Page 11 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

By the front entrance, a family of three waited for transport to arrive. One of their members, a young child, still wearing a football uniform, sat in a wheelchair, a new cast on his legs. As Logan climbed out of the car, the family stirred to attention, noticing him immediately.

One by one, a look of astonishment came over their faces.

She wondered what it was about him that could have induced such a change. Noticing their interest, Logan helped her out of the car, steering her quickly — too quickly — inside.

The sudden speed at which he pulled her along startled her… and caused a fresh flash of pain.

“Slow down,” she gasped.

What was his damned hurry?

The sunglasses and baseball cap from the dashboard were in his hands now. He slipped them on even though they were now inside the hospital.

Why was he putting sunglasses on inside the building?

They headed toward the front desk. Logan spoke with the receptionist there, an older woman with a stern demeanor and big blowout that must have taken hours to do.

Busy typing into her computer, she kept her eyes down at the screen, making them wait until she was good and ready to deal with them.

“She needs help. I think she had an accident and seems to have lost her memory. I found her on the beach,” Logan began, apparently not caring that she hadn’t yet addressed either of them. He spoke so fast his words ran into each other.

It was as if he had become very nervous. Why would he be nervous at being seen with an obviously hurt woman?

Unless.

Maybe he was married. She looked over his hands but saw no telltale sign of a ring.

Logan’s eyes glanced every which way, shoulders tensing at every person who passed. The receptionist, whose name badge said “BRENDA,” pulled up a new screen on her computer, typing leisurely before finally looking up at him for the first time.

When she did, just like the family outside had reacted, she started — as if Logan was of some importance — before visually pulling herself together.

That stern expression lifted. Her lips curled into a welcoming smile.

“I need to put a name in, for reference. Can I use yours?” she asked, full of warmth now.

Logan hesitated, thinking over her question. He shook his head.

“No. I think that might not be wise.”

His answer mystified her, but so, too, did Brenda’s next response. She nodded, as if she had half expected him to say as much.

“Understood. The doctor will be with you shortly, could you take a seat in our waiting area?”

Logan looked to where she pointed, where several people sat waiting, one of whom, a pimply teenage kid, took out his phone and started pointing it his way. Without a care of how they might feel about it, the kid started recording the two of them on his phone.

She waited for Logan to ask him to stop. Instead, he seemed to grow more concerned beneath his baseball cap. Turning, he gave her an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I should be here.”

She had a feeling he wanted to say more, but more cameras were now pointed their way. Without giving her any time to respond, he spun on his heel and hurried away.

Leaving her stranded.

She gaped after him in astonishment, watching his figure recede into the background. Unable to believe he was leaving her like this, the anger quickly set in, making her blood boil.

Brenda didn’t seem to notice how she was feeling.

She stared at her with an openly curious smile, leaning closer as if they were acquaintances.

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