Prodigal Son (16 page)

“Don’t worry. I did fine.” Peter smiled at him. He felt better having said it, and Michael looked deeply touched. All their old wounds were healing, and the journals had given Peter perspective on everything he hadn’t done for their mother, or even their father before he died. Most of all, he hadn’t been there for their final years, Michael had, in spades. He had taken full responsibility for them, and their care when they got sick. Peter had been on Wall Street, making a fortune. And his parents were right, he hadn’t needed what they had. Michael did, with his sick wife, and he had earned it. He hadn’t left their parents’ sides for a minute. And he wasn’t a rich man now, but he was comfortable, thanks to them. His country practice had never been lucrative, but it was enough for the way he and Maggie lived. They didn’t need or want more.

The two men hugged each other, and Michael left to see his patients. And Peter felt warm and happy all the way back to the lake. He thought of finishing his mother’s journals when he got back, but he needed to digest what he had read so far. It was hard to read, and
painful to realize how he had let them down. But at least there was no bitterness between the two men now. Peter was grateful for that.

The following week Peter went out to L.A. to see Ben and Ryan. He stopped by to see Michael before he left, and told him he’d be back in a week. He was taking the boys to San Francisco for a long weekend, and he couldn’t wait to see them. As always, it had been too long. And he wanted to plan their summer with Alana. He had hardly spoken to her since she’d filed the divorce. The boys had already told him that they were going to spend a month at the house in the Hamptons with their mom, when the renters left. It gave Peter a little jolt when he heard it. The waters had closed over him in Alana’s life, and she was moving on, and already had. The boys didn’t say much about what she was doing. And she never called Peter anymore. She knew he was coming out and had agreed to the trip to San Francisco. She said she would be going to Palm Springs with friends at the same time.

Peter was staying at a hotel this time, near her father’s house. He picked the boys up at school. They were thrilled to see him, and he took them out to dinner that night. Alana was at the house when he dropped off the boys, and he felt awkward when he said hello to her. And she looked awkward too, and disappeared into the house as quickly as she could. Peter felt a surge of disappointment and bitterness again as soon as he saw her.

Peter and the boys left for San Francisco the next day after school. Alana had already left for Palm Springs when he picked them up, which was a relief.

The flight to San Francisco from L.A. took an hour, and they caught a cab into the city. There were no limousines anymore, except with their grandfather and mom. With Peter, they were “roughing it,” as he said, except that he had found a special weekend deal for adjoining rooms at the Fairmont Hotel, which was a grand old hotel on top of Nob Hill, right above Chinatown, across from Grace Cathedral, and the cable car stopped right outside the hotel. They rode it down to the Ferry Building that night, and wandered from stand to stand of lobsters, crabs, oysters, sourdough bread, and every delicacy imaginable, and they ate dinner in one of the restaurants, and then rode the cable car back to the hotel. They had had a great evening, and the boys had never been there before. They were planning to explore the piers the next day and the Science Museum, and they were going to have dinner in Chinatown. The boys loved Chinese food.

Ben said that he wanted a root beer float when they got back to the room and Ryan rolled his eyes. They wound up ordering three from room service, and Ben was sipping his through his straw when he made an announcement that shook Peter to the core.

“Mom has a boyfriend. He’s nice.” Ryan looked like he was going to kill him, and glanced at his father with a worried look.

“Don’t listen to him, Dad. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. They’re just friends.” Ryan had long since understood how unhappy his father was about the divorce, and that it was his mother’s idea and not his. He had been angry about it since he had found out. And Ben had adjusted much more easily to L.A. Ryan missed New York, his father, and his friends.

“That’s not true. He used to be her boyfriend,” Ben said, looking insulted to have his information disputed. “And now he is again. His name is Bruce and he’s an agent for actors who make movies. He
took us to a screening of
Killer Ants
.” Ryan was steaming, and Peter tried to look unconcerned as his heart sank. He knew she wasn’t coming back to him, but it hurt to hear that he’d been replaced. He had suspected it for a while, but he didn’t want the information from his son. And Peter knew who Bruce was. He remembered running into him when they first went to L.A. after the crash, and he had looked very interested in Alana, in more than a friendly way. She had denied it to him at the time. He wondered now if Bruce was why she had asked for the divorce. “He has a plane, a Ferrari, and a Rolls,” Ben said, adding insult to injury as Ryan dove across the bed, grabbed him, and shook him, hard.

“Will you stop, you little jerk? You’re upsetting Dad!”

“Knock it off, Ryan,” Peter said sternly. “I’m fine. You don’t need to kill your brother for my sake. I’d rather you didn’t. And if that’s what’s happening, Ben has a right to talk about it. Is he nice to you guys?” Peter asked with a sad look, and both boys nodded, Ben with more enthusiasm than Ryan.

“He’s coming to the Hamptons with us this summer,” Ben announced, looking delighted, while Ryan looked grim. He didn’t like that plan at all. Bruce was nice, but he didn’t want him moving in on them and their mother. And their mother was crazy about him. Ryan had heard her tell a friend that she was in love. He hated Bruce for it.

“Let’s talk about your coming to the lake,” Peter said, to change the subject. “When do you want to come? July and August are the most fun. There are sailboat regattas, and swimming races. And the weather is great then.”

“Can we come in July, Dad?” Ryan asked hopefully. “Mom wants to send us to camp in Switzerland then, and I don’t want to go.”

“Me too,” Ben echoed.

“We’re going to the Hamptons in August,” Ryan said quietly.

“Why don’t you spend the Fourth of July with me, and stay for a few weeks?” Both boys beamed at the suggestion, and Peter promised to work it out with their mother. He didn’t want them going to camp in Switzerland instead of visiting him. When did she think they were going to see him? Peter felt like the forgotten man. And he went to bed that night with the knowledge that Alana had a boyfriend, a Hollywood agent, it was perfect for her, and he was sure her father approved. Peter had never really fit into their plans. All he had had was money, and now he no longer did. This had nothing to do with their “drifting apart,” as she had said. He had no illusions left about that.

The rest of the weekend went too quickly. They went to the piers and the museum, and walked in Golden Gate Park. They had dinner in Chinatown, and explored the Fairmont, and on Sunday afternoon, they went back to L.A. Peter stayed in L.A. for two days after that to see them, and Alana agreed to let the boys come to him for three weeks in July. He agreed to deliver them to her in the Hamptons, after he spent a week in New York with them, so they could see their friends, if they were in town during the summer. It sounded like a good plan to all of them.

He never mentioned to Alana that he knew she had a new man in her life, or an old one. He had too much pride to say anything, but he caught a glimpse of him when he dropped the boys off, just as Bruce drove Alana up to the house in his Ferrari and she got out. He looked at Peter, and the two men nodded. Bruce was the winner and Peter the loser, and it hurt more than he expected it to, or would have admitted. Peter hadn’t even thought of dating other women yet. He was
still trying to figure out what to do with his life now, and he was living like a hermit at the lake. It was hardly conducive to dating, and he wasn’t in the mood anyway. He still felt like a loser for the job and fortune he had lost. It was going to take time to get over that. And what did he have to offer any woman right now? He could barely support himself and his boys. He was in no position to impress anyone at the moment, and he didn’t want to anyway. The wound Alana had left was still wide open and not yet healed. Along with everything else that had happened in the last seven months, he had been dumped. It was hard to dazzle anyone after that.

He and the boys were sad when he left, but they had July to look forward to now. It was only two months away, until they came to visit him. He could hardly wait. And as the plane circled over Los Angeles and headed east, Peter tried not to think about Alana and Bruce. He had a twin brother again, and two great sons. For now, that was enough.

When Peter got back to the lake after his trip to L.A. and San Francisco, he had a lot to do. He was still sending out e-mails regularly to look for work and new projects. And now that he knew the boys were coming to visit, he wanted to repaint his old boyhood room for them. He needed to get some new furniture, and ordered it from IKEA. He wanted to do what he could to spruce up the house a little before they came. It was very basic compared to what they were used to, but he thought it would be fun for them to spend time at the lake with him. He could hardly wait.

He was planning to drop by and see Michael the day after he got back, but he got busy with e-mails to several Wall Street firms, and picked up his mother’s journals again late that night. This time he was shocked by what he read. The cancer that ultimately killed her had gotten into her bones by then and it sounded like she was in incredible pain, as he read what she had written. She sounded truly desperate in some entries, and her handwriting had gotten shaky. It made him feel ill to read it, but he wanted to read everything she had
to say. It was the least he could do after not being there for her. At least he could hear her now, even if it was fifteen years too late. She mentioned several times that Michael had given her pain-killers, but they weren’t working, and she said that all she wanted now was for him to put her to sleep, as he had his father.

Peter stopped as he read it, squinted, and read it again, to be sure he had understood what she’d said. His mother had written in her now-shaky hand that Michael had “put his father to sleep,” to put him out of his misery at the end. In other words, Michael had euthanized him, and their mother had wanted him to do the same for her. She said that Michael was refusing, and insisted that she could still live many months. Peter was shaken by what he had read. He read on for another hour, but mostly his mother complained about the pain she was in and the fact that he had not come to visit, but she said that he was busy in New York. She had made excuses for him, but the shocking entry in the journal he read that night was that Michael had killed their father, surely with noble motives, if so. But Peter wanted to know now if he really had.

He was still troubled by it when he drove into town the next morning, and went to Michael’s office, but he was out. He stopped in at the diner for a cup of coffee and spent a few minutes chatting with Vi. The chief of police was there that morning too. Afterward he went to the paint store to kill time, and a small furniture store, looking for things for the boys, and then he went to the house to see Maggie. She was upstairs, but she shouted to him to come up when he opened the unlocked door. He found her in her bedroom, sitting up in bed with her computer, intently writing an e-mail to Bill. They had been iChatting earlier that morning, and it was wonderful seeing her look so
much better and stronger. She looked immaculate and pretty, in a pink bed jacket, and her hair was freshly brushed, and the circles under her eyes didn’t seem quite as dark.

“How was L.A.?” she asked him, obviously delighted to see him. Lisa was in school, and Michael was making his rounds.

“Great. I had a terrific time with the boys. We went to San Francisco, and they’ll be here on July Fourth.”

“I can’t wait to meet them,” Maggie said with a warm smile, but she could see something in his eyes. He didn’t want to tell her what he had read in his mother’s diaries the night before. That was between him and Michael. And he just wanted to know for his own peace of mind. If Michael had done it, he had clearly felt it was justified and there was no other choice. His father had died a martyr’s death from pancreatic cancer, so Peter would have understood it, but it was a private matter between the two brothers, so he said nothing to Maggie about it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. She looked better than he had seen her before.

“Pretty good. Michael is sitting on me. I’ve been in bed most of the time. But I guess he’s right, I feel better, although my legs get weak and stiff, but they are anyway,” she said practically. “The weather has been so pretty. I’m dying to get out.” She looked wistful as she glanced out the window. She was only forty-four years old, and had been a shut-in for years. She had deteriorated progressively during twenty-three years of marriage, and only Michael’s care had kept it from moving at a more rapid rate. They were playing beat the clock for her health, and with Parkinson’s now, things were only going to get worse. They both knew it. Maggie was not going to live to be an
old woman, but she had made her peace with it years before. It was Michael who fought desperately not to lose her.

“I wish you could come up to the lake sometime,” Peter said gently. “Maybe Michael could bring you.”

“I’d love it,” she said, smiling at him. It sounded like heaven to her. And every time she went out, her spirits soared, but her physical condition always worsened right after. Michael was concentrating on caring for her body, but Peter wished he could do something for her soul. “I heard from Bill, by the way,” she said, looking cheerful. She was always happy when she talked about him. Peter could only guess how much she missed him. “He loves his school, and he wants to find a job there when he finishes. He’s never going to come home.” She had made her peace with that too, but Peter could see that it was hard for her.