We stayed in front of the TV all day watching updates and news bulletins, not eating or talking or blinking unless we really needed to. Hugo had gotten up from his nap and sat on my legs until evening when he fell asleep again.
“I should get him home,” I whispered.
“Let me help,” Albert said, reaching under Hugo’s shoulders and knees, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. “We can take my car.”
Albie had me get in the front seat before handing the boy to me and shutting the door as quietly as he could.
I held Hugo draped over me all the way to my house, where Albert again lifted him, carrying him inside.
“We’ll just let him sleep in his clothes,” I whispered, leading Albert up the stairs and into Hugo’s room, pulling the covers down.
Getting out of the way, I watched him lower the boy to the bed, being careful to hold his head steady. I couldn’t remember ever having seen a man so gentle with a child before, so tender. With an ache in my chest, I thought of what good fathers both he and Norman would have made.
What a good father Albert might be. One of these days, at least.
He pulled the blanket up and tiptoed out of the room. I followed and pulled the door closed.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “You didn’t have to do all of that.”
He waited to respond until he was at the foot of the steps. “It was no trouble at all.”
The telephone rang and I checked my watch. After ten o’clock.
“It’s probably Marvel,” I said. “Maybe there’s something new?”
I took the call in the kitchen, Albert leaning against the doorway behind me.
“Hello?” I said.
“Mrs. Sweet?” The voice on the other line sounded thin, hesitant.
“Yes.” A fluttering filled my chest unlike anything I’d ever experienced. “And who is this?”
“I’m Nurse Rita,” she answered. “Calling from the State Mental Hospital.”
“All right.” I put my hand on the counter, holding on, bracing myself for the worst kind of news.
“I’m sorry to be calling so late,” the nurse said. “We’ve been trying all day.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“The phone lines have been backed up for hours.” She cleared her throat. “Because of the president.”
I thought I heard her voice crack, and I wanted to tell her to get on with it, to give me the horrible news already. The anticipation of what was to come made me want to scream.
“Is Clara all right?” I asked.
She hesitated before answering me.
“Mrs. Sweet, Clara will be discharged first thing in the morning,” she said. “I thought you’d want to come get her so she wouldn’t have to take a bus.”
My knees buckled, and I felt Albert’s hands steady me.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
“Yes,” I said into the phone and to him at the same time. “Someone will be there in the morning. Thank you. Thank you so much for calling.”
I hung up the receiver and told Albert the news.
Never in all the years I’d known him had I seen him smile so big.