Chapter 9
It was after dark before Peter realized he hadn’t had a bite to eat since breakfast, and that was only the quick cup of coffee with Jake. He had spent the entire day in a jittery, buzzed state. He wanted to focus, but all he could think of was Maddy. Could he be a father, after all this time? He might have a son or daughter living somewhere in Colorado and not even know it. What would that say about his character? He shuddered at the thought.
When Peter arrived home he had two messages waiting, one from Jake and the other from Tara. He paused, his hand on the phone. He just didn’t know how to say what he had to say.
Amanda answered on the first ring, and Peter said hello to the girls until Jake could pick up.
“I’m a water-fairy, Uncle Peter,” Hope said in her high, little voice. “I can hold my breath underwater!”
“Good for you, sweetie! I’m proud of you.”
“Me too!” cried Janie in the background. “Me a water-fairy too!”
“You girls, go tell your mother.” Jake was suddenly on the line. “She wants to hear all about it.”
“Hey, Jake. I just got home.” Peter sat on the couch and unlaced his shoes.
“Let me move into the kitchen. It’s bath time here, and everyone’s running around naked as a jay. So it is just a teeny bit chaotic. Hold on.”
“Sure.” Peter could hear the girls giggling and shrieking and Amanda singing, “Puff the Magic Dragon” in the background. Suddenly he longed overwhelmingly for his own home to resonate like that, the sound of children’s laughter and songs; his own family.
“Sorry, Pete. I didn’t want Amanda knowing about this just yet. Did you call the school?”
“No. But I did something else. It’s funny how something that feels inconceivable can turn out to be so simple. I called information and asked for Madeline A. Marsden in a few suburbs outside Denver, and after four or five tries I found a number that goes with the name. I don’t know if it’s the same Madeline Marsden, but how many can there be?”
Jake sucked in his breath. “Did you call?”
“No. I’m worried about scaring her off. After all these years, I think we should meet for the first time face-to-face. I’m going out there. I just booked my ticket before I left the office.”
“The Peter Michaels warpath. Janie!” Jake raised his voice quickly. “What are you doing in the kitchen? Go hop back in the tub.”
There was the sound of wet, slapping feet and a high voice shrieking with glee.
“I’m not on the warpath, Jake,” Peter said. “It’s that I have so little time. There’s the Library Restoration Project, with the decision of the Mayor’s Committee coming up on Monday. I’ve got everything staked on the plans and essay I gave Bill this morning. All I have is this weekend.”
“And—?”
“I know. I’m going over there now. I’ll tell Tara tonight.”
Peter parallel-parked in front of Tara’s apartment and glanced up at the light that shone from her living room window at the top of the stairs. He turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, collecting himself.
He couldn’t remember when Jake had first met Amanda, but Peter had known right away she was the one. Smart, sweet, and unpretentious, Amanda had moved into Jake’s life as though she’d always been there. Her sister Tara had been in Paris pursuing a career in fashion throughout the years Peter had lived with Jake and Amanda, and Amanda had talked every Christmas about her parents’ disappointment when Tara hadn’t come home. Then Tara had finally returned, and suddenly the Parisian fashion career was an off-limits topic.
“It didn’t work out quite how she planned,” Jake had said. “She needs cheering up. I want you to take her out.”
“I don’t know, Jake. You know how much I hate blind dates.”
“We’ll make it a foursome, dude. She won’t eat you.”
“Just this once?” Amanda had said. “For my sake?”
Peter had grinned. “You know I can’t resist your captivating smile.”
How bad could it be? He had thought as he walked into the restaurant that Friday night. A crowded Saturday at Rialto’s was not Peter’s idea of a quiet evening getting to know someone, but Tara had been adamant.
“Dress for success,” Jake had quoted her when he told Peter.
Jake was waving over the heads of the formal suits and sleek evening dresses when Peter was stopped by the frowning maître d’.
“Your reservation, sir?”
Peter pointed politely. “I believe that’s my table.”
Jake beamed as he stood to shake Peter’s hand. “You look like a monkey in that suit,” he whispered into Peter’s ear.
“You look like two of them,” Peter whispered back.
Jake and Amanda had been right that Tara was a knockout. She wore a dress with a plunging V in back that was so tight she could hardly move. Peter could see the resemblance when she and Amanda smiled at the same time, in spite of the slight, endearing irregularity that saved Amanda from Tara’s sharp beauty. It hadn’t been a difficult evening. Peter and Jake and Amanda enjoyed each other too much for that.
It had been that way ever since: the subtle similarities between the sisters, the meaningful differences. Tara’s disappointment over Paris seemed to disappear into thin air, and Jake and Amanda were thrilled. A life together as four best friends was such a seductive idea.
Peter had done his best.
Now Tara was stepping out of her apartment when Peter arrived at the top of the stairs. “I saw your car, and I couldn’t wait. I’ve got something I just have to show you!” She pulled him into the apartment, rushed to the center of the room, and pointed toward a hanger holding a long, lace veil. “Isn’t it the most stylin?”
He turned away, shielding his eyes. “I thought that was bad luck for me to see it.”
“You’re not supposed to see the dress. Besides, I’m not superstitious.”
He began to turn around, but she stopped him.
“Or maybe you shouldn’t. I’ll put it in the closet, just in case.” She opened the kitchen closet and hung it behind the door. “You can look now. What did you think?”
Peter glanced around. The kitchen table had been set with candles and a chilled bottle of champagne in a silver bucket.
“What’s all this for, Tara?”
She shrugged. “Can’t a girl celebrate her own wedding veil? I tried calling your office, but your assistant said you were really crazed.”
“I told you about my meeting at the Mayor’s office this morning. It’s been busy.”
“Can I pour you a glass of champagne?” Tara wrenched the wire off the champagne bottle and forced out the cork with her thumbs.
Peter put out a hand to stop her. “Actually, I’d like to talk to you first. Come. Sit here. There’s something I have to tell you.”
Tara slid her eyes suspiciously toward him. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
Peter took her gently by the arm and sat her next to him. He held her hand in his and took a deep breath. He waited a few seconds, looking down, and then he met her gaze. The candles on the table slowly dripped their wax and Tara’s eyes widened bit by bit as Peter explained about Maddy. He touched Tara’s face and continued to hold her hand even after she pulled away. Finally he was done, and he lowered his head and breathed deeply.
Tara stood and walked to the table, where she blew out the candles and poured herself a glass of the champagne. As soon as she finished drinking it, she poured herself another.
Peter waited.
“You don’t know if any of this is true.” Tara faced him with her champagne glass in her hand. “It might not be the same woman and she might not have any children. Right?”
“Exactly.” Peter nodded.
“I still don’t understand why a girl would leave like that.”
“I know, I—”
“And why did it take you so long to do anything about it? Didn’t you care? Is this just cold feet about the wedding?”
Peter looked down and sighed. “It’s not about the wedding. It’s something completely different. Those people were more than neighbors; they were our friends. I did try to track them down at the time, but things were different then, it wasn’t easy to find someone who wanted to disappear. After awhile my parents said it was useless—”
“I’m feeling sick, Peter.” Tara glared at him.
“I didn’t mean to drop all this on you, but I had to tell you the truth.”
“It’s that shoebox, isn’t it? That silver chain was hers, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I’d left it in Jake’s storeroom, and Amanda found it and told me to pick it up.”
“Well!” Tara shrugged and looked away, drinking her champagne. After a long minute she glanced back at Peter impatiently. “So what does all this have to do with me? I told you I didn’t care about your past, Peter. You’re wrecking what was going to be a perfect night.” She threw back her head and swallowed the rest of her champagne.
“But this affects me, Tara,” Peter said, his hands gripped between his knees. “It affects our life together. Don’t you think that matters?”
“As long as it’s not going to interfere with my wedding plans, then, no, I don’t.” Peter watched as she paced the room. Her face-hardened, and she made quick, exaggerated motions with her arms. “This is stupid, Peter. I have plans, things to do. I don’t have time. I don’t understand why you expect me to deal with this.”
“Because I have to deal with—”
“Then deal with it.”
Peter glanced down at his hands. “I’m going to Colorado,” he said softly.
Tara turned, one hand on her hip, and pointed at him. “When?”
“I have a flight booked tomorrow morning.”
“That won’t work. Tomorrow we’re going to the photographers’.” She paused, sucking her teeth. “But I guess I could take a few days.”
“Excuse me? You’re not coming with me.” Peter stood. “Tara—”
“Why not? It’s only days before our wedding. I’m just going to let you go off to Colorado—” She snapped her fingers at him. “ To God-knows-where.”
Peter ran his hand through his hair, then stopped, took a deep breath, and moved in close to her. “Tara, this is something I have to do. I will call you as soon as I get there. If I do find Madeline, and I do have a child—”
“Oh, God! A kid. I’m thirty-five and not even married. What’s going to happen if there’s a kid?”
“It might be nothing—”
“I can’t talk about this anymore.” Her voice was curt. She pushed his hands off her and brushed her arms.
“I have to go. Tara, I’m sorry.” He took her hand, and she pulled it back. He pulled her close and hugged her, but she didn’t respond, so he kissed her forehead. She yanked out of his arms and walked toward her bedroom, and after a moment he heard the door slam.
As he passed the closet on his way out, he saw that the slamming had swung open the closet door. The wedding veil had fallen out of its plastic bag onto the floor.