The Invisible Husband of Frick Island - Colleen Oakley Page 0,97

meant that he constantly thought about the island. And Piper. And while he was thinking about the island and Piper, he robotically performed the motions of his life. He went to work, wrote his articles, and ate tasteless microwaved dinners at his folding table before going to bed on his sad floor mattress, alone and miserable. He largely ignored the podcast, and all the emails and messages he was still receiving, except to apologize to Greta for not giving her a heads-up about it.

When he woke up on Saturday, the day stretching ahead of him empty and unscheduled for the first time in months, he lied to himself again, telling himself this was a good thing, that Frick Island had taken over his life. And now he could do more important things. Like . . . (and this was where his mind went blank for a few minutes). Oh! He could get a dog. Or start working out! Maybe he’d ask Hector what gym he went to. But the thought of having to sit through another diatribe on the merits of protein powders again deterred him from that path instantly. He rolled over on his mattress and clicked the television on, trying not to think of Piper, which was really all he could think about. He missed her. And the idea of never seeing her again squeezed his heart so tight, he thought he might literally be having a heart attack. Panicked, he sat up and scrolled through his phone until he found a list of symptoms on WebMD and then spent the next hour hyperfocused on his left arm and chin, trying to decide if it was tingling or if he was short of breath because he thought he might be having a heart attack or because he was actually having a heart attack.

Fortunately, his phone rang, giving him a short reprieve from his spiraling.

“Hey, Kelsey,” he said in a slightly irritated voice, not having fully forgiven her for his podcast exploding, even though at one point that was all he ever wanted, and it wasn’t technically her fault.

She didn’t respond, and at first he thought they had a bad connection. He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the bars. When he saw they were full, he put the phone back to his ear.

“Kels?”

He heard a squeak and then a ragged sob. “You have to come,” she said, in a voice so distorted it was almost unrecognizable. “It’s Dad.”

And from the fear and pain and love pulsing through the line, Anders didn’t have to ask which one. And his chest constricted all over again.

Chapter 27

The Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta was not only one of the busiest airports in the world but also had the distinct honor of having the longest span from the last terminal (E) to the first (A)—a little over two miles. An underground train quickly transported passengers between them, but naturally, the night Anders flew in, his plane docked at terminal E—and the train was out of commission. So Anders ran two miles carrying a duffel bag in one hand and his phone in the other, waiting for an update from Kelsey on their stepdad, who was currently in surgery after suffering a stroke.

He took a Lyft to Northside Hospital, and as soon as the car pulled into the parking lot, Anders bolted and didn’t stop running until he found his mom and sister in the waiting room of the ER.

After embracing both of them, he sat down, still slightly out of breath. “Is there an update?”

His mom shook her head, her face wan.

“What happened exactly?” Kelsey had been so distraught, he couldn’t understand half of what she had been saying on the phone.

“I don’t know,” his mom said, her eyes watery. “One minute he was eating a turkey sandwich and telling me about the new idea he had to keep squirrels out of the bird feeder. Then his words started running together like he’d had three scotches in a row, when he hadn’t had a drop to drink! Next thing I know he was slumped over in the chair and his sandwich was on the floor. It was terrifying.”

Anders couldn’t even imagine how scary that must have been.

“Then the paramedics showed up and we followed the ambulance here. We just ran out of the house. I don’t even have my purse.”

“I called 911 when I heard Mom scream,” Kelsey interjected.

“They took him back for a CT scan, said it was an ischemic,