bring this?”
Spencer and Trina nodded. Noelle bit back a smile and said, “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
“How many people are here?” Trina asked. “I’ve seen pictures of Wyndemere, but never the full estate. Is it at capacity?”
His eyes widened. “Capacity? That’s quite a question. Would you like a tour to see for yourself?”
“Now?” Trina glanced at Noelle, who had just taken a bite of her sandwich.
“After you have both finished, we can tour this wing and a couple of pertinent places.”
Chewing, Noelle nodded in acceptance and Trina smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”