“I hope you can stay for supper,” Kate said.
“I don’t want to put you out any.”
“Nonsense. We’d love to have you.”
“To tell the truth, I’d appreciate it. I can’t remember when I last had a home—cooked meal.”
“This is Jason.” Kate gestured proudly toward our son.
“Hi, Jace.” The man shook hands with him. “Do you like to play baseball?”
“Yeah,” Jason said, “but I’m not very good at it.”
“Reminds me of myself at your age. Tell you what. After supper, we’ll play catch. How does that sound?”
“Great.”
“Well, let’s not keep you standing on the porch. Come in,” Kate said. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
“A beer if you’ve got it.” The man who said he was Petey started to follow Kate inside.
But before he crossed the threshold, I had to know. “Are you wearing contact lenses?”
“No.” The man frowned in confusion. “What makes you ask?”
“You needed glasses when you were a kid.”
“Still do.” The man reached into his knapsack and pulled out a small case, opening it, showing a pair of spectacles, one lens of which was broken. “This happened yesterday morning. But I can get around all right. As you know, I need glasses just for distance. Was that a little test or something?”
Emotion made my throat ache. “Petey … welcome home.”
“This is the best pot roast I ever tasted, Mrs. Denning.”
“Please, you’re part of the family. Call me Kate.”
“And these mashed potatoes are out of this world.”
“I’m afraid I cheated and used butter. Now our cholesterol counts will be shot to hell.”
“I never pay attention to stuff like that. As long as it’s food, it’s welcome.” When Petey smiled, his chipped front tooth was visible.
Jason couldn’t help staring at it.
“You want to know how I got this?” Petey gestured toward the tooth.
“Jason, you’re being rude,” Kate said.
“Not at all.” Petey chuckled. “He’s just curious, the same as I was when I was a kid. Jace, last summer I was on a roofing project in Colorado Springs. I fell off a ladder. That’s also how I got this scar on my chin. Good thing I was close to the ground when I fell. I could have broken my neck.”
“Is that where you live now?” I asked. “In Colorado Springs?”
“Lord no. I don’t live anywhere.”
I stopped chewing.
“But everybody lives somewhere,” Kate said.
“Not me.”
Jason looked puzzled. “But where do you sleep?”
“Wherever I happen to be, there’s always someplace to bed down.”
“That seems …” Kate shook her head.
“What?”
“Awfully lonely. No friends. Nothing to call your own.”
“I guess it depends on what you’re used to. People have a habit of letting me down.” Petey didn’t look at me, but I couldn’t help taking his comment personally. “And as for owning things, well, everything of any importance to me is in my knapsack. If I can’t carry it, I figure it holds me back.”
“King of the road,” I said.
“Exactly. You see”— Petey leaned toward Jason, propping his elbows on the table —“I roam around a lot, depending on where the work is and how the weather feels. Each day’s a new adventure. I never know what to expect. Like last Sunday, I happened to be in Butte, Montana, eating breakfast in a diner that had a television. I don’t normally look at television and I don’t have any use for those Sunday—morning talk shows, but this one caught my attention. Something about the voice of the guy being interviewed. I looked up from my eggs and sausage, and Lord, the guy on TV sure made me think of somebody — but not from recently. A long time ago. I kept waiting for the announcer to say who the guy was. Then he didn’t need to — because the announcer mentioned that the guy’s kid brother had disappeared while bicycling home from a baseball game when they were youngsters. Of course, the guy on television was your father.”
Petey turned to me. “As I got older, I thought more and more about looking you up, Brad, but I had no idea where you’d gone. When the announcer said you lived in Denver, I set down my knife and fork and started for here at once. Took me all Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Mind you, I tried phoning along the road, but your home number isn’t listed. As for your
business
number, well, your secretary wouldn’t put me through.”
“Because of all those crank calls I told you about on the way over here.” I felt guilty, as if he thought I’d intentionally rejected him.
“Three days to drive from Montana? You must have had car trouble,” Kate said.
Petey shook his head from side to side. “A car’s just something else that would own me. I hitchhiked.”
“
Hitchhiked?
” Kate asked in surprise. “Why didn’t you take a bus?”
“Well, there are two good reasons. The first is, in my experience, people who ride buses tend to have the same boring stories, but any driver with the courage to pick up a hitchhiker is definitely someone worth talking to.”
The way he said that made us chuckle.
“If it turns out they’re
not
interesting, I can always say, ‘Let me off in the next town.’ Then I take my chances with another car. Each ride’s a small adventure.” Petey’s eyes crinkled with amusement.
“And what’s the second reason for not taking the bus?” I asked.!
The amusement faded. “Work’s been a little scarce lately. I didn’t have the money for the ticket.”
“That’s going to change,” I said. “I know where there’s plenty of work on construction projects — if you want it.”
“I sure do.”
“I can give you some pocket money in the meantime.”
“Hey, I didn’t come here for handouts,” Petey said.
“I know that. But what’ll you do for cash until then?”
Petey didn’t have an answer.
“Come on,” I said. “Accept a gift.”
“I guess I could use some cash to rent a motel room.”
“No way,” Kate said. “You’re not renting any motel room.”
“You’re spending the night with us.”
Petey threw a baseball to Jason, who was usually awkward, but this time he caught the ball perfectly and grinned.
“Look, Dad! Look at what Uncle Peter taught me!”
“You’re doing great. Maybe your uncle ought to think about becoming a coach.”
Petey shrugged. “Just some tricks I picked up on the road, from Friday nights when I ended up at baseball parks in various towns. All you have to remember, Jace, is to keep your eye on the ball instead of on your glove. And make sure your glove is ready to snap shut.”
Kate appeared at the back door, her blond hair silhouetted by the kitchen light. “It’s time for bed, Little Leaguer.”
“Aw, do I have to, Mom?”
“I’ve already let you stay up a half hour longer than usual. Tomorrow’s a school day.”
Disappointed, Jason turned to his uncle.
“Don’t look at me for help,” Petey said. “What your mother says goes.”
“Thanks for the lesson, Uncle Peter. Now maybe the other kids’ll let me play on the team.”
“Well, if they don’t, you let me know, and I’ll go down to the ballpark to have a word with them.” Petey mussed Jason’s sandy hair and nudged him toward the house. “You better not keep your mother waiting.”
“See you in the morning.”
“You bet.”
“I’m glad you found us, Uncle Peter.”
“Me, too.” Petey’s voice was unsteady. “Me, too.”
Jason went inside, and my brother turned to me. “Nice boy.”
“Yes, we’re very proud of him.”
The setting sun cast a crimson glow over the backyard’s trees.
“And Kate’s …”
“Wonderful,” I said. “It was my lucky day when I met her.”
“There’s no getting around it. You’ve done great for yourself. Look at this house.”
I felt embarrassed to have so much. “My staff teases me about it. As you saw from the TV show, my specialty is designing buildings that are almost invisible in their environment. But when we first came to town, this big old Victorian seemed to have our name on it. Of course, all the trees in the front and back conceal it pretty well.”
“It feels solid.” Petey glanced down at his calloused hands. “Funny how things worked out. Well …” He roused himself and grinned. “Coaching’s thirsty work. I could use another beer.”
“Be right back.”
When I returned with the beers (inside, Kate had raised her eyebrows, not used to seeing me drink so much), I also had something in a shopping bag.
“What’s that?” Petey wondered.
“Something I’ve been keeping for you.”
“I can’t imagine what you’d —”
“I’m afraid it’s too small for you to use if you want to play catch with Jason another time,” I said.
Petey shook his head in confusion.
“Recognize this?” I reached in the bag and pulled out the battered baseball glove that I’d found under Petey’s bike so long ago.
“My God.”
“I kept it all these years. I never let it out of my room. I used to hold it next to me when I went to bed, and I’d try to imagine where you were and what you were doing and …” I forced the words out. “… if you were still alive.”
“A lot of times, I wished I
wasn’t
alive.”
“Don’t think about that. The past doesn’t matter now. We’re together again, Petey.
That’s
what matters. God, I’ve missed you.” I handed him the glove, although I couldn’t see him very well — my eyes were misted.
“So what do you think of him?” I asked Kate, keeping my voice low as I turned off the light and got under the covers. Petey’s room was at the opposite end of the hall. He wouldn’t be able to hear us. Even so, I felt self—conscious talking about him.
Lying next to me in the darkness, Kate didn’t answer for a moment. “He’s had a hard life.”
“That’s for sure. And yet he seems to enjoy it.”
“A virtue of necessity.”
“I suppose. All the same …”
“What are you thinking?” Kate asked.
“Well, if he didn’t like it, he could always have lived another way.”
“How?”
“I guess he could have gone to school and entered a profession.”
“Maybe have become an architect, like you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. It wouldn’t have been out of the question. I’ve seen a couple of stories on the news about twins separated at birth and reunited as adults. They discover they have the same job, the same hobbies, wives who look the same and have the same personality.”
“I’m not sure I like being linked with someone’s hobby. Besides, you and your brother aren’t twins.”
“Granted. Even so, you know what I mean. Petey could have ended up like me, but he chose not to.”
“You really think people have that much choice in their lives? You told me you never would have become an architect if it hadn’t been for a geometry teacher you really liked in high school.”
Wistful, I stared at moonlight streaming through our bedroom window. “Yeah, I sure was weird — the only kid in high school who liked geometry. To me, that teacher made the subject fascinating. He told me what I had to do, where to go to college and all, if I wanted to be an architect.”
“Well, I seriously doubt that your brother had a geometry teacher. Did he even go to high school?” Kate asked.
“Somebody must have taught him
something
. He’s awfully well spoken. I haven’t heard a foul word from him.”
Kate turned to face me, propping herself on an elbow. “Look, I’m willing to do all I can to help. If he wants to stay here for a while until he decides what to do next, that’s fine with me.”
“I was hoping you’d feel that way.” I leaned over and kissed her. “Thanks.”
“Is that the best way you can think of to thank me?” she asked.
I kissed her again, this time deeply.
“Far more sincere.” She drew a hand up my leg.
“Mmm.” It was the last sound for a while. The presence of a stranger in the house made us more self—conscious about being overheard. When we climaxed, our kiss was so deep that we swallowed each other’s moans.
We lay silently, coming back to ourselves.
“If we get more sincere than that, I’ll need to be resuscitated,” I murmured.
“Mouth—to—mouth?”
“Brings me to life every time.” Getting up to go to the bathroom, I glanced out the window. In the darkness, peering down toward the backyard, I saw something I didn’t expect.
“What are you looking at?” Kate asked.
“Petey.”
“What?”
“I can see him in the moonlight. He’s down there in a lounge chair.”
“Asleep?” Kate asked.
“No, he’s smoking, staring up at the stars.”
“Given everything that’s happened, he probably couldn’t sleep.”
“I know how he feels.”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Kate said. “Anyone who’s polite enough not to smoke in the house is welcome.”
Although Petey had said that he enjoyed his life on the road, I was determined to make sure he enjoyed it even more by paying attention to a few basic matters: his appearance, for example. That chipped front tooth made a terrible first impression. I had a suspicion that Petey had been losing work because contractors he approached to hire him felt he looked like a troublemaker. So, the next morning, I phoned our family dentist, explained the situation, and got him to agree (for double his usual fee) to give up his lunch hour.
“Dentist?” Petey told me. “Hell no. I’m not going to any dentist.”
“Just to smooth out that chip in your tooth. It’s not going to hurt.”
“No way. I haven’t been to a dentist since I needed a back tooth taken out six years ago.”
“
Six years ago?
Good God. All the more reason for you to have a checkup.” I didn’t tell him that the hygien—ist had agreed to give up
her
lunch hour, too.
Before that, I phoned several barbershops, until I found one that wasn’t busy. Long hair — my own’s hardly what you’d call short — doesn’t have to look tangled and scruffy. After the barbershop, we bought some clothes. Not that I deluded myself into thinking that Petey could use dress slacks and a sport coat, but some new jeans and a nice—looking shirt wouldn’t do any harm. After that, a shoe store: new work boots and sneakers.
“I can’t accept all this,” Petey said.