Chapter 2: Awoken by a Melody

My feet pounded on the sand, then on the boardwalk, and then on the asphalt as I made my way to Lewis’ apartment above the laundromat. It seemed like the distance was longer than I remembered it to be.

Not a single car crossed my path as I made my way across the street in front of Lewis’ building. That was a good thing because I didn’t look both ways before I did. Caution was thrown to the wind as I focused on getting to my best friend.

I nearly tripped halfway up the wooden steps that led to his apartment. I didn’t hesitate but kept on going. I’d check my bruises later. At his door, I pounded.

“Lewis! Lewis!”

My breaths came in short gasps. I looked around me as I waited for him to answer the door. Unaware of the emergency, other people were beginning their morning routines. They moved about in a calm state while I was trying not to panic.

“Lewis!” I shouted as I pounded again. I ignored the pain in my knuckles for the moment. “Come on! It’s me!”

“Geez, hold on. Are we being invaded?” he called out before he opened the door. “What’s up?”

“I need you. On the beach.”

Pausing in pushing his hand through his unruly brown hair, Lewis raised one eyebrow. “Uh, okay.”

“There’s a man on the beach. He’s injured.”

Coming awake quicker than with a jug of coffee, Lewis’ eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Before I could say anything more, Lewis ran back into his bedroom. It was only then I realized he had answered the door in his t-shirt and boxers. Yep, he had still been in bed.

When Lewis reappeared, he had on a pair of gym shorts. Forgoing shoes, he waved me down the stairs and followed me to where the mysterious man was.

He lay exactly as I had left him. The blood on his face had run down onto his cheek and along the side of his chin. His face had seemed to have grown paler in the morning light.

“Whoa! What happened?” Lewis asked. We had not exchanged any words on the way to the beach, as he had been more focused on keeping up with me than discovering more information; he didn’t normally run.

“I don’t know.” I knelt over the man. “I went for my jog and found him in the surf.” I pointed to the area in the water about where I had discovered him.

Lewis looked over the man. “Has he said anything?”

I shook my head. “Not really. He did move a little. We’ve got to get him up to the house. Dad can look at him. Oh, I have to get him.”

Lewis looked up toward the road and said, “Might have a solution for part of it.”

He waved at a woman on a bike. Shouting to her, he asked her to ride to the docks and get my dad. The woman looked at the unconscious man and quickly agreed. When she was gone, Lewis turned toward me.

“We can use his truck. Then he can look at his wounds—see if we need to get him to a hospital.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t thought of that. Leave it to Lewis to find a simple solution. In high school, I would have claimed that he had chosen the easy way out. It depended on how one looked at it.

While we waited, I kept checking the man’s pulse. I was nervous that I hadn’t acted quickly enough. What if…? I wouldn’t think about that.

It wasn’t long until an old, blue pickup pulled up next to the road and a man jumped out and rushed toward us. Just over sixty, he moved like he was ten years younger.

“What happened?” my father, Wyatt, asked.

“I went for a jog and found him here. He’s hurt.”

My dad looked the man over quickly and said, “Let’s get him in the truck. I’ll give him a once over back at the house. We’ll know more then.”

Between the three of us, we managed to get him to the truck and lay him carefully in the bed next to tackle boxes and a cooler. I climbed up with him while Lewis sat with my dad in the cab.

The stranger looked even more out of place in the fishing truck. His skin had begun to dry in the wind, leaving the sand still stuck to him. Despite all that, I couldn’t help but admire his handsome face. Whoever he was, he had the looks to go with the apparent money.

He had stirred slightly when we put him in the truck. As he did, he reached out toward me again. It was as though he knew I was right here and would take care of him. The truck moved suddenly; I shifted, and his grip on my hand tightened. That was a good sign.

It wasn’t long before we were home and had him situated on the couch, with a blanket around him to keep the sand off the furniture and to warm him up. He had begun to shiver as we entered the house.

Dad sent me for the necessary first-aid supplies that he always kept well-stocked. He had learned over the years to always be prepared, as a fisherman could be faced with injuries at any time.

I assisted my father as he washed off the man’s obvious wounds and declared them shallow enough to not need stitches. We disinfected and bandaged the gashes. Then my dad examined the rest of him.

“I don’t see anything to suggest more serious injuries. We can keep an eye on him. I’ll give a call to a buddy of mine at the hospital to see what he suggests.”

“So he’s going to be okay?” I asked.

Dad laid a hand on my arm. “Yes. It’s a good thing you found him. Even minor injuries could have become serious if he had been lying there much longer. As it is, with a head injury… We’ll see.”

“What do we do now?” Lewis sat on the arm of the couch.

“Wait.”

I spent the rest of the day watching over the unconscious stranger. My Dad had left on his boat, as every day was important in keeping food on the table for us.

The stranger rested peacefully, though a few times he moaned and acted like he was reaching for someone. I sat next to him and talked to him in the hopes he could hear and be comforted, knowing he was safe.

My dad and Lewis had removed the man’s clothes and washed the sand off him. They had put on a pair of my dad’s old sweatpants and a t-shirt. Even in such pedestrian attire, the man had an air about him that screamed power and influence. It also screamed good looks.

Who was he? What happened? I kept going over all the possibilities. As I sat next to him, I got on my computer and looked for any notice of a missing person matching his description. I found absolutely nothing.

The man moaned again. I hurriedly put the computer on the coffee table and turned back to him. His hand twitched. I thought back on how, even in his unconscious state, he had reached out for me. Well, not for me—but he had reached out for help. And he had gotten it.

A smile tugged at my lips. I was a sucker for the stray animal or injured bird. I felt myself drawn to this man, wanting to help him get better, wanting to see his eyes and know who he was.

The evening drew near as the squawk of seagulls told me that the boats were coming in. My Dad would be home soon, and I hadn’t even gotten dinner on the table.

I began to hum. It was a tune I remembered from my childhood. “Little Mermaid” was my name for it. My dad had never heard of it, so we didn’t know the actual name—one lady in town had told me it was a folk tune, but she wasn’t sure what it was called, either. Still, I always came back to it in times of sorrow or stress. It gave me comfort—something I needed at that moment.

The tune came to an end as the clock on the wall struck a soft chime for six o’clock. I needed to get something ready for dinner.

As I hummed the last note, the man beside me moaned. This time, the sound was different. It was stronger. Looking back at him, I was pleased to see his eyelids begin to flutter. I shifted to lean over him.

“Hey, you’re waking up,” I said in a soft voice.

His eyes opened at the sound of my voice and met my soft blue ones. I frowned as he looked at me in shock—which made sense—but then tears formed in his eyes. It was as though looking at me was painful to him.

Maybe it was.

“We found you on the beach. What’s your name?”

It was his turn to frown. He turned his head to look around but winced. “I don’t know. I...I don’t know my name.”