Chapter [15]

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C h a p t e r   F i f t e e n

"THIS IS OUR DREAM. YOU ready to see it become a reality?"

Lydia Haskett grinned. Her eyes skimmed over the sign that stood at the entrance to the aquarium, waiting to be revealed. The blue cloth that covered it rippled in the breeze, reminding her of the way that water shimmered in sunlight. Her eyes travelled down to the tiny bundle that was cradled within her arms. Her head was dusted with hazel-colored fluff, light-brown freckles sprinkled across her nose and rose-tinted cheeks.

"What do you think, Hazel? Are you ready to see our dream become a reality?"

Hazel awoke, revealing her bright brown eyes that were glazed over with sleepiness. She stretched her tiny fingers, clasping them around one of her mother's, yawning.

Dr. Clay put an arm around his wife, smiling down at his daughter. "She's so cute, isn't she?"

Lydia nodded. "She's an angel—our perfect little angel."

"So," Dr. Clay began, nodding towards the sign that stood in front of them, the blue cloth still rippling in the light breeze, "do you want to do the honors?"

Lydia smiled. "No, I have an even better idea. Why don't we do it together—as a family?"

"That's a great idea!" Dr. Clay said, beaming.

Together, they walked to either side of the sign and turned to face the photographers and television reporters who had gathered for the official opening.

"On three," Dr. Clay said, taking a corner of the blue cloth in his hands. He watched as his wife took hold of the opposite corner, holding Hazel in a way so that she could grasp the cloth in her tiny fingers, too. "One . . . two . . ."

On three, they all pulled, and the cloth slithered off the sign. To the side was the logo. Beside the logo in blue writing were the words 'CLEARWATER MARINE HOSPITAL', and written in bold red letters underneath that was their motto: 'RESCUE, REHAB, RELEASE'.

Camera flashes went off as they stood beside the sign with the hospital in the background. Smiles lit up their faces as they realized that endless months of planning and perseverance had made their dreams morph into reality.

"I'm so, so sorry, Clay."

"Clay . . . I'm so sorry that this had to happen."

"Clay?"

People were calling his name, but Dr. Clay paid no attention to them—their words simply bounced off his eardrum, never registering. He simply stood there, eyes wide, mouth slack. Then, his mouth opened in a silent scream that no-one but he seemed to be able to hear, and he crumbled to his knees, hitting the ground that was littered with debris in a way that made waves of pain shoot through him. But it wasn't only physical pain; it was emotional pain, too. Tremors wracked his body, and he kneeled there, shaking, right beside the place where the sign used to stand . . . he kneeled there in the exact same spot he had stood when they had first revealed the sign at the opening of the hospital.

"Clay."

Someone was kneeling beside him—his father, perhaps— whispering his name, but he refused to look at them. He refused to let them help him in any way. He simply kneeled there, his eyes hollow and watery as he stared at the shell of the dream he and his wife had built.

"I'm so sorry, Lydia . . ."

"Clay," a gentle voice began, the pain evident in her voice, "the fire fighters just declared the building safe to enter. They also said that they found a . . . They made me go and check . . ."

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