Music in the Night (Logan 4)

"I know, but--"

"There are no buts when it comes to

regulations. You've been here long enough to know that."

"It's not her fault," I said. "I insisted I wash myself." Mrs. Roundchild considered me.

"It's admirable that you want to take the blame, but it's not honest now, is it?"

"Yes it is," I said.

"Are you a liar?"

"What? No, I just . . . it was my fault. I told her I would wash myself."

"She knows she's supposed to be in charge, not you. Why are you still standing here, Clare?" She swung around to look at the meek woman paused in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Clare whined and hurried out.

Doctor Scanlon approached the bed with Mrs. Roundchild right beside him.

"That's good, you're eating," he said, nodding at my food. I hadn't touched a morsel.

"I'm not hungry," I said. "Doctor Scanlon, why can't I go back downstairs? Why am I being kept here?"

"You have to remain under strict observation for a while, Laura. Here, you can get more personal treatment," he added and glanced at Mrs. Roundchild.

"I don't need more personal treatment. I was doing fine until you wanted to start giving me some drug," I complained.

"First, it's not just some drug, Laura. I'm giving you something that's designed to keep you from being too anxious and having a bad reaction to your returning memories," he explained calmly. "Second, I really don't think you're in a position to know what's best for you."

He glanced at Mrs. Roundchild, who looked like she disapproved of his taking the time to defend his decision.

"I want my clothes," I moaned. "And I don't want to be strapped into bed like this."

"The medications I'm giving you can have some side effects, Laura. They can disorient you sometimes. This is just to protect you."

"I feel like a prisoner," I cried, the tears gathering under my lids and making my eyes watery and my vision hazy.

"You're now a prisoner. You're a patient, and we're here to help you get better. Mrs. Roundchild is one of the two specially trained head nurses who run this floor. I have the greatest confidence in her. She will see to all your needs."

"What's happening to me?"

"I feel you are on the verge of a complete recouping of the past with a minimum of selective amnesia. My sense of this is you could at any time remember the trauma and when that happens," he continued, "it will be like being hit by a freight train. Believe me. I've seen situations similar to yours many, many times."

His words frightened me. I settled back, my tension and resistance melting away. I saw that pleased him. He looked at Mrs. Roundchild and she stepped forward, reaching down to bring up a button attached to a plastic wire.

"If you need any assistance, you press this and someone will come in due time, but don't think they will fall out of the ceiling. We're understaffed here and people are always busy. Have patience," she warned, "and we'll do our best to see to it that you are comfortable and safe."

"Can't I at least have my arms free? I'd like to get a drink of water for myself or scratch myself when I itch," I said.

"I think that will be okay as long as you promise not to undo the strap around your legs. That will guarantee you won't fall out of the bed," Doctor Scanlon said. "What do you think, Mrs. Roundchild?"

"I'd like to keep the top strap around her waist as well. At least until she's stronger," she added.

"Fine. All right, Laura?"

I nodded. What else could I do?