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My uncle trails my steps as I make a beeline for my father’s bedroom. He sits on the edge of his bed, shirt opened at the throat, noticeably shaky.
“Daddy.” Overcome by childish fears that never disappeared in adulthood, I drop my purse on the floor and go to my father. “Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”
“He’s stable at the moment.” The man is tall and lean, easily overlooked in the corner of the room. He snaps a black leather bag closed and then extends a thin hand. “Dr. Reggie Spigato.”
“Tess Ballerini. Are you his regular doctor?”
Dr. Spigato glances at my father, waiting for permission.
He nods. “It’s all right, doc. You can speak freely in front of my daughter. I don’t keep secrets from her.”
Dr. Spigato’s long, thin face is kind, the sort that is used to calming worried people. “Your father began seeing me a few months ago for high blood pressure.”
“Right.” I bob my head, still feeling the adrenaline of fear. “He’s on medication for that.”
“True. But medication alone hasn’t been able to counter the added stress of your father’s extremely busy schedule. He began experiencing shortness of breath and dizziness. His blood pressure is under control for now, but if he worsens he will need to go to the hospital.”
My father is already waving a hand of refusal. “Can’t do it. Election is in four days. Carrington would have a field day with the news that I’m having health issues while he’s out there running a freaking Ten K this weekend.”
I take a seat beside my father. Uncle Josh hangs out in the doorway, saying nothing for the moment.
“Dad, please. This is your life we’re talking about.”
He heaves a sigh, stubborn as always. “After all we’ve worked for, I won’t let a little fatigue get in the way. This is nothing. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”
Dr. Spigato clears his throat. “Stuart, if you keep pushing yourself right now, you will be at high risk for a serious coronary episode.”
Anxiety curdles in my gut. I know nothing of coronary episodes but it definitely sounds like something you don’t want your father to experience today, or ever.
Uncle Josh catches my eye and crosses his arms with a deep frown of concern.
Dr. Spigato retrieves his bag and attempts to talk sense into his patient for the last time. “It’s obvious that you have people here who care for you. Please consider the devastation of your loved ones before doing anything that will further compromise your health. You cannot be the mayor if you are dead.”
The words fire icy arrows of fear straight through my heart. Time shifts and once again I’m the little girl who cried alone in her room while whispering prayers to whoever was listening beyond the ceiling topleasenot steal her daddy and make him sleep beneath the stone angel with her mother.
As my thoughts race frantically through my head, I’ve missed whatever was said next but Uncle Josh is now walking Dr. Spigato to the front door.
My father’s stubbornness has faded. He studies me as I anxiously clutch my phone. The look in his brown eyes grows remorseful. “I told Josh that I didn’t want you to be upset with this news but he insisted on calling.”
“He was right to call me. I wishyou’dcalled me, Dad.”
“I didn’t want to worry you, Tess. And things have been so strained between us as it is.”
The gentle affection in my father’s voice is enough to stir the threat of tears.
“I know and I really don’t want there to be tension.”
Stuart Ballerini is not one to show physical affection. I doubt he’s really hugged me since I was in the single digits. But now he reaches for my hand and briefly squeezes. “I’ve allowed this damn campaign to take over our lives, Tessie Belle. And I’m guilty of relying on you far more than a father has a right to rely on his daughter. But please understand that I see and appreciate everything you do, even if I don’t always show it.”
This is what I’ve always wanted to hear from him.Always.Throughout my life my one constant wish is to make my father proud.
For a few seconds I’m too choked up to speak properly.
Uncle Josh returns to the doorway and from the way his expression has softened, I would guess that he heard at least part of that heartfelt speech.
My dad nods to his younger brother. “Josh, I also owe you a lot of thanks. Your support has been vital.” He motions with his right arm in a sweeping arc. “We’re afamily,the three of us. Sometimes we argue and say things we don’t mean. But in the end, what matters is right here in this room. At the moment I feel like I’ve taken you both for granted. And that eats at me a whole lot more than any damn election results ever could. If the two of you think it’s best to drop out of the race then I will. Because if I don’t have my family then I don’t have anything.”
I’ve never seen my father like this.
