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The picture frames of Logan and his daughter hung on either side of the wall catch my attention, and I stop in front of one in particular that has three people—Logan, Madison, and a blond woman with a bright smile.
His wife? It has to be, with the way his hand reaches out to her, even though Madison is seated between them, and his eyes seem to hold a lot of love while looking at her.
What happened? I ponder, leaving the frame and moving on as my stomach rumbles again. Maybe they got divorced. Or she died… either way, it is clear that he loved her dearly.
Something akin to jealousy stirs in my chest, and I quickly realize that it is because I don’t know if I loved anyone or if anyone loved me. I don’t know if someone is looking for me or how long they have been looking.
The only thing I have is my hands grasping at straws and the nightmares that come to me every time I close my eyes.
I had the same dream—a man, wearing a white coat, standing over me and saying incoherent words in a frightening voice. Then the scene changes, and I am running down a narrow, dark corridor, and the man is chasing me. I try as much as possible to get away, but the walls come closing, and in the end, he gets to me, and no matter what I do, I can't fight him off. I never see his face, just a pair of battered brown boots that make a hell of a noise when he's running after me.
“Hey. Lily.”
A voice reaches out to me, and I shake my head, only to see Logan towering over me. Panic sets in, but only briefly, as I tell myself that Logan isn’t the man in my dreams. I don’t know if the man is real either or a manifestation of my mind and my crippling anxiety.
“Are you okay?”
His voice is calm, deliberate, and soothing.
I nod. “Yeah, I am.”
“Okay. Do you need a hand to get up?”
I shake my head and reach out to my left, using the wall as support. Then I realize I’m still in the same hallway, even though I intended to get to the kitchen.
“You’re back early,” I say. “You said you’d be out late.”
He exhales and gives me a half-smile. “I thought so too, but Madison ate something that upset her stomach, so we had to cut the trip short and head over to the healthcare center.”
“Is she okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
Logan nods. “Yeah, she is. Doctor Owen suggested keeping her longer for more observation so he could rule out food poisoning. It’s crazy,” he adds. “One minute, she’s eating everything, and the next, she has her hand on her stomach, and I can hear the pain in her voice.”
A knot forms in my chest, tinged with anxiety at the image of Madison doubled over with her small hands clutching her stomach, and the desire to make things better is so overwhelming that I find myself offering assistance immediately.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You don’t need to do anything,” Logan says and reaches out to me but stops midway, withdrawing his hand. “You have a lot of getting better to do.
Besides, she was all smiles when I left the hospital. I came here to make some steamed vegetables and broth soup, so she has something to eat when Doctor Owen gives the all clear.”
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
“Yeah. But… are you okay? You didn’t look so good back then. Do you need anything?”
Food.
I shake my head, feeling terrible at having to impose on Logan’s kindness when he has a kid in the hospital.
“Nope. I’m good. You take care of Madison and keep me updated, I guess.”
Barely two steps in the opposite direction, my stomach rumbles loudly. I stop, hoping that Logan didn't hear it, and resume walking when I don’t hear anything from him. Seconds later, it makes the same sound, only louder.
“Do you like steamed vegetables?” Logan calls out. “I’m not that good of a cook, but I can make a mean combination of stir-fry vegetables with rice if you’d like?”
My face turns red with embarrassment, and I shake my head without turning around. “I’m fine, thank you. Don’t bother with me. I’m sure Madison is waiting for you.”
“And I’m sure Mrs. Owen has beat me to the punch already. The woman has healthy broth on standby; you wouldn’t believe it. But if I leave without feeding you, I will be plagued with the thoughts and sounds of your hungry stomach all night long. Please,” he adds, “I need you to eat.”
