Music in the Night (Logan 4)

"My doctor?" I asked.

"No, not exactly," she said. "Don't worry about all those details. Just do what they tell you to do and you'll get better sooner than you think," she said. "For now, what you need the most is some rest."

"I know I want to go home," I said, "but I just can't remember where that is."

She smiled warmly.

"You will. Someday," she said. Then she looked sad. "Good-bye, Lauren." She switched off the lights, and as she closed the door behind her, I heard the distinctive click of a lock.

Trying to forget that I had just been locked into my room, I lay there in the darkness, listening. Through the walls I could hear someone crying softly. Above me there were footsteps moving rapidly and then a deep, long silence that was soon filled with the sounds of creaking walls and floors, the slam of a door and more footsteps.

Why was I here? Why did Clara call that old lady my grandmother? She didn't act like a

grandmother, I thought. Why wouldn't Clara tell me more? Who told her to call me Lauren? Maybe that was my name.

I closed my eyes. All these questions and thoughts were giving me a headache. A myriad of faces flashed against the insides of my eyelids, some smiling, some laughing, a young man looking serious and then someone began to whisper. I struggled to hear what he was saying, but his voice drifted back until there was only silence and blackness.

I was so tired. Clara was right. I needed rest. Maybe in the morning, I would remember who I was. All my questions would be answered and this would all be over.

For now, that was my only prayer.

I woke when the door to my room was thrust open with such force and abruptness, it sent waves through the air. A much older nurse than Clara stepped in carrying a package under her arm. Her hair was the dirty gray color of old silver coins and the strands cut just below her earlobes looked thin and harsh as wire. Her forehead had rows of deep wrinkles that exploded at her temples to produce spidery webs extending to her cheeks. Her cheeks were a bit puffy, making her small, wide nose look like it was sinking into her face and would soon be swallowed up by those cheeks. She had a thin, uneven mouth, the right corner of her lower lip dipping just enough to reveal some teeth. The roundness in her face fit her chunky, short body, yet she had long arms with wide hands and thick fingers.

She paused, breathing in and lifting her hefty bosom as she contemplated me for a moment. I thought she looked like a pigeon with her chest out as she strutted to the bed. She placed the package at my feet.

Her appearance had startled me so that my heart thumped. As soon as I regained my senses, I sat up and gazed about in confusion, trying to remember how and when I had been brought here. The soreness in my body had gone deeply into my muscles. My arms felt heavier and just the thought of standing was exhausting.

"Good, you're awake," this new nurse said.

She went to the windows and when she turned her back to me, I saw she had a rather prominent birthmark at the base of her skull. Small hairs grew along its perimeter so that it looked like a large black bug had landed there. She opened the curtains wider to let in more sunlight. I could see clear blue sky.

She spun on me, her hands on her hips.

"I'm Mrs. Kleckner," she said. "I'm the head nurse here. Your bathroom has all that you need in it. You'll find a toothbrush, toothpaste, a new hairbrush, soap, and shampoo in the cabinet. Can you get up and give yourself a shower this morning or do I have to take you to the special bathroom for the disabled?"

"I think I can do it myself," I said.

She approached the bed.

"Hold out your hands," she ordered. "Go on."

I did what she asked and she watched them tremble and then turned them over and watched them again.

"Touch the tip of your nose," she commanded. "Do it," she said when I didn't move quickly enough.

After I had done that, she took my pulse, looked at my eyes and then stepped back.

"Do you remember why you were brought here? Do you remember how you were brought here?" she asked before I could answer the first question.

"I came in a car. There was another nurse named Clara. She said I had been with my

grandmother." I looked up. "The nurse kept calling me Lauren, but I don't think my name is Lauren," I said.

"Really? Then what's your name?"

I thought a moment, but I couldn't think of anything that sounded right.

"I know it's not Lauren," I said.