“Do you remember saying something about someone coming back?” She took another step closer and perched in an upholstered easy chair near the sofa where he lay.
A memory, hazy and torn at the edges drifted in his mind but disappeared before he could snatch it and examine it. “No.”
She looked at him for another second then stood and walked out of sight. “I’m going to get you some water and then we’ll talk some more.”
She returned with a bottled water which she handed to him. He hesitated and she tilted her head. “Aren’t you thirsty?”
“Yeah. Do you have another unopened bottle?” he asked, staring at the capless container.
Confusion followed by surprise and a little shock filtered across her face and she nodded then set the bottle on the coffee table in front of the sofa and retrieved another one. She handed him the drink and he examined the seal and top of the container before twisting it open. He got a faceful of liquid as he tried to lift his head and squeezed the bottle too hard. He swore under his breath and then tightened his hold on the container when she tried to take it from him. “Just help me sit up.”
She shrugged and put an arm under his back and together they levered him into a sitting position. He noted her slender, toned arms as her short sleeved top rode up with the effort of lifting him. When he’d drank as much as he could without tossing his cookies again, he shifted his body around and let his feet rest on the floor, leaning back against the sofa back. “Where was I?”
“Out to the side of the house. I went to put the garbage out and found you. You were some distance from the shoreline, so I don’t think you swam in with the tide.”
“Probably not,” he said dryly as he lifted the bottle again and took a sip, more to give himself time to think than anything else. “Was there anything near me?”
“Like what?” she said and then shook her head. “I didn’t see anything. No evidence of a boat nearby, but I didn’t have time to check beyond just looking. What do you think you would have brought with you?”
He didn’t know, couldn’t remember and so he didn’t answer, just sipped the fast depleting water and tried to recall where he’d come from and how he’d ended up with a gash on his head and no memory of the past two days.
He sat quietly for an hour, willing his headache to lessen and the dizziness he felt when he turned his head to abate, vaguelyaware of her moving around the room. When he thought he could stand without keeling over, he rose and started to walk toward the door.
“Where are you going?” the woman stopped in front of him and he knew he couldn’t dodge her or remove her from his path without losing his balance.
“I want to look outside, see when the storm may let up,” he looked down at her then blurted. “What’s your name?”
“Sophie,” she said and looked expectantly at him but he had no answer for her. “Sorry, I’m a little short on names right now.”
“You can’t remember your own name?”
“Nope. Probably got a concussion. You said I threw up earlier?”
“No, I didn’t say it, but you did. Do you remember that?” She looked hopeful but her face fell when he slowly shook his head.
“My tastebuds remembered but I don’t. Anyway, if I do have a concussion, I should be getting my memory back in a few hours.”
He took a slow side step and then proceeded to the door, aware of her trailing him close.
“You’ve had concussions before.”
“Guess so.” He noticed the door lock in place and flicked it before turning the knob. The rain blew sideways outside of the house and the visibility was low. Beyond him, he could make out a body of water but nothing beyond the waves lapping at the shore. “What’s out there?” He pointed to the water.
“A bay then Appalachicola.”
“What sort of town is that? It is a town, right?”
She chuckled and reached around him and shut the door. It was the closest she’d been to him since he’d awoken. “It’s a town, a very small town. And there’s a national forest with the same name nearby.”
“A forest, in Florida?” he asked and realized he must have not been to Florida much if he didn’t know about that.
“There are several. We’re not all beaches and sand dunes, you know.” She headed back into the living room and picked up his empty bottle then headed to the trash. He had to quell the urge to stop her and take the container back, but for what purpose? The thought of the bottle going into a trash or recycling can made him feel, what? Vulnerable. So, what did that say about him? What was he?
Sophie studiedthe man as he sat in a chair at the large window, overlooking the Atlantic. He’d been there ever since he’d returned from looking at the rain and the bay. What was he looking for? Because that icy gaze hadn’t left the horizon since he’d sat down.
She shifted her own gaze to the clock mounted on the side of the kitchen wall. Five o’clock. The sun, if it were out, would be going down soon and there would be no going back to the mainland. The rain hadn’t abated and she wondered if the weather forecast had been incorrect. That morning, when she’d set out for the day, she’d been assured that a small shower would occur in the afternoon but the weather would clear afterwards.
She glanced at the television on the stand in the living area. While there was a wealth of old DVDs and internet service, which led to streaming services, good old cable services were not available on the island. And with no internet, she was without an updated weather forecast.
