Everything about her posture spelled discouragement.
But sorry as he was about whatever difficulty she was facing, he had too much going on in his own life to worry about anyone else’s troubles.
What a mess.
Devyn brushed back her wind-tossed hair and filled her lungs with the salty air as the breeze picked up on the wharf.
Dr. Sherman had warned her that patients going through post-traumatic amnesia could be agitated and act out of character, but the venom Lauren had spewed this afternoon as she’d begun to rouse from the coma...
Vision blurring, Devyn swiped a finger under her damp lashes.
Did her sister truly hate her so much that she wanted her to get out and stay out of her life forever?
The sad truth?
Maybe.
Despite the advice of the nurses and neurologist to discount her sister’s ranting, perhaps people said what they really meant when all their filters were disabled.
No matter what had compelled Lauren to lash out, however, her words had hurt.
A lot.
And once it had become clear that her presence was only exacerbating her sister’s agitation, she hadn’t needed much persuading from Dr. Sherman to call it a day much earlier than she’d planned. After her seventy-two-hour vigil at Lauren’s bedside, her fatigue had escalated to the mind-numbing level. And now that her sister was waking up, there should be no immediate danger.
Devyn burrowed deeper into her jacket as a wisp of fog coiled around her.
Life would look brighter after she went to the house, settled in, showered, and crashed for the night.
A hot meal would also be welcome, along with a side of empathy, but tacos and a Charley fix weren’t going to be on her menu tonight.
Eyeing the white food trailer with the owner’s name emblazoned in colorful letters over the closed serving window, she fought back a wave of disappointment.
But on the plus side, his stand was still here. She could come back another day for an order of tacos and wisdom.
Giving the quiet wharf a scan, she homed in on a tall man holding a young girl’s hand as they strolled away from the waterfront, toward crescent-shaped Dockside Drive.
Her lips curved up.
After her disheartening afternoon with Lauren, an uplifting reminder that life was pleasant and normal for some people, if not for her, provided a welcome boost.
She watched while the duo crossed the road that dead-ended at the river beyond the tiny park behind Charley’s stand. Whenthey started down the sidewalk and meandered past the quaint storefronts sporting bright awnings and flower boxes, she swiveled back toward the sea, ignoring the faint growl in her stomach.
Food was a priority, but a few quiet minutes here first would soothe her soul.
Summoning up her waning energy, she wandered over to the nearest bench and sank down.
Beyond the planters that provided a buffer between the sidewalk and the pile of boulders that sloped down to the harbor, boats rested in the placid water. The distant horizon was becoming hazy as fog rolled in and obscured the line between sea and sky, but the vibrant flowers in the overflowing planters added a splash of vivid color to mitigate the gray turn this day had taken.
As the soothing ambiance seeped into her soul, the tension in her shoulders eased.
By tomorrow, Dr. Sherman should have a better handle on Lauren’s prognosis, but her return to consciousness and increasing responsiveness was promising. And perhaps Lauren would also be more receptive to her sister’s presence after the fog cleared from her brain.
One could hope, anyway.
In the meantime, Mom would be expecting an update.
After digging out her cell, Devyn scrolled through recents and tapped on her mother’s name. At this late hour in Paris, Mom would be fast asleep, her phone shut off for the night. And leaving a voicemail would be easier than—
