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Jonny was happy to get back home and sleep in his own bed, with Peter beside him. It was especially great because he knew it wouldn’t be his bed, or his apartment, for long.
He was exhausted by everything that had happened since he received that phone call at the foot of Mount Ellen, and yet he couldn’t sleep. As Peter breathed gently beside him, Jonny went back to sitting in the living room with mom and his sisters.
Each of them had received a letter from his father – and instructions on whose should be read first, starting with Maria, the oldest.
Apparently he had written her letter shortly after his first heart attack. He told her how proud he was of her success at marriage, family and career. “From the time you were a baby, I knew you were going to be someone to be reckoned with. You have your mother’s determination. You knew exactly when you wanted your bottle, when you wanted to play, when you wanted to nap. Maybe because you were our first, your mom and I made our world revolve around you. I hope she and I have had some part in making you the woman you are today.”
He ended with lots of love to her and her family, and by then she was crying brokenly. Amanda put her arm around Maria’s shoulders and hugged her, and once again Jonny felt like the odd man out, as he often had been as a kid. They were older than he was, they were girls, they were often a solid front against him in teasing.
Not that he didn’t love them, or that they didn’t love him. It was just a sibling thing. He had a quick memory of Peter, an only child, and felt sorry that he had missed these confused emotions.
Amanda read her letter next. “You were Daddy’s little girl, always ready to help me at my workbench or join me on a trip to the hardware store. I like to think that your artistic talent comes in part from me and my ability to work with my hands. I love you, my mini-me. I hope you always know that.”
He ended her letter, as he had Maria’s with love for her husband and her son. By then she was sobbing, too, and she and Maria were clutching onto each other like life preservers.
Peter assumed that his letter would be next, but a note on the envelope said that he was to go last. His mom’s hands were too shaky, so he opened the envelope for her and handed the letter to her.
“My darling Margaret,” he began. “I will make this quick because I know this will be difficult for you. These last years with you have been the best of my life, because I have been able to put aside most other things and focus on my love for you.”
She began crying, and couldn’t continue. She handed the letter to Jonny.
“I want you to know that I have done my best to make sure that you will be taken care of now that I am gone,” he read, his voice thick. “You and I raised three wonderful children and I trust they will always do what’s best for you.”
Jonny was sniffling by then, but managed to finish with, “Your loving husband, Martim.”
His father had been named for a Portuguese ancestor, Martim da Costa Santos, but had always gone by Marty. There was something final about his choice of signing the letter with his birth name, as if he had come into this world under that name and would leave it that way, too.
Indeed, that was the name they had chosen to put on his headstone, along with “Beloved Husband, Father and Grandfather,” as if they’d anticipated this is what he’d wish.
Jonny himself had been named for his paternal grandfather, João, and was eternally grateful his parents had opted for the Americanization instead of forcing him to spend his life telling people his name was pronounced Joe-Wow.
It took a couple of minutes for everyone to stop crying. Finally Maria said, “You haven’t read your letter, Jonny.”
He carefully tore open the envelope the way his father had taught him, an index finger under the seam. His father hated people who tore through envelopes, who couldn’t open ice cream boxes or cardboard boxes correctly. It struck Jonny then that no matter what his letter said, he already knew the impact his father had placed on his life.
“My best boy,” his father began. “For the longest time, your mother and I thought you were a changeling, dropped into our lives by the angels to test us. You were rambunctious and cried all the time and had trouble focusing on your schoolwork.”
“Oh, yes,” his mother said, and Jonny gave her the side eye. She laughed. “It’s true. Maria and Amanda each had their own personalities as children, but both of them were diligent students. Maria always had a book in front of her, and Amanda could build anything out of her Legos that she set her mind to. You couldn’t sit still.”
Jonny frowned. He didn’t remember those early childhood years. His first real memory was of his father teaching him to ice skate, probably around five or six years old. That feeling of soaring across the ice—that set the pattern for his outdoor life.
“It wasn’t until you began to become an athlete that you found your way. Even though you inherited my ability to work with my hands, I couldn’t keep you inside when you could be swimming or skating or skiing. At the same time, you developed the biggest heart of anyone I know. You were never too busy to pick up another child who had fallen on the ice or the slope, or to give pointers to your teammates.”
Jonny wiped tears from his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued. It was up to him to remain strong, the way his father would have wanted.
“That is why I know I can count on you to take care of your mother. I think you have always known this time was coming, which is why you haven’t settled on a career. For a long time, I despaired of you, my boy. That you would want to play away the rest of your life, never connecting with another person on a deep level, never making a real contribution to society. Now I understand that you wanted to be free to step in if your mother and I needed you.”
His father had never said that in so many words, but after a while he had accepted Jonny’s desire to stay a ski bum for a while. Was it true? Had he put his whole life on hold because he knew that at some point he’d have to drop everything and look after his mother?
The letter went on to reference a separate set of documents, the records of the properties he had bought and the income projected. If Jonny was careful there would be enough money to keep his mother in her house, to pay for her medicine and doctor’s bills, and provide a small salary for Jonny as well.
“That was your father’s idea,” his mother said, when he was finished. “We talked about it and argued about it. I suggested that we could sell the properties and invest the money in a mutual fund or an annuity. I can hire someone to come in a few days a week to keep the house clean and run my errands. You don’t have to give up your life for me.”
He noticed Maria and Amanda staring at him. If he took this on, it would make their lives easier. They could call their mother once a week, make a visit every winter, and know that she was taken care of. But he didn’t think they should get off so easily. They had to take some responsibility for their mother, too.
“I need to think about this,” Jonny said carefully. “I want to make sure Mom is taken care of, and I want to honor Dad’s wishes. But I can’t do it alone.”
“I can manage Mom’s finances,” Maria volunteered. “And even do some bookkeeping for you and the properties, if you need it.”
“I have some flexibility because of my tile work,” Amanda said. “I can bring my supplies with me, come in for a week every couple of months and give you a break. I want Rowan to know his grandma, too.”
“I appreciate the offers,” Jonny said. “I’m not as carefree and unencumbered as Dad thought, though. If I’m going to move down here, I have to get out of my lease, quit my job, and make a bunch of arrangements.” He hesitated. “And I’m in a relationship. I don’t know how that will work into everything.”
Maria stood up. “Why don’t you and Mom talk? Amanda and I will go out and pick up a pizza for dinner.”
When his sisters were gone, his mother turned to Jonny. “So, your relationship. Tell me about him.”
Jonny’s mouth dropped open. “You knew?”
She nodded. “Your father and I both had our suspicions, but it wasn’t until you told us you had a new roommate that we knew for certain. The way you talk about this fellow, Peter. It’s different from Katie or Lana.”
“He’s an EMT,” Jonny said. “He loves all the same winter sports I do. I don’t know that I can ask him to move to Florida.”
“Do you love him?”
Jonny blew out a breath. “It’s so hard to say, Mom. I don’t know all that many people in same-sex relationships, so I’m not sure what I feel.”
She smiled. “You don’t need other people. You feel it in your heart.”
As if on cue, his heart skipped a beat. “Then yes, I do love him. And I think he loves me, too. At least he says so, and I see it in the way he talks to me and cares about me.” He paused. “He wanted to come down here with me, but I thought it would be too much to spring on you at a bad time.”
“I would like to meet him. Maybe he’ll come down with you the next time you visit.”
You mean when I move here, Jonny thought, but he didn’t say that.
After thinking all that through, somewhere in the middle of the night he fell asleep, and when he woke Peter was in the kitchen making chocolate chip pancakes, Jonny’s favorite. He smelled the aroma of butter and chocolate, and after a quick trip to the bathroom he walked out and sat down at the table.
Peter put a stack of pancakes on a plate and brought them to Jonny, along with a bottle of real Vermont maple syrup and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Then he sat down across from Jonny with his own plate and mug.
“So. Big day yesterday. How are you holding up?”
Jonny looked at Peter, and warmth welled up inside him. Surprising himself, he said, “Good, actually. It’s like my life has been in a warm-up phase waiting for the main event. And it’s here.”
“You want to move to Florida.”
It wasn’t a question, and Jonny appreciated how Peter knew him well enough to see that.
“How do you feel about the Sunshine State?”
Peter shrugged. “Honestly? Never thought about it.”
“The thing you do,” Jonny began. “The reindeer thing. Is that connected to being in the cold? I mean, I’ve never heard of reindeer in Florida.”
“I honestly don’t know. All the other guys live north of the Mason-Dixon line.” He frowned. “There are shifter outposts in the southern hemisphere, too, but nothing near the equator as far as I know. I’d have to ask around, see if anyone else has tried it.”
“How about your license? Is that a state thing?”
“Most states certify us through a national registry, so as long as I’m certified in Vermont I should be able to pass whatever I need to in Florida. And I have to recertify every two years anyway.”
Jonny leaned forward. “Would you consider moving to Florida?”
Peter smiled. “I’ve certainly been thinking about it, ever since you first heard from your mom that your dad had passed. I’ve never been to Florida, though the beaches and surf sure look appealing compared to Vermont winters.”
He ate a forkful of pancakes and noticed Jonny had started his. “Go on, eat,” he said. “I figure in Florida I can learn to windsurf, to sail and water ski. And we can always take ski vacations back to Vermont, can’t we? I just have to shift, and you can hop on my back with all our gear on a little sled, and voila! We’re back here.”
“Can you do that? Fly wherever you want?”
Peter shrugged. “I’ve never tried going anywhere for vacation, but I don’t see why not. I fly around up here for pleasure when I feel like it.”
“Seems like we both have stuff to think about,” Jonny said. “Are you working today?”
“Yeah. I have to leave in a half hour. But before I go, I need to know something.”
Jonny put down his fork and looked at Peter. “What’s that?”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
There was a nakedness in Peter’s gaze that made Jonny’s heart dip. He reached across the table and took Peter’s hand. “More than anything,” he said.
