Three weeks.
Three weeks until anyone and everyone there who so desired could listen to his podcast. Of course technically he knew they could have been listening to it all along, using the albeit “painfully slow” Internet connection at the market, but it was clear no one had much interest or had bothered—and even more clear that Anders had become a little too comfortable with that fact. Now it was as if a countdown had been set—he could almost hear the ticking of the clock until the bomb detonated—because he felt certain he wouldn’t be welcome back on the island once everyone found out what he was really doing.
And he had so many questions! He still didn’t know why everyone was going along with Piper’s delusion. Or who set fire to Tom’s boat. And was there really a drug ring on the island? Why did Lady Judy receive so many packages? And who on earth was the anonymous emailer, NoManIsAnIsland?
But something else was bothering him, and it had nothing to do with the story arc of the podcast and whether he could bring it to a satisfactory conclusion. His hands started sweating as he realized that over the past few months he’d been living under a delusion of his own: that the Frick Islanders were never going to hear the podcast he was making. Or if and when they did, he’d be long gone and on to something else. He never anticipated he’d still be there when the cell tower was finished. Or that he’d want to still be there, even after it was done. Or that he’d care so much what the islanders would think when they found out.
And by islanders he meant islander, of course.
And by islander, he meant Piper.
Piper.
His stomach dropped when he thought of her listening to it—and not just because she would learn that Anders had been lying to her. But his mind kept drifting to something that therapist had told him in her interview. It can also be quite overwhelming for them to hear the truth, if they’re not ready—and can cause quite a bit of stress and agitation, which can lead to further deterioration of their mental condition.
Not only might it make Piper hate Anders forever, but it could actually make her delusion worse. And Anders couldn’t decide which consequence troubled him more.
He pulled out his laptop and opened it on his desk, clicking through to his podcast website, as if it might give him the answers he was looking for. Staring at the screen, he thought of only one: He could delete it altogether. The latest episode had 42,932 subscribers—and though it would be difficult to just erase all his hard work from the last few months, he doubted the listeners would mind too much. There were plenty of other podcasts for them to move on to. And if it meant helping Piper . . .
He froze, replaying that sentence in his head, and wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. He could help Piper. He had to help Piper. He had been on that island for months and it was clear that no one else was going to do it. There had to be a way to get her to come to terms with her reality, to help her to understand that Tom was no longer alive. It would be hard, of course, but she couldn’t go on like this forever—she’d have to face it sometime. And he could be there for her when she did. To comfort her and support her through it.
And then once she was facing reality, he could tell her about the podcast and how many other people it could help. And maybe, just maybe, she’d understand.
Or maybe not.
But it was the best chance he had.
Reinvigorated, he sat up and tugged out his cell phone to call the therapist. If he was going to help Piper, he needed to know how. And quickly.
He only had three weeks to do it.
—
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Piper whispered into the clutched phone Friday morning, her heart thudding in her chest.
“What? What do you mean? We’re so close,” said the man on the other end of the line.
“I know, but when people find out . . .” She couldn’t even finish the thought. She’d been up half the night, thinking about it. Worrying over how mad people were going to be. She remembered the way her mom was treated, after sending her proposal to the Army Corps—the way the townspeople gave her the cold shoulder, glared at her on the street, made her feel as unwelcome as Piper had felt when they first moved there. The islanders didn’t take kindly to betrayal. And what she was doing? It was definitely a betrayal. She couldn’t even fathom how she had agreed to it. There were reasons, she knew. Good reasons. But she couldn’t remember any of them just now.
“Listen . . . don’t make any rash decisions,” he said. “Meet me tomorrow. The usual spot. I’ll pick you up. Let’s talk it out.”
“OK,” Piper said after a long silence. “I’ll be there.”
—
On the ferry Saturday morning, Anders both dreaded and eagerly anticipated what he thought would likely be one of his last weekends on the island. Janet Keene hadn’t been overly helpful in her advice on how to treat someone with delusional disorder. “It’s really hard to generalize a treatment plan, as it needs to be tailored to the specific needs of the patient. These conditions are very difficult to treat, and may need a mix of antipsychotic medications as well as supportive therapy.” Lacking access to antipsychotics, Anders pressed her on the details of supportive therapy. “After building a rapport—which can take weeks, even months—I’d ask questions that gently start challenging the nature of their belief. For instance,
