Chapter 40
The late afternoon August sunset streamed across the green lawn to the patio where Peter bent over the barbeque with a wire brush, working as well as he could for the pain in his knuckles.
It had been a long time since Peter had entertained in his home. Jake and Amanda invited him and his leggy, eighteen-year-old Madeline frequently to dinner at their familiar house with the classical woodwork and a fire always burning in the big stone fireplace. Madeline drove them occasionally to Chatham to see Amy and Lance, who had been living with teenaged Victoria and Matthew in the old Michaels place ever since Sheila passed.
Peter loosened his neck as it came back to him now—Madeline’s terrible grief the night of Tara’s final diagnosis, and the heartbreaking pain returning to her beautiful almond eyes. There had been the secret relief between Peter and Tara that Madeline had been able to enjoy her high school graduation and was starting college. He recalled Madeline’s dimple under her tears as he had read Tara’s favorite Henry Van Dyke poem over the shining coffin on that summer morning, Madeline’s delicate hand in his as they had stood by Tara’s grave and together thrown their roses down onto the heap of the others.
Peter looked up across the patio over the barbeque, where he had lit the coals and was fitting the grill back into place. The coals were almost ready. Thankfully, the heat had made this a good day. His arthritis was getting worse, and he missed being active. When Madeline’s friends had invited her to join them in the Berkshires, he had encouraged her to go. So much of her innocent young life had been lost to grieving. She needed to believe in the future.
Before she had left, Madeline had strictly forbidden Peter to drive. “You know your knees make it difficult.” She had attempted to take Tara’s bossy tone, but he had seen the pleading in her young eyes.
“All right, sweetheart.” Peter had patted her hands, recognizing Richard’s gesture, even as he did it. “I’ve invited Amy and Lance and Jake and Amanda to watch the Sox game on Saturday.”
Now he stretched his arms over his head in the August sunset. Just because he wasn’t driving didn’t mean he couldn’t sneak an extra beer or exert himself a little in front of Amanda as he worked the grill, both things his vigilant Madeline—with Peter’s quick eyes and Tara’s determination—would never allow.
He lifted the tray of chicken to the grill and glanced across the patio at Amanda with her hand on Amy’s arm, the sunset lighting their hair as they laughed, their heads close together. Amy, with her quick, light voice and greying blonde hair reminded Peter so much of Sheila it made his heart ache. Amanda had developed Tara’s characteristic dimple as she had gotten older, a crease that appeared and disappeared in one cheek. He looked over at Jake in conversation with Lance—he had aged well, maybe carrying an extra pound or two. Peter sighed.
As he laid the chicken on the grill over the hot coals, he heard Amanda drop her voice casually, and Peter paused to listen.
“Did he say yes?” Amanda took a sip of wine to hide her face.
“No, but we’re not giving up. You have to see him, Amanda. Sometimes he can hardly get out of his chair. Madeline tells me he doesn’t always take his meds.”
“He forgets?”
“He just doesn’t like to. They make him feel strange. He had a lot of pain one morning and took his pill, and when he finally woke up he had missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“Did he tell the doctor?”
“The doctor says with the amount of pain he gets anything less won’t even touch the surface. It’s bad, honey. I mean—we look at him now, and he still looks great and strong, and he has his sense of humor like always. But when he’s suffering, it breaks my heart. He doesn’t want to be old.”
“Sixty-one isn’t old.” Amanda glanced quickly at Peter by the grill. His hair was still full and wavy, slightly long for his age but distinguished with white highlights.
“It’s the arthritis with the strain of caring for Tara, losing so much sleep over Madeline. All I want is for him to move back home to Chatham—to be with us.” Amy shook her head. “He’s so stubborn. I can’t stop worrying. Madeline will be going away to college soon, and I don’t want him to stay here in Boston alone. You and Jake made room for Peter years ago, but you’ve got the grandchildren now. He’s my big brother. I want to take care of him.”
“And you shall. Just give him time. I don’t have to tell you, when he gets something in his head—”
“So pigheaded!”
They glanced into each other’s eyes and laughed.
Peter smiled and shook his head as Jake leaned over his shoulder to poke the chicken. “They totally think I can’t hear them.” Peter stabbed a piece and turned it.
“Yeah, I heard.” Jake caught Peter’s eye and laughed. Jake looked at Amanda and a small smile crossed his face as he watched her laughing with Amy and Lance, light wrinkles radiating from the corners of her eyes. Peter followed his gaze and touched Jake’s arm. Jake turned to Peter and smiled. They stood quietly for a moment as Peter lifted and rotated the chicken one piece at a time.
“So are you going to move in with them?” Jake asked, his beer to his mouth. “I know retirement hasn’t been easy, and now Madeline’s applying to colleges.”
“I don’t want to.” Peter’s voice was strained.
Jake scratched his face with his beer bottle and raised his eyebrows. “Can’t you get one of those clap-on thingamajigs for when you can’t get up from bed or something? I mean you’ve always been kind of a wimp.”
“Shut up!” Peter flicked the basting brush at him. “Don’t make me steal your wife and teach you how real men age.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Peter smiled as he lowered the cover of the grill. “Can I tell you something, Jake? Madeline has decided on pre-med for her degree. She’s looking into universities right now.”
“My best friend’s daughter is going be a doctor!”
“Did I tell you where the university of the week is?”
“Boston?”
“She’s going to Colorado.”
Jake nodded, and then his eyes widened. “As in, Denver?”
“As in.” Peter checked the chicken and took a sip of beer. “Jake, I told you what Tara told me right?”
“I know where this is going my friend. After all these years, you still haven’t let go,” Jake said as he watched Peter lift the hood and move the chicken around.
Peter’s eyes were shadowed with sorrow. “There’s nothing more I can do for Tara, she’s gone. You know that. Grief takes its own time. I don’t want Madeline thinking she has to stick around here taking care of her crippled dad. I certainly don’t want to move in with Amy and Lance to be fussed over like an old man.” He raised his eyes to meet Jake’s. “Life flashes by so quickly.”
Jake lowered his beer from his mouth, and after a long moment he nodded. “Then go, brother.”
Later they all sat around the teak patio table in the warm summer twilight, eating by the light of citronella torches. Amy had brought with her a picnic tablecloth of Sheila’s, and Peter smiled at the sight of yet another barbeque served over the familiar designs.
Jake passed a bottle of white wine. “Hey babe, Robby is three right?”
Amanda sat back in her chair and smiled, the dimple creased into her cheek. “Dillon is four, and Robby is three.”
“They belong to Hope’s or Janie?” Amy took another helping of potato salad.
Amanda smiled widely. “Dillon is Hope’s, and Robby is Janie’s.”
“Tell them, honey.” Jake took her hand, almost laughing with excitement.
“You’re pregnant.” Peter blurted.
Amy laughed, spilling her water glass in her lap.
“I still got it, Peter.” Jake leaned into Amanda. “Right, babe?”
“I’m not pregnant.” Amanda smiled. “But Janie is, and she’s having twin girls.”
Amy leaned out of her chair to hug Amanda, Lance clapped Jake on the back, and Peter reached for a glass and stood for a toast. When he struggled to keep his balance, Amy glanced at Amanda.
Peter finally freed his hand from the table and held his glass upright. “Here’s to Janie’s new baby girls. May they be healthy, and may they bring as much happiness to their family as their grandparents and mother and aunt have brought to me.”
They clicked glasses and drank.
Peter cleared his throat. “And here’s to the one we all miss, whom we know is missing us all right now, even in heaven where she gets to have everything her own way to her heart’s content.” Tears sparkled in his eyes over his shaking smile.
“Hear, hear.” The sound of clicking glasses was clear in the twilight, and Jake put his arm around Amanda as she wiped her eyes on her napkin, laughing even as she cried.
“And one more.” Peter adjusted his balance and glanced at the two of them meaningfully. “Here’s to Amanda, who is here with us as healthy and beautiful as ever.”
“Hear, hear!” Jake kissed Amanda tenderly.
Amy clapped, and Lance lifted his glass to Amanda, who smiled through her tears and shook her head, patting Jake’s cheek. The citronella torches wavered lightly in the breeze; as Peter lowered himself carefully back into his chair.
“So, Peter, any dates yet? Madeline and Nick—have they decided when to get married?”
“If Nick could marry her today he would.” Peter sipped his wine.
“So what’s the problem?” Amy looked at him over the rim of her glass.
“Madeline. She says she wants to get settled before she gets married. She doesn’t want to rush into anything young. The idea of getting settled wasn’t an issue before, and now all of a sudden it’s all she talks about.”
“Commitment can be an issue for some people.” Jake smiled at Amanda. “Not me.”
“Madeline’s just so cautious about everything.” Peter smiled sadly. “She almost didn’t wear Nick’s ring when he gave it to her and now, Madeline suddenly wants to plan everything out in detail, try to control her life even more obsessively than Tara—as if that’s going to ensure anything. I’ve told her I think Nick is a great guy.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Lance said. “Maybe they are too young.”
“I want her to have chance at happiness while she still can.”
“At nineteen? That’s how old she will by the wedding.” Lance raised his eyebrows.
“We were just twenty when we got married.” Jake lifted his glass. “And look how it turned out for us!”
Amanda leaned forward with her own glass raised. But when Peter clicked glasses with them, he remembered Madeline as a baby in his arms. It felt like just a short time ago to him and now his daughter was a young woman.
“Game starts in five minutes.” Lance checked his watch.
“Remote’s on the table.” Peter struggled to his feet as Jake stood and blew out the citronella torches.
“We’ll take care of this.” Amy reached to stack the plates, and she and Amanda carried them through the sliding glass door into the kitchen.
Jake turned to Peter, and for a moment they looked at each other. “What are you going to do if Maddy wants you back?”
“Tell her I want to spend what’s left of my life with her.”
“No way! Have you thought about the possibility that she might be married?”
“If she’s happy, she won’t do anything. But if she’s not, I want to be with her. It’s all I can do—open my heart completely and let her see I’m still the same guy who caught her in my arms on that pier so many years ago.”
Jake glanced toward the kitchen doorway. “Well, look at me: old and fat and more in love than ever. Who would have guessed?”
Peter’s eyes filled at the thought. “Yeah.” He gripped Jake’s shoulder. “That’s because she never saw you with a hockey stick.”
“Cocky till the end, old man?”
“Who you calling old man?” Peter laughed out loud.
“Put up your dukes!” Jake stood laughing behind Peter as he made his way around the table. “But, buddy, let’s watch the game first.”
Peter’s walk was slower, his face a little peaked, and Jake opened the door and offered his hand. “We’ll see about the ice,” Jake mumbled as Peter passed him.
“I heard that.” Peter glanced, smiling, over his shoulder as he leaned on the door that Jake held patiently for him.