Prodigal Son (17 page)

“He’s not interested in Boston or New York?” At least then he could visit.

Peter had just learned that lesson himself, when he read his mother’s journals. He had been in New York, but had visited too infrequently before she died. He knew that one day his nephew would regret it. Maggie was not going to live forever, that much was clear. She was valiant about it, but Bill was missing precious years. It was hard to see that when you were young, although Bill’s mother had been sick all his life. Maybe that was why he didn’t see that time was running out. Even Peter understood that when he looked at her. She was barely more than a wisp of a woman, and she seemed as though she were about to blow away. And one of these days she would just disappear.

Maggie looked thoughtful before she answered Peter’s question.
And then she decided to be candid with him. She trusted him, and always had. “It’s not about what city he’s in. He and Michael don’t get along. They haven’t in years. At first I just thought it was adolescence, but it isn’t. They’re at each other’s throats every time they’re in the same room. Bill disagrees with everything his father stands for. Some of it has to do with me,” she said, looking guilty. “They’re both fiercely protective of me, and they fight about everything. Bill just couldn’t take it anymore, so he left. And Michael loves him, but he gets aggressive with him. He’s very hurt by the things Bill says. Bill left here at twenty, and he’s never coming back, except maybe to see me. And maybe it’s for the best. They’ll kill each other one day. It’s better for Bill not to be here, and for Michael too. It was miserable for everyone when he was here. Even Lisa got pulled into it, and she loves them both. So do I, but I want what’s best for Bill. This isn’t it.” She was willing to deprive herself of her child for his benefit, and Peter felt sorry for all of them.

“It sounds like what Michael and I went through when we were young,” Peter said quietly.

“No, it’s worse. Much worse,” she said sadly.

“Sometimes there just isn’t room for two adult males on the same turf. There were three at our house, and I was one too many. I was the one who was always out of step with the other two, so I left. I had to find a place of my own, and I did. Bill will too. Maybe then it will be easier for him to come back, once he establishes himself somewhere else.” He wanted to give her hope that she’d see her son again, but neither of them looked convinced. “Mike can be pretty tough when he gets pissed,” Peter said ruefully, and Maggie smiled.

“And Bill is even more so. He’s much too hard on his father, and the fights are always about me. They both love me, but I don’t want
them killing each other over me. It was terrible, but it was a relief when Bill left.” Peter couldn’t help wondering if his mother had felt the same way about him. His had been the one dissenting voice, trying to fight for justice in his own family. And whatever he had done and said, he couldn’t get it, and his mother had forgiven him in the end, just as Maggie would. He knew that now from his mother’s journals.

He left Maggie a little while later, and went back to Michael’s office. He was just returning from his house calls. He looked tired and depressed, and said to Peter that he had just lost a patient. She was eighty-three years old and had been sick for several months. But he hated it when that happened.

“I should have been a pediatrician,” he said with a sad look at his twin. “All they get are skinned knees.” When a child died, it was infinitely worse, but they rarely did. “I get so attached to my geriatric patients. And sooner or later, they go. But it always depresses me.” It was the perfect lead-in to the subject Peter wanted to discuss with him. He mentioned their mother’s journals again, and Michael nodded, as he walked into his office and Peter took the seat across from his desk. It was lunchtime, and he didn’t have any patients to see yet. He had already dropped off lunch for Maggie on the way back, as a treat for her. Pru had been at the house too, vacuuming the stairs. And Maggie had been happy to see him. She always was.

“This will sound awful,” Peter began cautiously, “and I don’t mean it that way,” he said, feeling nervous. He didn’t want to insult his brother or start a fight with him again. But he wanted to know. “In Mom’s journals, she was obviously suffering when she wrote them, especially toward the end, but she mentions several times that you euthanized Dad, and she wanted you to do the same to her. She was
pissed that you wouldn’t.” Peter looked serious as he said it, and his twin brother smiled. It was the tired, gentle smile of a man who had seen too much sickness and sadness, at home and in the office.

“Of course I wouldn’t do it for her,” Michael said with a wistful look. “Because I didn’t do it for Dad either. He begged me to, and I wouldn’t. I can’t. I took an oath to do no harm, and I believe in it profoundly. Even Mom thought I should put him out of his misery, and he finally died on his own. I told Mom I had given him a shot that night, so she could feel that we had eased his pain and released him. It consoled her somehow, but I would never do it, which is why I wouldn’t do it for her. I told her it was too soon.”

“She wrote that in the journals too.” Peter was relieved by his brother’s answer. He would have understood it and forgiven it, but he didn’t like the idea that Michael had euthanized their father. And Peter was happy to know that he hadn’t. It would have been a heavy burden for Michael to bear, and even for Peter, knowing that he had.

“People say crazy things in the end. A lot of my patients want me to put them out of their misery. But I can’t do that. God takes them at the right time.” And they both knew that He would do that with Maggie one day too. Peter just hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Michael was doing all he could to make sure that didn’t happen. He was playing roulette with God, but one of these days, he knew he would lose.

“I’m sorry I even asked you,” Peter said apologetically.

“I’m glad you did,” Michael said, looking at him warmly. “I don’t want anything to ever come between us again, and that would have, if you hadn’t asked me. I’m glad you gave me a chance to clear it up. Poor Mom, she wanted out so badly at the end. It was no life for her once Dad died.”

“I can see that from what she wrote.” They both fell silent for a moment, thinking about their parents, and then Michael looked at his brother across the desk.

“How was California?”

“The kids were great. And my soon-to-be ex-wife has a boyfriend,” he said honestly. “That stung a little. It’s hard to feel like a total loser. Money, career, and wife. Three strikes, I’m out.”

“You’ve still got your kids,” Michael reminded him, and Peter nodded.

“They’re coming this summer, for three weeks.”

“I can’t wait to meet them. We have a lot of time to make up for,” Michael said warmly.

“Yes, we do.” Peter smiled and stood up. He knew his brother was busy. “I dropped by to see Maggie, by the way. She looks pretty good.”

“She told me. Just be sure you don’t put the make on her,” Michael teased him, but he knew he wouldn’t. Peter had always been honorable about things like that, more so than Michael, who had slept with several of Peter’s girlfriends when they were young. “You’ve always been the handsome brother.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t help me keep my wife,” he said as Michael walked him out. But Peter knew that was about money, not his looks, or even love. He still looked younger than he was, although Michael looked his age. “Fishing this weekend?” he asked on the way out, and Michael laughed.

“We’re like Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. Yeah, let me see if I can get away, if Lisa will stay with her mother. I don’t want to leave Maggie alone all day. She has enough of that during the week when Lisa’s in school.” The two men hugged, and Peter left, feeling relieved by
what Michael had told him. He had not euthanized either of their parents. It would make reading the rest of his mother’s journals easier, despite his guilt over not coming home to see her more often. At least they had both died of natural causes. He would have been upset if Michael had done that without his consent, but even that wouldn’t have been surprising, since the brothers weren’t speaking to each other then. But all was well, and Peter was at peace.

He went back to the lake and started painting the boys’ room that afternoon. He wanted it clean and fresh for their visit, and not some musty old room where everything was dark and dingy. He wanted them to love it here.

As he painted, he thought about what Maggie had told him about Michael and his son. He hadn’t mentioned it to his brother. He knew it had to be a sore subject for him.

Peter didn’t read his mother’s journals again that night. They were too depressing, and he’d read enough for a while. Instead he answered some e-mails and went to bed early, and the next morning he was surprised to find an e-mail from an investment bank in London. He thought he had sent them a résumé a while back, but could no longer remember, he had sent so many. They were asking him if he would be willing to come to London for an interview, and he thought about it over breakfast. The real question for him was whether he was willing to live there. If he wasn’t, there was no point going for an interview. His conclusion was that it didn’t make much difference if his boys visited him in London or on the East Coast. They were no longer living in the same city. And he could still visit them in L.A. He answered the e-mail and said he would be willing to come. They answered him an hour later, and suggested the following week. He had nothing else to do, so he agreed. He didn’t think it was a sure thing
by any means, but it was worth exploring, everything was, and it was a reputable firm.

He mentioned it to his brother when he came out to go fishing with him that weekend. Michael wished him luck with it, but Peter noticed that he didn’t suggest that Peter look up his nephew. Clearly, the two were seriously estranged, and Peter didn’t say a word about it either.

“When are you going?” Michael asked him as they divided up the day’s catch. They had a good time fishing together.

“Monday,” Peter answered. And then Michael looked sad for a minute.

“I know it’s selfish of me, but I hope you don’t get it. Not for a while anyway. I’m going to miss you when you leave here and go back to the real world.” They were catching up on so many years, and they were both enjoying having their twin back, and in a relationship they had never shared before. It was a blessing for them both.

“Yeah, I know. Me too. The last few months have been great. But you know, when I do leave, I won’t stay away again. You won’t get rid of me now.”

“I hope not,” Michael said, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders. They both smelled like fish, and he started to laugh. “Maggie won’t let me back in the house.” They both laughed like two kids as Peter helped him put the bucket of fish in the car. He couldn’t remember being this happy in a long, long time. He stood there and waved with a slow smile as Michael drove away.

Peter took a flight from Boston to London, and left his truck at the airport, as he had when he went to L.A. He didn’t expect to be gone long. He had taken a day to travel, another for the interview, and two days after that in case anything else came up or if they wanted a second meeting. He had sent his résumé to several other investment banks in London since he was going to be there anyway, but so far no one had written back or asked to see him. Jobs were in short supply in the foreign markets too.

Peter watched a movie, ate dinner, and slept for two hours on the flight. A flight attendant woke him just as they were about to land. Peter looked at the familiar landmarks of London on their way to Heathrow, and wondered about his hotel. For years he had stayed at Claridge’s, but needing to save money, this time he was staying at a smaller, lesser-known hotel. All he really cared about now was the interview. He tried to imagine what it would be like to live in London, as he took a cab into town, and he was satisfied with his room at the hotel. All he had brought was carry-on luggage, with a suit for the interview, a pair of jeans, two tweed jackets, some shirts, two ties, a
pair of loafers, and running shoes. He had no social plans. And he took a walk in Hyde Park that afternoon, enjoying the May sunshine, as he sat on a bench and watched people wander by.

He had dinner alone in a pub that night, and thought about calling his nephew, but he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t seen him since he was seven years old, and he was sure that Bill had grown up knowing that his father and uncle were at odds, not to mention the fact that finding a William McDowell in the London directory would probably not be easy. He could have called Maggie for the number, but he didn’t want to get her excited about his seeing Bill, and then disappoint her if he didn’t. He decided to try it on his own the next day.

He had time on his hands in the morning, and he took the London phone book out of the drawer in the desk at the hotel. There were seven William McDowells, and he didn’t know the neighborhoods well enough to identify which one was most likely. So Peter decided to try them all. The first two didn’t answer, and on the third one an answering machine had an American voice. He knew it was his nephew immediately, because he sounded just like his father. There was no way he could be the wrong one. Peter left him a message saying that he was his uncle, hadn’t seen him in a long time, but he was in London for a few days on business and would enjoy seeing him, if his nephew was so inclined. And he said that if not, he’d understand. He left him the number of his BlackBerry and the name of his hotel. He wondered if he’d return the call, and then he forgot about it when he went to the interview that had brought him to London. He met the managing partner and several others, one of whom had worked at Lehman Brothers in New York. They talked about the sad demise of a great firm.

It was after four o’clock when Peter left the building, and he thought the meetings had gone well. The managing partner had explained that they weren’t hiring at the moment, but they were hoping to do so in the near future, and they had started meeting people to that end. He said that Peter was at the top of their list, if he didn’t mind moving to London, and Peter said he was open to the possibility. They said they would pay for an apartment in London, which was appealing to Peter too. And after that, he went back to his hotel, took off his tie and suit coat, loosened the top button of his shirt, and lay down on the bed. The phone in the room rang almost as soon as he dozed off. The voice at the other end was the same one he had heard on the message machine that morning, and the man who asked for Peter McDowell sounded tense.