A little surprised by the question, Paul waited a moment before answering thoughtfully, "I told you, Son: I needed to clear the decks for a while."
"I know. I know. But why did you have to leave to do that? I mean, couldn't you have stayed and worked things out here?"
Paul's chin dropped to his chest and he chewed his lower lip pensively before replying. "I thought my being here would put you all in danger, and I didn't want to take the chance that any of you could be hurt because of me."
They sat together in a silence broken only occasionally by the snapping and crackling of the fire.
There came the swishing of silk at the doorway, and Annie's gentle voice called softly, "Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?"
Paul glanced over at Peter, who sat motionless, staring into the dancing flames. "What do you say, Son? It's your call."
"It's OK, Mom. Come on in."
Footsteps muted by her slippers, Annie quietly came in and settled herself on the ottoman next to Paul, who automatically reached out his hand to take hers.
Peter watched their open affection out of the corner of his eye and sat up to toss another small log on the blaze. He turned his back to the flames and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Paul, why did you come back?"
"Peter! What kind of question is that?" Annie asked indignantly, tightening her grip around Paul's fingers.
"It's all right, Babe. I know what he's asking." Paul took a deep breath and sniffed, pensively rubbing a finger under his nose. "Well, Son, first of all, I'd heard what happened to you. I had no way of knowing how long that message had been waiting for me when I finally got it, and it scared the hell out of me to think that you could already be dead."
"How'd you find out about my being shot?"
Paul smiled faintly. "I have my sources, Peter. Anyway, I realized I couldn't stand to be away from you all any longer. I needed to be with my family, demons be damned."
Annie snuggled closer to him. "We needed you, too, Honey. And you'll never know how much we all missed you."
"But why are you back?" Peter asked again, more urgently this time. "If you thought Mom and the girls and-and-and I needed protecting, why are you here? Because the danger is all over?"
"Partly. I think most of the phantoms are chased away. But mostly I'm back for purely selfish reasons."
"Selfish?"
"Mmm-hmm. Totally selfish. I realized that no matter what happened, I wanted to be with my family. I wanted to talk to you, hold you, and love you. I realized, Peter, there are no guarantees in this life. I nearly lost you..." He paused to clear his throat. "And it had nothing to do with my past. Carolyn could have died..." His voice failed entirely and he stopped to regain his composure. "I might never have known my granddaughter, because of a freak accident."
Peter watched his father's face, listening intently to every word.
"What I'm trying to say, Peter, is that I realized I wanted to spend every moment of my todays with the people I love. I had already wasted too much time regretting yesterdays and worrying about tomorrows."
Annie spoke up. "Sweetie, none of us know how much time we have on this earth. All we have is today. So we have to make the most of what we've got while it's ours. I understand what Paul was trying to do and why he did it. He did what he thought he had to do, to protect us. The thing is, Peter, he figured out that even though there are risks in life, when you face them with the ones you love, you can stand anything...together."
Peter turned his head away, resting his face against the tops of his knees, saying nothing as he thought things over.
"Son, I worried more about you all when I was away from you than I ever did when I was here. You know, there's not a damn thing I could have done to have kept you from being shot, or to keep Carolyn from falling though the ice, but I should have been here for you, for all of you."
"You're here now." Annie pulled his face up to hers and kissed him. "That's what matters, Sweetheart. You're here now."
The three sat quietly until Peter's head swiveled to face his foster parents. "Mom? Mom, how did you...how do you...stand it? Worrying about Paul and me and the work we do? Did-did you ever regret getting involved with a cop?"
"Every day Paul would leave to go to work, a part of me was terrified I'd never see him alive again." She slipped off the ottoman and slid next to Peter. "But I knew he was doing something important to him, and that he was making a difference in the world by doing the job he did. I'll admit I'm happy he's home, and that he tells me he's retired and going to stay that way. But when I married Paul, I knew he was a cop. I knew what I was getting into. I just loved the man enough not to let the cop scare me away."
Peter swallowed hard and kissed his mother's cheek.
Paul watched him closely and saw Peter's chin tremble as he rose to his feet.
"I think I'm gonna turn in now," Peter muttered hoarsely. "You want me to take care of the fire?"
"Nah, that's OK, Son. I think Annie and I will sit here a while longer. You go on up."
Peter started to leave, but abruptly stopped and turned. "Thanks, Mom, Dad. I love you."
"We love you, too, Sweetie. Sleep well." Annie took Peter's hand in hers and rubbed her cheek against the back of it.
The couple listened to Peter's footsteps as he padded up the stairs and softly closed the door to his bedroom.
"Do you think we helped him at all?" Annie asked as she turned to entrench herself in Paul's waiting embrace.
"I hope so, Babe. I hope so."
Annie grunted. "You don't know how hard it was not to tell him to get off his duff and go after her."
Paul grinned and stroked her hair. "I was impressed with your self-control, Honey."
"Why didn't you tell him?"
He nuzzled her neck briefly before answering, "Same reason you didn't. He's a grown man. He has to make his own decisions and live with the consequences."
"That's the problem, Paul. He's not living with it."
"I know, Babe." Paul sighed. "Maybe he needs more time."
"It's been over two months, Paul. How much more time should it take?"
"We can't tell him what to do. It's his life."
Annie cuddled closer. "I've never been so tempted to paddle someone's bottom in my life."
Paul tightened his arms around her, planting a trail of butterfly kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth. "Now there's an idea."
"That's not what I meant," she scolded, even as hands began to roam, touching and caressing.
"Maybe not, but I like the idea anyway. I hereby volunteer."
Caine was tending the plants on his balcony when he heard slow steps coming down the hallway outside his flat.
"Pop?" The voice sounded slightly winded.
"I am out here, Peter," he called. He watched the young man carefully as he came near. Peter's color was better, but the vibrant energy that had always been such an integral part of his being was sadly missing.
Caine smiled warmly at Peter. "I am pleased to see you looking so well, my son."
Peter wandered over to his favorite jasmine plant and sniffed at the fragrant blossoms.
"Yeah, I guess I'm getting my feet back under me again. Had to stop a couple times coming up your stairs, though."
"Did you drive yourself over here?"
"No," Peter said ruefully. "Paul and Annie are still hiding my car keys from me." He half-smiled. "Kelly dropped me off on her way to work. I'm supposed to call Paul when I'm ready to go back, but I can always take a cab." The smile faded. "You haven't been over to the house in a while."
"I thought you would like time alone with your other family."
"Annie said I should bring you back for supper tonight, if you'd like to come. Will you?"
"I would be honored."
Peter continued to touch the jasmine plant and inhale the aroma, immersing himself in the fragrance.
"What troubles you, my son?"
"I-I-I need to ask you something, Pop, but I can't find the words."
"The words will come, as they have before."
"It's-it's about my mother." He took a deep breath and slowly expelled it.
Caine looked at him solemnly and waited.
"How did you stand it when my mother died? I mean, you-you-you said she was sick for a long time before she finally died. How could you wake up each day, knowing it might be the last day you would ever be with her?" The hazel eyes were dark and pleading.
Caine closed his eyes, wincing in pain at the memory.
"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand," Peter said tightly as the silence stretched on.
"Your mother --" Caine started slowly, "-- Made every day we were together a special gift from the heavens. When we were first married. When we found she was pregnant with you. The wondrous day when you were born." He sighed. "I cannot find the words to describe the joy she brought to my life." His voice thickened with emotion.
Peter felt a burning behind his own eyes and stared out over the city.
"When we discovered she was ill, and especially toward the end, every moment together was something I cherished."
Caine's voice trembled, and Peter had never heard such raw emotion from the man before.
"On the day she died, I held her in my arms as she held you. We spoke of our love for you and for each other." The voice faded in and out as he continued. "She told me our time together, though short, had brought her great joy. More joy than many people know in a lifetime. It comforted her to know she would live on through you."
Peter turned to face his father and saw the naked vulnerability in the priest's normally enigmatic face.
"It comforted me, to have her memory kept alive through you. That is why --" He reached out to cup Peter's cheek in his hand. "-- When I thought I lost you at the temple, it was like losing your mother all over again."
They embraced, each drawing strength and comfort from the physical contact, the special bond between them.
Caine broke away first, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders and bracing himself there. "Peter, life is a journey. It is filled with gains and losses, births and deaths. I went on after your mother died, and again after I thought you had perished, only because I knew neither of you had left my life by choice. I knew you both would have stayed with me if it had been possible."
Peter pulled his father close, briefly resting his head against Caine's shoulder. "I love you, Pop."
They spent the rest of the day together, walking through the park, having a cup of tea with the Ancient, and, at Caine's insistence, returning to the flat so Peter could rest.
They took a cab to the Blaisdells and arrived around five o'clock. Peter left his father to visit with Paul and Annie while he went upstairs to shower and clean up for dinner.
He trotted down the stairs buttoning his shirt cuffs. Walking into the kitchen, he found Annie sitting alone at the breakfast nook and asked, "Where are...?"
"Your father and Paul are out in the greenhouse."
"How are you able to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Finish my --"
"-- sentences?" She laughed at him. "It's a gift. And with you, it's sometimes the only way to get a word in edgewise."
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Mom, do you know where my watch is? I haven't been able to find it in weeks, but I keep forgetting to ask you about it."
"Oh, yes, Sweetie," Annie replied with a smile. "Umm, I think it's in the top drawer of the china hutch."
"Thanks, Mom." He strolled into the dining room and found the drawer Annie had described. He froze when he opened the drawer and saw the plastic bag holding his watch and a small rectangular box. Pulling out the bag with shaking hands, he closed the drawer with his hip, retreating into the den and shutting the door. He lowered himself into the overstuffed chair before opening the bag. Strapping the watch on his wrist, he then forced himself to handle the jeweler's box, whose gray fabric was tainted with a purplish stain. He held the box with unsteady hands and opened it, the stones of the ring glittering mockingly in the firelight.
"Peter? Did you find your watch?" Annie called. When she got no answer, she called again. "Peter?"
Paul and Caine entered the kitchen just as Annie was getting to her feet.
"What's wrong, Babe?" Paul asked.
"I don't know where Peter's gotten to. He was just asking about his watch, and then he disappeared."
"I'll hunt him down." Paul strode purposefully down the hallway. When he found Peter in the den, he started to scold his errant son. "Peter, why didn't you answer your mother when she called you? You know house rule number one..." He stopped at the stricken look on the young man's face. "Peter?"
Annie and Caine walked in as Peter said shakily, "I forgot about the ring." Peter sucked on his lower lip, releasing it with a click. "I forgot I had it in my coat pocket the night I was shot."
"Peter, it is time we talked," Caine said gently.
"Yeah." Peter's voice caught in his throat. "Yeah, I guess it is."
Paul and Annie turned to leave.
"Don't go," he choked. "I want you all to be here."
Paul and Annie seated themselves on the couch, Paul resting his arm around his wife's shoulders. Caine lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged next to Peter, who had taken the ring from its box and held it between his thumbs and forefingers.
"You've all helped me to understand a lot these past few days," Peter started out softly. "I know you've had a lot of questions, but you never pushed me. I-I love you for that." He paused for a deep breath before he went on. "When I first woke up in the hospital, I heard you, Pop, talking with the doctor, and he was telling you that Kacie was sick, and they'd hospitalized her, and-and-and she was having nightmares. And I heard you, Mom, later, telling my father that her nightmares were so bad they'd sedated her."
He swallowed hard and cleared his throat several times, staring sightlessly at the sparkling gems in the ring. "Kacie told me that when her father and brother were killed, she became clinically depressed -- that while she was institutionalized, she was under a suicide watch for the first six months -- and I..." He stopped, bowing his head.
Caine reached out his hand and gripped his son's knee, sending Peter comfort and strength through the physical contact.
When Peter lifted his head, his eyes were haunted and filled with pain. "I-I couldn't stand the thought of being the one to put her through all that again. I think the next time something like that happened, it would kill her. I know it would. And she deserves a better life than that." His voice faded to a choked whisper. "I thought I had to drive her away, to protect her from that kind of pain."
"Oh, Sweetie," Annie murmured. "What a noble, but totally foolish, thing to do."
"I keep seeing the look on her face, that day she came here." He slowly shook his head, his mouth twisting bitterly. "As long as I live, I will never forget the look on her face. The hurt, the betrayal, the abandonment." He choked on a bitter laugh, and he jumped to his feet, causing the ring to fall unnoticed to the floor. "I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me, and there's nothing I can do about it. She could never forgive me for the things I said to her."
"How will you know unless you ask?" Caine demanded.
Peter stopped and stared at his father. "How can I ask? Ask her to marry a cop, to maybe have to sit in a hospital waiting room again? To watch another body put in the ground? Be handed another flag? What kind of life would that be for her?" Lacing his fingers behind his head, he closed his eyes, facial muscles contorting. "Mom?" He wiped a sleeve across his eyes and composed himself. "I'm not hungry. Would you mind if I just passed on dinner?"
"I'll save a plate for you in the fridge in case you wake up hungry later in the night."
"Thanks, Mom." He rubbed his temples wearily. "I'm-I'm awfully tired. Think I'll just call it a day."
Caine rose gracefully to his feet, and his eyes reflected his concern. "Can you really give up so easily?"
Peter shook his head slowly, smiling sadly. "You gotta know when it's time to move on, Pop. Know when to fold and walk away from the table." He sighed deeply and asked, "You'll get home all right?"
"I'll see to it," Paul promised.
"Thanks, Paul. Night, everyone." He walked out in silence, head down and broad shoulders sagging.
Caine picked up the ring from where it had fallen and found the box behind a cushion in the chair where Peter had been sitting. As he carefully put away the ring, he said, "Our son is in so much pain."
"You men." Annie shook her head and sighed. "I wish you could understand what a woman is willing to go through for the man she loves."
Paul pulled Annie close and kissed her temple. "We understand what it's like to love a woman willing to put up with us."
"What do we do now?" Annie asked practically. "It's obvious he's still in love with her."
"I guess we try and find Kacie." Paul scrubbed a hand across his face thoughtfully. "Maybe one of us could talk sense into her, since Peter won't listen."
"What shall we do with this?" Caine held out the jeweler's box.
"If that's the ring, I'll take it, Caine." Annie held out her hand, and Caine set the box in her palm. "I'll keep it in a safe place for Peter until he needs it."
"You are certain that he will need it?" Caine asked dubiously.
"Yes, I am." Annie's voice rang confidently. She turned and walked down the hallway with sure steps to put the box away.
Caine bowed and spoke to Paul. "I thank you for your invitation, but I find that I, too, am no longer hungry. I will go now."
"Let me grab my coat and I'll drive you," Paul offered.
"Thank you, no, I will walk." He bowed again and strode from the room, leaving Paul lost in his own thoughts.
Paul sank down in a chair. "Well, Peter, call me an interfering old fool, but first thing tomorrow, I'm going to see a man about a missing person."
