“Everything’s fine. They just wanted to check her out.” “Dad, of course I’m coming. I’m already at the airport,” I say, eyeing the line ahead of me — two families with mountains of luggage. I’m in line at LAX on the phone with Jack waiting to check in with the skycaps for the 10:40 red-eye to Boston. Boston because, as it turns out, Helen and Jack were on the Cape when her heart began its perilous fluttering. Now she’s in the Hyannis hospital — “but not intensive care,” Jack has said so many tim...es I can tell he’s close to panicking — and I’m on my way there because Amy’s stuck on some barrier island off Florida with Bevan and Barkley, who’s attending some legal convention there, and she can’t get a flight — flights — until tomorrow. “Well, I’m just saying you don’t have to come.” “Dad, I want to come. I want to be there even if she’s fine,” I say, inching my bag forward with my foot. Any fears I had about not making this flight are quickly evaporating.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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