Chapter 33
Amy and Lance said their goodbyes after dessert, as Victoria and Matthew hung on Peter’s neck sneaking kisses while he pretended to fight them away, and Lance peeled first Matthew and then Victoria off finger-by-finger.
“You’ll see him again soon,” Amy said, taking Matt’s hand. “You would think we were taking you into outer space.” She kissed Peter. “Good-bye, big brother. Give our love to Tara.”
Richard turned on the television to watch the Patriots game, and Sheila and Madeline sat on the living room floor with boxes of photographs laid out near a pile of yearbooks, paper scraps marking the pages. Peter paused to take in the sight of his family in his parents’ living room in the evening lamplight, so familiar and so dear to him.
“Daddy, you were super-popular! Look at these books. You’re on almost every page. A legend in your own time!”
“Your father was the pride and joy of Chatham—and of my heart.”
“Mom.” Peter smiled as he sat on the couch beside Madeline on the floor.
“Was this when you played hockey?” Madeline held up a photo, and Peter leaned in to see.
“Yes. That was sophomore year. I was captain my junior and senior years.”
“Look how handsome you were!”
“What happened? Am I not handsome now?”
Madeline laughed up at him. “You know what I mean.”
“Everyone gets old,” Richard commented from his recliner.
“Speak for yourself, Pops.” Peter lifted his beer to his mouth, and Richard glanced at him with a sidelong grin.
Madeline continued to sort through boxes of photos, Sheila pointing out faces and telling stories.
“This was your father’s first birthday. Do you see what he’s done to his cake? This was when he got his first bicycle. Your Grandpa taught him to ride it right out here in this very cul-de-sac. Oh and this was your father’s high school graduation. You see those two fingers held up behind his head?” Sheila shook her head with fond exasperation. “That’s Jake.”
Eventually, Madeline twisted to look in the bottom of the last box and held up one last photo. “Grandma, who’s this girl? She’s so pretty she’s like an angel.”
Madeline handed the photo to Sheila, and Sheila adjusted the glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. She lowered the photo and looked at Peter, who was watching the game. She smiled faintly, and then raised her shoulders, unable to speak.
“I’ll ask Daddy.” Madeline took the photo and, before Sheila could object, raised it to Peter’s face. “Who is this?”
Peter turned his eyes from the television to his daughter and smiled. He lifted the photo, and his smile faded.
Maddy stood in front of her home in shorts and a bikini top, squinting a bit and smiling at the camera. Only twenty, with her chocolate-brown hair, her hazel eyes, and the little wrinkle on top of her nose. Madeline was right—she was like an angel. Peter lowered the photo and looked at Sheila, who was suddenly busy with the yearbook. He glanced at Madeline and nodded.
““Do you know her, Daddy?”
He exhaled and gave Madeline the photo back. “A friend of mine. She lived across the street. Her name was Maddy.”
“Like Madeline? Hey, I like Maddy for short. How come you never call me that?”
“I don’t know.” Peter was facing the television, his face expressionless.
“What happened to her? Why did you say her name ‘was’? Did she die?”
“No, honey! She just moved away. It was a long time ago.”
“That’s sad.” Madeline knelt at Peter’s side and leaned into his leg. “Was she ever your girlfriend?”
“Now, look at this one of your Daddy.” Sheila suddenly put a photo in Madeline’s hands. “Look how sweet he was—”
Peter took the opportunity to move down the couch closer to Richard, his heart pounding. When he lifted his beer to his mouth, his hand shook.
Madeline shuffled through the photographs next to Sheila and tossed back her hair with that gesture that reminded Peter so much of Tara. “Grandma, what are we going to do tomorrow?”
“Your grandfather and dad are going to check on the boat, and they said we can come along. We’ll have lunch in town.”
“We will school you in the Michaels family trade.” Richard made a fist in the air. “We of the sea!”
“Oh, honey.” Sheila shook her grey head at him. “Your grandfather’s such a ham. We’re going to have fun. Then in the morning I’ll make us all blueberry pancakes.” Sheila smiled and stroked Madeline’s face.
“Do you make them as good as Daddy’s?” Madeline beamed up at her. “Cause he’s my hero.”
“And where do you think that recipe came from, young lady?”
Madeline leaned over and touched Peter’s leg, looking up at him from the floor. “My Daddy,” she said sweetly.
But Peter was miles away.
New Year’s Eve 1965
Peter and Maddy sat in his car by the curb in front of the Marsden house with its black shutters over white in the moonlight and the azalea pots covered with small caps of snow. Maddy shivered as he fussed with the heater and wrapped his new woolen scarf around her neck, rubbing her arms up and down.
“Are you feeling warmer? I hope you don’t mind that we left early.” Peter took her hands in his.
“Honestly, I didn’t want to be around all those people when the ball dropped. There’s only one person I want to be with on New Year’s Eve.” Maddy laughed quietly as her teeth chattered.
“Maybe this will help warm you.” Peter whispered, leaning in to kiss her. She kissed him back and ran her hands through his long, silky hair. They were burning against each other in the dark car, snow falling silently around them. After a long minute she pulled away.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered dizzily.
“I have to go, Peter. I don’t want to, honestly. I’d much rather stay.”
“Won’t that be heaven?” He nuzzled her soft hair. “When we can go to bed together every night and wake up in each other’s arms. Knowing that even when we’re apart we’ll be together soon in our own home.”
“It feels so far away.”
“Nonsense. I can see us married in a year and a half.”
Maddy lifted her body away from his, her back pressed into the steering wheel. She touched his face with her finger and kissed his chin. “I love that you’re planning ahead, thinking about our lives together. Usually that’s something guys just say. Girls are the ones who think about when and how long, things like that.”
“Are you calling me a girl?” Peter growled at her.
Maddy kissed his bottom lip, pulling slightly. “I love you so much.” She kissed him again. “Tell me what it’s going to be like.”
“Being married?”
“For instance: Sunday nights.”
Peter laughed a little. “Well—” He thought for a moment. “Sometimes if there’s a game we’ll have Jake and his new girlfriend Amanda over for deep-dish pizza.”
“Company already?” Maddy laughed. “But they have to leave as soon as the game is over.”
“Certainly. Then we’ll clean up side-by-side, obviously.”
“You do the dishes. I don’t like to do dishes.”
“I’ll do the dishes. Then we can—”
“How about dinner? Do we go out on Sunday nights—do we have sandwiches?”
Peter shook his head. “There’s only one thing to eat on Sunday nights. Pancakes.”
“At night?” Maddy’s voice went up.
“That’s the very best time.” Peter shifted under her weight, his hands on her hips. “I make these great blueberry pancakes. I use plenty of butter so the edges get golden brown and a little crunchy, and then I cook them until the blueberries are about to pop from the heat. I warm the syrup, and I serve them with a tall glass of cold milk or coffee.”
“That sounds great—”
“—And we can eat them in bed while I have my way with you.”
“After we eat, of course,” Maddy said fastidiously. “I wouldn’t waste blueberries.”
“Naturally.” He leaned in to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed and kissed, lost in each other, in the heat and electricity and timelessness. Then he pulled back and whispered against her lips. “Are you wearing it?”
She pulled his woolen scarf away from her neck and showed him the shiny silver heart dangling with its small diamond. “I never take it off.”
Peter smiled and looked into her eyes. His smile faded as he looked down at her hands, and he slowly removed her left glove.
“What is it, Peter?” Her eyes widened.
“Maddy, it’s time for me to ask,” he said after a moment, lacing her fingers with his own. In the distance they heard bells begin to chime and fireworks popping. “This is our moment. Madeline Marsden, will you marry me?”
Maddy closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and smiled, crinkling her nose. “Peter Michaels, you know I will.”
“You won’t get tired of me and leave me for a better cook?”
“Never! Never! Never!” She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him emphatically between each word.
He kissed her back and touched the dangling silver heart. “I promise you, Maddy. A gold ring will follow the diamond.”
1999
“Dad!”
“I’m sorry, honey. What where you saying?” Peter shook his head, startled.
“Where were you?”
He smiled tenderly at her. “Thinking about pancakes.”
“You were listening to me!” Madeline got up and sat on Peter’s lap, and he hugged her hard. He wondered if he would ever be able to stop. He could still hear her young voice only weeks earlier, sobbing in the night behind her closed bedroom door.