They lingered beside David’s bedside for another second, and then Connor put his arm around the younger man and together they walked out of the room. “There’s a small chapel in the hospital,” Connor said softly. “I’m going to phone Johnny and ask him to meet us here within the hour. You can administer the oath of office to him in there.”
Anton gave a short, sharp laugh. “Uncle Connor. Do you ever stop thinking about politics?”
Connor shrugged. “The optics will be wonderful. Voters will love the fact that it’s the governor’s son administering the oath. Besides, there are probably a dozen reporters and photographers out there. Why let such an opportunity go to waste?”
Anton shook his head. “No wonder Dad calls you his secret weapon.”
Connor’s lips trembled. “You know there’s nothing I would not do for your father. Nothing.” He fell silent and then said, “I used to say that the day he was elected governor was the happiest day of my life. Not anymore. Now it will be the day he resumes his office. In the meantime, Johnny can keep his seat warm.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
People asked Anton how he did it, and he said he didn’t know. But for over two weeks now he had worked all day, then come to the hospital to spend the night with his dad. Delores left soon after he arrived, and when she returned the next morning he would rush home for a quick shower and then go to work. Connor had lectured him on the phone this afternoon, forbidding him to visit, urging him to go home and catch up on sleep instead, but here he was again, watching his father take a short walk down the hallway, a hefty attendant holding him up from the thick safety belt they had attached to David’s waist. Watching his timid, unsteady gait, Anton felt a pang of fear at the enormity of what lay ahead for them. “Come on, my man,” the attendant said in a thick accent, “just a few more steps. You can do it,” he added in the tone of a parent encouraging a toddler. Here, in this hospital, nobody cared that his father was governor, a man with the power to withhold or double their state funding. Here he was simply a patient who had to be constantly reminded to press the heart-shaped red pillow to his chest when he rose from a chair and coaxed to take a few more bites of the reduced-sodium diet. In some ways, Anton was glad that his father was so out of it; he would’ve found unbearable the realization of how far he had fallen.
“Okay, let’s take a few seconds to catch our breath,” the attendant said. The man helped David sit on the hallway couch next to Anton, who patted his father’s knee. “You’re doing great, Dad,” he said with insincere enthusiasm, feeling like a hypocrite. But apparently, David was more aware of his surroundings than Anton had realized, because he shot him a wan look. “Don’t you bullshit me,” the look said, and Anton felt suitably reprimanded.
“Where’re you from?” he asked the male attendant.
The man shook his head. “A little place you never heard of. Antigua.”
“Are you kidding me? I know Antigua. Former British colony in the Caribbean. Beautiful place.”
The man smiled back broadly. “Most folks never heard of it. You been?”
“No. But I’ve read about it. In a book by Jamaica Kincaid. Can’t remember its name. Have you read it?”
“Nah. Never heard of him. But then I’m not much of a reader.”
“She’s a woman. She’s from there. Originally, I mean.”
The man laughed. “That’s Antigua for you. Everybody’s from there originally. But now they live someplace else.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m William Tell.”
Anton looked at him suspiciously, not knowing whether his leg was being pulled.
“No, really. That’s my name.”
Anton whistled. “Well. Somebody in your family likes books, even if it’s not you.”
“That’s a good one, Mr. Coleman.”
While they were chatting, David was sitting back on the couch, his head resting against the wall, his eyes shut. William touched him gently on the wrist. “Sir. Let’s get in one more round and then I’ll take you back to your room. Now, remember, grab that ole cushion and press it to your chest as you get up.”
David gave Anton a look that he couldn’t quite comprehend, though his distress was palpable. Anton leaped to his feet. “I’ll walk with you guys,” he said, and down the hallway the three of them went.
After they got back to his room, David had to use the bathroom. William accompanied him in and then shut the door lightly. “Remember, pull the cord if you need me,” he called out.
“You gotta watch for the depression,” William said to Anton as they waited. “Very common side effect after open-heart surgery.”
“He’ll be okay. Once we get him home, he’ll be fine.”
William gave him a long look. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s a tough recovery. I just want you to be prepared.”
“Speaking of prepared, we’re looking to hire someone to help him at home after his discharge. Do you know of any home health aides you could recommend?
“When are they discharging him?”
“I think they said day after tomorrow?”
William thought for a moment. “I don’t know if this will work, but I’m on vacation for two weeks starting Monday. If you like, I can help you out.”
“Don’t you have plans for your vacation?”
William shrugged. “Not really.” He pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his scrubs and wrote on it. “Here’s my number. Call me if you can’t find anyone else.”
“No, no, no. I’d be thrilled if you’d help us. I just didn’t want you to work on your vacation, man.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I love to stay busy.”
Anton offered his hand. “Well, that’s a huge load off my mind. How much do you charge?”
They heard David flush, and William hurried toward the bathroom. “Going rate’s fifteen an hour. But you can pay me what you like,” he said over his shoulder.
“How does seventeen an hour sound?”
“Sounds beautiful, baby.”
Anton grinned. He listened as William helped his dad in the bathroom, heard the sound of running water in the sink. The relief he felt at the thought of entrusting David’s care to someone as obviously competent as William was enormous. And as his father recovered, he would hit it off with William, Anton was sure. It would be good for Mom, too, to have a strong, capable man help with the bathing and other stuff.
After William had finished tucking David into bed, Anton bent down to kiss his forehead. The older man whispered something he couldn’t catch, and he leaned in, putting his ear to David’s mouth. “What’d you say, Dad?”
“A Small Place,” David whispered faintly.
Anton’s eyes shone. So Dad had been listening to his earlier conversation with William. “That’s right,” he exclaimed. “How on earth did you remember that?”
A look of pride flashed across David’s exhausted face. He smiled, a slight stretch of the lips that perhaps only Anton could recognize as a smile. “That silly girl,” he rasped. “She argued with Pappy.”