Stella had never been in Arnie’s bedroom before, so she flipped on the light and stood in the doorway, hesitating and trying to shakeoff the feeling of being an intruder.This is for Arnie and his sanity. He needs his own things,she told herself. She stepped into his room and went straight for the closet. There was an overnight bag on the top shelf, so she pulled it down and packed a couple shirts and a pair of pants, along with a belt, two pairs of socks, and underwear. Then she added some miscellaneous toiletries, not knowing what he could live without or what he might actually want. Because hewouldonly be gone a few days at most, and then he could have whatever he needed. Arnie was coming home; she wouldn’t accept—couldn’t accept—any other scenario.
When she arrived at the hospital, she tried to remain calm, but all she wanted to do was run as fast as she could to the nurses’ station. Skinny, trembling words crowded together on the sterile white tile in the hallway, but they parted like the Red Sea as she hurried past. Worry tightened her chest.
Lisa Danforth sat behind the circular desk, blew a pink bubble with her gum, and popped it before smiling at Stella.
“Hey, honey,” Lisa said with a voice so gentle it could subdue a wild animal. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here. He’s in ICU room 79.”
Stella clutched the rounded edge of the desk. “ICU? Why? Is he... is he worse? Is it that serious? I mean, I know it’s serious, but the ICU—”
Lisa reached up and gently pried Stella’s fingers from the edge of the desk. “It’s customary to put most heart attack patients in the ICU. Yes, it’s serious, but he’s stable.”
Lisa had lived next door to Stella’s family and was a young nurse just starting out at Blue Sky Valley’s hospital when Stella was born. A few years later, when Maria ran off to New York, Lisa came over to their house often to check on her and Percy. On Saturdays, whichwas usually Lisa’s day off, she’d bring over baked goods and spend time with them.
Lisa had been at the hospital when Stella’s dad was admitted after his heart attack and never released. During those couple of days, Lisa had brought Stella and Percy gallons of coffee in Styrofoam cups and a never-ending supply of snacks from the vending machine. They’d spent Lisa’s breaks talking about which books they were reading, debating which ones were worth reading and which should be used as doorstops. No one had seen as many of Stella’s tears as Lisa had—with the exception of Ariel and Arnie—and seeing Lisa now felt like being wrapped up in a wool blanket, toasty and familiar.
“Stable, as in he’s going to be okay?”
Lisa nodded. “He’s uncomfortable, but they’ve given him something for the pain. Definitely a heart attack, though, and not a stroke. He’s lucky you were there. I hate to think about what would have happened if he’d been alone.”
Oh, he wasn’t alone. He was hosting a party with an invite list that included my childhood crush.
Lisa reached across the counter and squeezed Stella’s hand. “Go on,” she said.
Down the hallway, Stella pushed open the door to room 79. Arnie lay inside, hooked to machines that seemed to be keeping track of every part of him, constantly assessing his vital signs. A breathing machine pushed oxygen into his lungs, and the steady, rhythmic whoosh of air was almost soothing. Medication given intravenously dripped slowly from an IV bag with a long, snaking tube that stretched from the bag to his hand. Arnie wasn’t awake, and he didn’t stir when she approached. Stella looked down at him, wishing his visage didn’t recall images of her dad in a similar position.
She dropped the overnight bag in a chair and then stood next to Arnie’s bed and exhaled. “I’m not sure what you think you’redoing, but you arenotallowed to leave me, especially not like this, not with all of these questions. I know there’s something going on. Something’s not right, Arnie.
“What were you doing tonight? Why are there people in the archives? I don’t know how or why, but I have a feelingyouknow something big you’re not telling me.” She rubbed her temples.
“This is a lot to handle in one day. Finding you on the floor and meeting that man calling himself Jack in the library. What did you mean when you said youwanted to tell me about him? And I left the people in there, Arnie. Strangers. In the library, because youasked me to. I don’t know what we’ll find tomorrow, but I’m trying to trust that you know what you’re doing. And we’ve never talked about my words before, but they might be what saved you tonight, and the purple ones...” Stella inhaled a shuddering breath.
“You’d better heal fast because I have questions, and I’m expecting answers.” She pressed her cold fingers against the warm skin of his hand. Her heart squeezed just as a machine beeped. “You get some rest and come back home. That’s an order.”
A nurse opened the door and pushed in a cart loaded with smaller machines. “Need to check a few things.”
Stella nodded and slid out through the open door, clicking it shut behind her. She stopped by the nurses’ station and had a quick conversation with Lisa before driving home. Once she was home, Stella pulled up the library schedule. Melanie was on vacation for a couple days, so she called Vicki and Dan to ask if they could come in on their day off tomorrow to help since Stella wasn’t sure when Arnie would be able to return to work.
Then she texted Ariel.Arnie had a heart attack. I found him tonight in the archives. He’s at the hospital and stable. Call me tomorrow?
Ariel texted back almost immediately.Do you want to talk now? Should I come over? I’m so sorry, Stella.
Stella wrote:No, I’m exhausted, but thank you. Tomorrow?
Ariel responded:Of course. Get some rest.
Stella wanted to mention the people in the archives, specifically Jack Mathis, but she was afraid Ariel would think she’d lost her mind or was so overcome with worry that she was batty. Besides, Stella wasn’t even sure what would happen tomorrow. Would she find the archives empty?
She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her empty hands, remembering the day she lost her dad, which made her think of the weeks following her mother’s absence, and more recently of Wade walking out of her life like it was the easiest thing he’d ever done. She glanced at the lamp on her end table and remembered a day when Wade called her his “lighthouse,” saying she was like a light in the darkness, giving him hope. Turquoise words tumbled through her room like waves rolling onto the shore. She reached for her notepad and wrote.
When the ocean was not blue
but a wild, relentless fury,
when it caught you,
tossed you, pushed you under,
when you knew you were lost,
