CHAPTER 26
The following day Peter stands next to me as I place a rose on my mother's casket. We stay until everyone else has gone. Sam sits on one side of me and my father on the other. Dad stares blankly. He hasn't cried since the morning she died. He smiles at me when he sees me and says I look like her. His words haunt me. Every time I look in a mirror to brush my hair or make sure I haven't smeared makeup all over my face from crying, I see my mother's face. There are pictures of her all over the house. The ones where she's my age rattle me the most. I have no idea what her life was like. I went from being a child to being an adult and left without ever really knowing who she was.
I think about Mom often and wish I'd had more courage to come back sooner, but looking backward doesn't help me move forward. Peter keeps telling me that. Mourning the dead is needed. Sobbing is needed, but there's a point when tears become smiles and the memories aren't filled with pain. I hope that day comes soon, but so far it hasn't.
We drive back to the house in Sean's car. Peter is borrowing it until we head home to Texas. I shift in my seat. When I speak, I don't look at Peter. "Aren't you afraid that I snapped?"
We haven't spoken about what I did to Dean, but the thoughts float through my mind. Peter looks over at me. I feel his gaze on the side of my face. "No, you've been through a lot, Sidney. And piss-poor judgment on his part made him a walking target."
"The things you said to me that night—how did you know what was going through my head?"
Peter doesn't answer right away. He grips the wheel harder and focuses on the road. The ride back from the cemetery is long, and Peter takes a less direct route so we can talk. "I know because I had the same opportunity. The night Gina was killed, I rounded on one of the guys and stabbed him with his own knife. I couldn't stop. I couldn't think. It was instinct. The memory is there in the back of my mind. I can still sense the blade in my hand and feel it tearing through his flesh. It's blinding and overpowers every good deed I ever did. I stopped fighting for her. I changed who I was, but at the depths of my soul I was still the same man. I'd kill again if it would bring her back.
"That's why Sean sent you away. He knew I'd snap if I was pushed too far, since I already had once before. I didn't know what happened. After you left, I asked Sean, but he gave me a story and I believed it. He said you needed some time alone, which seemed off.
"Then Sean told me a bunch of crap about how you demanded money from him—he even showed me your bank account with all the cash he wired. He took a dirty shot. Someone did that to me before, and he knew it'd slow me down. Sean played me. I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get out here.
"I followed you last night to the grocery store and then to the park. I didn't understand why you went with Dean after you fought like hell last time he tried something. That's why I trailed you, and apparently Sean was following me to make sure I didn't put the guy in the ground.
"So to answer your question, I knew how you'd feel after you stabbed him, because I've done it. I didn't want you to feel like that, ever. I want that ghost gone, but the best I can do is banish him for a while. I love you, Sidney. I wish I could do more. I wish I could make it all go away."
I don't know what to say. "You killed someone?"
Peter nods, and regret flashes across his face. "It was self-defense, but murder is murder. The guy bled out and died on the way to the hospital. He died because of me. No matter what I do, that's always there. That's why I knew what you were thinking that night because I thought the same things myself."
"I didn't take money from Sean. Actually, I told him—"
Peter smiles at me. "I know. He told me on the way here that you said you'd shove any extra cash up his ass. He's kind of a dick like that. I'll beat the shit out him later if it makes you feel better." He's joking, a little bit, maybe.
"At least someone is looking out for you."
"Yeah, I suppose." Peter pulls on to my street and rolls to a stop in front of my parents' house. There are lights on, and I know it's packed with people and food. "Do we have to go in right away?"
Peter shakes his head and cuts the engine. "No, we don't have to. Let's walk around the block. Come on. The fresh air will help."
Peter walks around and plucks me from the car. We start walking, and his phone buzzes. Someone keeps texting him. "Who's that?"
"Jonathan." Peter holds my hand, looking straight ahead as he says it.
"Really? What does he want?"
"Well, he wants me to drive out to this place in Islip and see why Mom wants to kill him. He also wants me to stick around. The nosy kid found out that I'm currently without an employer and has been making outlandish job offers."
"Really?" Peter nods with a slight smile on his face. "What'd you tell him?"
Peter kicks a rock with his saddle shoe. "I told him that I wasn't interested. I want you to take all the time you need with your family. Jon can always find someone else to fix his latest and greatest blunder."
"Peter…" I stop in my tracks and look up at him. "You can't say things like that. You have no job and no money."
He shrugs. "I have enough to get me through this. Besides, it's not like I'd leave you now—you're mine, body, mind, and soul."
I worry about him and it shows on my face. Maybe he is like his younger brother, walking around with his head in the clouds somewhat. People need money to live, and Peter doesn't seem to be in a rush to secure another job. After the way he left the university, I'm not even sure he can be employed somewhere else. I can picture Peter's hands filling out a job application:
REASON LEFT LAST JOB: Slept with my student.
Technically, I wasn't Peter's student when he slept with me—unless that's literal and someone is counting sleeping—but looks are just as damning. There were rumors flying around about the two of us long before anything happened. I smirk, thinking back. I had no idea he liked me so much.
Peter squeezes my hand. "What are you thinking about in that beautiful mind of yours?"
"About how we met and that I had no idea things would end up here. I'm glad they did. I wouldn't trade a second of those months away."
Peter lifts my hand to his lips and smiles at me. "Same here. And I'm so glad you finally gave me some coffee because I was seriously parched and had no idea. Like none." He's smiling at me. "So what now? Are we headed back to Texas or do we become Jersey folk?" Peter turns and we continue walking, and turn the corner. We're headed back to my house again. I can see the porch light from here along with scads of cars parked up and down the street like a string of army ants.
"Jersey folk? Who talks like that? You're from Long Island—and don't think I didn't notice that whole 'I'm from Connecticut,' you liar, because I noticed. You're supposed to have a Gawd-awful accent in there somewhere, Mr. New Yorker, along with a natural scorn for anything awesome that comes out of Jersey, like me."
"I didn't lie. I came to Texas by way of Connecticut."
"Same difference, fibber."
"Not quite, coffee girl." Peter stops me a few houses away and looks down into my eyes with a sexy smile on his face. "And I notice you dodged my question, which makes me think you haven't decided yet."
"I really don't know what to do." I tuck my hair behind my ear and take a deep breath to steady myself. Emotionally, I feel about as strong as a wet tissue. "I've wasted so much time. I still have one parent and the ugly stepsister back there. It feels like I shouldn't run away this time. Maybe I can fix things or just start over."
"Wait a second. Is the ugly stepsister Mr. Turkey or Sam? Because I can see the title fitting either of them quite well."
"Stop talking trash about Mr. Turkey." Of course I meant Sam. He's such a jerk, but he's still blood. I don't want to write him off again, not without trying to patch things up first. I glance at the house and then back at Peter. "So when did you hear his name?"
"Sam's? You just said it, and I figured it out. Cinderella, ugly stepsister, jealous brother. Got it." Peter taps his index finger against his temple. "You forget how smart I am."
I laugh and swat at him. "Not that! The bird. How'd you know I named him?"
"Oh," Peter takes my hand and starts walking again. "I heard you talking to him when I first found you. It was right before your aunt came out and asked you to go to the store. I wanted to rush up to you and hold you in my arms, but I heard what happened and put the pieces together. Showing up too late was a dick move on my part, and I wasn't sure if you wanted me around. When you gave your dinner to the vulture, you called him Mr. Turkey. I thought it was cute. We should get him a bowtie or something."
"Let's not listen to Sean anymore, like ever, okay?"
"That is the most brilliant idea I've ever heard. Agreed."