"Peter," Luka called.

He opened his eyes and blinked. He was in Luka's bedroom, sprawled out on the floor, Luka peering over the side of the mattress. "I'm okay," he whispered and blinked a few more times, trying to figure out what had happened. It had been a dream. h.e.l.l, it had to have been a dream.

"What happened?" Luka asked as Peter climbed back in the bed.

"I was just having a dream," Peter answered. Luka hummed and moved close. Within seconds he seemed to have gone back to sleep, but Peter remained awake for quite a while.

HE WOKE WOKE what seemed like way too early on Monday morning and went in to work after his appointment with Franz. He spent his day either with clients or pushing paperwork, all the while helping people navigate the social services bureaucracy. Over the weekend, he'd taught his language cla.s.s, and Luka had gone with him. That evening they had planned to spend more time together working on Luka's language skills, but when he finally arrived at Luka's, he found him sitting at his table with a mound of forms in front of him. what seemed like way too early on Monday morning and went in to work after his appointment with Franz. He spent his day either with clients or pushing paperwork, all the while helping people navigate the social services bureaucracy. Over the weekend, he'd taught his language cla.s.s, and Luka had gone with him. That evening they had planned to spend more time together working on Luka's language skills, but when he finally arrived at Luka's, he found him sitting at his table with a mound of forms in front of him.

"Help me," Luka said, holding up one of the government forms.

"Of course," Peter said, placing the materials he'd brought aside. "Why don't we get Bella to help too?"

Luka got up and went to get Bella while Peter began sorting through the forms. There were some Luka would need the university to complete for him while others needed to be completed by Bella, as his sponsor. The task was daunting, and once Bella arrived, they divided and conquered. After a while, Peter ordered dinner, and they continued working, dissecting Luka's past work life and family history. By the time they had done all they could, Luka was a nervous wreck. Though he and Bella were exhausted, they seemed to have made a lot of progress. Peter could understand Luka's jitteriness. He understood the basic government processes, but to Luka all this probably seemed like a black hole he was descending into with no way out and no end in sight.

"Okay," Bella said, leaning over the table. "I've got everything organized. We need to take these to be notarized. They can probably help you with that at the university when you take these forms in to human resources." Bella had color-coded everything based upon who had to do what. "That's the red. The yellow you need to sign, and they go with the red forms once they're notarized. The blue ones I have nearly completed, and I need to send those in. I'll have them notarized and get them sent tomorrow." Bella sat back, slowly rubbing her belly. "There's nothing for you to worry about."

"But the news on television...," Luka said.

Peter knew he'd heard stories about the debate going on regarding immigration.

"You came here legally," Bella reminded him. "I'm sure this is only the first round of doc.u.mentation, but you have a good job and skills that this country needs. The reason we did all this is so we can provide them with the information they need to make the right decision." Bella pushed back her chair and yawned before standing up. "Tomorrow we will call the man from customs and immigration and find out the rest of what's going on." She patted Luka's shoulder and then walked toward the door.

"She...," Luka began, but didn't finish.

"Yes. She's something else. After all she's been though...." Peter swallowed. "Josif was a good man, and they loved each other."

"They did," Luka agreed.

"Will you be angry when she finds someone else?" Peter asked, and Luka snapped his head around until he faced him. "Not right away, of course, but she's going to find someone else to love." Peter reached across the table and took Luka's hand, "Just like you found me."

"I think you you found found me, me," Luka said.

Peter shook his head. "You were the one who found me. I was dead inside and had been for a long time. There was nothing but guilt and pain. But you changed that. Yes, Franz helped me remember what happened, but it was you who took the chance that got me the help I needed. I yelled at you for it, and for that I'm sorry." He could see things clearly now, things he'd never seen before. "You did what you did because you cared."

"There are lots of people who care," Luka said.

"I know that now," Peter said. Then he looked down at his old cell phone sitting on the table. He picked it up. "I think I need to make a call." He had decided, with the help of Franz earlier that day, what he wanted to do, and it was time. Luka nodded, and Peter stood up and stepped outside.

Late summer air with a hint of crispness greeted him when he closed the door. Peter looked up into the canopy of leaves that hung overhead. He shuffled down the walk to the wooden swing under one of the trees. He sat and dialed the familiar number.

"Hi, Mom," he said when she answered.

"It's Julie," his sister said. "Mom's lying down. They did the cataract surgery today in her left eye. They said she's doing well and were very hopeful."

"That's really good. I just called to see how she was doing. She told me they wanted to do the procedure, but she didn't say when."

"It wasn't supposed to be until next week, but they had an opening and she figured it was now or never. You know Mom-once she makes up her mind, there's no changing it." The line went quiet.

"How are you holding up?" Peter asked.

"I'm fine. She'll be okay. She'll need to wear dark gla.s.ses for a while, but once this eye is healed, they'll do the other one and then she'll be as good as new," Julie explained.

"Excellent," Peter said, looking up into the trees as a breeze rustled the leaves. "Tell Mom I'll be over to see her after I get out of work tomorrow."

"I will," Julie said.

They hung up, and Peter wondered exactly what he was going to say to his mother. They'd been virtual strangers for such a long time. Even when he was still living at home, he'd felt like a stranger to his own mother. Peter started slightly when Luka sat down next to him. He hadn't heard him approach.

"You make up your mind?" Luka asked.

"Yes. I've decided they need to know the truth, but without accusations or guilt. There's been enough of that already. I thought about saying nothing, but if I do that, then nothing will change." Peter sighed and slowly began to move the swing with his feet. "They need to know the truth, but I think I need to start with Vince. He needs to know that I know what really happened." Peter turned toward Luka. "I don't blame him for anything now, and I think he needs to know that. I suspect Vince has been carrying around a great deal of guilt and pain, just like I was. He was better at hiding it."

"Then you call him," Luka said and settled back in the swing. He didn't move closer and said nothing. Peter knew he was there, keeping him company, being there in case he was needed. After thinking for a few minutes, Peter looked up the number in his contacts.

"Vince, it's Peter," he said when he heard his brother's familiar voice. There was quite a commotion in the background.

"Hi, Peter," Vince said. The high-pitched squeals came through the phone. "It's bath time." The line went quiet and then Vince returned. "Margaret is watching them," he said, and the background noise quieted.

Peter wondered how he should do this, but figured direct was best. "I was wondering if I could see you tomorrow afternoon. I have to come up to see Mom, and I thought I would swing by on my way, if that's all right." He tried to sound casual.

Vince paused. "Sure, that would be fine. About five thirty?"

"That'd be great," Peter said.

"I gotta get back. Those two can be a handful."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow," Peter said. He hung up and placed the phone next to him on the seat before closing his eyes. "What am I doing?" he asked the tree above him.

"I no understand," Luka said from next to him.

"I don't either," Peter whispered. "I want to talk to him, but I'm afraid of hurting his life and his little girls. Vince is happy and he deserves to be. Is dredging up the past really worth it?"

"Only you can answer," Luka said. "You know truth. Is that enough?"

Peter wanted it to be. He really did. But it wasn't. He wished he could forget the years of guilt and regret he'd suffered, but he couldn't.

"What did doctor say?" Luka asked.

Peter chuckled. "We went back and forth, but he didn't offer any advice in the end other than to do what I thought best. I only wish I knew what that was." Peter's head ached.

"You do know," Luka told him. "What you want to be told is you are right. And no one can tell you that. You have to make your decision and know you are doing what is best. I cannot tell and no one else can. If you want to talk to Vince and your mother, I go with you."

Peter wasn't so sure that was a good idea. But the more he thought about it, the better it sounded to him. He could at least keep his family from yelling and screaming. "Thank you." Peter stood up and placed his phone back in his pocket. "I need to go home. I think it's best if I have some time to myself." He leaned closer, kissing Luka. "I need time to think."

Luka nodded and kissed him again. Then Peter went inside, gathered his things, and got in his car. He said good-bye to Luka, who was still sitting on the swing. He hated to leave, but he needed his mind clear, and it rarely was with Luka around. Whatever he did, he needed to handle things gently. The truth might set you free, but in this case, Peter was sure his family wouldn't be willing to accept the truth.

PETER SLEPT SLEPT very little that night. He spent most of the time staring at the ceiling and running through scenarios and conversations with his brother and mother. Of course he got nowhere, and finally in the wee hours of the morning, he fell asleep. Peter got up when his alarm sounded, showered, fed Milton, and went in to work. He was jumpy for much of the day. Thankfully it was quiet. At the end of the day, he drove to Luka's and picked him up, and then they were on their way to Vince's. very little that night. He spent most of the time staring at the ceiling and running through scenarios and conversations with his brother and mother. Of course he got nowhere, and finally in the wee hours of the morning, he fell asleep. Peter got up when his alarm sounded, showered, fed Milton, and went in to work. He was jumpy for much of the day. Thankfully it was quiet. At the end of the day, he drove to Luka's and picked him up, and then they were on their way to Vince's.

The drive took half an hour, and then he pulled into his brother's driveway. The yard was quiet. Peter led Luka up the walk and knocked on the door. Vince opened it and motioned for them to be quiet. "We just got the twins down for their nap. They've been fighting Margaret all afternoon." He opened the door, and they stepped inside. Vince closed the door and led them through the house and down the stairs to his man cave in the bas.e.m.e.nt. He motioned them to the large leather chairs. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

Peter got jumpy and moved to the edge of the chair. "I've been seeing a psychologist for the past few weeks. There have been things in my life that I have found difficult to deal with, and one of those things was Dad's death." Peter figured he'd tread lightly at first.

Vince nodded. "I regret that day as well."

"The thing is, the doctor helped me recover some memories I didn't know I had. I've always thought I shot Dad. But I didn't. I ended up with the gun after the shot was fired." Peter said nothing more and waited to see what Vince would do.

Vince said nothing for a full minute. "I know you didn't shoot Dad. I did." He stood up and strode over to the bar in the corner. He returned with bottles of beer and popped them open, then handed them out to Peter and Luka before downing most of his own. "It was an accident."

"I know," Peter said.

"After the gun went off, I dropped it and you picked it up. When people rushed in, everyone thought you had done it, and you never denied it. I know I should have said something, and for years wished I had. Then it became clear you didn't remember, and it got easier and easier to just keep it to myself." Vince finished his beer and opened another.

"I'm not here to place blame or to rehash who did what. I've spent days going from angry to hurt and finally resigned. I debated saying anything at all, but that wasn't an option. You see, I spent decades feeling guilty for what I'd thought I'd done." Peter found himself struggling. "Then last night I thought maybe you had felt the same kind of guilt I had."

Vince nodded, holding the bottle between his hands.

"But there isn't any blame. It was an accident, like you said."

"But I still killed my father," Vince said, breaking down in a way Peter had never seen before.

"Like I said, it was an accident, and if anyone is to blame, it's Dad," Peter said. "For years I thought in huge circles about what I did. If we hadn't been in the shed and hadn't found the gun, nothing would have happened and Dad wouldn't have been shot. But in all that time, I missed the central point."

Vince looked up from his shoes, wet lines on his cheeks.

"Dad was the one who put the gun there, and he was the one who loaded it. Ultimately, he was the one responsible for it and what happened because that gun was there. We were children and we didn't know c.r.a.p. You thought the gun was a cool toy and were playing with it. You didn't mean to shoot Dad any more than I did. It happened." Peter stood up and walked over to his brother. "I'm so tired of feeling guilty about it." He looked at Luka. "I felt so bad for years that I thought I wasn't worthy of being loved."

"Is that why you were...," Vince began, but then he trailed off.

"I was lucky because Luka didn't buy my c.r.a.p, and he figured he knew best, which he did. He ignored my protests and showed me that I couldn't let what happened to me when I was six dictate the rest of my life. And you have to do the same thing. Your daughters and wife deserve it. I think it's time we let it go, both of us."

"But I let everyone think you did it," Vince said.

"I was six years old. You were eight! It shouldn't have mattered to anyone who shot Dad. What was important was that there was a loaded gun around and we got our hands on it. We could have shot each other or ourselves. Mom should have understood that I was just a kid. Instead, she blamed me for what happened and hated me for it. She should have been forgiving and she wasn't. It took me twenty-five years to be able to begin forgiving myself for what happened, but I shouldn't have had to. Mom should have forgiven me a long time ago."

Vince lifted his gaze. "Mom," he began, and then his eyes widened. Peter could see a light go on in his eyes as something clicked into place. "She never treated me any better than you."

Peter sighed. "Mom has always blamed me for what happened. After Dad died, she stopped paying much attention. She withdrew, and I always felt alone." His throat tightened. He'd told himself he wouldn't do this, but tears filled his eyes. "I always felt alone after that. Mom blamed me for what happened and never forgave me for it." Peter took a gasping breath and then felt Luka's familiar touch on his shoulder. "The worst part was I never forgave myself either." Peter wiped his eyes.

"What do you want me to do?" Vince asked.

"There's nothing either of us can do. What happened is over." Peter heaved a huge breath, filling his lungs. "I think I needed to talk to someone who might know what I was feeling. Except for the one time when we were kids, we never spoke about what happened." Peter swallowed and moved back to his chair. Luka sat on the arm next to him, resting his hand on Peter's. With that small touch, Peter knew everything was going to be okay. "After meeting with the doctor and realizing what had happened, my first instinct was to confront the entire family and set the record straight. I hadn't done this... thing... I thought I had. Vindicate myself." Peter motioned grandly. "But the doctor and Luka both told me to think about what I was going to do and what I wanted. Over the next few days I slowly, almost painfully, began to realize that I wasn't alone. That you had gone through the same things I had, just as silently and probably with just as much pain. So I came here to clear the air and to...." Peter shook his head. "I don't know, it might sound wrong, and I mean it in the best way possible, to say that I forgive you."

Vince stared at him and said nothing, his expression unreadable. He didn't move, and Peter wondered what would happen next. In bed the night before, he'd rehea.r.s.ed Vince yelling and denying everything. He'd imagined acceptance and then tears. He'd even imagined Vince trying to convince him that his now clear memories were wrong, but he'd never imagined total silence.

After what seemed like a very long time, Vince set down his beer bottle and stood up. Thinking it was a dismissal, Peter stood as well, turning toward Luka and nodding toward the stairs. When he turned back to Vince to say good-bye, his brother stepped to him, extended his arms, and hugged him. Peter's older brother held him close. It took Peter a few seconds to realize that Vince was crying. He hadn't seen his brother cry about anything since his father's funeral. Tears welled in Peter's eyes. "It's all right. We both need to forgive and let it go." Peter held his brother tightly. "We were children, and it was an accident."

"Are you boys okay?" Margaret asked from the top of the stairs.

"Yes," Vince answered her. He stepped back and wiped his eyes. "I don't know what to say, little brother."

"How about saying nothing and letting it go?" Peter offered. He knew what had happened and was determined to go on with his life, guilt-free. "There's been enough recrimination to last a lifetime."

Vince wiped his eyes and nodded.

"I promised Mom I'd go see her."

A commotion from upstairs told all of them that the twins were up from their nap. Peter and Luka followed Vince up the stairs, and after diaper changes, they were each settled on the sofa with a baby and a bottle. Justine looked up at Luka with huge brown eyes, while she held one of his fingers in her tiny hand.

"Have you ever thought about having children?" Peter whispered to Luka, who shook his head.

"It not an option," Luka said. "Do you want babies?"

"I think so," Peter answered. "But not right away." Luka smiled at that answer and returned his attention to Justine, who seemed enthralled.

Once the girls were fed and burped, Margaret spread play mats on the floor, and they spent a while with them until the girls tired. Margaret and Vince each held one of the babies, who fell asleep in their arms. Peter and Luka each said good-bye to both of them and the babies before quietly leaving the house.

"That go very well, I think," Luka said.

"Yeah," Peter breathed, "it went very well." Better than he'd hoped. Now it was time to visit his mother. Peter wasn't sure if he should say anything at all to her. He'd had the truly important conversation. His mother would think and act the way she wanted.

They got in the car, and Peter drove to his mother's. When he entered, he found her sitting on the sofa. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"I'm doing all right. I should get this patch off in a few days, and then I have to wear dark gla.s.ses for a while, but otherwise I'm fine." She reached up to Luka and took his hand.

"That's very good," Luka said, holding her hand for a few seconds and then releasing it.

"So it wasn't as bad as you thought?" Peter asked.

"No. I'll have the other one done as soon as this one is healed," she told him and settled back against some pillows. She motioned toward the chairs and they sat down.

"We were just at Vince's," Peter explained. "Luka and I fed the twins. They're getting so big."

"Children grow up so very fast," she said wistfully. "I remember when the three of you were young and your father took all of us camping." She smiled and Peter tried to remember. "We were on the other side of the lake, staying at one of the state parks. Your father had brought a tent and it was cold."

Peter chuckled. "I remember. It was cold, so I got up and held my clothes in front of the little heater to warm them up before I put them on."

"Yes. I thought you were going to turn blue because all you wore was some summer pajamas and your feet were bare. But you refused to put on the cold clothes. Eventually we got you dressed."

Peter nodded. "I remember Dad taking us out one afternoon to look for bullfrogs. We were walking around the edge of this pond, and Vince got too close to the water. I think he began to fall in because Dad reached for him, but he mustn't have had as good a footing as he thought, because they both fell into the slimy green water."