Long Lost, Page 2

  “Petey.” As I started back toward him, I almost got hit by a car. “Jesus, it is you.”

  “We once broke a window playing catch in the house. Dad grounded us for a week.”

  This time, I was the one reaching out. I’ve never hugged anybody harder. He smelled of spearmint gum and cigarette smoke. His arms were tremendously strong. “Petey.” I could barely get the words out. “Whatever happened to you?”

  3

  Pedaling home. Angry. Feelings hurt. A car coming next to him, moving slowly, keeping pace with him. A woman in the front passenger seat rolling down her window, asking directions to the interstate. Telling her. The woman not seeming to listen. The sour—looking man at the steering wheel not seeming to care, either. The woman asking, “Do you believe in God?” What kind of question? The woman asking, “Do you believe in the end of the world?” The car veering in front of him. Scared. Hopping the bicycle onto the sidewalk. The woman jumping from the car, chasing him. A sneaker slipping off a pedal. A vacant lot. Bushes. The woman grabbing him. The man unlocking the trunk, throwing him in. The trunk lid banging shut. Darkness. Screaming. Pounding. Not enough air. Passing out.

  Petey described it to me as we faced each other in an isolated booth at the rear of the deli I’d been headed toward.

  “You never should have made me leave that baseball game,” he said.

  “I know that.” My voice broke. “God, don’t I know it.”

  “The woman was older than Mom. She had crow’s—feet around her eyes. Gray roots in her hair. Pinched lips. Awful thin … Stooped shoulders … Floppy arms. Reminded me of a bird, but she sure was strong. The man had dirty long hair and hadn’t shaved. He wore coveralls and smelled of chewing tobacco.”

  “What did they want with you? Were you …” I couldn’t make myself use the word molested.

  Petey looked away. “They drove me to a farm in West Virginia.”

  “Just across the border? You were that close?”

  “Near a town called Redemption. Sick joke, huh? Really, that’s what it was called, although I didn’t find out the name for quite a while. They kept me a prisoner, until I escaped. When I was sixteen.”

  “Sixteen? But all this time? Why didn’t you come to us?”

  “I thought about it.” Petey looked uncomfortable. “I just couldn’t make myself.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

  But as he lit a match, a waitress stopped at our table. “I’m sorry, sir. Smoking isn’t permitted in here.”

  Petey’s craggy features hardened. “Fine.”

  “Can I take your orders?”

  “You’re good at giving them.”

  “What?”

  “Corned beef,” I told the waitress, breaking the tension.

  Petey impatiently shoved his cigarettes back into his pocket. “A couple of Buds.”

  As she left, I glanced around, assuring myself that no customers were close enough to hear what we were saying.

  “What did you mean, you couldn’t make yourself come to us?”

  “The man kept telling me Mom and Dad would never take me back.”

  “What?”

  “Not after what he did to … He said Mom and Dad would be disgusted, they’d …”

  “Disown you? They wouldn’t have.” I felt tight with sadness.

  “I understand that now. But when I escaped … let’s just say I wasn’t myself. Where they kept me a prisoner was an underground room.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I didn’t see the light of day for seven years.” His cheek muscles hardened. “Not that I knew how much time had passed. When I got out, it took me quite a while to figure what was what.”

  “But what have you been doing?”

  Petey looked tortured. “Roaming around. Working construction jobs. Driving trucks. A little of everything. Just after my twenty—first birthday, I happened to be driving a rig to Columbus. I worked up the nerve to go to Woodford and take a look at our place.”

  “The house had been sold by then.”

  “So I found out.”

  “And Dad had died.”

  “I found that out, too. Nobody remembered where Mrs. Denning and her son Brad had moved.”

  “We were in Columbus with Mom’s parents.”

  “So close.” Petey shook his head in despair. “I didn’t know Mom’s maiden name, so I couldn’t track her through her parents.”

  “But the police could have helped you find us.”

  “Not without asking me a lot of questions I didn’t want to answer.”

  “They’d have arrested the man and woman who kidnapped you.”

  “What good would that have done me? There’d have been a trial. I’d have had to testify. The story would have been in all the newspapers.” He gestured helplessly. “I felt so …”

  “It’s over now. Try to put it behind you. None of it was your fault.”

  “I still feel …” Petey struggled with the next word, then stopped when the waitress brought our beers. He took a long swallow from his bottle and changed the subject. “What about Mom?”

  The question caught me by surprise. “Mom?”

  “Yeah, how’s she doing?”

  I needed a moment before I could make myself answer. “She died last year.”

  “… Oh.” Petey’s voice dropped.

  “Cancer.”

  “Uh.” It was a quiet exhale. At the same time, it was almost as if he’d been punched. He stared at his beer bottle, but his painful gaze was on something far away.

  4

  Kate’s normally attractive features looked strained when I walked into the kitchen. She was pacing, talking on the phone, tugging an anxious hand through her long blond hair. Then she saw me, and her shoulders sagged with relief. “He just walked in. I’ll call you back.”

  I smiled as she hung up the phone.

  “Where have you been? Everybody’s been worried,” Kate said.

  “Worried?”

  “You had several important meetings this afternoon, but you never showed up. Your office was afraid you’d been in an accident or —”

  “Everything’s great. I lost track of the time.”

  “— been mugged or —”

  “Better than great.”

  “— had a heart attack or —”

  “I’ve got wonderful news.”

  “— or God knows what. You’re always Mr. Dependable. Now it’s almost six, and you didn’t call to let me know you were okay, and … Do I smell alcohol on your breath? Have you been drinking?”

  “You bet.” I smiled more broadly.

  “During the day? Ignoring appointments with clients? What’s gotten into you?”

  “I told you, I have wonderful news.”

  “What news?”

  “Petey showed up.”

  Kate’s blue eyes looked confused, as if I was speaking gibberish. “Who’s …” At once, she got it. “Good Lord, you don’t mean … your brother.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But … but you told me you assumed he was dead.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “You’re positive it’s him?”

  “You bet. He told me things only Petey could know. It has to be him.”

  “And he’s really here? In Denver?”

  “Closer than that. He’s on the front porch.”

  “What? You left him outside?”

  “I didn’t want to spring him on you. I wanted to prepare you.” I explained what had happened. “I’ll fill in the details when there’s time. The main thing to know is, he’s been through an awful lot.”

  “Then he shouldn’t be cooling his heels on the porch. For heaven’s sake, get him.”

  Just then, Jason came in from the backyard. He was eleven but small for his age, so that he looked a lot like Petey had when he’d disappeared. Braces, freckles, glasses, thin. “What’s all the noise about? You guys having an argument?”

  “The opposite,” Kate said.

&n
bsp; “What’s up?”

  Looking at Jason’s glasses, I was reminded that Petey had needed glasses, too. But the man outside wasn’t wearing any. I suddenly felt as if I had needles in my stomach. Had I been conned?

  Kate crouched before Jason. “Do you remember we told you that your father had a brother?”

  “Sure. Dad talked about him on that TV show.”

  “He disappeared when he was a boy,” Kate said.

  Jason nodded uneasily. “I had a nightmare about it.”

  “Well, you don’t have to have nightmares about it anymore,” Kate said. “Guess what? He came back today. You’re going to meet him.”

  “Yeah?” Jason brightened. “When?”

  “Just as soon as we open the front door.”

  I tried to say something to Kate, to express my sudden misgivings, but she was already heading down the hallway toward the front door. The next thing, she had it open, and I don’t know what she expected, but I doubt that the scruffy—looking man out there matched her idealized image of the long—lost brother. He turned from where he’d been smoking a cigarette, admiring the treed area in front of the house. His knapsack was next to him.

  “Petey?” Kate asked.

  He shifted from one work boot to the other, ill at ease. “These days, I think ‘Peter’ sounds a little more grownup.”

  “Please, come in.”

  “Thanks.” He looked down at his half—smoked cigarette, glanced at the interior of the house, pinched off the glowing tip, then put the remnant in his shirt pocket.

  “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.”

  5

  “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.”

  6

  Petey threw a baseball to Jason, who was usually awkward, but this time he caught the ball per
fectly 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.”