"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.

"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 grown-up."

"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?"