The Shoebox

by Lisa Fernandez

  “I know, honey. Me, too.” He glanced over, and for a moment he saw Tara. Madeline’s almond-shaped brown eyes, her pointed nose, the slight suggestion of a dimple in her left cheek when she smiled—he could even see Tara in her posture and the way she spoke. After a moment, Madeline giggled to herself.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking of you back then, with your tons of girlfriends.”

  Peter’s smile faded, his eyes on the road.

  “How come you never talk about it, Daddy?”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t. Grandma said she has all your yearbooks and pictures, and we’re going to look at them.”

  “Now, don’t you listen to anything your grandmother says. She likes to exaggerate.”

  “You just don’t like to talk about yourself, that’s all.”

  As they turned onto the tree-lined road to his old neighborhood, a pain moved in Peter’s chest. The four New England-style homes sat along the curved street against a backdrop of woods, everything covered in a white blanket of snow. The old Marsden house was still a white-and-black Colonial, the white picket fence still there, the black iron light post still the same. The owners had removed the climbing roses and the white and pink azaleas, and the hanging baskets of petunias were long gone.

  Peter saw himself as a young man again, shoveling snow with his father, the smell of chimney smoke and sea in the air. As he drove around the familiar cul-de-sac, tiny snowflakes fell onto the windshield, and he sighed, pulling into the driveway behind Richard’s faded blue El Dorado under its cover of snow.

  “Daddy!” Madeline sat up. “Look at all the snow everywhere. Grandma must have gotten her white Christmas!”

  “Technically, sweetheart, it’s still Christmas. New Year’s is only three days away.” He parked and turned off the engine. “I’m sure Grandma kept her decorations up for you.”

  Madeline glanced at Peter, her eyes suddenly sad. “It’s going to take an awful lot to make this year feel like Christmas.”

  Before he could answer, Richard and Sheila were at the front door, and Madeline had thrown open her car door and run to them.

  “Grandma!” Madeline leaped across the snowy lawn on her long, skinny legs, her arms outstretched. “My Grandpa!”

  Peter watched from his window as she threw herself into their arms. Sheila was completely grey, so small next to Madeline, who’d grown at least two inches since they’d last seen her. Richard hugged Madeline and then turned in the doorway with his cane, limping from an unsuccessful knee surgery a few years earlier.

  Peter hated seeing them grow older. He hated the pain that was now always in Madeline’s eyes.

  Sheila’s tree twinkled with tiny white lights in the living room, and fresh pine hung on the staircase, silk ribbon gathering each end in a lavish bow. The air smelled of pine, and the fire crackled as Richard leaned over his cane to add another log.

  “I told you it was still Christmas,” Peter whispered to Madeline.

  Richard waved Madeline to a seat by the fire while he searched for her name on the presents under the tree. “You think we forgot our little girl? We never forget our little girl.”

  Madeline bounced in her chair. “Grandpa got me a present!” she said with glee.

  Sheila put her arms around Peter. “You look thinner, my love. Did you lose weight?”

  “I don’t think so, Ma. I like your hair grey. It makes you look elegant.”

  “You see it through loving eyes.”

  Peter kissed Sheila gently three times, once on each cheek and once very softly in the middle of her forehead.

  “How’s our little one?” Sheila whispered as Peter bent to unpack his shopping bag of gifts.

  “I don’t honestly know. Sometimes she’s smiling and joking, and other times she seems so lost.”

  “Honey, it must not have been easy to hold Christmas around her mother’s hospital bed. It’s been a difficult year, all Tara’s chemo and radiation, especially right after Madeline just started high school. It’s a lot for a thirteen-year-old.”

  “That’s why coming here was so important. I want her among family—reconnecting with you, with normalcy. I’m counting on you.” Peter took Sheila’s arms and looked deep into her eyes.

  She touched his face. “It’s hard on her father, too.”

  “I’m okay. You know it’s all about her and Tara now.”

  Amy and Lance brought desserts from the Chatham bakery, and Madeline joined Amy and her favorite cousin, young Victoria, in the kitchen, where Sheila put Madeline and Victoria to work cutting romaine for a Caesar salad. Both Amy’s children were like Peter in bone structure and soft, dark hair, with Amy’s shy smile and Lance’s quick eyes.

  “We tear other kinds of lettuce,” Madeline instructed Victoria, who stood on a chair next to her. “But we cut romaine. I honestly have no idea why.” Victoria laughed in the high, delighted voice of the long-ago child Amy, as Madeline handed her the scissors.

  In the living room Peter took logs from the bin and bent to stoke the fire in the fireplace. When he straightened he looked around, his hands supporting his back. Richard sat in his recliner with Matthew on his lap, deep in a coloring book on sea creatures.

  “What’s that one?” Richard pointed.

  “Crustacean,” Matthew answered promptly with his sibilant ‘s.’

  “And that one?”

  “Gastropod.”

  “And this one?”

  Matthew laughed. “Grandpa’s Nose Fish.”

  Peter loved to see his childhood home filled with people, the sounds of laughter and conversation, and the smells from the kitchen. He loved that his parents enjoyed entertaining and had always had the house filled weekends while he was growing up. He met Richard’s eyes and smiled, and Richard patted Matthew’s shoulder without a word.

  At the dinner table later, Richard raised his wine glass. “Here’s to my family, all together.” He glanced at Sheila and smiled. “We could not be more proud. We love you all.” He touched his glass to hers and kissed her cheek.

  “I miss Aunt Tara.” Victoria said as Amy put broccoli on her plate.

  Madeline looked down at her own dinner, and a tear dropped quietly onto it.

  “We wish Tara could be with us too.” Peter put his hand on Madeline’s neck, his heart swelling. “But we know she’s resting comfortably, recovering in the best possible hands.” He took a bite of Caesar salad. “This is delicious, sweetheart.”

  Madeline smiled up at him and blinked back her tears.

  “So what are you studying in school, Victoria?” Peter said. “You’re in third grade, is that right?”

  “Yes. Animals.” Victoria was slicing her broccoli into tidy strips. When her bangs fell in her eyes, she wiped them back with Amy’s gesture. “I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up.”

  Lance shook his head, smiling. “She’s got the magic touch, all right. There’s never been an animal Victoria couldn’t charm. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Amy nodded. “It’s true.”

  “That’s great!” Peter smiled at Matthew making a face at his broccoli, the little cheeks chubbier than his sister’s. “How about you, Matt?”

  “Marine biologist.” Matthew said. “I’m going to be a shark guy! Did you know in the olden days people called them ‘sea dogs’? You know their teeth never stop growing and they never stop moving, even to sleep? They’re about a bazillion million years old.”

  Amy put her hand on his small arm proudly. “Maybe not a bazillion. More like four hundred. But Matt’s involved with the school science fair. His first-grade teacher is helping him research a study of the shark’s cardiovascular system.”

  “Amy,” Peter cried, laughing. “My baby sister! Your kids are getting so grown-up. Soon Victoria will even have a boyfriend.” />
  Victoria blushed brightly as she took a piece of cornbread from Sheila.

  “I hope not,” said Amy firmly. “I don’t want her running off to get married and forgetting about school and her career. You can’t throw away your dreams on puppy love.”

  Peter looked at Amy and then turned away. He took a sip of wine and held his glass quietly for a moment. There was a silence around the table, and Madeline glanced at Peter anxiously.

  “How about them Patriots?” Richard blurted. “I think they’re going to take it this year.”

  Peter and Amy laughed, and he put his arm around Madeline’s neck, hugging her.

  “Honey, you tell us that every year.” Sheila laughed. “It’s not a prediction. You just say it all the time.”

  “How are you feeling, Richard?” Lance poured himself more wine. “Did that back pain stop at all after the adjustment?”

  “The doctor told him his cholesterol’s high.” Sheila clicked her tongue. “He needs to watch what he eats. Ice cream at ten o’clock at night?” She nodded to Peter and Amy. “Not when I catch him.”

  “Dad, that’s awfully late,” Peter said, concerned.

  “Mom told me about the chest pains,” Amy added.

  “What chest pains?” Peter tightened his arm around Madeline’s shoulders and set down his wine glass.

  “Your father had chest pains two weeks ago. He was shoveling snow, and he overdid it. You know your father. I took him to the doctor. He said it was just heartburn, but he should have a stress test soon.”

  Peter and Amy looked at each other.

  “Guys, I’m fine. I don’t need a stress test. It was that spicy Indian food your mother had me try at the new place on Arch. It gave me indigestion, that’s all.”

  Madeline stood and crossed behind Richard, her long arms around his neck and her glossy air over his shoulder. She kissed him and squeezed her face into his, closing her eyes. “Grandpa, you have to take care of yourself so you can take me sailing.”

  Richard blushed and pulled her into his arms. “I promise, my dear. You’re your grandfather’s little sailor, all right. Never saw a neater hand with a rudder in my life.” He leaned in to kiss her, and while his face was hidden in Madeline’s hair Sheila wiped a tear with her napkin.

  Alone in the kitchen later, Amy poured water into the coffee maker as Peter began loading the dishwasher.

  “So, my dear, how are you? I mean really?” Amy touched Peter’s arm.

  “Okay. My knees are giving me a few problems, and my hands.”

  “Did you go to the doctor?”

  “Yeah. It’s not too good. My arthritis is progressing, and they don’t recommend surgery. I’m sleeping with wrist guards to help with the carpel tunnel and arthritis, but every day it gets worse. I don’t tell Madeline. I don’t want to worry her.”

  “Let me talk to Lance and see if he knows any pressure points to help alleviate the pain or help with mobility.”

  “Believe me, sis, I’ve read up a lot on it. There’s not much a person can do besides taking meds and I am not going to do that. The side effects are awful. I’ll just take it as it comes.”

  Amy watched him place the plates neatly in the dishwasher. “By the way, I didn’t mean anything back at the table. It just came out that way.”

  “I know, honey. You don’t have to worry.”

  Amy stepped behind him, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back. “How’s work? I heard you went back full-time.” She began to wipe down the counters and straighten Sheila’s appliances.

  “I did. Everyone’s secretly checking on me. I can see them watching, trying to filter out the negative. You know Tim is with me now?”

  “Tim Ryan?”

  Peter nodded as he sorted silverware into its holders in the dishwasher. “I thought it was a smart move to take on a partner. There is new work coming in every day, and I have to be open to fresh ideas. I also have to be accessible to Madeline. High school, you know, and everything that entails. Tim and I have always had good chemistry. He told me he was unhappy at his firm, had been asking for partnership for years and kept getting the run-around. So I made him an offer, and he accepted.”

  “Peter, that’s fantastic.” Amy paused to smile up at him. “It’s going to relieve a lot of the pressure on you.”

  “I hope so. I knew something had to change. Work has really taken a back seat this past year.”

  Amy nodded soberly. “Tara’s cancer.”

  “I have no regrets, Amy,” Peter said, turning to her. “I would have closed the firm if I’d had to. I was fortunate enough—blessed enough—to have such a great team holding down the fort, covering for me all those months while Tara was ill. But I’m so thankful I was there for everything.”

  “But you pulled her through.”

  He laughed a little anxiously. “Me and a team of doctors and a whole lot of luck. She’s such a strong woman. I always told you that. Amy, I do love her, you know. Not the way she’s always wanted me to, but I do, truly. Even all those years ago when everything went haywire, and I found out she was pregnant with Madeline, after we cancelled the wedding.”

  “I remember you were a mess. Mom was so worried. We all were.”

  “It was tough. All I remember was feeling like a carnival ride that spins around and around and around. I thought at first Tara wasn’t going to listen to me, and I just broke down in front of her. We cried and cried, fell asleep on her couch that night. So many things had happened to her, her father had died, we had broken up, and I was trying to work things out with—” Peter hesitated.

  Amy put her hand tenderly on his back.

  “You know Tara and I still tried to make a go of it for a few weeks romantically after that. But it was obvious it wasn’t there anymore. So we agreed we would do whatever it took to raise our daughter well, with both an active mother and father. We couldn’t do anything about our relationship. It was what it was, what we were to each other. We were good friends.”

  “That was quite grown up of you two.”

  Peter laughed softly. “I mean it. Tara’s been a terrific mother. It hasn’t been the life I expected, but it’s been a good one. I couldn’t ask for anything more wonderful than my Madeline.” He glanced toward the living room doorway, where the sound of childish laughter rang out over his parents’ quieter voices and the snapping of the fire.

  Amy followed his gaze. “Peter, I have to ask. Was it your idea to name Madeline after Maddy?”

  “No.” He smiled a little sadly at the sound that name he hadn’t used in almost fourteen years. “In fact, it was Tara’s. She confessed later she had chosen the name out of spite, and I almost wouldn’t do it. I didn’t think I could bear to be reminded. But once I’d held my baby in my arms and called her by her name, it took on a whole different meaning. She was who she was: our Madeline, and it felt perfect.”

  “Tara’s always said Madeline’s name with love.” Amy smiled. “Everyone knew the name was uniquely hers.” She kissed his shoulder and straightened his shirt. “You know, you amaze me, Peter.”

  “Now you’re making my head swell.” He put his hands over hers.

  “More than it already was?” She laughed and held his face.

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.” Amy smacked his cheek lightly. “I love you, you know that.”

  “Of course you do.” Peter leaned down to close the dishwasher. “I amaze you.”

  “Figures that’s the only thing you heard.” Amy slapped his arm.

  “Put up your dukes, pip-squeak.” Peter danced on his toes, his fists in the air. “I’m telling Mom on you.”

  Chapter 33

  Pancakes

  Amy and Lance said their goodbyes after dessert, as Victoria and Matthew hung on Peter’s neck sneaking kisses while he pretended to fight them away, and Lance peeled first
Matthew and then Victoria off finger-by-finger.

  “You’ll see him again soon,” Amy said, taking Matt’s hand. “You would think we were taking you into outer space.” She kissed Peter. “Good-bye, big brother. Give our love to Tara.”

  Richard turned on the television to watch the Patriots game, and Sheila and Madeline sat on the living room floor with boxes of photographs laid out near a pile of yearbooks, paper scraps marking the pages. Peter paused to take in the sight of his family in his parents’ living room in the evening lamplight, so familiar and so dear to him.

  “Daddy, you were super-popular! Look at these books. You’re on almost every page. A legend in your own time!”

  “Your father was the pride and joy of Chatham—and of my heart.”

  “Mom.” Peter smiled as he sat on the couch beside Madeline on the floor.

  “Was this when you played hockey?” Madeline held up a photo, and Peter leaned in to see.

  “Yes. That was sophomore year. I was captain my junior and senior years.”

  “Look how handsome you were!”

  “What happened? Am I not handsome now?”

  Madeline laughed up at him. “You know what I mean.”

  “Everyone gets old,” Richard commented from his recliner.

  “Speak for yourself, Pops.” Peter lifted his beer to his mouth, and Richard glanced at him with a sidelong grin.

  Madeline continued to sort through boxes of photos, Sheila pointing out faces and telling stories.

  “This was your father’s first birthday. Do you see what he’s done to his cake? This was when he got his first bicycle. Your Grandpa taught him to ride it right out here in this very cul-de-sac. Oh and this was your father’s high school graduation. You see those two fingers held up behind his head?” Sheila shook her head with fond exasperation. “That’s Jake.”

  Eventually, Madeline twisted to look in the bottom of the last box and held up one last photo. “Grandma, who’s this girl? She’s so pretty she’s like an angel.”