Chapter 25
Peter sat on the edge of his bed staring at a piece of paper, the bedside phone in his hand. He imagined what Maddy would say when she heard his voice. He started to dial and stopped. “Come on, Peter, you can do this.” He dialed the numbers and heard the phone begin ringing. After three rings, it was picked up, and his heart jolted in his chest. “Maddy?”
The other end of the line was silent.
“Please don’t hang up. Maddy, it’s me. Peter.”
“I know it’s you.”
Peter exhaled. “Maddy. I needed to speak to you and didn’t know when would be a good time, or if you would even allow me—” He waited. “Is it all right? Were you busy or resting?”
Maddy took her time. “I can talk to you now.”
There was silence again. He stood and paced the room, running his hands through his hair.
“I’m waiting,” Maddy said softly.
“I know. I’m thinking. I have so much to say, and I’m figuring out what to say first. Maddy, I want to tell you first how sorry I am for lying to you. For not telling you who I was. I’m sorry for causing you pain, I’m sorry for not being there for you all these years. I know I told you that—or tried to tell you—but it didn’t come out the way I wanted. Everything I intended to do I failed. I guess when I saw you I was just thrown a curve ball. I didn’t know how to react. Madeline?”
“Yes, Peter.”
“How are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m better.”
“I worry about you.”
“Don’t.” Maddy spoke firmly. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t say I worry because I didn’t think you were strong. You are strong and independent and—” He paused, his chest aching. “Maddy, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m not going to run out and cut my wrists, Peter, if that’s what you’re worried about. You can relax and get on with your life.”
“You know I can’t now.”
“What do you mean ‘you can’t’? You don’t owe me anything.”
“Hear me out, Maddy, please. I didn’t call to check on you and get closure. I called because I—”
“Because you what?”
“I called because you are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. I thought you were incredible years ago, and even then you weren’t a fraction of the woman you’ve become. Being with you the other day—it made me feel, oh, Maddy, as though we had never been apart.”
“How can you say that?” Maddy cried. “You haven’t seen me in over twenty years. You know nothing about my life and me. I don’t know anything about yours.”
“You’re so defensive! I’m talking about the girl I sat with at Frani’s that night twenty years ago. The woman I walked with through St. Bartholomew’s School during recess the other day. When you didn’t know I was Peter, but we were just talking—we weren’t like strangers meeting for the first time. I felt as if time hadn’t really touched us.”
“I haven’t changed? I haven’t? I’m nothing like I was before. That part of me died.”
“I know that’s what you believe, but it isn’t true.” Peter paced into the corners of his bedroom and out again. “Maddy, you’re the same woman I knew all those years ago. Now more vibrant, more daring, with an inner strength I only glimpsed back then. I see that young Maddy through your smile, I hear her through your passion and personality, I feel her through your tenderness and warmth. You say she died, but she’s more alive now than when you could still see. You’re interesting and funny and witty and sexy—”
“Sexy?”
Peter’s voice dropped. “If you could only know what people see when they look at you? If only you could really see what others see. You are so much more than you think.”
There was a silence. Peter paused in the middle of the floor, the phone to his ear.
After a long time, Maddy spoke again quietly. “Peter, why are you doing this? Why are you telling me these things?”
“Because, Maddy, I—” He stopped in front of his bedroom mirror. He stared at his reflection and closed his eyes against the pain in his own eyes. “After being with you that day at the school, and at the coffee shop, and at your house, I realized something.”
“Don’t say something you’re going to regret, Peter.” Maddy’s voice was warning.
“I’m still in love with you, Maddy. I’ve never stopped loving you.” He could hear her on the other end of the phone, crying softly. “Maddy, Maddy, are you all right?” He waited, but there was no answer. “The last thing I want to do is upset you.”
“You’re not upsetting me. You’re confusing me.”
“Forgive me.”
“I don’t understand what you want from me.”
“I want you to know what I feel for you. I want you to know how much I’ve agonized over our past.” Peter slid to the floor against his bed. He brought his knees up to his elbows, laid one hand on his forehead, and closed his eyes.
“You expect me to forget everything that happened and just pick up where we left off? Twenty years suddenly gone? It’s not like I went away to college and just got home. I lost my sight! I wanted to kill myself! I’ve been through more heartbreak than you can imagine. I loathed myself and everyone that was around me. I had constant anxiety attacks were my daily life. I went from trusting the world to trusting no one at all. Not even myself.”
“I understand.” Peter’s head hung between his shoulders, the phone hard against his cheek. “I can’t fathom how much you’ve suffered. I know it must have been a living hell for you, and knowing that makes it hell for me, a reality that haunts me every day. For the rest of my life it will haunt me.”
“Then you must believe me when I say it’s not easy to talk to you again. To hear your voice and hear you tell me things like—like you just did. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that information. You want me to jump up and down when you say you have feelings for me? There’s so much I don’t know.”
“I’m not asking you to dismiss my mistakes. I know I made them. I’m not happy with how I’ve dealt with any of it. All I ask is that you give me a chance at forgiveness.”
“You want to be friends.”
“Of course I want us to be friends. We were friends first. But I also want another chance at more.”
“I don’t—”
“If you’ll only let me. I know it will be a process and a long one. But if you let me—now, don’t say anything, okay? Just listen. Please?” Peter waited.
Maddy’s ragged breathing paused on the other end of the line.
He listened another second and then spoke slowly and carefully. “I would like to start over from the beginning. I want us to get to know one another, the new and improved us. I want to know you, and you to know me, so you can see whether I’m the person you should be with. I believe with all my heart you are the one for me and I am for you. We’ve been catapulted together twice now. It must mean something. I’m not asking you to respond. I just want you to let it sit for awhile.”
Maddy was crying again. Her breath came and went on the line.
“Will you think about this, please? Have I hurt you by telling you these things?”
There was a pause, and then her voice came through stronger. “You didn’t.”
“You sure? Because I never want to hurt you again.”
“I heard what you said. Every word.”
“May I call you tomorrow?” Peter loosened his neck. “Maddy. Madeline.”
“Yes.”
Peter jumped. “Thank you for listening.” His heart was pounding.
“Good night.” Her voice was gentle.
Good night—Maddy.” After he had hung up, he glanced back in the mirror and saw how moonlight shone through a chink in the blinds reflected behind his head. It was only a tiny glitter, but it gave him a small sense of hope, like a little silver and diamond heart.
When Peter arrived at the construction site the next morning, a photographer from the Tribune was waiting for pictures and a quick interview.
“A facelift for Boston,” the reporter said hopefully as she fussed with her tape-recorder, her hair feathered back and her make-up thick.
Peter gestured graciously. “We can do the interview inside the site trailer, if you would like.”
The reporter blushed under her rouge as the photographer nodded and shouldered his cameras over his burnt orange goose-down vest. They followed Peter up the step inside the trailer. Peter was turning to the reporter and removing his jacket when the site foreman knocked on the open door.
“What have you got for me?” Peter dropped his jacket over the back of his chair. “Please, take a seat,” he said to the others. “I’ll only be a minute.”
The foreman showed Peter the copies of the original site plan, his hands rough and weathered on the blueprints. “That might have been the property corner at one time, but it’s not anymore. The marker is over here.”
“I’ll call the County.” Peter was rolling up his sleeves. “What else have you got?”
The foreman shuffled papers. “Missing signatures—” He pointed to one page after another. “Here, here, and here.”
Peter nodded and took them. “I’ll send a courier to the Courthouse. You all set otherwise? Got everything you need for today?”
“Sure. The bobcats should be here any second, and we’ve got the dumpers delivered.”
“Excellent.” Peter clapped him on his broad shoulder. “You do good work sir!”
The foreman laughed. “The day’s early yet.”
He was turning away when two men in pressed suits came around the corner of the trailer.
“This is the architect, Peter Michaels.” The taller man straightened his striped tie and put out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Peter.”
“Good to see you too. How are things at the Mayor’s office?”
The shorter man shook Peter’s hand, his grey beard crisply trimmed. “They’re going to solve world hunger and the population crisis any minute now. We wanted to take a look at your site so we could report back to the Historical Board. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Tim will show you around.” Peter pointed out the foreman, who huddled with his carpenters, as the bobcats began to rumble to life.
“Also, a couple of forms for you to sign—” The taller man adjusted his tie back the other way. “Just red tape.”
Peter laughed. “If I couldn’t take the red tape, I’d never have gone into this business in the first place.” He flourished his signature across the forms propped against his clipboard on his lifted knee and handed them back. “Anything else?”
“I think that’ll do it.” The grey-bearded man shook his hand again. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Peter leaned on the door as the men glanced toward the building site among stacks of plywood and two-by-fours. “Anything else, you just give me a holler.” He pulled his head back into the trailer and smiled at the reporter. “So where were we?” He loosened his collar. “I can tell already it’s going to be a busy day.”
“About this facelift—” The reporter leaned forward over her crossed legs just as the phone rang.
“I totally apologize.” Peter held up a finger. “I swear I’ll be right with you. Hello?”
The Zoning Commission was sending the revised judgment to his office via messenger, and the instant he hung up the trucking company called to say they had accidentally dropped a shipment of cement blocks off at the wrong site.
“Got it.” Peter scribbled quickly on his clipboard, the phone held against his shoulder. “We’ll watch for your truck.” He hung up and finished his notes, then dropped his clipboard on his crowded desk, turning to the reporter and photographer. “You folks are incredibly patient. Where were we?” Peter smiled.
“Fabulous shots!” The photographer put his camera back in the bag over his shoulder and pulled out a smaller, newer Canon. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get a few headshots while you talk.”
Peter’s eyes took on a shade of desperation, but he laughed and leaned back against his desk, his arms folded.
The reporter re-crossed her legs and pulled out her notebook. “That was pretty impressive. No wonder they’re calling you Boston’s savior in a hardhat.” She had a nice smile, perfectly forgettable.
“Oh, God!” Peter laughed out loud. “Please don’t write that. I have colleagues in this town. Seriously, I’ll get raked over the coals like you wouldn’t believe.” Peter shook his head. “It isn’t any more than what other architects deal with.”
“Modest, too.” Her pen moved quickly across her pad. “They’re going to eat this up back in the bullpen.”
“I’m only doing my job. When you love what you do, that makes all the difference.”
“I can see that.” She twisted her ankles around each other. “Now, what about your big wedding coming up? What can you tell me about that?”
The photographer knelt at the reporter’s elbow as he continued to shoot.
“I have a few weeks yet.” Peter’s tone changed, and he pulled the knot of his tie loose.
“Exciting! I hear your fiancée is a dead ringer for Caroline Kennedy. I want all the details.” The reporter’s eyes opened wide as she shifted in her seat.
“Not exactly Caroline, but she’s a lovely woman with excellent taste. The truth is I’m so immersed in this job I wouldn’t know what to tell you about anybody’s wedding. Ask me something about the Library Compound. On that subject I wax quite verbose.”
The reporter glanced at her watch and clicked her tape recorder off. “Tell you what—I’ll give you a call.” She dropped her tape recorder in her over-sized bag and snapped it shut as the photographer began capping his cameras. The reporter stood and shook out her skirt. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s been mine.” Peter shook her hand and the photographer’s. “Give my best to the gang in the bullpen.”
The reporter laughed. “You’re a charmer, Mr. Michaels, and no mistake.”
Peter smiled and stood at the door watching the two cross the site and climb into a minivan with the Boston Tribune logo painted along its side.
The photographer was just pausing at the door to the van and raising his camera for one last shot when a German shepherd ran into the construction site between security guards and sawhorses. Carpenters stopped work and yelled while the dog ran in circles, and an assistant tripped maneuvering through the debris toward it. The dog made a circuit of the site to Peter’s trailer and stopped running directly in front of Peter, panting with its tongue hanging out.
“Hey, there. Steady, buddy.” Peter stroked the dog’s proud head and took it by the collar. The security guards watched as the dog allowed Peter to guide it around the side of his trailer and off the construction site.
It might only have been his imagination, but as he led the docile dog Peter thought he noticed an uncanny resemblance to Boxer.
“Does that happen often?” The reporter called across the building site to Peter from where she stood with one foot on the running board of the minivan.
“Not at all,” Peter called back. “I’ve never seen that dog in my life. But then again, things have been pretty crazy lately. Mysterious signs do not shock me. I take them as positive omens for the job!”
At lunchtime hours later, Jake and Peter sat side-by-side on a bench outside the Mason Street Café watching traffic. Peter was taking a short lunch, but he needed at least a brief break from the constant noise of jackhammers and bulldozers. The ruins of the old fire hadn’t been cleaned up as well as the city records had showed. It was going to be a long, slow process, and now it was all his responsibility.
Peter leaned back and stretched his legs, his hands around his paper cup. “Jake, do you believe in true love?”
“Yes.” Jake smacked his lips over his scone.
“Really? It was that easy for you to answer?”
“Call me a romantic, my friend, but everything that’s happened with me and Amanda felt planned.”
Peter swallowed. “Okay then. Do you believe I’m destined to be with Maddy?”
“I believe you’re going to work hard to make it happen. The better question is, ‘What do you think?’ ”
“I believe we’re being drawn together somehow. Even after all these years I can’t stop thinking of her. It feels like I’m surrounded by hints of things to come.” Peter stopped.
A man passed by with a boy of eight or nine years old, the boy with a walking stick and the man helping him count his steps. Peter and Jake watched the boy count along with the man, focused and intent, without any sign of fear. The man stopped and watched the boy walk ahead of him right to the corner and stop. They watched as he ran to the boy and kissed his cheek.
“Good job!” The man took the small hand, and together they crossed the street.
“Do you see what I mean?” Peter turned to Jake. “I’ve been coming to this place for years, and in all this time I have never seen those two. I’ve never seen anyone blind walking around here. This morning there was a German shepherd running loose at the job site. I swear they’re signs. The entire universe is tapping me on the shoulder.”
“Peter, have you thought about what you’d be giving up? That’s if Maddy even wants you. She’s settled there, you’re settled here. What would you do? Live together in a city halfway?”
“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I have to. If it means leaving here, then the minute the library’s rebuilt I’ll leave everything. This is my window.”
Jake laughed. “Your what?”
“My window of opportunity. Like in space, the only way to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere is through what they call windows.” Peter shook his paper cup in Jake’s face until he grinned and snatched it out of his hand. “Jake, this one is mine.”