A few minutes later, Joanne was safely in Peter's arms. She seemed none the worse for wear, and greeted her father and brother with all the innocent happiness characteristic of a two-year old. After the joyous reunion, the waiting continued. Joanne napped in the car and Peter and Thomas played a card game to pass the time.
"Hey Dad," Thomas said halfway through their fifth game of go-fish. "What was the special day you were talking about before?"
"You mean today?" Peter asked, looking up from his hand.
"Yeah."
"Oh. Well, there's a story behind that."
"Really? Can I hear?"
"Sure. " Peter put down his hand of cards and thought for a moment. "Remember how a few years back there was this evil dude who looked just like me who took my place?" Thomas nodded.
"Yeah. Pleter."
"Right. Well, see, after that, there were a few....incidents in which your mom wasn't quite sure that he'd been completely...disposed of."
"Huh?"
"A few times she wasn't sure that I was me and not him."
"Oh," Thomas nodded. "Go on."
"Well, I decided that there had to be a way to prove to her that I was different from him. I mean, obviously I am, but she had to be sure."
"So what does today have to do with that?"
"Hold on, I'm getting to that. See, today is the anniversary of the day that I returned to her. After Pleter. This holiday is sort of a way to show her that I am different from him. Because he wouldn't do this."
"Oh, I see," Thomas nodded. "Interesting." He thought for a moment. "There's one thing I've always wondered, though, Dad. "
"Oh, what's that?"
"Well, what happened to you when Pleter was here? I mean, I knew you weren't dead, but I don't know what happened to you. Neither does Uncle Davy."
"Oh, that's a really long story," Peter said. He was about to get into it but noticed that Thomas was suddenly alert. He was listening to nothing in particular. Head cocked to the side, he frowned, looking as though he was thinking. "What is it?" Peter asked.
"Trouble," Thomas said simply. He was silent for a moment, thinking. "Duck!" he commanded, jumping behind the car.
" What? Why?" Just then a shot rang out from somewhere inside the restaurant. Peter ducked behind the car, too, but there was really no concern. The bullet went no where near them. "What's going on in there?" Peter asked Thomas.
"I don't know," he said, panicked. "I'm not sure." He paused again. "Somebody's hurt."
"Somebody? Somebody who?" Peter asked, getting more and more worried by the second.
"I don't know. I don't know. I can't tell," Thomas said, beginning to get hysterical.
"It's okay Thomas, calm down," Peter said. "You don't have to look right now if you don't want to, you know." He began to calm down. Thomas nodded. He began to breathe slower, trying to catch his breath and stop his heart from beating so fast. He shut his eyes and relaxed. Relaxing was the key, he thought to himself. Focus next. He relaxed even more. He remembered Dave and thought about him. What he was feeling. And then he had it. With a flash, he was now aware of Dave's thoughts. He must have been the one to shoot the gun, obviously. He was the one who had the gun. Somewhere in the distance he heard a child crying. Some small part of him registered that it was his sister, alerted by the gunshot, but most of him didn't care. He was focusing too deeply on Dave. He was yelling. But not because he was angry this time. Because he was scared. Dave was only about eighteen or nineteen, he guessed, and was afraid of murder. But who had he shot? That was the big question there. Thomas decided to look in someone else.
