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“How long do they have?”
“After the new members are chosen next year at the close of session, they’ll review the records and the actions of the previous committee, as will the governor and next prime minister.”
“And if the problem still exists?”
“They’ll stand before the disciplinary committee themselves,” Dr. Booth said. “He was my friend, madam. A very good friend.”
Lila turned and padded from the room.
Dr. Booth followed on her heels. As he walked, he pressed out his scrubs, especially his still-wrinkled neckline.
She shoved open the swinging doors at the end of the corridor, her palms thumping against them, the boom and her expression announcing the prime minister’s condition long before Dr. Booth said a word. A press of bodies surged forward, the lights in the lobby too bright above their heads, the off-white walls too clean, the plastic chairs too hard and shiny. Her father’s lovers clutched their hands to their hearts, steeling their faces for the young children scattered throughout the room.
Shiloh sat in the back. Quiet. His suit and breeches rumpled.
Senator Dubois sat next to him, not saying a word. He squeezed the boy’s shoulder as the moment came upon them.
When Shiloh saw her face, all the tension and grace drained away from his frame. He slumped, his cheeks paled, and his gaze flipped to Dr. Booth.
Her mother did the same.
They both knew. They knew, and they hoped anyway.
Fools.
As Dr. Booth began his lies, Lila shuffled away and plopped down in a chair at the far end of the room. She should have left, but she couldn’t. Perhaps there’d be a miracle. Perhaps the nurses would walk back into her father’s room and find him alive. Perhaps he’d wake up in the morgue, right before they cremated his body.
It might happen. It could happen.
Lila rubbed at her eyes.
That would never, ever happen, not unless she dreamed it.
Dr. Booth’s muffled voice masked the squeals, the wailing tears, the few coughs to mask worse from a few in the room. He bowed and retreated into the bowels of the hospital, his lies delivered, his deception complete.
Lila crinkled her nose as the chairwoman approached.
“Why are you even here?” Lila grumbled.
“I came to see the father of my children after his heart attack. What happened tonight? Did you let him eat poorly, Elizabeth?”
Lila looked up. Her mother couldn’t help herself, even now. “Like you care. Maybe you’d like to yell at his dead body some more? You didn’t get quite enough hits in tonight, did you?”
“Lila—”
She hopped up, standing nose to nose with her mother. Her father had just wanted one last night on earth. One perfect night before he slipped away, bowing to a punishment he didn’t even deserve.
And her mother had ruined it.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been such an asshole tonight, he might still be here.”
Lila knew the truth of it. He might have stayed in the world for a few days longer. He might have chosen the solstice or the day after. Maybe even the day after that.
She could have told him about the baby. He could have given her some advice.
She could have given him one last hug.
But he hadn’t had the luxury of extra time, for he’d never get to see Lila after that night, not without sticky consequences. He’d need her to keep the secret.
