Music in the Night (Logan 4)

She escorted him out and then returned a few minutes later. She simply stood there, gazing down at me.

"How could you do this?" she demanded. "How could you deliberately lie and deceive me and do this?"

My teeth chattered and I moaned.

"Don't you have even the slightest concern for this family? Do you know what kind of a disgrace this could bring? Why, they might even put this in the newspapers. People from outside of Provincetown, friends, acquaintances from everywhere could learn of it. Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

"I'm cold," I finally said.

"Cold? That's the least of your problems. Fortunately, Mr. Hansen won't tell anyone a thing, but. . . don't you hear a word of what I'm saying to you?" she snapped. "You're staring at me as if I were speaking Greek. And wipe that silly smile off your face," she ordered. "I won't have it."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not smiling. I'm just cold. My hair is soaked," I said. I started to rub the blanket up and down my arms and legs.

"I'm sure you are sorry now. Although it does us no good to have you say it," she said and wagged her head. "How did this happen?"

"What?" I asked.

"What? Are you an idiot? This!" she exclaimed, thrusting her hands toward me. "You've lived here long enough to know when to come in from a storm and when to be cautious. What were you doing out there? Were you so wrapped up in your lust that you ignored the weather? Well?"

"Out where?"

"In the ocean, you fool. What is wrong with you?"

Then I remember giggling. I couldn't help it. She was a funny little old lady to me. Her hair was held tightly back with pearl combs and she wore a flower print dress with a rope of pearls around her neck. When she got excited, the blood under her skin rose up her neck like mercury in a thermometer, and she seemed to bounce on her feet after every sentence.

"You think this is funny?" she asked, astounded. I shook my head.

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"To who?" I responded.

She stopped being angry for a moment and stared intently at me.

"Don't you remember anything?"

I shook my head.

"You know where you are, don't you?" Again, I shook my head.

She stared and then tilted her head a little as she thought. "What's my name?" she suddenly asked.

"That man called you Mrs. Logan," I said. "Isn't that your name?"

"My God." She covered her mouth and stared at me. Then she lowered her hand slowly. "What's your name?" I thought, but no name came to mind.

"I don't know."

She stepped back as if I had some contagious disease and stared at me again.

"Madness on top of disgrace. It's happening again. First, to my sister, and now to you, and I'm supposed to bear the burden, face the community, hold on to my prestige and position, and keep this family name as respected as it once was, as it should be?"

She paused and then raised her small fist toward the ceiling as if she were threatening God.

"This will not happen," she declared. Then she turned back to me. "Don't you move from that bed," she ordered.

I didn't think I could move. I had just barely managed to straighten my legs.

Minutes later, she returned with an armful of big, fluffy towels and then went into the bathroom. I heard her run water in the tub. She was moving quickly, and she looked like a goblin to me and I couldn't help smiling again. It made her angry when she emerged from the bathroom and saw the smile on my face.